[archive] @landlordarchive - Tumblr Blog

well well well, look what the cat dragged in...

It seems that you can take the girl out of the Rag but you can’t take the Rag out of the girl. Good, things were getting a bit too boring around here.

Welcome home Rosita.

Hope you enjoy the surprise waiting for you.

#Rosita

Why you always lying - whoever the fuck song that song Bcuz, why you always lyin bruh?

#anon #amm #Anon

theragnatelarp

Ask Meme Monday

What song do you think fits my muse?

Bonus points for an explanation!

Switching things up a bit for the New Year, submit the title and artist of a song that reminds you most of the reblogging character. Feel free to give an explanation or leave it up to the mun’s imagination!

Remembering to reblog to participate! Feel free to answer on anon or in character :)

#amm #ragnweekly

landlordarchive

Somebody’s Watching Me: Para

landlordarchive

lsxporter:

After the initial shock had worn, Vivian’s mind was churning. They thought alike, the cogs always turning in their brains. Maybe that was where the attraction lay. Sydney had not gone into depth about his living situation, no, but Vivian didn’t think much of it as Sydney never stayed in one place for very long. This move, however, did seem sudden, and he spoke of it far less than usual. An invitation for the holidays was unexpected, to say the least, Vivian should have known something was up. But something of this nature?

Did Sydney know?

That was her first thought, despite her personal life, her children always came first.

Did Langston know?

She pursed her lips, “Yes, Langston. My son. Did I stutter?” Now she allowed her hands to fall to her hips, eyeing the man as he moved into the kitchen of the apartment. She stopped to think, pausing briefly before her face relaxed slightly, gliding over to the counter, keeping the kitchen island between them, a painted nail tapping against shiny surface. Of course, Sydney was a fairly tidy person, as much as he could be, but Vivian always saw that this or that could be cleaned better this or that way, and had cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom when she arrived.

“A landlord.” She breathed out, eyes focused on the man, “That’s really what you’ve been up to all these years?” She paused, connecting what pieces she could in her mind but leaving them without a voice. “…Well, this place sure is nice. I’ve heard of it, never been until now.”

There ain’t nothing wrong with that pipe.

But she kept that to herself as well, watching him dissapear under the sink.

“A blessing.” She commented, honestly disinterested in the penthouse that was supposedly flooded or if it was vacant or not.

She crossed her arms at his comment, thinking briefly about kicking him in the stomach before thinking better of it.

“Have you eaten? I can fix you something.” She commented, walking around to the fridge, opening it and pulling out the fixings for a sandwich no matter his answer.

“So I suppose this means you turned your life around?” She asked as she worked. It was something to do.

“I’ve never heard you stutter in my life,” The Landlord replied with a charming smile. “Although... maybe once or twice.” He said, adding a wink before getting to work. His mind was racing, as he was sure hers was too, but his was distracted by the mere sight of her. Years of searching and he’d gotten nowhere. Eventually he’d just given up, but never forgotten, like his own little personal human puzzle, an unsolved Rubix Cube tossed in the back of a drawer, that still weighed on his mind from time to time.

He smirked, “Yes, just a simple, humble Landlord. What did you picture me doing, hm?” He himself had pictured her over the years, settling down, perhaps, or finding someone else to torment, or both. Never truly settled though, that could never really happen. And if Sydney was any inclination of her parenting skills, she passed on every bit of her tenacity and cunning as she could manage.

“A sandwich would be nice, thank you.” He answered, tinkering around under the sink while keeping an eye on her. Both of them keenly aware that this was ruse.

“I suppose, in a way, I did turn my life around. And you? You have a couple of kids now, you’re other son, I saw him around. Elijah, yes? And Sydney’s real name is Langston... that’s an interesting choice. You named him that, and he doesn’t choose to go by it... very interesting, indeed.”

He pulled himself up from the sink and smiled, “What prompted that decision Viv, I wonder?”

#somebody's watching me #Vivian

Top three that annoy you the most here?

@funnyxfrankie

@lsxporter

@deborahmul

#deborah #sydney #frankie #anon

I'm going to put Trevor's head in a paper shredder

Great! Now you’ve made me an accomplice! Fucking amateur hours over here.

#trevor

landlordarchive

Somebody’s Watching Me: Para

landlordarchive

lsxporter:

Vivian knew Sydney was dedicated to his work, so when he had told her he would be working late today, she didn’t mind. In fact, she was almost excited to have a nice big apartment to herself. Vivian was more than enjoying her time at the Ragnatela. She really hadn’t been here more than a day and a half and was already letting her mind drift to long walks on the beach and staring out at the ocean at sunset. Smell the salt in the breeze.

It was so close to home. And so far.

Since she had arrived she had walked the halls like she owned the place, like a queen in her palace (as Vivian had the tendency to do.) But the air she gave off was not one of arrogance, no, but one of wisdom, one that said that this woman has been some places, and seen some things and wasn’t about to take anyone’s shit all while keeping a cool, amiable persona that made you want to give her a hug, or maybe make dinner with her on a Sunday afternoon.

She always had a way of marrying gentleness with sharpness. Like the softness of cold snow in your hands.

She had finished unpacking the night she arrived and was now simply changing out of her day dress into something more comfortable for lounging around her son’s apartment with a glass of wine. Still she looked flawless, like an old-timey Hollywood actress, maybe. If there was one thing to be said about Vivian and her children, it was that she taught them all how to dress themselves, and dress themselves well.

“Coming-” She called, before hearing the door unlock, “Sydney, baby?”

How odd, why would he knock on the door of his own apartment?

Retrieving her wine glass in one hand made her way into the living room, “Did you pick up the cooking sherry like I asked you t-” She began before stopping dead in her tracks.

Almost dropping her wine glass before catching herself, setting it on the counter instead with a soft clank.

“Langston.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, arms moving to cross, pulling her cardigan closed tighter over her front.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing here in my son’s-” She paused, before continuing, “My son’s apartment?”

Another pause to raise a hand to her forehead, pushing a strand of hair off of her face, “Come on now, Syd… Sydney’s gonna be back from work any minute and I don’t have the time to be foolin’ around with you Langston, not tonight not ever again, you hear me?”

It took Langston, yes Langston, a moment for his mouth to catch up to his brain. Immediately it was obvious that Sydney had kept his mouth shut when it came to telling his mother about his living situation, a fact that he expected to be true for all his tenants, but now it was obvious that Sydney had another secret he’d been hiding: the man knew too much about the Landlord’s own past.

He continued to listen as Vivian worked to keep herself cool and commanding, a slightly smirk on his lips as she pulled her sweater tightly around herself, as if she was armouring herself against him.

“Your son.” He repeated, rather quietly, the cogs of his mind still turning around this new information, perhaps the boy wasn’t as smart as he thought, it was still too early to tell.

“Your son is my tenant.” He stated simply, moving past her to the kitchen, tool box still in hand. “And I need to check the plumbing for a minute.”

He lowered himself down under the kitchen sink. “One of the other tenants broke his, like a careless miscreant, and fucked up the plumbing effectively flooding one of the penthouses, thank god it was vacant.”

He sat up on the ground, staring at the woman, “Of course, I could just go, if you’d prefer?”

#Vivian #somebody's watching me #para #para1

Somebody’s Watching Me: Para

Inside the dark din of the Landlord’s office, hidden behind a large screen and a tall dressed, sat a table of monitors. The screens sat next to his desk, illuminated at all times. The renovations had been good for so much more than just making the walls a little thicker...

Half the time he didn’t even look at them, all the data was recorded and saved somewhere save, somewhere only he knew. One cursory glance brought a flood of memories into his alcohol fuelled brain: Vivian Burgess.

His eyes followed her as she moved about the building, from screen to screen, until she arrived at one of the apartment doors. She entered, and he felt himself rise from his chair, grab his tool kit, and left his office wth the door unlocked and only half-closed.

The weight of the toolbox felt heavy in his hand, his arms hung limp at his sides as he moved carelessly around his building, his feet dragging along the carpet as adrenaline flowed through system.

When he reached the door to @lsxporter‘s apartment, he raised a fist, and knocked slowly, heavily, three times. Sydney. He had brought her her. But how had he known? He’d been wrong to underestimate the boy, to taunt him, to push him to this level. Now he was exposed, and vulnerable.

Unwilling to wait another moment, he took the skeleton key from his pocket, and opened the door to the apartment himself, resting his back against it once it closed behind him. His eyes opened and landed on her, “Hello, Vivian.”

#vivan #para

Exposed: Camille Bécaud

I mean what is there to say? The police will be showing up at his door any minute and you can find news of his impending trial online.

His dear departed grandmother, with whom he had a very complicated relationship, I won’t bore you with the details, I’ll let the French tabloids take care of that, passed away years ago, not peacefully in her sleep as some might have you believe, but instead at the hands of her dear grandson.

That’s right, the gentle, troubled Frenchman is actually a murderer. He will be extradited back home this afternoon, guess his dearly beloved will have to put those wedding plans on hold, or perhaps he’ll say au revoir to it all together.

Let’s just hope the French judicial system is more forgiving than I am.

Bon chance, Camille Bécaud.

@camillexbecaudxisxawful

#camille #exposed

thea is the queen of the rag

Queen? More like Paper Bag Princess.

#thea #Anon

Ollie and Lucien who woulda thought

I mean, apparently Oliver doesn’t know this will end with him losing a limb. Don’t believe me? Just as Desmond.

#Desmond #Oliver #Lucien #Kaya #Anon

I need your help Landlord, You know about what.

I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry. You head home for the holidays and when you come back it will all be sorted. You will owe me, but the cigars were a nice start.

#frankie #funnyxfrankie

the reporter and the lawyer have been VERY naughty... five times this week...

@lsxporter and @rothschildofrochester EXPOSED again.

#harry #sydney #Anon

Ollie needs a life. Thea Needs a job. And you need to stop.

Ollie needs to get laid, Thea needs an EDUCATION, and I am too wonderful to stop.

#ollie #thea #Anon

You’re a gentleman and a scholar, Franklin.

You may be an awful person, but that doesn’t mean I am. Merry Early Christmas Landlord.

#frankie #xmas #submission