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Gor and Ideas' presence in the Evermore isn't just a result of happenstance. No, this was the dominion of choice as it is famous among Humans and Monsters alike for its colourful selection of cocktails. For Humans, it's your standard affair, the only place for miles that sells Long Island iced tea as well as cocktails that go along the lines of; Rum + 17 ingredients that all have the word 'Cream' in them. But for Monsters, cocktails that originate from their homes are a lot rarer to come by and become highly valued places for nostalgic tastes or for Monsters to experience the culture of their kin in this small way. Listen, it's not like absinthe won't knock back your Cyclops or Oni back for six or anything, but sometimes you crave the senses and tastes that only some species can indulge in. Such as: literal fire and poison.

Of course these cocktails are deadly to Humans and Humans have made a habit to damage and even sacrifice their own lives, just to fuel a moral panic 'for Humanities' sake' and get these venues shut down to deprive Monsters access to these little avenues of their cultures. But luckily, even the Humans that enter the Evermore respect an unspoken code to not only mind their own in this regard, but to intervene whenever a fellow 'Sapian tries to become a front page headline in order to get this place closed.

After having a pitcher of one of the Human cocktails, Gor is eager to get into, and I quote "The life-span eradicating stuff." She lets Butters have first pick.

-I mean, it depends on what kind of fucked up are we talking here? Asks Butters.

-What d'ya mean? Like something to: Fuck. Us. Up! Gor replies.

-But okay, there's loads of different ways to get fucked up here. Like do you want a liquor that makes you feel the sins of your life crawl on your back? To engage in dialogue with god? Or just like... "Ouchie I just drank lighting" literal fucking up?

-ALL!!!

-Though I vote we ease ourselves into the existential stuff and go with the physical first? Suggests Ideas'

Butters knows just the thing and orders three Glasses of Hel.

Glass of Hel

Ingredients:

2 1/2 ounces of Gin

An ounce of Vermouth

3/4 ounces of blessed water

1/64 ounce of the rivers of Hel

(To be taken with a shot of Hellfire)

The main drink is served in a small chalice, intended to evoke the icy shores of the domain of Hel, a jagged cup of crystals being held up by the hands of Hel herself. Alongside, a glass made from brimstone housing liquidised hellfire itself. The harsh glow of these two volatile essences clash to engulf the drinker is contrasting moods to prepare them for the carnage they are about to enact on their bodies. The idea of this Totally Not A Martini, is to expose yourself to the Beyond Absolute Zero effects of the rivers of Hel. But this would of course mean sudden death for the drinker in most cases, hence the water blessed by an emissary of the divine which will give the drinker a precious few seconds to parse the intense cooling taste of the cocktail, delaying the freezing effects. However, but only for a moment before frost begins to crawl from your stomach and up your throat, encasing your gullet in a thick layer of frost. Icicles will form on the roof of your mouth, glaciers will block the passage of air passing through your nostrils, in a cold that your mind will struggle to parse.

This is where the brimstone and hellfire comes in, liquified enough to be drunk and neutralise the fatal cold from claiming your life. While ingesting Hellfire is, of course; also fatal to the average person, the effects of the cocktail are so strong that the fire could not possibly penetrate. Instead, it dampens the effects of the ice as to allow the drinker to breathe and save them from an agonising icy death. But this is when all the elements come together, the sudden relief of death's icy grip, the swirling of the flavours of born of Firestorm, the relief of an icy tomb regressing to a mere chill as your body returns to the land of the living.

-Well... Fuck me. Announces Gor unceremoniously.

Ideas is coughing their lungs out, with little whirlwinds of snow coming out of their mouth with every hack. Gor pats on their back for a little bit.

-How're hanging in their Butters? Asks Gor.

They both turn to see Butters in the process of picking out tiny icicles from the inside of their throat, somehow having messed up the simple act of downing the shot.

-I couldn't down it one, I got weird throat problems with that! Protests Butters, suddenly remembering why they don't usually order this cocktail.

Ideas makes a suggestion for something, while just as gut punching, is a little less tangling with death itself. They make an order for three shots of Octorian Distilled Sake.

This little ditty is one of many attempts at replicating the holy Sake, brewed by Kushinada, which felled Orochi. The idea of this recreation is to emulate the feeling of having your sins and personal demons 'Purified' from your body. This version in particular was made for the consumption of AnthroTypical sized Monsters in mind and not: A Giant Snake Of Evil Embodiment, so drinking this is in no way comparable to the real thing. But that isn't to say your soul won't leave your body the moment the wine touches your lips, float into the sky only to receive harsh judgement by your consciousness' own hand. Your regrets, your pity and your self loathing act like the blade of Kusanagi, carving off your shadows to alleviate the weight of your soul. Alcohol traditionally follows a formula of absolute UGH followed by the comedown of a soothing flavour, this aims to bring the dynamic to you're very morality. Getting drunk via your guilt. EnebriHating yourself. ect... Tastes great though!

The Monsters metaphorically come down from the defendant's stand and reattach themselves to their mortal bodies. All three of them staring into space, present, but not currently perceiving the world around them.

-I can't let the violence of my ancestors go, I'm a beast bred for war trying to act like my data processing job is normal. Ideas' murmurs to themselves.

-All I've done is let my trauma becoming a vessel for pushing everyone away. Gor whispers.

Butters puts their elbows on the bar as they cradle their head in their paws, the world around them twists and contorts as they wrestle with how much their futile quest for Human acceptance has caused untold damage to the people around them. Relationships with Monsters who love and care about them severed from their roots all to destroy their very being for the sake of Humans, creatures bred to hate Butters no matter what they do. This perhaps could be a moment of intense self reflection and the start to better their continuous and never ending self-destructive cycle. But then the sake wears off, and the three Monsters go back to normal.

-Hooooooooo, no I've 'ad some belters in my time. Drinks that'll make ye see stars, fuck up ye lungs and rearrange ya bones, but that's a' first for me! Bellows Gor.

-Right? It's like all the good feeling of coming to a life changing epiphany, but with none of the responsibility of bettering your life in anyway! Explains Ideas.

Butters really likes the No Responsibility part, like posting on your social media about how you're going to write a novel today, Taking a photo of your pen alongside a cup of coffee, letting the good feeling endorphins wash over you and then not writing a single word. They could get addicted to this, you know.

-Okay, but emotionally I don't think I can recover from another shot of that tonight. Can we go back to the traditional bone arranging? Asks Butters.

-Aye, I got just the thing to fuck us all up, bring us to the brink of death n' back again. Gor announces.

She gets the barkeep to order the three; a drop of blood from Asclepius:

Blood of Asclepius

Ingredients:

1 drop of blood from Asclepius

That's no euphemism FYI, that's literally the drink. A speck of blood in a teeny tiny glass, that could be mistaken as a contact lens without the context. There's no way to describe the contents, not in an Lovecraftian way, but meaning the contents are never static. They change based on the diseases present in his blood at the time of donating, cos of course what better way for the god of medicine to combat disease then infecting himself? Of course none of this is alcoholic, but it's not meant to be, rather it's meant to amplify the alcohol already in your system by decimating your immune system temporarily. Also it's good for you! Kind of... In fact as the three Monsters down their drink they are faced with an intense 5 seconds in a brutal rush of all the symptoms of these diseases. A ring of rotting flesh spreads from their mouths, to around their entire body and heals just a quickly creating a kind of pulsating ring affect. Their lungs all collapse, robbing them of any breath and restore themselves quick as a flash, the feeling is comparable to being hit by a whole moon. Each and every nerve ending, on every joint, sparks with a flash of excruciating pain. It's so fast yet all three Monsters fall to the ground gasping for air as their eyes bulge out of their sockets. Is it worth it in the end for the high? No. But does it make for a fun night out story? Also no. But is this the closest you can get to feeling something in your cold dead chest lately? Also no.

It's a full minute of combating laboured breathing before any of the Monsters can break the silence.

-...Shit. Is all Butters can bring themselves to say.

They all bring themselves up from the floor and compose themselves.

-God sorry friends, I dinnae think it'd be so intense. Gor Apologises. I 'ad heard he put a new strain of SARS 'innat, but fookin' hell.

-A new SARS!? Jesus Christ! Yells Ideas concerningly.

-I feel like I've drank a steel pipe. Explains Butters.

But even in the middle of that sentence, all the ill effects of the drink had gone. As was a common theme with all these cocktails, they all did feel a little looser, a little lighter, for having gone through unquestionable agony. The drink was hitting them too, a very Monster exclusive kind of pissed, not just your blood thinning, but every cell in your body dancing in unison to place you in a state of elation and relaxation. It's like a better drunk, not like as in more drunk, a better quality of drunk. You will have a hangover but it won't suddenly start at the tail end of the night kind of thing.