#even monster... that's my usual energy drink purely because they have a very wide range of sugar-free varieties & i appreciate that

[somecunttookmyurl]

absolutely hysterical to me that people like this exist. "well you're gonna buy the one you've heard of aren't you HMMMMM"

literally no! i'm not! the OPPOSITE in fact! the one i've never heard of is almost certainly cheaper, carl. also the one i've heard of is new and exciting because i've never seen it in my life so even if it's MORE expensive i'm still not buying the big brand sorry @ brands it's not happening it's not you it's me

[kleml]

Zeugl

Title: Zeugl

Ship: -

Prompt day: 2, Potions

Medium: All media

Warnings: realistic description of intoxication, vomiting

Summary:  Geralt fights zeugl for the first time. It’s not pretty. There’s no Yen to hep him :c

Word count: 1154

Author’s notes: I mean, I hope it’s realistic. Inspired by the scene from Sword of Destiny & Hexer. Please criticize, I haven't written anything in ages, more so in English, and need all the feedback!

@geraltwhumpweek

Novigrad met him with newly painted southern walls and its usual rumble. Carts thundered over paving stones, city guards tried to get rid of too drunk and too liberal students, women laughed loudly and food managed to smell both lovely and terrible at the same time.

Geralt arrived to drop some coin he saved onto their Kaer Morhen account. He also wanted to treat his swords right and maybe exchange his armour on something a bit better.

He definitely did not expect to get a contract, not in Novigrad of all places while the surrounding territories were cleaned up for years.

It started as usual.

The blacksmith, skin tawny from sun, smiled at him and gave an address for the "best pies you've ever tasted". Geralt went there to wait while the job was getting done, and filled his stomach so full it was a little bit hard to breathe. Barmaid, the kind that always looked pissed off by the customers, dropped a hint or two about a witcher in their fine establishment to her friends. And not an hour later, he found himself at a table figuring out what the fucking hell was devouring, if one should believe town folks, decent customers and local tradesmen, leaving only clothes and sometimes not even that.

"Mary, my niece, swears he just disappeared in front of her. Went to take a piss and never returned!"

"So did she see anything? And how long he's been missing?"

"More than a week, sir, and his very nice belt he bought from Milko was found later in the channel."

Geralt rubbed his face with both hands. They were at it so long that the ale turned warm, and the more he heard the less he understood.

"Listen, how about you or your niece show me the place where it happened? I might take a look, maybe there is just a hole or a panel people are falling through? Everything you've said about happened at night and near those taverns, right?"

Maybe it was a gang who snitched humans for slavery. Geralt surely hasn't seen any creatures that could eat somebody whole in the middle of a city completely unnoticed.

"Mary's not here. Oh, there's Niksha, he is our neighbour and sells... sells. Maybe he knows. He's seen that first, I'm telling ya..."

Geralt gripped his hair and prayed for patience.

It took him two days to set things straight and find a big passage to sewerage with a broken grid. Two days to choose whether to go and fight the unknown in old armour or take new one and mess it up completely in shit. Two days to choose the best potion mix and regain some confidence because whatever it was, it had to be huge.

With his sword up, sharp and covered with all-purpose poison oil, Geralt walked underground with wastewater level blissfully low. The stench was so bad for his multiply heightened senses that he rubbed some henbane seeds over his nose to make it obtuse.

Pupils opened wide, he could see the rounded corridors well enough, but yet failed to hear any sound other than water droplets.

The smell got even worse. Geralt turned around, careful and well-aware of his surroundings. His blood sang and sparked up, his heart beating fast, and suddenly on the border of his eye he saw an enormous shadow shifting silently.

He didn't know how to fight that. Not really.

The monster was round and covered in slime. Its evidently blind eyes looked hideous and dull. Geralt stared at it and waited, and that was his first mistake.

The creature had tentacles. Sharpened tentacles. First tried to grab his leg, and Geralt jumped to the side as fast as he could. Claws did not break through the gambeson, but made him lose the balance. The second one reached forward on a high speed, making him try and beat them off with his sword. Geralt did not wish to check if the creature's blood was poisonous just yet, not with it risking to splatter on his face. After one cut through its skin, the creature made a sound. A rawr. And then it opened its mouth, three rows of teeth and a jaw able to open so wide it could fit in half a Roach or two Geralts at least.

Thank fuck he brought a bomb.

It was a wonder how potions held on for so long.

He fought it long and epic. The bomb didn't help, with its insides so slimy and filled with gods know what it didn't explode properly. But he succeeded. He also found a nest with its babies nearby, tadpoles identical to its mother and of elbow's length big. With one in his arms, he got out, barely finding the way. The waste channel welcomed him by the rising sun. Geralt fell to his knees in the trench where the monster has been snatching its food. Breathed in clear air. Ripped off the armour right there. The baby looked even uglier outside.

Geralt took off his padded trousers too. Two water baskets he's left nearby beforehand were bliss, and he emptied them, scratching at least some sludge off his face and body.

Belladonna, that was in the potion allowing him to see better in the dark, got washed out. It only made his vision blurry. The rest of the ingredients were pure poison, and it started to kick in. Heavily breathing, Geralt collected his belongings and headed to the bathhouse nearby. They even let him in, barely able to move.

Bath was good. Clean was good. With all the energy leaving him just as black and gooey water ran away, Geralt carefully settled on the floor, curled down. Pain rose inside him, making throw up, moan and throw up again.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Biting his arms didn't help, for skin had this terrible sewer taste to it. His mouth felt dry, his face was on fire and feet were so cold he couldn't feel them properly.

Time passed. Somebody opened a door and closed it, voices mumbling outside. His head pulsed with ache and his eyes rang.

Then it started again. Every time he felt better and moved to drink some water, it got worse. Heat changed with chills, making him shake and this teeth stutter. The world felt distant and continued to spin around.

But as all the things in a witcher's life, everything had an end to it. It was an hour or maybe two, and he was able to lift himself up. He washed his hair five times, poured stinking tar oil over himself, and then washed himself again. By the time he got out, he was hungry and sleepy. And with some impressive evidence in form of a monster baby a crowd in the bathhouse was already discussing, he was sure he'll have payment, a place to stay in and some dinner. Later.

And well, maybe four elixirs was too much indeed. Even if he tried to be cautious.