tuberculosis-burger

[tuberculosis-burger]

hiatus

This blog is going on an indefinite hiatus. At this point it is unclear if I will be returning to it, but it will remain standing as an archive no matter what. Thank you to everyone who followed along for the story, the art, and the vanilla extract :D <3

#ooc

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👍 is like a brother to me

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I’ll admit I’ve sent a 👍 in my time

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hi. im gay but if i tell you I'm straight can i get a deal on a burger?

Maybe if you started with “hi I’m Straight may I have a Burger” it would have worked. Sorry

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so straight people get a discount but not gay people… that’s not very pro-equality of you 🤨

Well you see it’s that theres so many gays it would be bad busisness practice. The only straight on e on the server is like Philza and I think hes too old to eat fastfood tbh the grease would kill him instantly. So no gay discount Sorry It’s just the Rules

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can i as a gay person get half off on a burger

Did I say that gay peoeple get a deal.? No

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Here at Tubburger we support the Hetereosexual community. 👍 Love Is Love. This month Straight People can buy a Tubburger Meal for half off

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c!niki nihachu rp blog, not canon compliant ^-^ she/they

run by @strawberriestarlight

part of the anonverse

ckarl - @therealnoodleman

cquackity - @casino-duckling

cwilbur - @wilburgersoot

ctommy - @wifehaverinnit

ctubbo - @tuberculosis-burger

cranboo - @ranbeloveds

cbbh - @basically-bbh

cfoolish - @foolish-n-gamers

cgeorge - @georgenotawake

ctina - @carrotcatgirl

caimsey - @daimseys

cfundy - @fndysoot

channah - @ventingxxrose

other things under the cut <3

tag system will be updated as needed cuz i've got nothing rn

ooc - out of character posts

#ooc

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Surprrise. I creatwd you

lilo and stitch is like if me and tubbo were a movie

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Actually I’m thris guy

lilo and stitch is like if me and tubbo were a movie

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^ you

lilo and stitch is like if me and tubbo were a movie

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This scientist alien in the movie is kinda just like me if you think about

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🍝🍝🍝

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“I’m gonna tell him you said that. Gonna text him right now and let him know, Quackity hates your baking. J-S-Y-K.”

He sits up, still grinning, and swings his feet back solidly onto the floor. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight, then. I’ll go let the husband know to make extra garlic bread.”

Tubbo's phone rings, it's Quackity. On the other end of the line, he's pacing around and sweating and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he once stole from Wilbur.

When Tubbo picks up, Quackity sounds like he's in a bathroom, echo-y and a bit crunchy.

"... Hi? Tubbo? Are you there?"

-🦆

The phone rings into a bustling kitchen — Tubbo at the counter with a half-diced tomato, Ranboo by the stove, Michael “helping” to mix a bowl at the table. After one glance at the caller, Tubbo answers with a smile, phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek. “Big Q!” (If he listens, Quackity might catch Michael’s mimicking echo of, ‘Q!’)

And then he hears the note of emotion in Quackity’s voice, combined with the weird background noise, and the smile slips. Immediately, he drops the knife he’s holding back onto the cutting board. Across the kitchen, he signs to Ranboo, Take over for me, trusting his husband to manage the rest of the cooking on his own, and steps out into the hall.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

#big q🦆

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“You should let me and Tommy make the gender cake. It’ll turn out great, trust me.”

Tubbo’s smiling, even if he fights back the urge to give a fond eyeroll. So they’re back to this — that silly little voice Quackity gets over Karl. It’s a pleasant sort of familiar to hear again. It’s genuine when he says, “I’m glad for that, Q. Really. It’s nice to see you happy.”

“We’re all well. Having a family dinner and movie tonight in a bit, actually—I won’t intrude on your checklist, but you’re welcome to drop in if you’d like. I think Tommy’s coming round at some point too. Lilo & Stitch and spaghetti, ‘cause it’s Mikey’s night to pick everything.”

Tubbo's phone rings, it's Quackity. On the other end of the line, he's pacing around and sweating and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he once stole from Wilbur.

When Tubbo picks up, Quackity sounds like he's in a bathroom, echo-y and a bit crunchy.

"... Hi? Tubbo? Are you there?"

-🦆

The phone rings into a bustling kitchen — Tubbo at the counter with a half-diced tomato, Ranboo by the stove, Michael “helping” to mix a bowl at the table. After one glance at the caller, Tubbo answers with a smile, phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek. “Big Q!” (If he listens, Quackity might catch Michael’s mimicking echo of, ‘Q!’)

And then he hears the note of emotion in Quackity’s voice, combined with the weird background noise, and the smile slips. Immediately, he drops the knife he’s holding back onto the cutting board. Across the kitchen, he signs to Ranboo, Take over for me, trusting his husband to manage the rest of the cooking on his own, and steps out into the hall.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

#big q🦆

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“Big Q, you can do literally anything. Use as many pronouns as you want.” Tubbo leans back against the couch, sliding down so he’s sprawled out on his back and kicking his feet over the edge. “I won’t use ‘em in public til you’re ready, but hell yeah.”

He looks to the side, out to the kitchen where he can just see Ranboo, still cooking. “I’ve kinda been toying with the idea of new ones too, actually. We can make it a whole thing, pronoun update together.”

Tubbo's phone rings, it's Quackity. On the other end of the line, he's pacing around and sweating and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he once stole from Wilbur.

When Tubbo picks up, Quackity sounds like he's in a bathroom, echo-y and a bit crunchy.

"... Hi? Tubbo? Are you there?"

-🦆

The phone rings into a bustling kitchen — Tubbo at the counter with a half-diced tomato, Ranboo by the stove, Michael “helping” to mix a bowl at the table. After one glance at the caller, Tubbo answers with a smile, phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek. “Big Q!” (If he listens, Quackity might catch Michael’s mimicking echo of, ‘Q!’)

And then he hears the note of emotion in Quackity’s voice, combined with the weird background noise, and the smile slips. Immediately, he drops the knife he’s holding back onto the cutting board. Across the kitchen, he signs to Ranboo, Take over for me, trusting his husband to manage the rest of the cooking on his own, and steps out into the hall.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

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During that minute full of Quackity stuttering and making a handful of false starts, Tubbo’s spending it emotionally preparing for — well, for what, he’s not really sure. Something horrible, probably, judging by how nervous Quackity is.

And then Quackity says it. And immediately, Tubbo blurts out, “Oh! Oh my god you scared me.” And then he laughs and tries to cover it up, “No wait. Sorry, shit, that’s really cool! That’s awesome, Q. Congrats. I’m happy for you, like, figuring that out and all.”

The last of Quackity’s sentence sinks in—Wanted to tell Tubbo first. He smiles.

“Is this, like, just hrt? Or are you trying out names or pronouns or anything? Like, do you want me to call you something different, or…?”

Tubbo's phone rings, it's Quackity. On the other end of the line, he's pacing around and sweating and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he once stole from Wilbur.

When Tubbo picks up, Quackity sounds like he's in a bathroom, echo-y and a bit crunchy.

"... Hi? Tubbo? Are you there?"

-🦆

The phone rings into a bustling kitchen — Tubbo at the counter with a half-diced tomato, Ranboo by the stove, Michael “helping” to mix a bowl at the table. After one glance at the caller, Tubbo answers with a smile, phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek. “Big Q!” (If he listens, Quackity might catch Michael’s mimicking echo of, ‘Q!’)

And then he hears the note of emotion in Quackity’s voice, combined with the weird background noise, and the smile slips. Immediately, he drops the knife he’s holding back onto the cutting board. Across the kitchen, he signs to Ranboo, Take over for me, trusting his husband to manage the rest of the cooking on his own, and steps out into the hall.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”