#young!cullen

@stvrvcined any muse you wish c:

@ximisaari  LIKED  FOR  A  SMOL  CULLY.

       “  what  are  you  talking  about . .  ?  the  moon  is  beautiful.  change  is  normally  a  good  thing,  i  think          but  we’re  not  really  talking  about  the  moon  are  we  ?”

Enjoy <3

Also, chubby baby Cullen hands. It was important.

You can check the rest of the art challenge here :3

(so, defira85 and i are doing this smutty writing relay for the next few weeks, and it involves cullen.  i will always tag for this: KitA, cullen, or knight-captain cullen. we are, i hope, responsible writers and shippers. while these short ficlets are meant to be in good fun, i'd never want my good-time to come at the expense of someone else's pain.  i respect my friends on the less cullen-enthused end of the fandom, and invite them to let me know any time i've made them feel uncomfortable.)  ____________________________________________________ My first prompt was 'Confessional handjobs.' ____________________________________________________ He is eight years old when he wanders into the Chantry confession hall to find the heartshrift box shuddering against the wall. The heavy velvet curtain swings just a little on its brass rings, and behind it someone moans. The moan is thin and muffled, and it empties from the unseen throat for so long that Cullen feels himself redden. He can’t name a reason for his blush.   He has never heard a person make a noise like that, not even at supper when the biscuits are crisp and soft, fresh from the oven. The box goes still, the moan subsides, and Cullen thinks his hammering heart is loud enough for them, for anyone, to hear. He runs from the Chantry. His swift, poorly-shod feet carry him over the pavestones, back to the children’s house, with a slapping beat. At supper, an older girl tells him it’s just what happens sometimes.   “The Box is good for two things, yeah: Getting in good with the Maker, and getting off,” she says with a grin, winking at the girl with the braids who sits across from her. “Do it at the same time and you get a prize.”   They laugh. Everyone around him at the longtable laughs, even the boys as young as he, who know even less than he does.  So Cullen turns red again.  Being good for the Maker can’t be a bad thing, so why’s it so funny?  The older girl takes the biscuit off his plate, and Cullen doesn’t stop her. It’s stale, anyway. . He is thirteen when he asks the Sister who approaches him in the confessional hall if she knows what goes on there.  He has been standing there for fifteen heavy minutes, bookended by quiet, unmoving heartshrift boxes.  When she touches his shoulder, inquires if he’s okay, Cullen asks her if she knows about the last Box on the right. She’s the youngest in the Chantry, and Cullen likes her best.  “Do you?” she replies.  Her warm hand leaves his shoulder. He goes to the Box a lot these days.  He visits in the morning, and also later when all the lamps are snuffed.  It’s been a lot of whispered years in this hall, he would like to tell her, waiting in line for a secret show, some reward no one will tell him about. He would like to explain that despite never seeing the act, he sort of feels it.  But he can’t tell a holy woman something that makes no sense. Ignorance aggravates him, but at least it’s his to keep or share. He says, “No, Sister.”  . He is seventeen when he moans behind the curtain. . .  read the rest on Ao3 TAG, KIRSTY, YOU'RE IT!