#dad!raph tmnt

[sweeneydino]

Dad jokes.

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Klunk! He’s just a little guy

I love cats, they’re so cute :) Wish we saw more of him in the show, but just the fact that they have a cat is great. Poor turtles need an emotional support animal for all that they go through.

Even though Splinter is a rat, I think he treats Klunk like a fifth son. After all, he too was a misunderstood animal who only needed kindness once, and the love that his Masters had for him inspires his own kindness even now.

The episode as a whole was adorable! Even though they live in the sewers and fear humans, the turtles still have a little community of their own.

[doughliciousfrosting]

Spring semester of college is over for me so you all get fed 😋 if u follow my insta you've already seen these srryyy :P

[paperlifted]

The 2k3 Ratdad Supercut: featuring every time a turtle refers to Splinter as their father in seasons 1-5.

[riggsink]

loveee the katana dads au Did Leo and Usagi consult Leo's brothers before taking in the kids, or did they just show up with random kids one day? Cuz I can see them doing both lmao

yea no, the boys were all right there when the dads-to-be found out

I'm sorry it took me so long to reply! inspiration is a flaky bitch

[fabuloustrash05]

"When I was a young man, I fell in love with a woman-"

"Oh, hey, is it that late?"

"Sit."

This is such a funny father and son moment between these two, and I love it way too much.

Not only with Raph trying to get out of hearing a story from his dad that he's not interesting in/in the mood to hear, but also immediately wanting out the second he realizes it's about his dad's love life.

[t-min-nie-t]

Does anyone else in the fandom think about how Raph and Mira hug?

Do we not think about the way Mira hugged onto Raph the same way Karai hugged Splinter?

When the scenario is both girls reuniting with their fathers after losing their families?

Twice in both cases, as Karai lost Tang Shen and the little family she had with Shredder and the foot. And Mira's whole clan was killed before she found her new family and they got attacked, and she thought they were all dead.

Doesn't help that they were both kidnapped from their families.

So it becomes harder hitting when you think about how both girls are reuniting with their fathers, and they think they are all they have left of their former families.

The fact that Raph is essentially living Splinter’s life in the apocalypse and this moment is where he believes everyone in his family is dead. Except for his daughter, who was taken from him.

And the moment they reunite, she's the first one to hug him.

And like his father before him, he was the one to be taken aback by the sudden embrace and acceptance of his daughter.

Where both pairs understood they were all they had from the life they knew before.

And then there's the fact that both dads hold their daughters in THE. EXACT. SAME. WAY!

Holding them by their backs and heads to keep them as close as possible. And giving them love in their darkest moments after everything's changed for them.

Does anybody else think about that?

No?... only me...?

Okay, that's fair.

[abbeyofcyn]

Phantom Pain 2

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Masterpost

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Transcript

P1

It's just frustrating!

...

Am I pushing him too hard to open up? I know it's not his thing but it always helps me when I do

Hey papito, need some help?

He's just been more on his own since he lost his arm. You've noticed it too, right?

P2

It's normal for Donnie to lose track of time and spend all day in his lab

P3

But even he disappears right after breakfast until dinner!

...

Haha ha

Maybe I should try an intervention with them both and Dr. Delicate Touch

Mikey

P4

Raph thinks you should give them time and play this game you wanted to play with me

I love you Raph

...

But I'll still crush you!

HA! Bring it

P5

[Text] Deleted 03:17

[Text] Hey case|

It was just a dream

Deep breaths

That's not how it happened

Come on, brain, it shouldn't feel painful

It shouldn't feel like anything

It's gone

[heckitall]

Do the sainwb twins have 3 dad's or is one a dad and the other 2 uncles? Like do all three take a fatherly role in their upbringing?

Also I love that Lee and Dee have white/black masks. Did they pick them themselves or were they assigned?

took a lil break from commissions to answer this! had some fun with it, so thank you for the ask :)

as for the twins' mask selection, that was all Splinter. i think it was probably the last big "fatherly" thing he did before allowing his three sons to take the helm on raising two tiny turtles.

he's paid his dues already, yanno? let him be the fun grandpa for a bit.

[hotheadedhero]

Baby Jitters

AN: After making the 'Baby Bump' headcanons, idk, I just HAD to further develop Raph's worries in a conversation. Maybe I'll do the other turtles too but my honey in red needs this closure 😭

Raphael x Reader

All characters are aged up

The weight of the baby, predictably, has become a topic of contention. Not the actual weight, not really, though that is certainly present. It’s more about the symbolism. Each extra pound is a tangible reminder of the life growing inside you, a constant ticking clock hurtling towards a monumental, life-altering event that can’t be truly prepared for. For you, it’s exciting; a little daunting, but ultimately a joyful anticipation. For Raph, it seems to be morphing into something else.

It’s the constant, subtle reminder in every movement, every ache, every breath; each day, you, both of you, are getting closer to having your lives changed. A change bigger than any he’s ever had to take upon, which, all things considered, is saying something. The troublesome thoughts that come with this expectation only get louder, yet Raphael refuses to acknowledge them. Try as he may, the fact that he has been so riddled with more nerves than thrilled anticipation can’t be hidden. Not from you. You know him too well.

So, then, he compensates by upping the ante with his usual manners of looking after you. Occasional lifts out of bed turn into being carried to and from virtually everywhere and anywhere, provided he’s around to do it. All instances are paired with flirtatious remarks to your objections, only there’s a subtle shift: the playful boasts are edged with something deeper, almost desperate.

“See?” he grunts, his biceps barely straining as he steals you from the kitchen stool. “Said I could still handle ya.” That grin is there as always, but the creases around his eyes suggest a weariness you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m getting too heavy for this,” you oppose apprehensively.

“Nah, you’re light as a feather.”

You placidly swat his chest, fighting the smile on your face more than actually fighting him. “I’m practically a watermelon, Raph. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“Watermelons are sweet,” he retorts, “and lucky to be held by me.”

The way he smirks at you makes your cheeks tint the same colour as the inside of one, distracting you from how dense his voice is with this forced lightness. Huffing, you just bury your face in his shoulder, missing the fact that he ignores your statement between the hormones and his flustering you. For the time being, that is. The signs recur intermittently, regardless of how frequently he attempts to cosy the wool over your eyes with amorous one-liners and tender-stemmed indulgences.

He isn’t just overcompensating, he’s trying to settle something, whilst, ironically, being unsettled.

Nights, too, experience the backlash of these inheld contemplations. You awake to find him staring pensively at the ceiling, bathed in the faint glow of fairylights you had insisted on when you first started staying here all those years ago. They do little to soften the sharpened bunch of his brows. He has an arm behind his head, the other around you, but he’s miles away as he strokes your shoulder.

"Raph?" you murmur drowsily, trying to pick at his face against your heavy eyelids.

Startled, his gaze snaps down towards you. "Sorry, doll. Didn't mean to wake ya."

"You okay?"

"Yeah.” He hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Just thinkin'."

"About?"

His hand moves from your shoulder to your hair. “Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep for me, okay?”

As his fingers push into the achiest parts of your scalp, your eyes droop, but you know what he’s doing. It’s what he’s been trying to do for a few weeks now, and frankly, you’re growing tired of it. In an act of defiance, you slowly jerk away from his hypnotising ministrations to look him in the eyes, your own blinking out of sync in an attempt to address him adamantly.

“Babe.”

“Please?” He parrots your feathered urgency, spinning it back on you, much to your worry. “You need your rest.”

Stubbornness, it seems, is as intrinsic to his being as his very shell. He cups the back of your head and coaxes you into a more appropriate position, leaving it there for you to try and sleep on, but this wouldn’t be the last of it.

In one of your evening couch sessions, you embrace what has become a ritual: you perched at his front, the press of your back perfectly moulded against his chest, and his strong arms wrapped around just above the swell of your stomach. The rhythmic rub of his hand on your bump is a balm to your aching spine and swollen feet. You always melt, lulled by the warmth, the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder blades, and the low rumble of his voice as he occasionally mutters something unintelligible. It’s heaven personified. At least, it would be if it weren’t for the tension beneath the surface of his affection; moments of silence, even peace, that are unsafe from the belligerent anxieties he refuses to express. Whether it’s the quiet deliberation in his eyes, a hesitant pause in his touch, he was thinking, and when Raphael thought too much, he worried. You’ve all but become privy to just how often he’s gotten like this.

As his thumb runs over the same loosened thread of your shirt - likely loose because of the repetitive action - he ruminates. There are so many questions, too many unknowns, that he isn’t sure he has the strength to challenge. Weirdly, having that conversation with Mikey about it has helped. Leave it to him to come out with the unexpected and profound truths. No family is perfect, least of all theirs, but he wants this to be perfect. It’s the least you deserve, what your kid deserves. He knows he's going to have to talk to you about all of this. He just wishes he knew how to bring it up without sounding like an idiot.

"Something's on your mind,” he suddenly hears you mumble. “I can tell."

You can always tell, he swears, even without trying. He should be thankful for that, genuinely he is, but there’s a lump at the base of his skull, and its main aim is to halt these thoughts from slipping past his tongue. You crane your head back to look at him, awaiting those very thoughts, holding onto the thin piece of thread in the hopes that it’ll snap and allow him the space he needs to speak. For the courage he’s been building up to drop into a moment like this, temptation’s whisper urges him to back out. He knows he can’t, though. You won’t let him, and his head folds back into the headrest as he rallies it all into something tangible.

"What if," he starts, low and treading, "the kid just, I dunno, hates me?"

You chuckle softly, but not with any intention to poke fun at him. "Raph, they're not even born yet. How could they hate you?"

"They could have a sixth sense or somethin’. What if they can already tell I'm not cut out for this?"

His brows furrow, a flash of insecurity jolting the upturned stare behind his mask that so hopelessly tries to hide it. Fatherhood may not come as naturally to him as he would like it to. ‘Natural’ isn’t a word that fits into his entire family and the system they’ve ridden on. He’s more used to patching up wounds, both physical and emotional, not wiping noses and reading bedtime stories.

You bite your lip to suppress a grin, finding his concerns both endearing and amusing. "You think our unborn child is judging you? I doubt they’re sitting in there with a scorecard."

"You know what I mean,” he grumbles, eyes slanting down at you satirically before flicking up again. The tucked groove of his cheeks eases, but not into a calm. It’s more like despondent resignation, and that just breaks your heart, though not nearly as much as the weakness in his throat when he speaks again. “I could mess this up. I know nothin’ about kids. Spinta’ll tell ya’, I was a handful. What if… they’re like me?”

"Then I’d feel lucky,” you answer without missing a beat. “I would be so incredibly lucky knowing that I have two very strong, very passionate, and very loving people in my family.”

You reach down for one of his hands, lacing your fingers through his, but he only hums in response, still unconvinced. The hold that is typically so soft towards you is tough and constrictive, as if any gap left between your skin will let these worries fabricate into the real world. He’s heard those observations before. More than he can count. You have and still always make a point to remind him of his desirable qualities, but they’re not all good. Raphael can’t take them into account without first recognising the bad ones. He can see it so vividly, the grim likelihood of losing his temper with his own kid, and being feared as some monster rather than the father he’s supposed to be. He knows logically that he'll be okay, that he'll figure it out, that he has you to lean on should things get difficult, but logic doesn’t always win against a lifetime of ingrained self-doubt.

You turn, pressing your palms into his plastron for leverage, and he holds his arms out for you with his full attention now, only proving the point you're about to make. "Raph, you're going to be an amazing dad. Maybe not perfect, but great. You care too much not to be." Smiling sweetly, you grab one of his knuckles and bring it up to your lips. "Just look at how you take care of me."

He softens at that, his expression becoming more thoughtful. "You really think so?"

"I know so,” you confirm, pushing your scrunched nose against his. “Don’t forget, we’re in this together. You, me, and this little watermelon.”

The corny joke gets a laugh out of him, finally, and he wraps his arms around you as best as he can with the ‘watermelon’ kicking about. That’s the cherry on top: they’re not even born yet, and already the small miracle growing inside you is demonstrating exactly what you’ve been trying to preach. You know it, they know it, you just hope that Raph comes to realise it, too. He might not be completely convinced, the worry will still linger, but you knew you'd planted a seed of reassurance.

He exhales, and the strain of his body disintegrates beneath you, even just a little. “Thanks, doll.”

“For what?” you ask, grinning.

“Bein’ you,” he mumbles fondly. “Makin’ me a dad.”

A choked snort ripples in the back of your nose. "You really are just goo under all that tough shell, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah." He waves you off playfully, but betrays himself by leaning forward until your foreheads meet, eyes falling shut with an unguarded stillness for the first time in a while. “Only for you two."

[mischievousspooks]

He brought home a heat lamp.

[sweeneydino]

The passionate, and reckless, guardian.

He only meets Tomoe once, yet she leaves quite an impression on him.

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Tech Support: Part 3

[1-2-3]

Yes, this was a real thing we had to help with once.

Even though he complains, Donnie feels a lot of pride being looked to as the family expert for these things, I’m sure. For all that Splinter probably doesn’t know the deep intricacies of computers, I’ll bet he knows the basics. Could there be a deeper meaning to his confusion?

I personally headcanon that Splinter is the one who introduced computers, phones, and appliances to his sons way back in the dumpster diving days, and probably showed Donnie how to fix his first toaster or something. However, the special interest kicked in hard and pretty soon Donnie could run circles around Splinter when it came to fixing and engineering stuff. Perhaps, this is a way Splinter can find time to partake in Donnie’s interests and boost his confidence despite being way out of his depth on technical know-how himself.

When you don’t have a lot, it’s important to be resourceful and handy with a quick fix. Donnie had to have started building stuff somewhere!

It makes it all the more bittersweet if they were really close only to have Splinter struggle to bond with Donnie when he’s a little older. Don’t worry though, they’ll figure it out :)

[crownedcrowrow]

Hello and welcome to Crow slowly trying to teach themself to draw more regularly after not drawing for a few months because of school

Here have babies

And I'll throw in some rat dad while I'm here

Now I slither back into my cave

[shardkn1ght]

YIPPEE!!!

Master post

Part 2

Part 4

[chipfunk-art]

childhood emotional neglect hits extra hard when you really love your dad.

anyway this started as a angsty vent doodle but I put way too much effort into it to not post, but.... let's be honest it's illegible. so...

Transcript below the cut!

TOP COMIC

Tot Donnie: [tearfully clutching his head] Papa? Have you fixed my glasses yet?

Splinter: [Out of frame] ...

Donnie: ...Papa?

Splinter: Huh, purple?

Donnie: Have you fixed my glasses yet? My heads really starting to hurt.

Splinter: Oh. Not yet purple. I've been busy. The last season of "The Maiden and the Mess" has been airing and I can't miss it.

Donnie: Can you do that soon?

Splinter: Do... what? Oh, your glasses. Yes, yes, Purple, I can do that. Run along and play with your brothers now, the commercials are almost over.

[Timeskip to later, when Tot Donnie is having a meltdown as a result of the headache. He is curled up, crying, clutching his head. He's covering his ears and his eyes are closed.]

Splinter: [Still offscreen] Purple, what is wrong with you?!

Donnie: Mm!

Splinter: Purple, if you can't tell me what's upsetting you, it must not be important.

Donnie: [Hiccups, sobs] Mm!

Splinter: I'm not going to humor you crying for attention. Go away. I can't hear my shows over your nonsense.

BOTTOM COMIC

Raph: [Walking in to Donnie's lab, only to find his head in his hands on his desk.] Hey Don, are you okay?

Raph: [Looks at the ground to find a piece of Donnie's tech smashed, like it had been thrown on the ground in anger.] Oh.... buddy. That was the gift you made dad, right? Did he... not like it?

Donnie: [He answers, but with his head still in his hands, the response is muffled.]

Raph: What?

Donnie: [Peeking through his fingers, distraught.] He didn't even LOOK at it.