#mady

[ruru195]

CUPHEAD AND BENDY NEED THREE KIDS!!! (maybe a little brother 👀)

YES!!! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS.

So i present to you baby Cendrick

Volume Wars and Staring Contests

The house was never quiet, but today? Today it sounded like the final round of a screaming championship.

“I WIN!!” shouted five-year-old Cindy, standing triumphantly on the couch like it was her royal throne, one hand to the sky, the other on her hip.

From the floor, nestled in a nest of blankets and animal-shaped pillows, baby Cendrick or Cendy for short, as the whole household called him, let out a proud, high-pitched “AAAAAH!” in response, his big round eyes unblinking, staring directly at Cindy like she was both his idol and competitor. His tiny demon tail wagged furiously behind him.

Cuphead, in the kitchen attempting to warm up milk for the sixth time that day, flinched so hard he almost dropped the bottle. “For the love of—BENDY, YOUR SON’S DOING THE THING AGAIN!” he shouted.

From the hallway, Bendy popped in, shirt stained with formula. “What, the stare? Or the banshee shriek?” Cuphead just pointed at Cendy, who had gone full wide-eyed mode, his gaze fixed on two-year-old Mady, who was now mid-tremble.

Mady’s lip wobbled.

“He’s d-d-d-demon lookin’ at meee—!” she wailed and scuttled behind Cuphead’s leg, latching onto him like a koala. “He lookin’ into my soul!”

Cendy just tilted his head, curious. He even tried to talk, letting out a garbled chain of syllables: “Ba-gguuhh-mah!”

Cuphead crouched down, gently patting Mady’s head. “He’s not scary, sugar. He’s just… intense.”

“In-tense BAD,” Mady sniffled, clinging tighter.

Bendy sat beside Cendy, pulling him into his arms. “He just inherited my ‘I-know-what-you-did’ stare. Ain’t his fault it works at birth.”

Cindy jumped down from the couch and tackled them both into a hug, ruffling Cendy’s barely-there hair. “I like him! We scream, we win!” she declared.

“Oh, wonderful,” Cuphead muttered, returning with the bottle. “One’s loud, one’s shy, one doesn’t blink. We’re raising a musical trio of chaos gremlins.”

“I’m proud,” Bendy smirked, feeding the bottle to Cendy, who suckled and stared at Cuphead the entire time.

Mady peeked from behind her dad’s legs, eyeing her baby brother. He stared back. She disappeared again with a muffled: “He doin’ it a-gaaain…”

Cuphead and Bendy exchanged a look. “Yeah,” Cup said, sighing. “He’s definitely ours.”

[psychicvoidtale]

Date

[capi-art]

Y mady?? Tendrá rediseño ella? ¿?

Mady es la que más me costo en su Re-Diseño 😭😭😭 NO SABIA Q PONERLE LPM

[postcard-from-the-past]

Mady Christians on a vintage postcard

[itsmeatballworld]

i actually thought your username was the funniest thing i ever heard when i followed you like i was legit cackling about it and to this day it still makes me smile every time i read it i think it’s so cute and silly i love it 😭🫶

AWWWE I love that haha!! it's been my username since I made my account in 2016/2017 and oddly enough i refuse to change it - someone will have to pry it from my cold little hands!!

cute and silly is the only way to go 😂

[elmanitoo]

extraño los wiwichus :’c

de Pepsi Co

[gamermousedraws]

The year 2024 must be the year of "mouse gets back into using the tumble account she's had for like 4 years"

I watched Across the Spiderverse with my boyfriend recently and something about it made me finally bite the bullet that was chambered after watching the first movie so with some help from a mutual in a server, I made a spider version of the beloved Mady

Spider Mady/Spider-Gold has a pretty uneventful spider bite incident: an escaped science experiment finds its way into her little Bronx apartment where she's living with her older sister and bit her in her sleep. Initially, the sweet summer child chalks the spider-ification symptoms (lengthening limbs/growthspurt, worsening eyesight, sudden extra hair on her face, arms, and legs) to either puberty or some other hormone imbalance and just tries to deal with it. That is until about the first time she accidentally gets stuck to a wall or shoots web out her wrist because this bich gets organic web thwippers™

Then it becomes the usual big game of "try to keep the spider stuff secret while the local (insert villain here) is trying to run me for my foams AND prom is tomorrow :0". I'm still working out story points and plot bits and I'm not certain if any portal hopping will happen in cannon, but for now, I present ✨she✨

[huaso-baby]

🍹🎇✨

lychee martini 🫧

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

next

[el3ctraaa]

2024

THIS IS NOT YOUR GRAVE

LOOK STRANGERS IN THE EYE

I WILL HAVE A GOOD DAY

I AM VERY YOUNG AND STILL LEARNING HOW TO LIVE

DO IT SCARED

ASSUME THE BEST

WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN

[guhbwuh]

more seal soap, but this time he brought a friend 💀

[ruru195]

Since cuphead had the kids, what was he like during the pregnancy?

One word: Chaotic

Three Heartbeats

The first time Cuphead found out he was pregnant, he laughed.

Not out of disbelief, but sheer, glowing, shaking-in-place joy. Bendy stood across the bathroom with his hands over his mouth, staring at the tiny positive sign like it had just handed him the entire universe.

They named her before she was even the size of a jellybean.

Celine or Cindy for short. Their girl. Their dream.

The first few months were beautiful. Cuphead would lift his shirt and stare at the barely-there bump in the mirror, hands gently brushing over it. He bought books, decorated a nursery in soft reds and browns, picked out names for every possible gender, and insisted Bendy record voice messages for the baby just in case she started kicking while he was at work.

They imagined her. Tiny hands, big eyes, a laugh that echoed down the hallway.

But then… the hormones kicked in.

And Cuphead cried. Over everything.

If Bendy was five minutes late, he sobbed. If a sock went missing, he panicked. If the mechanic shop got mentioned without including him, he got moody. One day, he sneezed too hard and peed himself—and locked himself in the bathroom crying for forty minutes, yelling, “I’m a disgrace! I can’t even sneeze in peace!!”

His back ached. His feet swelled. He couldn’t eat strawberries anymore—strawberries, his favorite fruit in the entire world, because Cindy decided she hated them. Every bite came right back up, and Cuphead wept on the kitchen floor, wailing, “She’s betraying me already!”

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would nudge Bendy awake and whisper things like, “Do I look fat?” “If I turn ugly, would you still love me?” “I swear, if you’re staying late at work because you don’t wanna deal with me, I’ll haunt you when I die of emotional damage.”

Bendy never rolled his eyes. Never once told him he was being ridiculous. Instead, he’d kiss his forehead, gently rub his feet, and lay with his ear against Cup’s belly every night, whispering:

“Hey, baby girl… Daddy loves you. Your Papa’s just feeling everything all at once right now, but he loves you more than anything.”

When they saw her little shape for the first time on the ultrasound, they both cried. Cuphead squeezed Bendy’s hand and whispered, “She’s real.” Bendy kissed the side of his face and said, “She’s ours.”

Pregnancy #2 – Madeline

Mady’s pregnancy was… quieter.

No massive meltdowns. No strawberry betrayals. This time, Cuphead mostly just… slept. A lot. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was eating. Anything. Everything. The fridge never stayed full.

But there was something that haunted both of them. Cindy had been a wild little thing kicking like she was already in a boxing match but Mady barely moved.

“Is she okay?” Cuphead asked almost daily, hands pressed against his round belly.

Bendy would hold him, rub slow circles on his back, whispering, “Yeah. She’s just chill.”

Still, the fear hung like a storm cloud. Every doctor’s visit was nerve-wracking. Every heartbeat sound was a relief. And then… came the due date.

And passed it.

And passed that.

And by the third week of false contractions and zero progress, Cuphead snapped.

“She’s cozy in there! She refuses to come out! What the hell, Mady! I’m done being a hotel!!”

They finally had to induce labor.

The moment Mady was born—silent for half a second before letting out the loudest wail—they both burst into tears. “She was just saving her energy,” Cuphead sniffled, exhausted, holding their chunky-cheeked second daughter in his arms.

Pregnancy #3 – Cendrick

If Cindy was emotional and Mady was sleepy, Cendy was… chaos incarnate.

Cuphead’s temper was on a short fuse. The sarcasm? Worse than ever. The hormones? Carnage. One time, Bendy ate the last pancake and Cuphead didn’t talk to him for three hours.

He swore more. His patience disappeared. If someone said “you’re glowing,” he shot them a look like he was about to bite them.

To make it worse, Cendy kept trying to be born early.

Every other week, Cuphead had to go on bed rest again. And he hated it.

“I am not meant to sit still this long! I will combust, Bendy! He’s trying to escape!”

Still, Bendy stayed calm—well, calm enough. Every night, like always, he lay beside Cuphead, ear to his belly, whispering little stories to their unborn boy.

Cuphead, even in his moodiest moments, melted every time. “You’re so soft with them,” he mumbled once. Bendy kissed his bump. “Because they’re half you.”

Despite all the exhaustion, the pain, the panic, and the absurdity, they never stopped loving each moment.

The kicks. The cravings. The quiet, private nights where it was just the two of them—and the tiny heartbeats beneath Cuphead’s skin.

They cried every time they saw the ultrasounds. They made voice recordings. Letters. Handmade baby books.

Cuphead joked often: “You really knocked me up three times, huh?” And Bendy always grinned, pressing his forehead against his: “Yeah. And I’d do it again, if it meant more little versions of you in the world.”

[psychicvoidtale]

Happy couple

[defnotmadie]

the one thing i want to be able to do as a writer is make people come back to something ive written. i want that piece of text to haunt them, i want their thoughts to be briefly consumed by this. i want this to be something they remember long after its time. thats the one thing i want to do

[postcard-from-the-past]

Ernst Deutsch and Mady Christians on a vintage postcard

[itsmeatballworld]

HAPPY HAPPY NEW YEAR <33

may this new year bring you lots of inspiration to create and an abundance of joy!

HAPPY NEW YEAR 🎊🎆 💖

Same to you lovely!! All good things to come!!