betterthanaplan: (trapped and sweaty)
The paranoia of Saturday had turned into happy-go-lucky amorousness on Sunday, and they'd all been excited for this weird mood-altering crystal thing to be done with Monday morning.

Instead, Duke had woken up pissed. And after taking his mood out on both his partners, had decided to lock himself into the hold for the duration, where he'd proceeded to destroy everything that wasn't already in pieces from Octavia's rampage while he was gone.

He'd spent the night down there, sprawled out on a couple crates worth of protective packaging amidst the wreckage, and when he woke Tuesday, spent several long moments refusing to open his eyes, dreading what bizarre mood the crystal had in store for him today.

He felt . . . well, not fine. Guilty and nervous and faintly ashamed, but not angry. Or aggressively happy. Or paranoid. He sat up and lifted his shirt, and felt a flush of relief at his perfectly normal stomach, unblemished by any weird, color-changing rocks.

He knocked firmly on the hold door before unlocking it and stepping slowly out. "Hey," he called, wincing faintly as he stretched his sore muscles. "It's me, I think I'm normal again. Can I get a reality check just to be sure?"

Look, between Haven and Fandom, it was becoming very hard to trust even his own senses. For all he knew, the crystal was in his back now and glowing chartreuse or something.

[for the partners if they wanna!]
betterthanaplan: (figuring out how to kill you)
Duke woke up to find a strange gray crystal stuck to the skin of his stomach, like an excessively large bellybutton ring. No amount of tugging could pull it out, which meant it was absolutely some kind of unnecessary Fandom thing.

It was making him extremely nervous.

He could head out to sea, but that was where he’d disappeared from last time, and also, what if the boat sank? He could try heading to the mainland, but that’d involve going through town, where sometimes there were killer clowns or brainwashing reindeer. And anyway, Baltimore had things like cults. And also his mother.

Nope, the only thing for it was to stay right where he was and hope for the best. And prepare for the worst. By triple-checking the locations of all his weaponry. And maybe barricading the doors.

Shit. Did it smell like gas in here? His sense of smell wasn’t great, how could he tell if there was a gas leak? Sure, okay, his stove didn’t even run on gas, but still.

The porgs. Miners used birds to be able to tell when there was bad air. We’re the porgs acting strangely? He nudged Polly with his toe. Polly didn’t move from his admittedly comfy looking spot on the counter. Duke nudged him harder until Polly grunted and shifted. Duke let out a shaky breath.

“Okay, good. You’re not dead.”

. . . For now. . . .

[open]

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Duke Crocker

March 2026

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