Okay, I was reading a really depressing fic and now I'm in a bad mood and I'm taking out on here because I have no life.

Enjoy a sad and depressing shot!

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Angels were peculiar beings. When they were young, they were just like humans. At the age of four, their powers started manifesting. At the age of ten, their first set of wings would start to grow. After that, there was special steps one could take to have more powers, sometimes accompanied by an additional pair of wings. Most angels had only two wings. It was very rare to have four, and no angel in history ever reached six wings, despite many having tried to. The steps, or trials, were unique for each different angel, even for twins.

Michael was one of the first angels, being nearly 6000 years old. He had four wings and was more powerful than many. He was also deeply in love with another angel, Lucifer.

Lucifer wasn't much younger than Michael. He had four wings, but was considered a fake, as he had no powers at all. He was bullied for that a lot when he was younger.

Lucifer was just as infatuated with Michael as Michael was with him, but he decided to keep it secret, not knowing it caused a great sadness to Michael. Being gay was never considered a good thing, especially when you were an angel with no powers.

Despite that, Michael and Lucifer were good friends, best friends even. In fact, Michael was Lucifer's only friend, the only one that looked past his lack of powers and saw him as he was.

But Lucifer was sad. He was unbelievably sad, all the time, for no apparent reason. He did a good job at hiding it though, no one suspected anything. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made you cry, but the one that made you question why you were still alive.

One day though, Michael was tired of hiding. So he went up to Lucifer and confessed. He told Lucifer everything that was on his heart, said he loved him.

And at that moment, for the first time in his life, as he kissed Michael, Lucifer wasn't sad. But as soon as Michael left, he was sad again, even sadder.

He started to wonder why Michael loved him and that only brought up his flaws. Why would Michael love him? He was weak, ugly, closed, stuck up on his feelings, scared all the time. It went on and on and on until he couldn't have it anymore.

Michael would be happier without me, he thought. He could find himself another partner, one whom he really loved, not just out of pity like me.

All he could think of at that moment was how he didn't deserve Michael. How Michael was perfect and he was flawed. How weak he was, pathetic.

It wasn't until he felt blood fall down his arm that he realized what he was doing, but when he did he pressed even harder. Michael doesn't deserve me, he'll be happier without me.

Lucifer fell on his knees but it didn't stop him from doing the same thing to his other wrist. The sooner the better. He closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was the clock ticking to 6:00 a.m.

That morning, when Michael woke up, he was in a bad mood. For no particular reason, but he felt a weary sense dread following him around. To make sure everything was okay, he went to Lucifer's.

When he found the door Michael started to be scared. Lucifer never left his door unlocked when he was alone. He searched the entire apartment, finishing with the bathroom.

What he saw destroyed him. Lucifer, laying on the ground, a pool of blood under him. Michael fell to his knees, his wings instinctively opening as he cried in shock. Tears started to flow from his eyes.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he cried out. "You were supposed to get better, you were supposed to stop being sad!" Michael sobbed, not thinking one moment of calling the police.

Then, a weird thing happened. His pure white wings started changing. Red appeared on them. In spots, as if someone above him had been bleeding and the blood was dripping out on him. Slowly, his wings became red, a blood red almost matching the one of Lucifer's wings.

Then, once the white had disappeared, another strange thing happened. Just as slowly, as Michael still cried over Lucifer, a red feather sprouted from his back. Then another, and another, and two wings erupted with them.

But the new wings were fast to decay, bringing the others with them. Always as slowly, Michael's wings lost a feather, then another, and another, and some burned, and the flesh on his wings bled, and the bones snapped. And somehow, he felt nothing of it.

And above, above the planets and the stars, someone else thought This wasn't supposed to happen.

The third pair of wings had been a test. A test that had been believed by God to have failed, as over the millennia no one had acquired one. But now, somehow, someone had managed to obtain it.

Yes, someone had managed to obtain it, but at what cost?

At the cost of his only love, of the person he cared most in the world, at the cost of his own wings.

God was pretty sure that the colour-change wasn't supposed to happen. At least, not happen like that. The wings of an angel changed of colour only well, never.

God themself wasn't sure how wings worked. They had created them but thought nothing more of it. Well, now they knew. Wings were the reflection of one's soul, of his persona, of the way he thought.

God looked down one more time. That wasn't supposed to happen. They looked down at the angel who was mourning on the ground. They looked down and got sucked in the hurricane of feelings inside that one angel.

Someone should never be able to feel that way. God should have stopped it. They should've done something, anything, to help the angel with the destroyed wings that was crying below them.

But they couldn't. God followed a strict set of laws that they couldn't break, ever. So they had to watch as one of his creation was being ripped apart from the inside, unable to do anything to help.

Yeah, that was even sadder than I planned! How could I cheer you up... well, have some Hetalia quotes!

-Hey Japan, want to see my butt?

-Crap, my fish!

-I will punch you the the throat!

-I'm gonna kill you until you're dead!

-It is a matter of gay or death.

-I refuse being as ugly as the rest of you.

-I once killed a man in his sleep with his own moustache and a grape.

-You can't google things in 1942 you asshat!

-Germany is mad because I might have touched his balls...

Here were some of many funny quotes, tell me it you want more!