Chapter Text
Once upon a time, some guy with nothing better to do decided he wanted to get fucked up in the woods for fun. This was going to be pretty easy because he lived within walking distance from the woods, and was newly in possession of a plastic bag with four grams of shrooms, a bong, and some weed.
The most shrooms he’d ever taken at once was three grams and that was easily five months ago. He remembered it as a neutral-good time, because the visual effects when he walked down the hallway kind of made him nauseous, but he was very eager to try again. Alone this time. With weed on board, of course, to counteract the nausea. He was ready.
He put his bong in his backpack along with his other supplies and began the hike to his favorite spot, a place locally called The Falls. It was a steeply sloped but still fairly easily climbable rock face with a creek running down it. Cool mountain water pooled in several carve outs in the rock formed by centuries of the creek running over and onto the rock face. It was beautiful and comfortable and this human had wanted to do this here for a long time.
He laid out a towel on the rocks (because he didn’t have an extra blanket), took his shirt off since it was so hot out, and started setting up his stuff. He packed a bowl, filled the bong with river water, and started taking hits. Nice. He tried to blow smoke rings and unfortunately did not succeed. Eh, whatever, time to eat these shrooms. He did his best to actually chew and swallow the shrooms without gagging and washed them down with lemon juice. Hell yeah. Things were gonna get interesting soon.
He leaned back against a rock and looked up at the clouds and the sky for a good half an hour. Relaxing, he listened to the birds sing and the sound of the water rushing by. As the shrooms started to kick in, the sky came alive with fractal patterns of color, transparent enough that he could easily see the clouds, but still very noticeable. The soft color patterns moved in spirals and harsh angles, intermingling in a way he could barely describe if he tried. Such a beautiful day, he thought, picking up the bong again and getting ready to take another hit. For some reason though, his eyes flicked up to the sky as he took the hit.
In the sky was a massive creature, peering down at him and hovering in place. It had six wings covered in white feathers and a massive central eye, as well as smaller eyes lining the tops of its wings. If he really looked, the human could see a hint of two birdlike legs tucked underneath the bottom pair of wings when the creature flapped them just right. The creature’s body was overall very hard to comprehend or describe, but the best Isaiah could do was say it looked kind of like multiple shifting, confusing, hard to describe components roughly organized into the shape of a bird with its head cut off, if a bird with its head cut off was on a SHIT ton of DMT. Or if he was on DMT, I guess that would be a better descriptor. The creature must have been at least as big as a three story house.
The human screamed, almost dropping his bong, and tried to scurry backwards on his hands and feet to get away from the creature in the sky. The shroom induced fractal patterns behind it swirled and changed, and it stayed there, stock still in the air, flapping its wings much more softly than it seemed like it would have to to keep that massive body airborne.
“BE NOT AFRAID!” It said out of reflex, in a booming voice that felt to the human like it shook the very mountain. This did not, in fact, make the human any less afraid.
“W-what are you?” He asked, putting the bong down and staring up at the creature in disbelief. “Are… are you an angel?”
“I am an angel, a Seraph of the Lord your God." The Seraph replied, and a few sticks fell from the surrounding trees with the power of its voice. Truly, it had just been flying over the mountains aimlessly until The Falls caught its many eyes. The area had looked pretty, and the Seraph wanted to get a closer look. This human even being able to see the Seraph was a shock to it, as it had not intentionally revealed itself. It had assumed it was watching the human without his knowledge.
“Oh, fuck.” mumbled the human, “Maybe four grams is a little too much… fuck, it’s only been like half an hour. This trip is only gonna get weirder.”
“Four grams of what?” The Seraph asked, “If you do not mind my asking.”
“Uh, shrooms.” Replied the human.
“Ah, that must be the other substance I can smell on you,” It said, “I could smell the cannabis smoke miles away.”
“Okay, okay, you can just get it over with, okay?” Said the human. “Enough with the judgment, tell me I’m going to hell and then get out of here! I don’t care how many angels He sends, I’m not gonna be a Christian!”
“I did not come here to tell you that you are going to hell,” Said the Seraph, “And besides, you look like a young human, you have time to repent.”
“Then why are you here, smart guy?” He retorted. “I’m warning you! I already worship other Gods, and they’re a lot cooler than yours. Yeah, that’s right, I said it! Fuck your God, Hail Dionysus!” He put up his middle finger at the Seraph and picked up his bong again.
“I am not here to convert you,” The Seraph said, and then paused before its next sentence. Was it really going to go that far, blaspheme God publicly, to this pagan human? It thought for only a moment before deciding that yes, it would, as it was already a dead Seraph flying for even being here at all right now. “And I am starting to think you may be right about the whole ‘fuck your God’ thing. I became disillusioned with the shouting praises to God thing, and I wanted to see the Earth one last time before my destruction. That is why I am here, on this mountain. I am going to be destroyed soon. I did not know you could see me.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yes, “seriously.”” The Seraph said, “I will leave this place now and leave you to your vices. I did not intentionally frighten you. Farewell.” It poised its wings to ascend again.
“Wait!” Shouted the human, before the Seraph could begin to fly away, “Wait a second! Hang on! Before you go, do you want a hit?” He held the bong up to the sky in the general direction of the Seraph. “If you’re about to die anyway, y’know? It’s what I would wanna do.”
The Seraph paused, incredulous and contemplative. Thirty minutes ago, this Seraph would never have thought about trying cannabis. It never would have thought or said or done any of these things. But for some reason, for some inexplicable reason, the Seraph approached the human, shrinking down its form as it descended from the sky until it was about the size of a large horse. It landed with its birdlike feet about ten feet away from the human.
The human was small, even for a human, but the Seraph could easily tell he was an adult. He looked fragile, delicate even, but then again, all humans look that way. They are easy to kill and destroy, their lifespans are short, and this one (who couldn’t possibly be older than twenty five years old) was already injured, the Seraph thought. He had two large scars underneath his pectoralis muscles. The Seraph wasn’t necessarily up on the trends in human medical science these days, but those kinds of scars looked to it like the marks of some major lung or heart surgery. This human had even less time than the others. If the human had known what this Seraph was thinking, he would have been flattered that he passed so well that a literal angel of God couldn’t tell he was trans.
The Seraph was not used to being on solid ground. In fact, it had spent the past hundred years continuously flying, shouting praise to God. It had never really allowed itself to fully notice the feeling of tiredness and fatigue in that time, fearing God's wrath, but landing, admittedly, felt very, very good. Relaxing. Comfortable. It suppressed a sigh, folded up its six tired wings, and began to walk-hop towards the human.
“Woah, you can change size?” Asked the human in wonder.
“Yes,” Replied the Seraph, in a much, much quieter voice than before, more appropriate to its new smaller form. “I must be able to appear to humans in smaller spaces than this, such as a church.”
“Does it hurt to shrink down?” He asked.
“No.” Replied the Seraph. “If anything, the larger form requires more energy to maintain. In God’s Throne Room we easily feed from divine energy, but here on Earth we must feed from the sun. I have not been on Earth long, you see, and I was testing to see if the larger form could gather more solar energy.”
“Does it?”
“No.”
“Do you prefer being bigger or smaller?”
“Smaller.”
“Do you get to be smaller often, in the throne room?”
“No, I must be bigger there to adequately please God with my songs of praise.”
“Can you eat other stuff than just divine energy and sunlight?”
“You ask many questions, human,” Said the Seraph, “And in all honesty, I would like to, how did you phrase it? “Take a hit,” now, please.” It moved a bit closer.
“Well, that’s where my questions were kind of leading to, dude.” The human replied. “CAN you even take a hit? Do you have a mouth? Lungs? A circulatory system? How about a brain?” Isaiah had to ask because of just how incomprehensible this creature was. He really couldn't tell anything about it from looking at it other than "holy shit what the fuck."
“I do have a mouth, it is how I am speaking to you. It’s covered by feathers, below my central eye.” It replied. “As for your other questions, I do not know. I suppose we will see.”
“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean you don’t know?” The human sat up straighter.
“Seraphim are created messengers and praisers of God.” The Seraph explained, “We are imbued with divine knowledge, but that knowledge includes only knowledge God found it important for us to have. We do not know of our own nature past this: we exist to praise God.”
“You don’t know basic shit about your own body?” Asked the human. “God never, I don’t know, mentioned that to you?”
“I do not, and he did not.” Replied the Seraph. The human put his fingers to the bridge of his nose in frustration for a moment before sitting back upright,
“Y’know what? We’re going to unpack that together when we’re both stoned.”
“Stoned?”
“High.”
“Does stoned mean high to you?”
“Yeah, dude.” The human said, picking up his lighter. “Alright, do you want to hold the bong or should I?” The Seraph looked at the human with what the human could only interpret as mild embarrassment and clear nervousness.
“I do not know how to operate your… bong.” It said.
“Want me to do it for you?”
“Yes please.”
The human reached forward and brushed aside the feathers underneath the Seraph’s central eye. They were cool to the touch and parted easily, exposing thin but soft looking lips and a mouth full of three rows of dangerously sharp dagger-like teeth. Maybe he was just high, but the human could have sworn he felt the Seraph shiver or jolt or something upon being touched by his hands. It hadn’t been touched by anything except the clouds in a very, very, very long time, and it desperately tried to suppress its burning desire for MORE. The burning nature of the sheer desire it felt in that short moment scared the Seraph half to death, fearing God’s wrath, before it was able to remind itself that God’s wrath was already coming.
“Okay, now, close your lips and I’ll hold the bong up to them… there you go.” He said, as the Seraph followed his instructions. “Ok, now, part them just a little bit. Good.” He flicked the lighter on and lit up the flower. “Now breathe in, slowly. Or if you don’t breathe, then I guess draw air in through your mouth and into your lungs. Or if you don’t have lungs, your chest area, I guess? Whatever way feels like lungs more. I don’t know how your body works.” The Seraph breathed in and closed its many eyes, and bubbles bubbled up, and the smoke traveled into the Seraph’s mouth and into its body, somewhere, and the human removed the bowl. “Now, hold your breath.” He took the bong away from the Seraph’s mouth and waited a short while, “Now exhale.”
The Seraph exhaled weed smoke past its feathers, and opened its eyes again.
“...” It was speechless at first. Evidently, it did not have lungs, but it sure did have a very efficient internal system built for maximum metabolism and delivery of divine energy to its other body parts for basic functioning, and that system evidently worked wonders for weed. This Seraph had no tolerance, no experience, no nothing, and it was getting its shit fucked up right now, for lack of proper terminology. Every molecule in its body felt like it was vibrating. It felt heat bloom in its chest and behind its eyes, pleasant heat, soft heat. The heat traveled down and back, across its aching wings, and then towards its cloaca softly and slowly, like a small drip of warm water running down its spine.
“You okay, dude? That was a fat bong rip.”
“Holy… holy…” It finally said, “Holy fucking shit, human…” It closed its central eye again.
“Haha, it’s that good, hmm? See what you’ve been missing out on?” He said, jokingly. The Seraph folded its birdlike legs up under it as if to lie or sit down, and did everything in its power not to fall into the human’s lap. But oh, how it wanted to. If it had known it would feel this good to just land on solid ground, fold up its wings and smoke weed with a human… God’s presence did make the Seraphim feel energized and good, but this? This was DIVINE.
“If you were not going to hell before,” it said, “you definitely are now.”
“Why is that?”
“Corruption of an angel,” it said, softly, swaying gently for a moment before forcing itself to remain upright.
“Hey, from what you told me before, you were already pretty corrupt for an angel.” He said, reaching for the bong. Before he was able to get his hands around it, the Seraph grasped it with what the human could only describe as a softly glowing golden disembodied hand made from energy, which it looked like it had been hiding beneath one of its wings. Bringing the glass up to its mouth again, it used another glowing energy field hand thing to pick up the lighter, and it took another hit.
“Holy, holy, holy…” It said again, as it exhaled.
“You look so tired,” Said the human, watching the Seraph slow blink a few times and direct a few too many to be subtle of its eyes towards his lap, before it handed over the bong. “Do angels ever sleep?”
“We physically can, albeit for short periods of time,” Said the Seraph, “but we do not.”
“Because of God?”
“Because of God.”
“When did you last sleep?”
“Oh, human,” It replied, “I have not stopped flying for a century.”
“That’s terrible.” Said the human. “You can rest your… head, I guess? In my lap, if you want to rest.”
“I… I would like nothing more than that.” It replied. Slowly, carefully, softly, it allowed itself to recline and relax its body, and rest in part on the human’s lap, eyes closed. The physical contact was not helping the mana-traveling-directly-to-the-cloaca situation, but in all honesty, the Seraph no longer cared. It was comfortable. It was high. And it was… happy. Part of its mind wanted to use another word to describe how it was feeling alongside “happy”, but it was not yet ready to admit to itself that this was turning it on something terrible. I am NOT feeling lust for this stupid human, it told itself, I have sinned enough today, it thought. It drifted softly off to sleep to the sound of the water and the birds. It dreamt of nothing. As it slipped into unconsciousness, its awareness of its desperately touch starved state decreased, while its bodily need for more increased under the surface, bit by bit. Unbeknownst to the Seraph, mana (which was essentially the Seraph’s analogue for blood) was flowing through its body and collecting at its cloaca, pumping through its sensitive wings, and stirring feelings in its heart that it had locked away under literal millenia of sexual repression.