#Funny Daddy

[philthy-daddy]

[noisycowboyglitter]

Funny He Him Daddy: How to Develop Your Dad Joke Repertoire

"Funny He/Him Daddy": A Lighthearted Celebration of Gender Expression and Parental Love

In a world that is increasingly embracing diverse gender identities and expressions, the concept of the "Funny He/Him Daddy" has emerged as a heartwarming and playful celebration of individuality and parental love.

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This endearing phrase, often seen adorning t-shirts, mugs, or other quirky accessories, serves as a delightful acknowledgment of a parent who identifies with masculine pronouns (he/him) while also embracing the lighthearted and nurturing role of "Daddy." It's a testament to the fact that traditional gender norms need not define one's capacity for affection, playfulness, and the joyful responsibilities of parenthood.

The "Funny He/Him Daddy" celebrates the recognition that gender identity and parental identity are not mutually exclusive, but rather, can coexist in a seamless and meaningful way. It's a rallying cry for inclusivity, a reminder that love and family can take on countless forms, each equally valid and worthy of celebration.

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Whether worn with pride or gifted to a cherished parental figure, the "Funny He/Him Daddy" embodies the spirit of embracing one's authentic self, while fostering a deeper appreciation for the diverse tapestry of human experience.

"Daddy Lover Valentine Quote": A Passionate Celebration of Unconditional Love and Devotion

In the realm of Valentine's Day, the "Daddy Lover Valentine Quote" stands as a heartfelt and unapologetic declaration of unwavering affection and commitment. This sentiment, often expressed through thoughtfully crafted cards, mugs, or other personalized gifts, is a testament to the depth of a partner's devotion and the unbreakable bond they share.

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Far more than just a simple phrase, the "Daddy Lover Valentine Quote" embodies the essence of a relationship built on trust, respect, and the profound understanding that transcends the boundaries of traditional gender roles. It's a celebration of the unique and irreplaceable connection that has blossomed between two individuals, a love that knows no bounds and embraces the very core of their beings.

Whether whispered tenderly or displayed proudly, the "Daddy Lover Valentine Quote" becomes a cherished symbol of the timeless power of unconditional love, a reminder that true intimacy lies in the unwavering dedication to one another's happiness and well-being.

Valentine's Day: A Celebration of Love, Connection, and the Power of Affection

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Each year, the arrival of Valentine's Day ushers in a season of romance, where the world embraces the timeless spirit of love and connection. This annual celebration serves as a poignant reminder of the enduring importance of cherishing our relationships, whether with a significant other, family, or close friends. It's a day to celebrate the power of affection, create lasting memories, and strengthen the ties that bind us together.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 1

Prompt: All the Phantom/Fenton Siblings end up with one of the Bats and Birds. It's just that neither of the two families know that their partner is related to their siblings' partners.

Danny and Red Hood

Going to Gotham for university was a planned decision, mind you. It was one of their many contingency plans in case the reveal went wrong. Thankfully, it didn't but his parents were still trying to change their views on ghosts for the sake of their children. Last he heard from his parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton were practically harassing every ghost they could find on culture, history, and etiquette. (He's gotten one too many complains from Box Ghost and Poindexter.) Plus the mess that was the situationship between the Fenton Couple and Vlad Fucking Masters. (Dante was about to kill himself again for that).

Gotham had enough ambient ectoplasm for him to be stable. Everything was very normal. Absolutely...

If not for the fact that Danny loathed clowns. When a clown decided to try and attack Danny, what does he do?

He did what every self respecting Fenton would do when faced with something he absolutely hates. He came at him swinging, aiming for the face.

And maybe he put a little too much power into the punch and the next thing he knew, a body was flung against a wall and breaking it on impact. Danny stares at the toppled wall and—HOLY SHIT HE JUST KILLED THE JOKER.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—BATMAN WAS GOING TO KICK HIM OUR OF GOTHAM!

But this was the Joker... The last time that crazy fucker got out of Arkham, he threatened to blow up an orphanage. Okay, he could do this. Gotham Harbor it is.

And in typical Fenton fashion, his luck was shittier than ever.

"What the fuck..."

Danny whipped around, freezing in place when he came face to face with the Red Hood. The fucking revenant of Gotham that the city spirit seemed to really favor. Fuck.

"It's not what it looks like! I mean—It is—But, like..." He swallowed thickly, trying to offer a smile but he flinches away when Red Hood snapped his head from the corpse then too Danny.

"That's the fucking Joker!" The Red Hood was pointing a gun at the corpse now, voice distorted and everything.

Yeah. Well. Shit. Danny gulped, finally deciding that since he was already half dead, he might as well clean up. Not like the Red Hood could kill him—I mean, he could, but Danny wasn't going to die by a bullet.

"You—" The gun was now pointed at him.

"It's not my fault he decided to fucking jump me!" Danny immediately argued, grabbing the clown by the legs and dragging him forward before he winced at the trail of blood. "It's a clown! A fucking clown!"

He yelped when the crime lord slapped his hands away from the corpse, "The fuck is wrong with you? Don't fucking touch the corpse unless you want that shit to traced to you." The Red Hood grunted, shaking his head. He sounded... He kinda sounded giddy, in all honesty. Why the fuck was the Red Hood teaching Danny how to get away with murder?

"What were you even going to do with the body?"

Danny cringed away. To tell the truth or not? Such a difficult question... Okay, he's pretty sure most of the Bats were like detectives and lying to this one might get him shot.

"Gotham Harbor?" He squeaked out.

Danny was met with silence and the man built like a fucking fridge (but he's so damn sure that Dan was still the tallest person he knew) didn't move a bit. Then his shoulders shook. And then he was laughing. Fucking shit, the Red Hood was laughing because Danny was going to dump a body in the harbor.

What was Jazz going to say?!

(Meanwhile, Jason Todd finds a strange boy that makes him feel strange, warm—the same boy had killed his worst nightmare. He might just have fallen in love right then and there.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[lazylittledragon]

they're late for school (again)

[yutamayo]

[gamperisi]

[ithinkdogshouldvote]

Teens but older... advanced teens

[rott-ish]

screenshot from the areas tour documentary on patreon

[literary-claustrophobia]

What people think DnD is like:

What it's actually like:

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny wasn't sure what to do. Was this legal? He knew the bats were part of the Justice League and whatnot but surely they can't just pick him up off the street after he got into a brawl with some creeps trying to mug him!

Sure, Nightwing had jumped down to help and Danny, still in his living form with its crappy human vision, thought he was another mugger because of the dark and attacked him too.

Now he's sitting in the back seat of the batmobile with his hands in wierd bat handcuffs.

Was everything these guys owned bat themed? Yeah his parents put there last name in all the titles of their inventions but they had a brand to sell so it was excusable. Batman however, is clearly living out his bat shaped dreams. Usually Danny was all for the furrys doing thier thing, one of his best friends was a proud furry and Danny 100% supported him, but there was a line you don't cross and tall dark and fuzzy crossed it when he kidnaped one 14 year old Danny Fenton.

He couldn't Go Ghost right in front of Batman and Nightwing but he could use the one thing his mom made him take with him everywhere since he was a little boy.

His panic button.

It was powered by ectoplasm and could get through signal jammer with no problem. If he pressed the button his parents would drop everything to come save him. They made sure to put little sirens and flashing lights in thier own hazmat suits to make sure they didn't accidentally miss it. Sure they looked hilarious the few times he had seen it go off in his life but it was highly effective.

So he pushed the button and his parents were charging torward them in record time, the GAV playing chicken with the freaking batmobile. Suddenly his mothers voice came from the panic button, "Are you in the front of back, sweetie?"

"I, uh." He stuttered, looking up at the shocked face of Nightwing before answering, "The back."

"Perfect." He mother said darkly.

A trio of high mechanical whines filled the air and Danny didn't need to look through the windshield to know the buzz saws were out.

----

Bruce just wanted to know why Danny Fenton, youngest of the Fenton Family and son of Jack Fenton and Madeline Walker, two people whose marriage brokered peace between thier prospective mafia syndicate families, was doing in Gotham beating up low level thugs.

He was not expecting overprotective mad scientist parents.

[n-hospital]

you. N and volo's massive parallels. you understand yes?

[tls12lessthan3]

its genuinely so fucking funny to me to see artwork of joonghyuk be used in those dom daddy asmr and ai things. of all the characters that would not fucking say that he might be the most unlikey to fucking say that. he just wants to be a housewife man leave him alone

[macksartblock]

weird timing but s1 dads and their bastard fathers (and frank)

[wallissa]

One thing I love about Hughie is that he’s the main character, but in such a “y/n” way. Completely unremarkable, ordinary loser who gets dragged into a life of crime and adventure by accident and whom everyone falls in love with upon meeting him, most of the time for absolutely no reason. Butcher wants to be his manic pixie dream psycho so bad, but then also breaks his own back to protect him. Frenchie and MM would kill Butcher if it weren’t for the fact that it’d make Hughie sad. Annie is a 10000/10 and wants to spend the rest of her life singing cringy teen music with him and and easing her way into pegging him. A-Train ended up with his life hopelessly tangled with Hughie’s and can’t seem to let it go. Victoria spent her breaks sharing snacks with him, knowing he’s murdering Supes — and never stopped trusting him, to the point where she came to him when she had every reason to believe he’d want her dead. Soldier Boy literally escaped endless torture and spent 90% of his newly won freedom trying to impress Hughie by putting on a little macho man show for him. The only person who’s truly immune to Hughie and his “putting his hair in a messy bun before getting sold to 1D” charm is Homelander, who genuinely just hates him. Fascinating character design, all in all.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[userparamore]

PEDRO PASCAL & KIERAN CULKIN The Hollywood Reporter | Drama Actor Roundtable