they're living in my basement! | sbi + tubbo

1a | crush, chop, and burn

that's. long

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Tommy was attempting to haul a dirty red bag up the stairs without giving it the final push it needed to break and spill all of his things onto the ground, but it was proving difficult with how many fucking steps Phil had leading up to his house. The man gave a bit of a laugh, and his wife, Kristin, came up behind Tommy and helped to support the meager bag on the last of the trip upstairs.

"Look, I love your rich modern home aesthetic you have going on here, but you could really use fewer stairs," Tommy puffed, leaning to the side significantly.

The couple just gave a good-tempered laugh and let him inside, to the somehow more impressive interior. It was pretty, with pale wood and big-cushioned furniture, and, get this, stairs everywhere. Slight platform raises into the kitchen and the back of the living area, a square staircase up to the second floor, and just too many stairs for one family to have, no matter their wealth.

"I think this just further reinforces my claim," Tommy muttered, slightly blanched at the sight.

As he continued to look, he noted odd gadgets all around, looking almost like collectable paperweights with how many were littered around. He briefly touched one that looked more like a messed-up IV pole than anything, and it flickered to life, leaving a scene out of a random rom-com playing in 3D just in front of the couch.

Phil drifted over and shut the machine off, giving a slight smile. "That's my new interactive three-dimensional television. Do you like it?"

"Why not just say 3D TV? It's so much shorter," Tommy commented. "And it's cool, I suppose. You made this yourself?"

"My own two hands," Phil confirmed.

"Would you like to get yourself settled in? I imagine you've had a long day," Kristin butted in. "Phil can show you to your room."

"Yeah, let's do it," Tommy said, slinging his bag's weight to his shoulder as well as he could, then giving a thumbs-up.

He followed Phil as the man led him down halls he could never imagine being able to memorize. Phil paused momentarily at a large room with an open door. Inside, Tommy could see a huge, plush bed, toys, gadgets, and figures scattered about in an organized chaos, piles of games for various consoles, and a huge fucking TV.

"Wow, is this mine?" Tommy asked, eyes wide as saucers.

"Oh, no, sorry. That one's mine," Phil said, a bit of a wry smile dotting his face. "Sorry to disappoint. Yours is at the end of the hall."

Tommy groaned in frustration, dragging his feet as he made his way down the hall. He noticed that Phil had disappeared into his room instead of giving Tommy further guidance, and free from the gaze of the man, Tommy took to exploring. He deposited his bag in the hallway, resigning to pick it up again once he'd found his room.

The hit of the backpack against apparently the perfect spot in the wall's baseboard triggered a mechanism that whirred the walls of the hallway to life, turning the beige into a stony gray and revealing a thick set of doors.

"Yeah, and that makes fucking sense," Tommy muttered.

He reached out a hand to touch the odd wall, hands skimming a rocky texture that appeared from seemingly nowhere on the canvas-based walling. A symbol of three scarlet rings rested on the doorway, and as he touched the painted design, the doors rushed into life, clacking animatedly and prying open. Inside were sheets of textured metal and orange-glowing lights nestled in the corners.

Tommy, being a nosy little shit if nothing else, stepped inside, running his hands over the walls. Once he was fully inside the compartment, the doors slammed shut. The floor suddenly dropped, summoning a squeak of surprise from Tommy. He pressed himself into one of the corners in a moment of raw panic, unsure if he was going to plummet straight to his death or not.