Cuddlepile
Title: Cuddlepile
Characters: The Micronations, Monaco.
Rating: G.
Summary: The micronations like to cuddle.
Originally posted to the Kink Meme here
It's an open secret that the micronations like to cuddle up together. More than a few nations have walked into an out-of-the-way lounge or unused meeting room to find them half-asleep and draped over each other, usually in the most inconvenient place possible, inevitably surrounded by cushions. The response depends on the nation in question -- Sweden will sit quietly nearby for minutes, watching the sleepy group with a fond smile on his face, until they realise he's there and scramble apart. Hungary snaps a picture. Italy offers them food. Prussia laughs so loudly that it startles the smaller ones under the table. Germany demands that they all get up, now, we're having a meeting in this room, official venues are not for falling asleep on the floor, and chivvies them into the corridor with an astonishing amount of bedding.
Varied as their reactions are, the nations never really take the snuggling seriously. There's eye-rolling and perhaps some nostalgia for childish fun, but on the whole they regard it as another silly, pointless micronational endeavour.
The sole exception is Monaco. For this, she was once invited to join in. She declined, but she did have the honour of watching them prepare to bed down -- which, as she felt she should have realised from the complexity of fitting up to nine bodies together, is a surprisingly elaborate procedure.
The micronations approach cuddling the same way Prussia goes about conducting a military campaign. The building is scouted thoroughly for a suitable room. The furniture inside is examined carefully, measured against arms and legs, and rearranged into a framework. The cushions are taken off the sofas, and pillows are collected from every bedroom they can get into. A blanket is produced. Once they have enough materials, they proceed to construct a nest.
The nest varies in shape and size, depending on how many of them there are and what they can find to build it with, but some things are always the same. There are always at least two sides to it, two protective walls that they can hide behind. They don't have to be real walls, a row of chairs or a table will do. Sofas are often incorporated, but nobody ever lies on them; since the whole point is for all of them to drape over each other, and they can't all fit on a sofa, the nest is usually set out on the floor. They use the blanket as a sort of sling to hold it together, set the pillows and sofa cushions out on the floor, pad the corners with smaller cushions that they steal out of armchairs. Then, once the nest has been deemed acceptable, they take off their shoes and start settling down.
Usually the older ones climb in first, fitting themselves neatly into the contours of the nest, lying down or leaning against the back wall. Then the younger ones climb in on top of them, wriggling into gaps between knees and chests, curling up on the pillows. The person they're doing it for always goes in the middle.
Cuddlepiles happen surprisingly often, considering how wary most of them are about doing anything that seems silly, or even how rarely they can stay in the same room without arguing. The older nations do tend to forget that the younger ones don't like to be seen as childish, and micronation cuddlepiles almost always get walked in on, which doesn't do much to allay that impression.
The one who initiates them is usually Seborga, because for all that Sealand is their fearless leader, Seborga is everyone's favorite big brother or aunt or grandmother, who knows exactly when somebody needs a hug and runs around talking everyone else into it. He also usually ends up with a major share of the snuggling, because for his friends, Seborga has as many sharp edges as a kitten, and especially when someone needs a hug.
That's why Monaco is invited to join them and no one else is: She understands that the cuddlepiles have a purpose.
When someone needs comfort, really needs it, they're in the middle. Whether it's Kugelmugel, burrowed between them because his boss is in prison, he's in prison, and he's not here and it's scary, or Molossia shivering because it's so dry, haven't seen rain in forever, feels like I'm gonna blow away, or Sealand shaking with tears and hiccuping that his Prince is dead, he's dead, he's Prince Roy and he's dead, he's not meant to be dead, he made me, the others wrap themselves around them and hold on. They listen and they whisper words of comfort and they hold on, and when the tears have dried and the fear has worn itself out, they stroke their friend's hair and back and hum lullabies until they all drift away into a half-asleep haze, warm and affectionate and together.
There isn't always crying, there isn't even always someone in the middle, though there usually is, but there's always welcome and friendliness and warm bodies to curl up against, without any judgement. Seborga says that's a rule, and none of them argue. (The rest of them have a rule, too. If Seborga initiates cuddlepiles more than three times in one World Conference, he's in the middle. No questions asked.)
It's childish, maybe. But it isn't pointless.
And notes:
"up to nine bodies" -- everyone appearing in the official picture, plus Niko-Niko and TRNC. They don't always have all nine of them, because they aren't always all at the meetings.
Measuring the furniture is just good sense; they're going to be sitting/lying in it for several hours, they want the nest to fit. They are scientific in their pursuit of a comfortable cuddle.
This was meant to be more silly and fluffy than it was. The angst crept in under the door. (Sealand will hit it with a pillow now. No angst allowed during cuddle sessions!)
Characters: The Micronations, Monaco.
Rating: G.
Summary: The micronations like to cuddle.
Originally posted to the Kink Meme here
It's an open secret that the micronations like to cuddle up together. More than a few nations have walked into an out-of-the-way lounge or unused meeting room to find them half-asleep and draped over each other, usually in the most inconvenient place possible, inevitably surrounded by cushions. The response depends on the nation in question -- Sweden will sit quietly nearby for minutes, watching the sleepy group with a fond smile on his face, until they realise he's there and scramble apart. Hungary snaps a picture. Italy offers them food. Prussia laughs so loudly that it startles the smaller ones under the table. Germany demands that they all get up, now, we're having a meeting in this room, official venues are not for falling asleep on the floor, and chivvies them into the corridor with an astonishing amount of bedding.
Varied as their reactions are, the nations never really take the snuggling seriously. There's eye-rolling and perhaps some nostalgia for childish fun, but on the whole they regard it as another silly, pointless micronational endeavour.
The sole exception is Monaco. For this, she was once invited to join in. She declined, but she did have the honour of watching them prepare to bed down -- which, as she felt she should have realised from the complexity of fitting up to nine bodies together, is a surprisingly elaborate procedure.
The micronations approach cuddling the same way Prussia goes about conducting a military campaign. The building is scouted thoroughly for a suitable room. The furniture inside is examined carefully, measured against arms and legs, and rearranged into a framework. The cushions are taken off the sofas, and pillows are collected from every bedroom they can get into. A blanket is produced. Once they have enough materials, they proceed to construct a nest.
The nest varies in shape and size, depending on how many of them there are and what they can find to build it with, but some things are always the same. There are always at least two sides to it, two protective walls that they can hide behind. They don't have to be real walls, a row of chairs or a table will do. Sofas are often incorporated, but nobody ever lies on them; since the whole point is for all of them to drape over each other, and they can't all fit on a sofa, the nest is usually set out on the floor. They use the blanket as a sort of sling to hold it together, set the pillows and sofa cushions out on the floor, pad the corners with smaller cushions that they steal out of armchairs. Then, once the nest has been deemed acceptable, they take off their shoes and start settling down.
Usually the older ones climb in first, fitting themselves neatly into the contours of the nest, lying down or leaning against the back wall. Then the younger ones climb in on top of them, wriggling into gaps between knees and chests, curling up on the pillows. The person they're doing it for always goes in the middle.
Cuddlepiles happen surprisingly often, considering how wary most of them are about doing anything that seems silly, or even how rarely they can stay in the same room without arguing. The older nations do tend to forget that the younger ones don't like to be seen as childish, and micronation cuddlepiles almost always get walked in on, which doesn't do much to allay that impression.
The one who initiates them is usually Seborga, because for all that Sealand is their fearless leader, Seborga is everyone's favorite big brother or aunt or grandmother, who knows exactly when somebody needs a hug and runs around talking everyone else into it. He also usually ends up with a major share of the snuggling, because for his friends, Seborga has as many sharp edges as a kitten, and especially when someone needs a hug.
That's why Monaco is invited to join them and no one else is: She understands that the cuddlepiles have a purpose.
When someone needs comfort, really needs it, they're in the middle. Whether it's Kugelmugel, burrowed between them because his boss is in prison, he's in prison, and he's not here and it's scary, or Molossia shivering because it's so dry, haven't seen rain in forever, feels like I'm gonna blow away, or Sealand shaking with tears and hiccuping that his Prince is dead, he's dead, he's Prince Roy and he's dead, he's not meant to be dead, he made me, the others wrap themselves around them and hold on. They listen and they whisper words of comfort and they hold on, and when the tears have dried and the fear has worn itself out, they stroke their friend's hair and back and hum lullabies until they all drift away into a half-asleep haze, warm and affectionate and together.
There isn't always crying, there isn't even always someone in the middle, though there usually is, but there's always welcome and friendliness and warm bodies to curl up against, without any judgement. Seborga says that's a rule, and none of them argue. (The rest of them have a rule, too. If Seborga initiates cuddlepiles more than three times in one World Conference, he's in the middle. No questions asked.)
It's childish, maybe. But it isn't pointless.
And notes:
"up to nine bodies" -- everyone appearing in the official picture, plus Niko-Niko and TRNC. They don't always have all nine of them, because they aren't always all at the meetings.
Measuring the furniture is just good sense; they're going to be sitting/lying in it for several hours, they want the nest to fit. They are scientific in their pursuit of a comfortable cuddle.
This was meant to be more silly and fluffy than it was. The angst crept in under the door. (Sealand will hit it with a pillow now. No angst allowed during cuddle sessions!)