Summary: England falls down a literal plot hole and must go through as many prompts as he can in order to go dig himself up to the surface.

Note: Many ships are going to sail and sink such as FrUk, UsUk, AsaKiku, it's an entire English Armada and a lot of AUs are going to be here.

(If you want a certain ship to come up, just suggest them!)

Extra Note: I remember finding the prompt somewhere on Pinterest and it looked interesting, just leaving this out there.

Chapter 1: Fall

England had been taking a walk after their meeting has ended. The garden that surrounded their current venue is a familiar and comforting presence as he digests the information from the meeting. The sun is bright and high in the noon sky. England couldn't help but smile as he looks up and takes in the view of a clear noon sky. He rarely sees these sorts of things back at home where the sky is dark and cloudy, moody and rainy at a moment's notice.

In his distraction, he did not see the hole in front of him, hidden by the bushes and the tall grass that crawled through the forest floor. It was at this moment that England fell, tripping over a root of a tree and tumbling head first into this hole. His screams echoing as he passed by dirt and soil before blacking out when he hit the bottom. England's last thought is that he hopes that it's not France or America that finds him in this hole. They wouldn't stop pestering him if they did.

What England did in fact not know is that the hole he had fallen into is a rare thing called a 'Plot Hole'. When one falls into a Plot Hole, they are forced into a cycle of plots, these plots will take you and the people you know and twist it to become a situation suited to that certain plot. It will continue to do so after the plot has been fulfilled. England, as a country has added some new rules to this curious hole, seeing as countries are immortal and have memories of dating back to hundreds and thousands of years.

This meant that England would remember each and every plot he was cursed to live through as well as maintaining the ability from the last prompt (if there is any such as shape shifting, magic, so and so).

This also meant that England had to be aware of the prompts he would live through, as if given the general idea of a role in a horrid play that loops. As such, when he woke up, he woke up to a bland room with a large poster with his first writing prompt stamped proudly onto it.

"Huh? Where…am I?" He mumbled as he scanned the room.

It felt like a bland hospital room, all white with a bed with white sheets and the only spots of colour being himself and the poster in front of him.

"Odd, am I trapped here?" He wondered out loud. His voice echoed back. England shuddered at this, rather creepy in his opinion.

A note popped into existence before him, picking it up it read, 'Only until you touch the poster, stay as long as you like. If you need or want something then think of it and it will appear in existence.'

England frowned before focusing on an explanation of what is going on.

Nothing happened.

Sighing, England decided to read the poster. After all, the note did say it will transport him. He's sure that meant he'll be transported to that place or something similar.

The poster in front of him is a simple colour with black text on it. The poster described what seems to be a writing prompt. It went on detailing how during a bank robbery the criminals recognize the person only for the person to learn their high school sweet heart is now running a global crime syndicate with the person being on a 'No Harm' list. The person then decided to visit that person after how many long years.

England should truly thank all those Sherlock books as he deduced that the poster transported him into the scenario written on it. He wondered if after he finished the scenario he could escape. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the poster, the surface of the poster rippled. He pulled back. It settled and became smooth once more. Licking, his lips, England stretched his hands once more to touch it.

The poster rippled once more and England continued to push. It rippled and wavered like a puddle being splashed until he finally disappeared through the poster.

He began to fall once more, spiralling through a sea of black and he closed his eyes, waiting, with bated breath, for this fall to end.

He woke up in an apartment this time. The walls are a soft blue, there's a music stand leaning against a wall, the place is large but still cramped in a good way. There's a book shelf, with books stacked upon books and a line of trophies from various music competitions, photos of him as a child with a proud smile holding a trophy up to the camera.

He stood up from his place on the bed and headed towards the sheet music. After all, it's obvious he lives as a human here. He can't call himself by his country name. England wonders who took the picture for a few short moments as he checks the label on the otherwise smooth clear book.

'Arthur Kirkland'

So that's his name.

He searched through the shelves this time, checking for a journal that explained who e was in this world.

A moleskine notebook, good it means he's on to something.

He cracked it open, raising an eyebrow at the basic information written at the first page.

'Name: Arthur Kirkland

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Nationality: British-American

Occupation: Professional Violinist

Backstory: Arthur Kirkland is an orphaned boy who shined bright as a talented violinist. However, though many families have tried to adopt him, they later couldn't as they felt he was being too much to handle with his strong distrust for these families as he used to be living on the streets. As he went through high school, he met a man named Alfred Jones who then became his boyfriend as they bonded over being orphans who were picked up from the streets. Arthur is now a successful violinist who composes his own music and making a name for himself in the world of music.'

Eng-no, it's Arthur for now, hummed at this. So he's a professional violinist eh? He glanced at the sheet music to realize it's his own composition with his name neatly printed out on the right corner. A phone pinged. Startled, England glanced around for where it is until he realized it was on the bedside table. He picked it up and checked it to see a reminder that said:

'Go to bank to withdraw rent money'

Simple, Arthur mused. He supposes that could be due to the fact that it's trying to push him through the scenario. It did state that Alfred, whoever that may be, was his high school sweet heart.

With a sigh, Arthur got dressed and ate some breakfast, he has a feeling this will be long day. Especially when Arthur checks his contacts to see this Alfred's number still there. Arthur gulped when he saw the contact photo.

Smiling back at him is a bright picture of America, posing for the camera with a victory sign, his glasses shined in the light while the grin shone brighter. Instead of the military uniform, America is wearing a brown jacket and a white button up shirt and an olive green tie. His hands are covered by black gloves.

So it seems that he used to date America then. He frowned before shaking his head and pocketing the phone. He might as well accept it and move on. That America is way different from his America who's still back on his Earth rather than this odd phantom of a home.

The moment Arthur arrived in the bank he knew how much money he needed to withdraw. Luckily, nothing much happened before, or during the transaction but the moment it was done the bank was broke into by a pair of robbers.

They both had their faces covered while gloves covered their hands with a gun held straight. People screamed and mothers held their children, people shying away from the robbers, the staff looked nervous in their place. The moment they saw his face though, the robbers immediately withdrew.

"Hey, boss, is that him?" One of the robbers asked. His eyes are wide with fear as he gestured to Arthur.

The man referred to as 'boss' nodded his head, "That would be him. Come on, we don't him to get us!"

They ran.

Luckily it didn't pop up on the news though they do have police catching the robbers. When asked what happened, Arthur told them the truth. He was there, they seemed to be scared and that was it. As such, they let him go and he was off to finish up the last part of the prompt.

Time to talk to Alfred, Arthur mused, he called the number that has clearly been untouched for years. As he lifted the phone to his hand, he waited and waited.


"Hello?" Arthur took a deep breath. Alfred sounds exactly like America. This is getting weird.

"Hello, Alfred. It's me, Arthur. I know we haven't seen each other in years," He gently mumbled into the phone. "But I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind."

"Haha! Of course I don't mind," Alfred replied.

Arthur played with the hem of his sleeve. "Is it alright if we meet up? This sort of question isn't exactly okay to talk about over the phone."

"Alright," Alfred agreed, "Where are you by the way?"

"I live in Devon hills. If you're ever in town or can make it then head to Pines View Park," He instructed. Arthur closed his eyes.

It truly is strange talking to a person who you know isn't truly that person.

"Whoa! This is weird. I live in the same place too. Hold on, I'll be there as soon as I can,"

The call clicked as Alfred hung up on him.

Arthur hoped he won't have to wait long. He's not sure if he can bear the sight of a man who looks like America, acts like America, sounds like America and in general America in all but name and memory. It would be like seeing the shadow of a person who you once saw as happy.

Alfred arrived in half an hour later after their call. The man looked taller, brighter, with an edge of something dangerous. Arthur knew this thanks to his years as an old empire that lived. Alfred could be likened to a knife covered by cloth, pleasant with a hint of something dark.

"Hey, Artie, it's been years since we've seen each other!" The man grinned as he came up to him.

Arthur smiled softly at the man, he considered acting his usual angry front but the backstory wouldn't line up. "Hello, Al," He's not sure where the nickname came from, "I need to ask you…"

Arthur looked into Alfred's sky blue eyes and asked him, in all seriousness, "Why am I on your 'No Harm' list? Not like I don't appreciate it but…"

Alfred's eyes softened at this as he moved closer. "Oh Arthur," Arthur moved and allowed himself to be pulled closer until Alfred was holding him so gently as if he would break. "What we had in high school is the reason I was sane. I was rising to the top and you were my light. Think of it as a thank you for being that light."

"Al…?" He mumbled. It's so different because he can hardly imagine America, any version of America to be troubled deeply.

"Arthur, I…I want what we had to be ours again…" Am-no, it's not America, its Alfred in this cut out scene. Arthur bit his lip. He knows it's a scene that's scripted and made for whoever's amusement. The poster had written for this to happen but… he can't help it.

Arthur fidgeted. The pleading eyes of Alfred gazed back at him. "Al… I missed it too,"

Alfred grinned at him with a smile as bright as the sun.

"May I kiss you?"

Arthur looked up and gave him a smile of his own. "Please do,"

The moment they shared a kiss, the world began to fade. The feeling of Alfred's lips on his, so soft and gentle for someone so bright and bold fading along with it, gone like a whisper in the wind.

England opened his eyes to the bland room with the only thing from that world being a violin. The words on the poster changed and England can't help but feel hurt from the fact it felt so real only for it to be yanked away. It may have been a role to play but it still hurt. After all, those were the eyes of America looking into his own.

(For a distant moment, England wondered if this blasted room knew his deepest desires or the possible relationships that could have been in the past. If so, then he hopes that all of those would not end as starkly as this one did. For all he can see when he closes his eyes are the soft blue eyes of Am-Alfred staring back.)

Wow! What a way to end the day. (For me at least XD) Man that was fun to write, I'm planning on making this a series of one shots based on writing prompts. At most, I plan for this to last 20 chapters and at least would be 10. Anyway, I hope it's been an interesting read!