#Sitcom AU

[tezzbot]

Trollification BEAM on Brandy so that I don't have to deal with height logistics in the sitcom au :] I think she is still so cute...

So ya Bruce and Brandy run a cafe/diner type thing in the sitcom au that Clay and Viva frequent hehe, Clay and Bruce are still v close in this au... sibling who's your best friend :]

And don't worry Bruce and Brandy's kids are still here! They're just funk/pop hybrids now :P

They r so little and silly.... LaBreezey itty bitty baby girl.....

[cookieruma29]

I can see Evan pretending he’s a morning person when he was awake the whole time during fnaf 4

Drawing another for @its-the-aftons-after-all cause the outfits are still pretty

[thunderbolt-ing]

Three Roommates and a Loft [2]

PART ONE Summary: an ungodly amount of boxes, two helpful roommates, one damn couch, and a partridge in a pear tree. Warnings: none except for your loser ex. Otherwise, very lighthearted silliness. A/N: This is such a fun series to write, i can't wait to post the other parts and im so glad you guys like it too!! i love them so much, my dysfunctional loft dwellers. Not thoroughly proofread!! Word count: 4.6k <3

Today was move-in day, and honestly, you were dreading it. The sheer number of boxes and mismatched furniture you owned was enough to trigger a minor internal crisis. Worst of all, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask the boys for help, even though you had three super soldiers at your disposal (well, two… maybe? You still weren’t sure if Sam was enhanced or just naturally built like a Greek statue. Note to self: ask him later). 

Half of the furniture from your shared apartment with your ex-boyfriend was technically yours, which gave you a petty sense of satisfaction. You were leaving that man with next to nothing, you’ve basically stripped that sorry apartment down. You were now the proud owner of a one aggressively mid-century modern couch that was definitely larger than the one in the loft, two completely different nightstands, a custom-made bookshelf that you’ve DIY’d to resemble the ones you’ve obsessively pinned on Pinterest, a dozen potted plants, and a partridge in a pear tree. 

None of those pieces of furniture matched the loft’s current aesthetic, which brought you to your newest problem. 

You had no idea if the boys were okay with you bringing in your furniture, or by extension, completely redecorating their man cave with what could only be described as a Pinterest board chic. The loft was charming in that minimalist, exposed brick, bro-cave kind of way. It had a few battered bar stools, a couch that looked like it was going to fall apart anytime soon, and approximately one framed poster of Die Hard in the living room. They lacked a dining table, they had no rug, and there wasn’t a single plant in sight. 

To put it simply, the loft lacked a woman’s touch; there was no hint of a woman ever having stepped foot in that space. 

You took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to text Sam. He had become your unofficial point person during the entire moving process. He would respond promptly, didn’t leave you on read, and never made you feel stupid for asking a dozen questions. 

Sam didn’t seem to mind your questioning. In fact, he’d been almost suspiciously nice about the whole thing. Steve was still too intimidating to approach without rehearsing a script first. Talking to him felt like talking to a celebrity, if said celebrity had no idea he was famous and somehow managed to be so charmingly humble about it. Bucky, on the other hand, was completely out of the question. You were ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t like you, or anyone really. His usual expression bordered somewhere between mild disdain and ‘please leave me alone’. Honestly, you weren’t brave enough to test the waters with him.

You sent Sam a photo of your rented moving truck, fully loaded with neatly stacked boxes and carefully arranged potted plants. A moment later, you sent another photo of your furniture sitting pitifully on the curb outside your old apartment. Your ex had flat-out refused to help load any of it into the truck, you figured he was hoping you’d get frustrated and leave it behind. Joke's on him, though, because you were far too stubborn for that. 

You followed the photos with a quick text: 

You: Sam, is it okay if I bring all of this? 

He replied almost instantly. 

Sam: damn, woman

Sam: is that… a proper couch…???? Oh thank god, ours is ugly and flat

Sam: telling Steve rn to chuck ours out on the curb IMMEDIATELY. I want yours

You: I'm so glad you said that. It’s a comfy couch, i promise. 

Sam: im just glad the loft might finally look like adults live there

Sam: where are you? Steve says he wants to help lift stuff

You dropped your location without hesitation. You were relieved and surprised that you didn’t have to haul everything by yourself. You hadn’t even asked; they just offered, and after the week you’d had, that small token of kindness made you a tad bit emotional. 

About thirty-five minutes later, the sound of a revving engine pulled your attention to the street. 

Sam and Steve rolled up on a motorcycle like they were some sort of action stars in a low-budget film. Sam hopped off first, quickly approaching you with a grin on his face. Meanwhile, Steve parked the bike and pulled off his helmet with effortless cool. You expected the stoic man you’ve seen on television so many times, but instead, he looked genuinely happy to be there. 

That alone knocked him down from ‘intimidating superhero’ to ‘potentially huggable.’

“Hey!” Steve called out, giving you a wave and an easy smile. “Came to steal your couch. Sam’s orders.”

“You're taking orders from this guy?” you shot back as you gestured at Sam, your brow arched in mock judgment.

Sam let out an exaggerated gasp like you’d just deeply offended him, but the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away. 

“First of all,” he said, placing a hand over his chest, “I’m not just some guy. I’m a respected government employee who makes very important decisions. Occasionally. Like replacing that god-awful couch in our living room with this work of art.” He motioned at your near-perfect condition couch before moving to pick up a piece of furniture. 

Steve let out a chuckle as he moved to help with one of the heavier boxes you’d left on the curb. You did a double-take and picked your jaw off the floor when he casually lifted your entire mattress like it weighed next to nothing and slid it into the truck with ease.

“He’s been talking about this couch since you texted,” Steve said, straightening up with zero effort. “I had to listen to him ramble on about lumbar support and aesthetics.” 

“I know what I like,” Sam defended with a shrug, already heading toward the next piece of furniture. “And I like that couch. Nothing wrong with a man of taste.” 

You bit back a laugh. “Taste, huh?”

Sam turned back with a grin. “You’ll thank me later when the living room no longer looks like a frat house.” 

Steve nodded agreeably. “We don’t have an eye for interior design, unfortunately.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out as you watched Steve and Sam move in perfect sync, like they’d done this a hundred times before. You tried to lift a single box, just to be useful, but they immediately shut it down with matching looks of disbelief. 

“Nope, do not,” Sam said, waving you off while he carried your lamps into the truck. 

“Sit down, go drink some water,” Steve added, already halfway up the ramp with your dresser like it was made of Styrofoam. 

So you resigned yourself to the curb, watching your life get packed up by two superheroes. 

A few minutes later, you heard the creak of the front door behind you. You didn’t even need to turn around, you could feel the smug, stale energy of your ex wafting toward you like cheap cologne. 

Adam stepped onto the sidewalk, pausing mid-stride when he caught sight of Steve carrying a part of your bedframe. 

He blinked at your two roommates, eyes narrowing with confusion. “What the hell is going on? Is that—?”

You didn’t even bother turning to face him. You just let out a long, exhausted sigh, the kind that said you were done dealing with him. Your gaze stayed fixed on Steve and Sam, watching as your bookshelf was handled with more care than Adam had ever given your relationship. 

“What do you want, Adam?” you asked flatly, arms crossed, and your tone devoid of warmth. “If you’re here to lift something heavy, great. If not, please go away.” 

Adam’s eyes darted from Steve to Sam, then back to you, his mouth pathetically opening and closing. “Is that…? Is that Captain America?”

“Just Steve,” Steve said, his tone noticeably cooler than it was before. He didn’t know the backstory, but somehow, without being told, he already knew enough. 

Adam shifted uncomfortably under Steve’s unreadable stare. 

Before the awkward silence could stretch any further, Sam—who still held onto one end of your bookshelf—turned to Adam with a look of unimpressed disdain. 

“Do you need something,” Sam asked, voice sharp, ��or are you just gonna stand there and catch flies with your mouth open like that?”

Adam sputtered, clearly scrambling to put together a coherent sentence. “I just… I just think this is all a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” 

You let out a loud, bitter laugh before finally turning to face him. “That might actually be the funniest thing you’ve ever said,” you replied, voice flat as your laughter faded into silence. “Which is saying something, considering I’ve known you for six years.” 

It was classic Adam, minimizing the damage he caused while making you look like the overdramatic one. It was one last taste of hell before you were finally free. 

“You dumped me and gave me a week to move out,” you said, your tone sharp and unapologetic. “If anyone was being dramatic, it was you.” 

Adam’s expression twisted as if he were about to defend himself, but every possible comeback would only dig his hole deeper. Before he could try, Steve stepped forward, not aggressively, but solid enough to send a subtle message. 

“She’s got this handled,” Steve said coolly. “Thank you for your concern, Adam.” His tone was calm but final, leaving no room for argument. 

“Yeah, take your ass back inside,” Sam added sharply, earning a pointed look from Steve. “...Please.” he tacked on begrudgingly, rolling his eyes. 

Adam swallowed hard, muttered something about needing to get back upstairs, and turned on his heel without another word. 

You exhaled, surprised by how much lighter you suddenly felt. It was as if something invisible had finally been unclenched inside of you. When you turned back toward the truck, both Sam and Steve were already back to work like nothing had happened. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to load everything into the truck. They moved with practiced ease, and before you knew it, the last box was secured and Steve was already climbing back onto his bike. 

Sam slid into the driver’s seat beside you, shooting you a small, reassuring smile as he started the engine. You turned back one final time, leaving behind the version of you who tolerated a bleak man and the small, dim life that came with him. 

And just like that, as the truck pulled away from the curb, you finally felt peace. 

—

The moving truck rumbled to a stop in the narrow alleyway beside your new building, a small space that connected it to the one next door. You hopped out, taking in your surroundings that consisted of a cracked pavement, weathered bricks, and a series of classic New York fire escapes that zigzagged up the building. 

On one of them, a few stories up, sat Bucky. He was perched on the steps, elbow resting on his knee, and sipping something from a mug. 

Your eyes met for a brief second. Then, just as quickly, he looked away as if you had just disrupted whatever fragile tranquility he’d allowed himself that morning. Still, you offered him a polite wave. You knew he didn’t like you, but you made a point to let the universe know that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Not your fault he was perpetually grumpy. 

In response, he stood up, took a long sip from his mug like he needed it to deal with you, and promptly disappeared back inside without so much as a nod. 

So charming. 

“That’s his way of saying ‘welcome,’” Sam said, glancing up at the now-empty fire escape before looking back at you with a smirk. “Real nice guy, once you get past the scowl.” 

“I doubt it,” You replied as you walked over to the back of the truck, “I don’t think I’ll ever be fluent in Bucky-speak… and honestly? I don’t think I want to try.” 

Sam chuckled, then rolled up the back of the truck with ease, ready to unload your things. Steve rounded the corner moments later, all smiles and a go-getter attitude, like helping people move was his idea of weekend fun. 

Between the three of you, the unloading began, boxes first, and heavier furniture saved for later. It was surprisingly efficient, aside from the four flights of stairs you fought to climb up. Steve and Sam handled them like it was nothing, practically jogging to the top without breaking a sweat. You, on the other hand, had to concentrate hard on trying not to wheeze. The last thing you needed was to pass out in front of two superhumans. 

Back at the loft, while Steve and Sam were still downstairs, you wrestled a box you’d insisted on bringing up through the doorway. Sam urged that you not touch it, but you needed to feel useful. You couldn’t just let them do everything, even though both he and Steve reassured you multiple times that they could handle it. 

“Are you trying to break your back?” a voice drawled behind you, equal parts exasperated and bored. 

You turned around and found Bucky leaning against the wall of the couch-less living room, arms crossed and judgment dialed up. So, Sam had been serious about chucking the old sofa.

“Dragging a heavy box builds character.” You replied, panting slightly as you nudged the box with your foot, “Something you could use.”

“I was tortured by HYDRA for seventy years,” he deadpanned. “I’ve maxed out my character development.” 

You paused, your hands on your hips as you stared at him in disbelief. “Wow, okay. We’re trauma dumping now? Cool, cool. So, when I was like seven—”

“Move,” Bucky interrupted, already pushing off the wall. Before you could get another word in, he lifted the box you’d been fighting with and tucked it under one arm like it weighed nothing. You had to fight the urge to gawk.

“I literally had that,” you insisted, though it didn’t sound so convincing. 

“Sure,” he said dryly. “I could practically hear your spine snapping.” 

You followed him into the living room, watching as he set the box down with zero effort. “You know, for someone who clearly doesn’t want to talk to me, you sure have a lot to say.” 

“I talk when necessary,” he replied without looking at you. “Like when someone’s clearly about to slip a disc over a box of…” he glanced at the label. “...’Books and more books’? Are you turning this place into a library?”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but he was already disappearing through the front door. 

You sincerely hoped he wasn’t planning on helping unload the rest. But, unfortunately for you, he absolutely was. 

—

Downstairs, all four of you stood in a loose semicircle around the back of the truck, silently staring at the couch inside. It was significantly larger than the loft’s old one, and it was quickly becoming clear that none of you had thought through the logistics of hauling it up four flights of stairs. 

The silence stretched, and Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose like he regretted coming down to help.

“I feel like we should’ve measured something.” Sam finally muttered as he squinted at the couch. 

“No, no,” Steve said as he shook his head with the confidence of a man who refused to be defeated by a piece of furniture, “It fits, we just need all hands on deck to push it up the stairs.”

He climbed into the truck, already taking charge. “Bucky and I could take the chaise section first. Then the four of us can handle the rest together.” 

“I could suit up and just fly the chaise up…?” Sam suggested helpfully. 

“Let’s not scare the neighbors.” You vetoed, patting Sam on the back as you moved aside to give Steve and Bucky some space to bring down the chaise. 

Steve’s plan had seemed solid at first. He and Bucky managed to painlessly haul the chaise up the stairwell with minimal fuss, while you and Sam followed with the cushions. 

When it was time to haul the main section, that was when everything fell apart. 

The stairs were narrower than anyone remembered, and the couch was bulkier than anyone admitted. The corners were too wide, the angles too sharp, and the laws of physics were actively working against you. Now, all four of you were wedged awkwardly into the stairwell with the couch jammed at a sharp diagonal between the third and fourth floors. 

So close yet so far. 

“Keep pushing!” Steve grunted from the top landing, shoulder pressed into one as he and Bucky tried to hoist it upward. Bucky let out a low grunt, his metal arm whirring under the strain. 

“Uh, hello?! It’s stuck!” Sam called from beside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “Like, stupidly stuck!”

“It’s not stuck,” Steve insisted, pushing harder and lodging it even more firmly into the corner. “It just needs to pivot.” 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, wedging your back against the couch to help. “Do not say pivot.” 

“I’m sorry, but we need to pivot left!” Steve yelled from the top of the stairs. 

“What does that mean?” Sam yelled. “My left or your left?” 

“Everyone’s left is the same if we’re facing the same damn way!” Bucky snapped, clearly seconds away from abandoning this entire operation. 

“Pivot now!” Steve urged, straining as he and Bucky pulled from the top. “Pivot! Pivot!” 

“Steve,” you gasped, “for the ever-loving god, you could just say turn!”

The couch groaned, and then miraculously, it shifted. 

With one final, collective pivot and an unholy amount of effort, the couch squeezed past the stairwell corner and landed with a loud thump on the fourth-floor landing.

“I told you it would fit,” Steve said, far too cheerful for someone who nearly died trying to get the couch to move a few inches. 

Bucky dropped his end of the couch with a thud and disappeared inside the loft without a word, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I should’ve let it fall.” 

—

The placement of the couch sparked yet another argument. 

Sam was adamant it should go against the big window for ‘optimal feng shui’, a phrase you weren’t sure he understood but kept repeating anyway. Steve lobbied for the couch to be against the exposed brick wall for ‘aesthetic balance’ and something about creating a strong visual focal point. 

You, on the other hand, were too mentally and physically drained from nearly losing your life on the stairs to care. At that point, you considered lying down on the floor, but you didn’t trust it much and made a mental note to mop it down before placing your area rug. 

Bucky, wisely, had removed himself from the debate entirely. He disappeared into his room without a word, presumably to recover from what he now considered his yearly act of community service. You didn’t blame him, you could practically hear his voice echoing in your head: “Figure it out. Leave me out of it.” 

After a thorough scrubbing of the floor and some wrestling with the area rug, a compromise was made. The main section of the couch was placed against the brick wall to satisfy Steve’s vision, while the chaise was angled toward the window to appease Sam’s need for energy flow. Both men looked pleased, and you were just relieved that standing was no longer a requirement. 

One by one, the three of you dropped onto the couch like flies. 

Sam flopped onto the corner with dramatic flair with his arms draped across the back cushions. You claimed the chaise with a heavy sigh, slumping sideways with one arm dangling off the edge and the other clutching a throw pillow. Steve eased himself down with a satisfied grunt, hands on his knees, looking like he’d just completed a major tactical operation. 

“See?” he said, beaming as he leaned back into the cushions. “Teamwork.” 

“Worth the pain,” Sam muttered, letting out a relaxed sigh, “this couch feels like a cloud.” 

You grinned happily, sinking deeper into the cushions as you felt a warm sense of satisfaction settling in your chest. Despite the mess of the mountains of boxes, you’d officially contributed something good to the space. The loft still looked like a war zone from the move, but at least the living room finally felt like a living room and not the sad foyer of a glorified man cave. 

Bucky rejoined civilization moments later, water bottle in hand, looking like he’d just barely forgiven the three of you for making him carry a couch. 

He paused in the doorway, doing a double-take at the transformed living room. You thought, just for a second, you caught a flicker of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, quickly smothered before it could be considered an emotion. 

“What do you think?” Steve asked, grinning as he gestured proudly to the space. 

Bucky took a long sip from his bottle, eyes scanning the new setup. 

“Looks livable,” he muttered, which, coming from him, might as well have been a glowing five-star review. 

“You’re welcome,” you called out with a smug grin from the couch. 

Bucky didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked straight into the kitchen like he hadn’t heard you at all. 

“He likes it,” Sam whispered giddily, nudging your leg like a kid who just witnessed something scandalous. He looked far too pleased that you’d managed to extract any emotion from Bucky. You gave him an equally delighted smile, both of you sharing a silent victory like proud co-conspirators. 

“I think I’m just gonna lie here for the foreseeable future,” you mumbled, already sinking deeper into the cushions. “I physically cannot haul the rest of my stuff upstairs. No more stairs for me.” 

“You don’t have to,” Sam said casually, patting your leg. 

Your eyes widened. “Wow, Sam. That’s really kind of you. Thank you for—”

‘Oh no, no,” he cut in quickly, shaking his head. “I��m not bringing anything up. I switched rooms with you. You’re in the downstairs bedroom now—the one next to Bucky’s.” 

You sat up, throwing the pillow on the floor. “What?”

“What?” Bucky echoed sharply, his head poking into the living room from the kitchen with his eyes narrowed in displeasure. 

“What’s going on? Why are we saying ‘what’?” Steve chimed in, blinking like he’d just come back from where he’d mentally checked out. 

Sam shrugged, completely unbothered. “It’s the best case scenario. She’s a woman and she’s got, like, a lot of stuff,” he gestured at the boxes scattered across the loft. “That room’s bigger. Her junk fits. And I don’t have to listen to Bucky sleep-talk through the wall anymore. I’m a light sleeper, man.”

“I do not sleep-talk,” Bucky muttered defensively from the kitchen doorway. 

“Oh really?” Sam shot back. “Last week, you said ‘I’ll kill you where you stand’ at three a.m., and it scared me so bad I had to lock my door.” 

You held up a hand, trying to keep up. “Can we circle back to the part where you just moved me without asking?” 

“Door’s already open,” he added, completely ignoring you. “I already put your suitcases in there, and your bedframe’s already assembled. You’re welcome.” 

Bucky crossed his arms, glaring. “I didn’t agree to this. We had a bathroom system, Wilson.” 

“Okay, then come up with a new system with her,” Sam replied, clearly proud of his problem-solving skills and equally oblivious to how very against this idea you and Bucky both looked. 

Steve blinked between the three of you, finally putting it all together. “Oh, that’s why Sam told me to reassemble your bed in there…” 

You let out a slow, deep sigh. “Thank you, Steve.”  

Steve held up his hands like he’d just realized he accidentally committed a crime. “I didn’t know it was a bad thing! I thought I was helping!”

Sam patted your leg like he’d just done you a favor. “This is going to be great.” 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to strangle him or yourself. 

��

Night fell slowly over Brooklyn, the sunset casting a golden hue through the loft’s wide windows before the city’s glow took over. Boxes were still everywhere, potted plants were scattered in the living room, and takeout containers on the kitchen counter hinted that no one had the energy to cook. 

Despite the chaos, the loft was finally quiet as everyone retired to their rooms. You were the last to head to bed, lingering in the living room like staying there might somehow delay the inevitable reality that you were now sleeping next door to Bucky Barnes. Eventually, a little after nine, you reluctantly padded to your new room, thanks to Sam’s unsolicited relocation efforts. 

You had to admit, the room itself was… perfect. Annoyingly so. 

The room was bigger than the one you would’ve had upstairs, which easily accommodated your desk, bookshelf, and all the other ‘woman with a lot of stuff’ essentials Sam had so graciously cited as justification. Your suitcases were inside the closet, ready to be unpacked. Your favorite lamp was already plugged in and set on your nightstand (courtesy of Sam). Even your diffuser was thoughtfully placed on the windowsill. 

It took you a couple of minutes to get yourself somewhat settled. Now, you lay on your bed wrapped in familiar sheets, staring at the ceiling, surrounded by a half-unpacked mess and the distant hum of New York traffic. 

It almost felt like home, until the walls reminded you that they were roughly the thickness of a tortilla. 

From the other side, muffled but clear, you heard the sound of a drawer slamming. 

Then silence.

Then, a sigh. The long, exhausted kind, followed by the unmistakable clatter of something metallic. 

You rolled over and pulled a pillow over your head. You could do this. You just needed to adjust. 

Another beat of silence. 

Then, Bucky’s voice, low and muttered: “Where the hell is the other sock?”

More shuffling and noise followed, and you were trying your hardest to grasp at the last shred of patience you had. The noise continued for a couple of minutes, and you tried to ignore it by burying yourself in your covers. 

Silence settled for a few seconds, enough to make you think it was over, before a barrage of thuds, drawer slams, and muttering followed. 

You groaned and sat up, marching across your room to knock on the wall. 

It went quiet, then from the other side: 

“What?” Bucky’s voice was muffled, but it was clear that he was annoyed. 

You pressed your forehead to the wall and replied, “If you’re going to have a breakdown over a sock, can you please keep it quiet? I’d like to have a full eight hours of sleep.” 

“It’s nine-thirty. On a Saturday.” 

“Some of us have functioning circadian rhythms.” 

Footsteps followed. Then, under his breath, you heard: “God, they’re the same. Both annoying.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “What was that?”

“I didn't say anything,” Bucky grumbled, annoyed but backpedaling. 

You bit back a chuckle, lips curving despite yourself. 

With a shake of your head, you walked back to your bed and climbed under the covers. To your surprise, the noise actually stopped. No more stomping, slamming, or sock-related mumblings. 

Just quiet. 

“Good night, Bucky,” you called softly, not expecting a response from the grump. 

For a second, there was nothing. Then, muffled through the wall, you heard his voice. 

“...Night.” 

It wasn’t exactly warm, but at least he responded. You had little hope that this arrangement would work out, but maybe it would. 

Maybe.  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Endnotes: steve and sam are tied for roommates of the year btw.

tags (lmk if you want to be tagged!): @okbutiambabygorl

[clairewritesfanfics]

i realize the gda could and would provide the mark variants their own places to live in "variants trapped in main marks universe and working together against viltrumites" but imagining an absolutely hellish roommate situation happening is way funnier

i imagine mohawk, bald cap, and shiesty are somehow at once very close to each other and the most frequently beefing out of everyone, they get along (to the detriment of everyone around them) or they are AT WAR (to the detriment of everyone around them)

another pair youd expect to be fighting constantly is prisoner and viltrumite and they do! but also prisoner understands that he was raised on viltrum and has had no choice but to drink viltrum supremacy koolaid for all his life, so hes also working with full mask and no mask to deprogram the little soldier boy over time

bad roommates: TARGET/EMPIRE whatever you call him, is probably the worst, followed closely by mohawk and sinister(all 3 of them have conquered earth, they are not used to cleaning up after themselves and they do not respect common areas) the least bad is shiesty actually mainly because his mess is contained to his room. though dishes will kind of disappear for a while (theyre getting gross in his room until he remembers to put them in the sink)

good roommates: flaxan, omnimark,(<self assigned chore enforcer/annoying big brother) prisoner,(<housework is actually kind of novel and fun for him, sometimes does other marks chores for them) full mask,(<at least in part because he goes to stay with debbie and main mark semi frequently) no mask, viltrum almost ended up in the bad roomates but i think hes taught to do chores by the other good roomies and doesnt complain about doing them so he starts kind of bad but does become good

after all this ive realized a happy medium is the gda buys out an entire apartment building for them and makes poor y/n run it

A normal human acting as the sole enforcer and manager of a group of planetary-level destructive aliens sounds like a great romcom plot. It's giving slice of life manhwa/manga. It's giving 90s sitcom meets anime humor WAHAHAHA

"I was just a regular 9 to 5-ver until one day, the alternative versions of my boyfriend arrived and threatened to destroy the Earth unless I live with them?!"

Going by my personal headcanons, Shiesty and Viltrumite surprisingly get along. They're the "younger brothers" and tend to stick together. They're also both virgins (by choice!). Apart from you, Shiesty is the one who teaches Vil how to live "the human way," and introduces him to game.

Both Shiesty and Vil are pretty neat, though like you said, in Shiesty's case, it's because he restricts his mess inside his room. Vil's room was so sad to look at when you first entered. Bare walls, no curtains, a single mattress on the floor, and he used to have a single bar of soap for ALL his bodily washing. You took him shopping with you (along with Shiesty, who played with his phone the entire time).

Maskless, Shiesty, Viltrumite, Prisoner and Full Mask are the more chill variants for sure. They're consistent in their chores, but Prisoner, Shiesty and Vil do not keep track; when they see that the sink is full they will wash the dishes even if it's not their task.

Maskless will reprimand the variant who failed to do their job and drag him by the ear until he makes things right.

Full Mask keeps track. He has a whole white board and planner with the entire schedule written down to the minute. He'll sneakily mention that he did this or that even though it's not technically his job and you give him a star and he will put that star in the altar he keeps hidden inside his walk-in closet.

Shiesty is the one who pulls Vil away before he and Prisoner get into another fight.

Target is for sure the biggest diva. It's honestly annoying. He is so bad at cleaning up after himself and everybody else and irritates everyone, even the ever patient Flaxan. Target is the lightning rod of this screwed up family; the Meg or Klaus or Britta of the group. You can't help but feel bad for him sometimes, so when he's sulking because the others are ignoring him, you bring him food. He pretends to hate it but then goes out of his way to force you to stay and eat with him.

Mohawk and Head Cap are both manwhores, both the "bachelor" type, and so they hate each other. (Head Cap is smoother than Mohawk though.) They try flirting with you at the same time and end up throwing jabs at each other.

Head Cap is a good cook and baker and he likes to hold that over Mohawk's head.

Omni tries to manage the madness but he himself is prone to getting sucked into the chaos. Tries hard to be Miss Minchin. He gets competitive and can lose his temper. Think Jeff from Community.

Flaxan is the physically present but emotionally absent dad WAHAHAHA he genuinely does not care about the others and only attempts to interfere with their BS when he thinks that it will cause more work and stress for you.

No Goggles is more dog than man tbh.

I'm actually not sure where Sinister stands in this scenario. I'll edit when it comes to me.

[its-the-aftons-after-all]

The new kid vs michael

Lovely drawings made by @cookieruma29

[onnahu]

Svsss but it's a sitcom named "Scum Landlord Self-Saving System"

All the main characters live in one building that Shen Jiu's an administrator/landord of. Everyone hates him except for Yue Qingyuan. (I gotta figure out a backstory for them).

One day, something happens and Shen Jiu have to go somewhere and asks his twin/younger brother Shen Yuan for help - he would live for a few months in the building and act as the landlord. Shen Yuan agrees.

It's not intentional for Shen Yuan to impersonate Shen Jiu - it just happens when everybody mistakes him for his brother and he's now kinda stuck with it since he's too awkward to correct them now!

[lakesparkles]

(Tumblr pls let me post it without messing everything up)

GolBetty won the poll of who I should post first so here's a new AU I came up about her (that came from the idea of her being smaller).

I call it Sitcom AU and it was lowkey based on Wandavision.

I have a whole plot for this one so, if you don't want to read the longer explanation, the shorter one is:

GOLBetty creates a fake reality to make Simon realize the problems of their relationship and fails.

And the longer one (that is truly long, sorry lol):

Okay, what I imagined for the AU is that it'll revolve around that moment at the end when Betty wants to show Simon the problems their relationship had. Except, instead of making him see Nova and Casper's story, she puts him in a fake reality in which the two of them are still together in the present, only she's in the form of GOLBetty. This, little by little, would make Simon realize that everything is wrong and that he should move on.

But Simon just accepts everything because, until that moment, he was desperate to get Betty back. He was happy and, in his mind, that was a sign that Betty wanted the same. The reality she creates is practically the perfect life - like a sitcom -, he sees Marceline constantly (who even calls him dad now), he can pretend the last twelve years didn't exist, and GOLBetty seems to want to accompany him in every possible household task. Her goal is for all of this to make it clear that there is something very wrong, but Simon continues to purposely ignore everything: as GOLBetty doesn't even try to communicate with him, she just... is there; how she sends several signals with situations similar to their past, just so he can see the mistakes they made more clearly; and how Betty... Isn't Betty anymore.

One day he will finally accept it. Probably.

[qwennverx]

How alex felt after killing lankmann with a crowbar:

Whatever this is ig

[jujoobedoodling]

Plagued by the horrors.

The horrors being the Windrunners. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, Tides fucking dammit.

Sylvaina is already too angsty most of the times - but this doesn't mean Jaina has to suffer less. Just in a different way.

[whereisstuart]

Yk what would be so funny about the sitcom AU? If the sandwich Alex gave Clyde was actually ass. In a vain attempt to save their life Alex just threw together some stale white bread, 2 month old iceberg lettuce and store-bought ham and gave it to the terrifying human eating monster outside of their house and he was like “Damn this is actually gas, might jst not kill you now.”

[cryptic-underground]

"Obligatory Beach Day Episode" - Sitcom Au

Takes place later into the series, after the LBD plot line and Mac coming back after his time apart(as well as being to foster Bai He). This was created for my own self-indulgence and doesn't advance the plot, like most beach episodes, hehe.

The afterword for this as well. Hope y'all enjoyed! :)

[tezzbot]

Sitcom AU doodles heehoo

Interrupting your sister's date night to tell her that her friend kind of sort of sucks to live with lmao

I also imagine an eventual big argument between Clay and Barb. Things boil over, Clay says something mean that genuinely hurts Barb's feelings, she gets quiet and more snippy, he feels awful about it, polgises and gives her a gift and stuff

The apartment is much calmer after this to Viva's relief bc these two constantly on the verge of war with each other Stressed! Her! Out!!!! lol

[cookieruma29]

Sitcom afton siblings cause I love them

[myriadparacosm]

Sitcom AU - 1. The one with the bride

wolfstar; jegulus; dorlene; panryly; rosekiller

"What I mean is that it's not right."

"Isn't that kind of homophobic?"

Marlene scowls at Pandora, who quickly pinches her lips together with a coy look, making Remus chuckles in his cup of tea.

"No, no, hear her out," Sirius cuts.

"Two male penguins?!"

"Still can't believe you didn't hear about that before," Peter mentions, stirring his new cup of coffee.

"They got an egg too?! When they have been trying to steal one but they get a reward instead?!"

"That was one solution to stop that behaviour," Remus sagely comments.

"If I did that, I wouldn't be given a child!"

"You don't want one, Marl'."

"Thank God for that too— ouch! Fuck! I'm on your side!"

"Just accept that penguins have more rizz than you," Mary says before ducking at the pillow. "Hey!"

The waitress clears her throat from behind the couch and Marlene smiles toothily at her to lose it as quickly when facing them again.

"As if you have any."

"Shouldn't we be happy that gay penguins are accepted and loved? Especially if they raised a little baby!"

"I believe, their chick was also a lesbian," Remus comments

"Their child too?!" Marlene exclaims in shock. "What is going on in this world?!"

"I could present you someone if you are that desperate," Pandora gently offers. "I have this co-"

"I don't need help!"

Sirius grimaces with a nod. "You do."

"Like you are any better, slag."

"I'm on your side!" He argues with a waving hand that she slaps away. "Cunt!"

"On her side against— queer penguins?" Peter wonders.

"I just can't bloody believe it."

"Sometimes, I wish I was a penguin," Remus mutters and pauses at all the eyes jumping on him. "Erm."

"And you call me desperate."

"You literally have a feud with penguins now?" Mary points out.

Sirius laughs before looking up just in time for James to walk in Hogwarts. Marlene sighs, not bothering to glance since these two always predict whenever their other half is around.

"Hi James!" Pandora greets.

"Hey," he grins even if it's a tad sadder than usual while he puts his wet umbrella against the rack already full. "Whatcha talking about?" He asks, sitting down next to Sirius who scooted over and immediately puts his arm on his shoulders.

"Marlene discovered animals can be queer," Peter explains. "And wants to fight a couple of penguins."

James laughs, turning to her. "But that's so cute!"

She scowls at him. "They have it so easy while we have to bloody pay taxes and they got a marriage and child for free, how is that right?!"

Mary leans toward James. "She got a bad date last night and-" she shrieks at the kick in her back, getting her face smashed in the couch's bottom. Marlene cackles evily just as Mary rounds on her. "You better not have used your shoes on my new shirt!"

The waitress pays them no mind, used to their antics, as she nods at James' order before walking behind the counter.

"Knee."

"You're such a cunt. Don't come whine to me about pain from your trainings because I'm never massaging you again."

"You alright, Prongs?" Peter asks. "Where is Lily?"

He shrugs. "I'm alright. She had work to do so," he says and smiles at Sirius who squeezes him with his arm. "I'm really fine. Just a bit bummed out."

Remus offers a supportive smile, leaning out of his armchair to pat his knee. "You're still friends."

James sighs and takes the cuppa from the waitress' hands with a polite smile. "I know… It's just that I kind of hoped her- us, to be it."

"It's her loss, mate," Sirius says with a startle at Remus' slap on his arm. "What?! It's the truth!"

"Lily is our friend too," he retorts with a pointed look but Sirius only rolls his eyes.

"At least it ended well."

"It might be awkward for some time but everything will be fine," Pandora promises. "You just can't picture her naked anymore."

James blushes. "I wasn't going to! And I know that, I'm just disappointed that it ended up— like that."

"You two dated quite quickly," Mary points out. "It's not that uncommon to realise that despite your attraction, you were both better off as friends."

"And that she is a lesbian."

James scowls at Marlene. "First off, she was almost never attracted to anyone before. Second, she is attracted to me. Third, she is trying to figure it out so don't push her around, Marl'."

Pandora nods. "Yes, I want Lily to stay our friend too. She is lovely."

"Why do you assume I'm going to bully her? I'm just sharing facts!"

"Because you are one," Mary sniffs and flips her off when she sticks her tongue out.

James watches them with an amused grin and meets Sirius' eyes with his own unsure gaze. "She would like that too but she is worried. I told her that it doesn't change anything but…"

Sirius pats his cheek before petting his hair. "Don't worry. I'm sure it will be fine."

"She might only need some time," Remus agrees.

"Breakups, as nice as it went for you two, is still hard," Mary adds with a sorry look. "You were both— intense."

Peter shares the sentiment with a nod as they watch James drinks his cuppa and Sirius brushes his wet hair to cheer him up. He smiles at them, lips wordless for several tries before rolling his shoulders.

"I still love Lily, maybe not as much as a lover like I wanted but at least we are. She offered me a chance to try and… If I'm honest, I felt it for a while."

"Oh, Prongs."

"No, it's fine," he promises with a quick comforting smile at Sirius. "I was happy. Think she was too but you know, no sparks or anything. Comfy but more like friends with benefits rather than lovers."

"Shouldn't it be like that?" Marlene wonders, putting down her cup on the coffee table. "Maybe you only got through the honeymoon part."

"We can't really judge on that," Peter slowly says. "No one has been in a serious relationship more than you. Even Re-"

"Let's not talk about him," Remus interrupts.

Sirius glances at him before settling back on James. "I'm sure there is someone out there that will give you all the sparks you want."

James sighs. "It's stupid but I had everything planned. Now I have to plan another wedding, with someone else, in God knows when but I want to find my soulmate-"

"Lobster-"

"To build our lives together and get married," he finishes with a fond but torn expression.

The doors of Hogwarts slam open and the rain furiously takes advantage of that small gap before it closes after a figure stumbles through on heels. The cafe falls silent, everyone doing a double-take at the long white wedding dress, beautiful despite its soggy state.

"And I want a pony!" Pandora blurts out with eager eyes at the apparition.

The disheveled black hair clashes with the long veil scrunched up in it while the bride frantically looks around with wide bloodshot eyes, which almost pops out of her skull when landing on a gaping Sirius.

"Oh my God," he gasps out, hand frozen in a tangle of James' hair as he straightens up in his seat.

With blank and tears brewing eyes, the bride stumbles to the couch, completely missing the step of the entry but she saves herself with a thunderous look and nails digging into the couch.

"Sirius! Oh my God, there you are," she gasps out.

"Holy crap," Marlene blurts out.

Sirius stares at the bride before jumping out of his seat. "What are you doing here?!"

The bride scowls, angrily pulling at her skirt before throwing it to point out the obvious. "I went by your apartment but then I only found your landlord who told me you might be here-- which you are and I finally found you..," her voice cracks the more it goes as her already ashen face blanches.

Sirius is quite close to follow her by the weak step he takes but stops himself. James is as flabbergasted as him but by his frown he might have recognized her. Remus glances between them before almost inching over the edge of his seat, ready to stand up.

"Pads?"

"Hum, would you like a cuppa?" The waitress asks with a worried frown.

The bride almost glares at her, ramming her dress in one hand, before turning back to Sirius.

"I need your help-"

"How the hell are you even here?! Found me?"

"Sirius can't actually be secretly married, is he?" Peter whispers but Remus is at lost of words.

"I know all your whereabouts."

"Can someone explain to me what's happening?!" Mary exclaims with a barely hushed tone, leaning against Pandora's shoulders to stare at them closer.

Sirius jerks, glancing frantically at them until he lands back on the bride who started to breath heavily.

"Oh my God, breathe!" James says, standing up with a gesture at the couch. "Sit down, catch your breathe."

She ignores him. "I need your help, Sirius-"

"Did you just run out of a wedding?!" He exclaims.

"Yes, mine! You— ne fais pas l'idiot !" She argues with big gasps of air, chest bobbing not by much despite the speed under her corset. "I ran off because I couldn't do it, not anymore. I… I just can't. I had to crawl through a window but I had no idea where to go except to you," she gasps out with a fever splattered on her cheeks, "I think I broke my ankle because of these stupid heels."

Sirius takes a deep breath, leaning onto the couch to look at her legs, before looking up. "What's your shoe size? 13, right?"

"What? No, I'm not a child anymore, Sirius! 5," She says, exasperated.

Every patron are still watching when Sirius jumps over the coffee table to get to Mary. She can barely make a noise before her shoes are grabbed and she shrieks when Sirius only tugs harder.

"Sirius! Stop!" She shrieks, clawing at the rug when she is dragged, before throwing a disbelieving look at them. "Wha- can anyone help me?!" She gasps when one of her shoes finally gives up and Sirius almost falls on Pandora before he does the same for the second shoe.

No one moves and even the bride seems stunned by Sirius, who walks up to him to hand him over Mary's shoes. James gapes at them.

"Padfoot?"

"My shoes?!"

"Free heels."

Sirius throws blindly the pair of sparkly heels on the couch, helping the bride stay upright as she tries to put Mary's shoes on with one hand while the other shakily holds on the dress. Mary, baffled, glances at the heels before taking them with a shrug.

"Sirius?" Remus cautiously calls.

"Don't come in the apartment for like, an hour at least!" He calls as he leads the bride outside, helping her as keeps tripping despite the new shoes.

They watch them through the windows, along with everyone else, while Sirius hastily tries to untangle the veil from her long black hair before throwing it out on the street as they disappear around the corner. Pandora turns to gape at them in excitement.

"What just happened?!"

Remus slightly shakes his head and turns to James. "Prongs?"

He jerks to face them, still standing in front of the couch, and his mouth finally shuts with a loud noise. "Huh?"

"Have an idea who that was?"

"She looked a lot like Sirius," Peter comments.

James nods, clearly in his thoughts, before sitting down with a last look at the windows. "It's Regulus."

"Who?"

"Sirius' brother."

"Sirius has a brother?" Peter asks in disbelief. "Since when?!"

Mary frowns. "Hum, then explain why his brother was wearing heels and wearing a wedding dress? Stealing my shoes?"

"You are wearing the heels," Pandora points out.

"Because he stole them and they are clearly expensive— even if they don't fit with my current jeans."

"He is trans," Remus says. "That's the brother who didn't want to run away with him when they were younger?"

James nods, glancing at the windows again. "Regulus."

"You knew?! How come didn't I know?" Peter asks.

"Wait, is he a trans man or a trans woman because I'm lost," Pandora interjects.

"Trans man," James explains. "He— well, their parents aren't quite accepting that part but he still stayed with them. That's why he looks so… not."

"God, was that a forced marriage and forcing him to stay a woman?" Mary asks in horror. "Wait, is it Regulus as a man or? Strange name."

"That's the name he picked for himself."

"You knew him from your private fancy school?" Peter wonders and looks at Remus. "But you weren't there, so how did you know?"

"Erm, Sirius might have mentioned it to me," he admits. "Barely…"

"Oh my God, their parents must be going crazy. They are just insane-"

"Holy crap, Sirius with tits is hot." James stares in disbelief at Marlene, finally coming back to earth by the looks of it with a slight scoff. "What?! I never thought that would happen! And they look terrifyingly similar!"

"I thought his family was in France," Remus mentions, confused. "How did Regulus find Sirius like that?"

"Should we go check on them maybe?" Pandora asks, straightening up on her knees. "He said to not come to the apartment but maybe we can bring some warm food and drinks for them. Make Regulus feel welcome."

James gasps. "Do you think he is going to stay?"

Marlene frowns at him. "Wait… Didn't you have this huge crush on Regulus?! I remember something about Sirius' sibling!"

Mary cackles at James' vivid blush. He makes a rude gesture at her while Pandora smiles fondly at him, joining him on the couch to rub his shoulder. Remus smiles with a sorry on his lips, remembering James' infatuation on his best friend's brother back when they met during university where Sirius only showed up sometimes to visit with no mention of any sibling except for James.

[clairewritesfanfics]

in a harem situation the worse marks would probably make more effort to clean of course (mustnt scare off the potential mate lol) but i imagine its not as thorough as the other marks, and done with a lot of hasty coverups

you tell them youre coming to visit and targets bought a rug to cover a drink stain on the carpet, shiesty has rearranged his posters to conviently cover holes in the wall hes punched mid gamer rage, and mohawk has somehow tetris'd a months worth of dirty laundry into his closet where you wont see it. and after all that sinister relocates all HIS mess into their rooms while theyre waiting for you to show up and pretending hes been tidy the whole time.

the rest of the marks watch this happen from their rooms in various degrees of amusement and confusion

"mohawk has somehow tetris'd a months worth of dirty laundry" made me laugh fr

viltrumite mark would be so confused how they ended up doing this because he does not understand the concept of procrastination.

no goggles would be such a tattle tale; full mask too but he would be more sneaky about it like, he'd engineer an event where you get juice all over your clothes and he convinces you to go to mohawk's room because it's the closest to the dining room WAHAHAHA

[saivenaaa]

Im sorry the thought of sitcom and/or veldigun alex wearing that one Metallica shirt that azazle gave to zach that says autsim on it is soo fucking HILARIOUS. Like imagine an eldritch being with and black shrit on that says "AUTSIM"