- 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 -

𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 Sᴘɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Bᴏᴛᴛʟᴇ

"Welcome to the truth of our world-a massive seed shot out to the stars, filled with deadly children. A seed designed to slay everything it touches."
― Greg Bear, Hull Zero Three

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Just keywords:

Italics: Flashbacks
Bold: Nothing really
Bold AND Italics: Me talking—(or quotes)
###: Censored name

Warning: This book will contain some inappropriate lines and sentences later through the book (no, there's no smut and I hope you did not think of that) There will be inappropriate pick up lines, also there will be kissing scenes so if you don't like any romance then well this isn't the right book for you. Suicide/death/flashbacks of colonization/ships will be mentioned through out this book too. I heavily suggest you should talk to someone you trust when it comes to suicide, I wouldn't have been here writing this book if I hadn't told my teacher about it. I will give you virtual hugs for you guys cause why not? (⊃｡◕◡◕ ｡)⊃(⊃｡◕◡◕ ｡)⊃(⊃｡◕◡◕ ｡)⊃(⊃｡◕◡◕ ｡)⊃

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"Let me goooooo!" whined Angola as one of the Arab countries tickled him to death (nah I'm joking, well they did tickle him but not like dying you know—).
"You stole my phone," smirked Lebanon and punched Angola's shoulder playfully, "Payback time!"
"Whyyyyyyyy," groaned Angola and unsteadily sat up on the marble floor.

* * *

"Gotcha!" smirked the country and hugged Angola behind.
"Stop it," snapped Angola and continued beading the necklaces, "Leave me alone."

The Africa country was making beaded necklaces and bracelets, so that he can sell them at the store and own some money for his family. The ### had no mercy on the African countries, Angola and others had to suffer under the colonization.

It was still dark, 12am. The moon was high up in the sky, flower petals softly landed around the African country—the tall grass blew gently in the wind, stripped moonlights beamed down the dark village. Angola just wore a simple white t-shirt, brown pants and a dirty; tattered orange jacket wrapped around his waist, before he went out—he took a bag of beads and strings; sat under the tree and started weaving the beads through the strings. Everything was quiet until the son of famous ### (no—not son of the b*tch) came. If Angola attacked him, obviously ###'s father would punish his family or even execute them. He tried to calm down the angered monster roaring inside of him, or else consequences will happen—and things will end up nasty.

"What are you doing here?" asked Angola and frowned, he lost the grip of the string—making the beads slip off the string and lightly hit the grass. "It's 12am!"
"Can't I come and see my boyfriend?" smirked ### and sat down next to the African country.
"I am not your boyfriend," grumbled Angola and ignored the head pats ### gave him, "Your father would kill me if that happened anyway."
"Eehhhhhh I still don't care!"
"You're so rebellious."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"Take that as a warning instead."
"..."
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" snarled the African country, a pang of guilt settled in his chest. He didn't meant to be rude, but sometimes it hurts whenever Angola sees snobby rich people hurt most of the poor people in his village. It wasn't fair, he wanted to treat them (the snobby people) horribly too—but that only means he's bad as them.