And because Ren doesn't know when to stop writing stories, especially self-inserts (Christ, that sounds so flipping wrong), here's another one. Yep, one of the Hetalia manual ones. Y'know, the ones by LolliDictator? Yeah. *falls over and cries at the fact that this is such a self-insert crack-fic that is screwed up in so many ways *

This one is going to be updated very randomly, but I have a feeling that all the chapters will be long.

It was a normal Saturday morning in a normal summer in New York City. That is, if any day could actually be called normal. In a loft in the heart of the city that never sleeps, a young millionaire, a Buddhist vet, an aspiring writer and an anime/manga artist slept in peace.

The Upper West side of New York City, specifically had never seen such a pseudo-random quartet of people, especially seeing as they lived in a ludicrously high-priced flat with five (four queen-sized, one twin-sized) bedrooms, a living room, a full kitchen, two sparkling bathrooms[1], and the writer's equally ludicrously priced sound systems in each room.

...the author would like to blame the millionaire for this apartment.

They had all met in high school, and were now all living together, thanks to the millionaire's generosity.

How a twenty-one year old became a millionaire, you ask?

The invention of a machine that delivers delicious tasty snacks throughout the house via a remote and wires might have something to do with it, but you're free to think whatever you want.

At that very instant, rather unfortunately for the silence on the street, the writer decided to get up. This was emphasized by the sudden boom of bass, and electro sound of a certain band called Angelspit.

"I OVERPLAY MY BONE STRUCTURE AND METABOLISM!" was the first screaming sound that woke up the rich neighbors like "Reveille" would to a soldier.

"TURN OFF THAT SHIT, WOMAN." was the response for aforementioned millionaire. Said artist and scientist slept through the noise, their earplugs blocking out all of the sound.

"...SKINNY LITTLE BITCH... LALALALA, LALALALA!"

"WARNING ONE UNTIL I'M EVICTING YO' ASS!"

The music then turned down drastically.

Allow me to introduce this pair.

Natalie "Nate" Beck was a twenty-one year old girl who was an aspiring writer. As was the style of many rebellious college students, she cut her hair to her shoulders, made it spiky and dyed various strands all the different colours of the rainbow. She had a bad habit of stealing her sister's credit card and using to buy the infamous sound system now installed in the house. Nate was currently studying English and chemistry. Her favourite colors were silver, black and blue, and she liked ink, pimp hats, poisons, boats and boots.

Her twin was the millionaire of the bunch, Charlotte "Char"- no wait, "Lottie" - Beck. She hated being called Char, and would hurt whoever called her such. Generally calmer than her twin, Lottie was the inventor of the group, locking herself into one of the two twin bedrooms to invent various new contraptions. Explosions, much to the scientist's delight, were heard often during the day. Her favourite color was purple. She liked metal, cooking, and technology.

NOW IN NATE'S POINT OF VIEW, BECAUSE I CAN'T DO THIRD PERSON WORTH CRAP

Moving back to the house, I was currently doing my pout of doom. I hated it when I couldn't play my music loudly and was threatened with eviction.

"Don't pout at me like that, or I might not cook you pancakes." my sister said, running a hand through her messy brown hair. The inventor was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of very purple pajama pants.

"But- but!"

"No buts. Do you want pancakes or not?"

"...jeez, so mean so early."

"Good girl, you get pancakes," Lottie smirked. "Now go wake up Mae and Tanya."

"Why do I have to?"

"Because I'm a motherfucking millionaire."

"...you are an ass." [2]

But because Charlotte Beck was, indeed, a millionaire, I went first to the artist's room to wake her up.

Tanya Eastman was the resident starving artist. Not being able to afford her own ludicrously-priced apartment, she had blackmailed- I mean, politely asked the millionaire and her sister if she could live with them. She drew lovely pieces of art involving lots of gore and mechas. Tanya studied art at a nearby college. Her favourite color was also purple, and she loved cats, video games and anything particularly artsy.

"Yo, Miss Artist Bitch! Get yo' ass out here, Lottie's making pancakes." I yelled, opening the door and narrowly avoiding a pencil being chucked at me.

"I WANT ANOTHER HOUR OF SLEEP- ooh, pancakes!" Tanya grinned, dragging herself from her desk to go hug me.

I tentatively hugged back, trying to ignore the fact that the other's face was mashed against my stomach.

"...what the heck is going on here...?" the final member of the Trio of Four asked, rubbing her eyes and staring awkwardly.

"M' hugging Natie-Nate." was the muffled reply.

"... okay, then." the short scientist turned away to get some pancakes.

Mae Schultz was exceedingly proud of her German heritage, and was currently studying bombs in her science courses. A slight pyromaniac, she wasn't one to swear, and was often nearly painfully naive about a few subjects that Nate loved to joke about, and didn't understand sarcasm. Her favourite color was black, and she loved classical music, fireworks, explosions, and art.

A few long minutes later, I managed to extricate herself from my friend, who had fallen asleep after claiming that "Nate's stomach was squishy like kitties~!". Straightening my artsy white-trimmed black button-up shirt with the wrist buttons undone, I sashayed back to the kitchen, jumping up onto the counter to enjoy my pancakes.

"Nate! Get into the dining room, now!" Lottie yelled.

I sighed, dragging myself off of the counter, and into the immaculate dining room. Lottie was sitting at the head of the table, Mae already scarfing down a pancake. The twenty-one year old dragged a chair out, and proceeded to drown my fluffy chocolate-chip pancakes in maple syrup.

"Na-ate! That maple syrup is really expensive-"

"Says the person who bought this ludicrously-priced flat." I dead-panned.

"...shut up."

"Heh."

"Evic~tion!" sang the purple-lover.

"...bitch..." I muttered, putting my head down and eating my pancakes.

"Where is Tanya?" Mae asked, using a napkin to wipe the maple syrup from her mouth.

"She fell asleep again. Ah well, more pancakes for us~" I said, grinning, taking another pancake.

The millionaire sighed, getting up slowly and stretching,"I'll get her. These are gluten free, and you know how she'll get if we don't give her pancakes."

I laughed at the grumpy look that Lottie had. Ah, blackmail is priceless, indeed.

There was only two pancakes left from the formidable stack that Lottie had made about fifteen minutes before, and the maple syrup was dwindling as a cry of panic echoed across the flat and Lottie returned, physically dragging Tanya in her desk chair to the table.

Lottie had a couple of already forming bruises on her arms where Tanya had karate-chopped her in an attempt to be free, and was scowling slightly.

"Well, I'm going to work at the pizza place today." she informed us. "Seeing as all of you are being mean."

"What did I do?" Mae complained.

"You existed!"

"...huh?"

Lottie facepalmed and then grabbed her coat, going off to get a taxi to get to her part-time workplace. Being a millionaire had it's perks.

"So... whatcha gonna do, today?" Tanya asked us, taking a bite of the yummy pancakes. I hope you all decide to pay homage to me...

"I'm off to the science lab. We get to play with C4 today~" Mae giggled, getting a dreamy look in her eyes. Tanya and I edged away from her, rather freaked out.

"...I was just going to stay home..." I muttered shadily, eyes darting back and forth as I hid Lottie's credit card in my pocket.

"What's that that you're holding?" Tanya asked, staring at my failed attempts to be a smooth secret agent.

"...a pen."

"Are you sure? That looks more like Lottie's credit card to me."

More sketchy eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Mmhmm. Riiiight."

"Hold it, you actually believe her?" Mae asked.

"No. Sarcasm."

"...I hate sarcasm." the scientist muttered, looking slightly emo.

"But it has "asm" on the end! Anyone else know any good words that end with "asm"? Hehehe~" I snickered.

There was silence for a few seconds as Tanya tried to hold in her own snickers.

And then-

"OH MY GOD THAT'S DISGUSTING."

"Quite the contrary, m'dear." I laughed, pulling out a remote to Lottie's invention (which she would grudgingly admit was rather ingenious) and pressing the number four. A little plastic container came floating down a wire, a bag of Skittles inside.

"Really? Skittles at seven fifteen in the morning?" Tanya asked, grinning slightly.

"Skittles at seven fifteen in the morning..." I imitated my friend's voice badly. "How 'bout video games at seven fifteen in the morning?"

"But video games are educational!"

"...touche, ma cherie."

"Stop speaking in French!"

"Well, I'm just going to go to the lab, now." Mae muttered, getting up and leaving.

After a few more minutes of light-hearted bantering (and an impromptu noogie that sent me flying onto the floor, pouting like a small child), Tanya lazily got up to go draw and pet her cat.

As soon as my best friend was out of sight, I dashed to the computer and entered in an URL.

The Flying Mint Bunny website swiftly opened up, and I started typing in my information.

"Hurm... name... Natalie Beck... address... 170 Riverside Drive... credit card number..." I smirked a little, felt guilty for stealing my sister's credit card, and then entered in the credit card number. Eh, I feel like such a bad person, doing this! Ah well, Lottie'll beat me up anyways, even if I asked her for her card. I've done it before... damn, now I feel guiltier.

The screen blinked as I clicked enter, and then the logo appeared. Under it was the cheery message,"Thank you for your purchase! Your first model will be sent to you tomorrow at 7:30!"

There was then some Viagra ads, so I X'd out the box in disgust.

The next day, the morning was very similar to the morning before (minus the credit-card stealing and moral battle questioning) and at eight o'clock, the house was booming with overly loud music (this time, Porcelain and the Tramps).

Ring.

The doorbell rang, and I casually got up, ready to yell at the hapless neighbor who was no doubt going to try and make me turn my music down. I opened the door, scowl at the ready, and instead one of my neighbors, I saw a man in a mint green suit, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Hi?" I said absently, staring at him. There was a giant box behind the man, and he was holding a clipboard.

"Oh, hello. You must be, er, Natalie Beck. Are you by any chance related to Charlotte Beck?" the man asked.

"Yeah, she's my sister. What're you doing here?"

"Tell her I thought her invention was-"

"Ingenious, yeah, yeah, yeah. That's what everybody says. Is there anything else you need?" I said impatiently, tapping my foot.

"No need to be rude..." the man muttered. I sighed.

"Weeeeeell?" I dragged out the word. I was an impatient person. Don't look at me like that, Reader!

"Your order from the Flying Mint Bunny Corp. came in today. You got a good one." he said, smirking slightly, handing me a clipboard so I can sign for the box.

"Thanks, man. Now get off my- I mean, my sister's- property." I snapped, dragging the box in and closing the door.

The man stood in front of the door for a few seconds more, and then left, shaking his head and muttering a few insults.

"What's that?" Tanya asked, coming downstairs as I turned off the music.

"It's my order from the Flying Mint Bunny company!" I said, grinning.

"That's legit! Now open it!" she laughed, bouncing slightly.

I opened the manual, noting it's title.

"FRANCIS BONNEFOIS: User Guide and Manual

CONGRATULATIONS! You are now the proud owner of your very own FRANCIS BONNEFOIS unit! Please take this time to remember the waiver you signed upon ordering this unit: we, the makers of this manual, are not to be held responsible for any bodily or emotional harm your new unit subjects you to. For your personal safety, we have enclosed this manual, and suggest you read it to avoid any unwanted contact with your unit."

"Sweet! We got a Francis one!" I squealed happily.

"Shit. He goes around molesting people, though!" Tanya sighed. I glared at her.

"But that's just why we love him."

Continuing with the manual, I went through the specifications of Francis Bonnefois and finally read how one was supposed to open the box with the Frenchman inside of it.

"Removal of your FRANCIS BONNEFOIS from Packaging:

FRANCIS BONNEFOIS is one of our milder, more cultured units, which means that he is less likely to hulk smash you if you wake him up improperly. However, there is still the danger of him acting violently passionate if you wake him up improperly. If you would like to keep your virtue for a little longer, here are some easy ways to wake your unit up without damage to your reproductive organs."

Tanya and I snickered for a few moments at the idea of France hulk-smashing anyone.

"Oh my God, that would be freaking priceless..." Tanya laughed.

"FRANCE... SMASH!" I said in a cheesy French accent, sending both of us into hysterics.

"R-right... reading..." Tanya finally managed to get out, still giggling sporadically.

"1. Play 'La Marseillaise'. If you speak French, sing it yourself. Francis will start cheering and singing along - while he's distracted, reprogram him.

2. Cook French food. Make sure you cook it well, or he will throw the platter on the floor and accuse you of giving him shit, although you'll have the chance to reprogram him either way.

3. Play Johnny Hallyday. Francis will respond positively, although he might have a tendency to start dancing. And if you're really unlucky, he'll drag you along. If you don't have Johnny Hallyday, play Edith Piaf. And if you don't have Edith Piaf or Johnny Hallyday, Yelle will do. Warning if you do play Yelle: Francis may start dancing Techtonic, and you might want to avoid having elbows in your face.

Play a porno, loudly (but not loud enough to scar the neighbors). Francis will burst out of his box and start watching it, and you can program him while he's busy fapping. Warning: this move is recommended only for people who can move extremely fast, because if you're not able to reprogram him enough you might end up losing your virtue after all."

"I say we go with number four!" I yelled, already going onto the computer. Tanya's eye twitched and she dragged me away from the computer, much to my perverted distress.

"Bad idea, Nate. You're not known for your speed." she pointed at the second sentence in the option.

"Damn." I made a nasty face, but acquiesced.

"Um... let's see... Lottie is the one who cooks, which throws out number two... I don't think the neighbors will like us screaming the French anthem out-of-tune, and besides, Francis will prolly try and shank us if we sing it wrong, seeing as I speak Spanish, not French..."

"That leaves option three, and I have Yelle on my iPod!" I yelled.

Tanya winced,"Ow... I think all of that loud music has killed your ears. You've been yelling a lot."

"Yeah, yeah. Screw you, too."

"No need to be mean, like you were to that rep from the Flying Mint Bunny!" Tanya sighed.

"He was wearing a mint green suit! That's perfectly fair grounds to be mean to people!"

"Whatever. Just play the music."

The familiar techtonic sounds of Yelle reverberated in the flat, and the French singer started singing. Nothing happened.

I started worrying about the accuracy of the manual until the chorus started.

The box practically exploded in a shower of wood chips as a perverted Frenchman jumped out and dragged us to dance with him as he sung along loudly,"Je veux te voir dans un film pornographique~"

I, possibly being just as pervy as Francis on my good days, danced happily to the dirty French song, but Tanya screamed and desperately dragged herself AWAY from us and turned off the music.

"Aw, Tanya! That was just getting to the good part!" I complained.

Francis then hugged me rather inappropriately,"Bonjour, ma cherie~ Comment t'appelle tu?"

I deliberated for a couple of seconds and decided it was probably best to get him off of me and THEN answer his question, unless I wanted my virginity to be lost. I shrugged out of his embrace, ignoring his depressed pout and went to stand next to Tanya, who looked confused.

"...ma cherie? Parles-tu Francais?" he looked stricken at the idea that I didn't understand him, and started going into depression.

"Oui, Francis, je parle Francais." I sighed.

"Excellente! Alors, comment t'appelle tu? Une belle femme doit avoir un bel nom~"

"Merci beaucoup, mais pouvons-nous parler en Anglais? Ma amie ne parle pas Francais."

"Of course!" he beamed. "Your pronunciation is lovely, ma cherie~"

I blinked a few times as he tried to flirt with me,"...thanks. I am Natalie Beck, but please call me Nate, and this is Tanya Eastman."

"What were you two saying?" Tanya questioned. "...goddamn Frenchies..."

Francis ignored the slur and continued smiling,"Salut, ma cherie~ I am Francis Bonnefois~ I asked your lovely friend what her name was and if she spoke French, which she does, and then she asked me if we could speak en Anglais, because you do not speak French, which is tres horrible!"

"..." Tanya stared blankly at the flamboyant Frenchman as I flipped through the manual.

A section of the manual caught my eye:

"Overprotective Big Brother is just that: instead of groping you, he'll hug you in a completely innocent matter and be whatever you need him to be for you, even if you need him to go beat up the 6'5 bastard down the street who stole your wallet. (FRANCIS BONNEFOIS can be startlingly strong when he needs to be.) To get him into this mode, simply cry in front of him or complain about your shitty love life (or cry in front of him about your shitty love life). Your unit will give you great advice on what to do."

A lightbulb clicked in my head. Aha!

Remembering the agony of the last time we didn't have Nutella in the fridge, I brought tears to my eyes and sniffed.

Out of the corner of my teary eyes, I saw Tanya giving me a hilarious WTF look of massive proportions, and then Francis turned his head and saw me fake-crying.

BAM! Insta-change.

"Ma cherie, don't cry! It will be all right!" he instantly went into the Overprotective Big Brother mode just as the manual described, hugging me completely platonically.

I was dragged onto a comfy chair in the kitchen as he then proceeded to start cooking comfort food.

I blinked a few times, and then sat back to enjoy it.

(whatisthisidon'teven) And that's the beginning of this... story... yeah...

Review. It will make this story better. : )