Gonna say something that might bite my ass in hindsight but
Sometimes I wish (some) people would understand that Erik is one dude making all this.
One guy making the audios.
One guy editing the audios.
One guy posting the audios on not one but two platforms and keep up with everything on both platforms.
And one guy trying to keep everything sorted, plus the timeline/quiz/merch website.
Not including his own personal life because bro has a job, has a husband, has a house and all that to keep up with too, and now the stuff with his family, and his own medical stuff.
That guy has a lot on his plate.
Give him the fucking time and space, for fucks sake.
Hello! I know this may be a frequency asked question, but how did you get into redacted audio? Also I really love your art, it’s very beautiful :)
My first ask!!! Hello!
1) Thank you so much, I'm so so happy you like my art. I was nervous about it haha 🥹💛💛
2) If I remember correctly, back in 2020 I saw some comments about boyfriend asmr on some social media... and being extremely bored back then, I got curious. I typed it in the Youtube search bar, sorted by newly posted, and one of the first videos to show up was Redacted ASMR.
The first video I watched was Caelum's first one, I listened as a joke at first and ended up loving it and the character so much more than I initially thought. I was immediately hooked and binged all the videos I could. Now, since October 12th, 2020, I'm a huge Redacted fan, and the Redactedverse has been my special interest and comfort since! :-]
(Despite my user being polymaamory, the storyline that stuck with me the most from the beginning was the Freelancer one... D.A.M.N crew means absolutely everything to me. 💛)
i know i promised it almost a month ago but here it finally is and you can throw rocks at me for taking so long with it.
written with more of a fool!Porter in mind but I couldn't get it where I wanted so it is what it is. His glasses are based on my colourblind headcanon of his and Treasure working in casino is also from that series. No other personal description provided.
Days with them began to blur together into one, rather pleasant sideshow if things he never thought about experiencing. Not in the whole life he led as a shadow more than a real person, his mind was crossed with the concept of "domesticity." When he was younger and his mother still lived, he barely remembered how it looked like. Later, with Dana still around, he understood how shielded he was from the problems and issues they were facing. With Dana gone and only his father remaining, he wished he could erease the memories, the stench of cheap beer and cheaper food he got to go by.
Turning eighteen was a blessing he might have taken for granted, compared to what was awaiting him later in life.
The past was buried and overcome with the smell of tea steeping in the chipped mug he took as his own, a paper tag with English Breakfast written in some fancy font. No matter how much he pestered them about it, they didn't budge and kept buying the teabags instead of leaves, muttering something about "whining British men" under their nose. He pretended he didn't hear just for his personal amusement.
The newspaper in front of him, flat on the small coffee table, was giving him trouble. Out of boredom, because how long can a person stay in bed not doing anything, he sat down and opened the pages on the crossword section, pencil bitten between his fangs as he pondered about the answers. The person who came up with the questions clearly had a death wish, he slowly realised after failing yet another one, letters being hastily ereased. He was not doing well at all, but there was no witness to his embarrassment. The only one present was still sleeping soundly under the pile of blankets they kept hogging every single night despite complaining about being too hot.
With this, he could agree wholeheartedly. And with the blanket hogging being unnecessary, but he had his priorities straight.
It was half past seven when he gave up, setting the pencil down and reaching for the tea with resignation, the taste mediocre at best. Making a mental note to finally take shopping matters into his own hands, he sipped, his upper lip burning slightly in the process. Day well started for him. Well, technically night. It was evening and the sun that couldn't reach him under the shielded part of their balcony was slowly dipping down on the horizon, making him smirk in retaliation for finally finding a way to win against the uneven battle.
Maybe he should make them dinner. They were still in the bedroom, and he heard no stirring, their breaths evened out, sheets still smelling of him and the familiar sense of comfort, pulling them deeper and deeper into much needed slumber. It worked well to the point of him almost closing his eyes and dozing off too, despite not needing that at all. They just affected him like that, and while few years back he probably would have cut his hand off before admiting to such a trivial and nonsensical thing, nowadays, he found himself content with what his life turned into.
The biggest part being them in the picture. Without their presence, he would still be that bitter vampire, just like the tea he was drinking. He forgot to add milk and was too unbothered to get up and fix its lack of.
The fridge was empty anyway. Beside a half empty bottle of wine, some leftover crumbs of a cheesecake he brought two days ago as a peace offering for being away for what they stated as "too long", and a few condiments that made no sense being put together on the same shelf. Even he had more stock of food despite not needing it at all to survive. How his Treasure made do with this was beyond him, but it would all be okay. He was back and he wouldn't let anything happen to them, especially, not a growling stomach. He may have not known how to cook well, but his wallet was more than full to indulge his love on shitty take out they would eat on the couch, chopsticks in hands, with TV playing a romantic comedy in the background. Dream come true one may say and he slowly started to realise he was the one to actually say it.
The commentary they always provided, pointing out the most cheesy and stupid things, made it worth looking forward to every sunset and sunrise despite the suffering that being away from them caused. Looking back to his old ways was not an option, not anymore, and he found himself dipping lower and lower in the safe bay of their gentle hands tugging at his strands or shirt's collar, soft hair he loved to twirl around his finger, and smell of perfume they always wore, making him all dizzy from how divine it was. Worth of worshipping, as if he ever looked for anything more divine than them looking down as he kneeled so prettily for his saviour.
Porter Solaire had to, at some point, admit a thing he didn't feel brave enough to speak out loud. So it remained silent, bubbling under his skin, fingertips tingling like they did whenever he used his magic when he still had most of it. Wonderful time to reminiscence about.
"This is utter bullshit." he cursed, targeting the crossword, of course. Not his inability to recognise feelings, according to him, there was nothing wrong. 'According to him' being the keywords to the lame excuse he provided to whoever dared asking.
He fixed the glasses he had on his nose, a habit that finally stuck to him. After leading one-sided war with what was advertised to him as 'helpful', he finally gave up and waved the white flag, wearing them all the time for the sake of his sanity. With the pencil bitten between his teeth and first few buttons of his black shirt undone, he shifted in the lounge chair, clearing his throat a bit before returning to the crossword that wronged him on personal level.
William's mannerism started to rub off on him in the worst way, it seemed. What he only lacked was the silver chain the King had attached to his own glasses and the salt and pepper moustache he kept on as of late. Midlife crisis, probably. Porter was the furthest thing from it.
He took a sip, tea finally done and still bitter as ever. Next time, he would just ignore their opinions and he would buy the proper one, whether they liked it or not. He was not the man of the house, but he was the one actually caring about the stock of said house, unlike its owner.
A raspy groan made him smile, head turning to the side to see the light of his life, a true little ray of sunshine emerging from a stormy cloud, all disheveled and still sleepy, standing in the entrance to the apartment. One hand was balled into a fist, rubbing their eyes, while the other one was holding up their body against the wall. It seemed that the hours they spent in bed with him holding them against his chest were still not enough after the night shift they had to survive.
When he picked them up, they smelled of expensive yet clearly indicating lack of taste cognac, cheap cigars and had a half dead expression on their pretty face after having to deal not only with cards but also with rowdy clientele. It may have paid well, but he hated every single day and night they had to go back there and text him what was happening. He loved the gossip, but he also liked having them safe and sound, not stressed and bone tired afterwards.
Taking a much needed shower when they came back home focused mostly on trying to hold them up as he ran his hands up and down to wash away any remaining workplace related thoughts. When he began washing their hair, they were already half asleep, dozing off against his shoulder with foam of their shampoo swirling in the drain, glass covered in steam in the scent that clung to their skin like a vice. Tucking them in fresh sheets, arms wrapped tightly around their waist, was just for his own preference because they were out cold, not even a slurred "goodnight" leaving their lips.
And it seemed they were still not back in the real world.
"Treasure," he hummed, one arm reaching for them, shifting around to make proper space for them to sit.
Without any hesitation, existing on an auto pilot, they just slid down onto his lap instead, big yawn leaving their lips when they felt him close again.
"Still tired?" they just hummed in response.
"Poor you. Rest some more then, darling. I've got you." That, he did. Maybe even a little bit more than them, because with them, came the stability he never knew of. The one thing he began to really look forward to, no matter how early or late it was, no matter how stained his hands were and no matter how hard it was to breathe after yet another fight.
They just made it all disappear because with them, there was nothing to fight against. Just plush skin, warm breath against his collarbone and peace of a moment.
"It's argonaut"
"Huh?"
"The word you're looking for. 'Member of the crew looking for Golden Fleece.' Argonaut" they muttered under their nose, turning around a bit to point the missing answer he was unable to guess.
He counted the white boxes and wrote the word down. It fit.
"How do you know that?"
"I went to a proper school. I know that in Victorian times, it was a novelty." he just scoffed at the jab. Telling them to cut the old man jokes seemed to fail, to his great displeasure.
"You're hilarious, you know? I can see you with a bright future as a comedian."
"And this one, you write with double 'f', not 'c'."
"Now you're just showing off." Another hum coming from the bundle on his lap, this time, pleased.
He corrected, just like they said he should do, and between writing the word down and nuzzling closer into their hair that tickled his nose, he just cursed internally. They fit so well against him, two bodied practically moulding into one with how close they pressed against each other and with how naturally holding them came to him. Practically an instinct at this point, a learned one he cherished upon discovering.
He took a deep breath, words milled over in his mind. It was so easy, he repeated them over and over in front of a mirror, trying to get the tone and meaning correct enough to not be taken as a complete moron, he wouldn't blame them. He was a grown-up man whose chest began to ache and clench uncomfortably in the spot he hated the most because it only proved that he had a weakness. He wasn't supposed to have one, not in the life he led.
Monsters do not get to enjoy nice things. Why was he different all of the sudden?
"I love you"
"Your horoscope sucks"
A clichè. Of course it had to happen to him out of all people, there he was, thinking that he could do it right. He should have waited more, should have thought it through and not just burst it out loud like a teenager with attachment issues.
"What?"
"What?" There it was again. Was it really necessary to embarrass himself even more?
He swallowed, hand clenching and relaxing after a moment, taking a deep breath in, but they were first to open their mouth again.
"I said your horoscope sucks. It says here that–" they cleared their throat and squinted their eyes a bit to read it, completely unfazed by what he said.
"Be wary of taking rash and bold decisions, especially when it concerns those who are the closest to you. It's better to wait out the routine until a better opportunity appears. Focus on yourself."
Great. Even the stars apparently knew it was the worst idea he had ever thought of.
"Huh. So, I'm screwed then?" playing a fool it was, it's not like he was bad at it.
"Apparently. Now, what did you say? I interrupted you." Oh no, no, no, no, he was not falling for that.
He folded the newspaper in half, fixing the glasses on the bridge of his nose, throat cleared to mask the stalling. There was no way he would say it again, not when it went so wrong.
"Nothing...it was nothing. Don't worry. It was nothing important." his brain reeled, his heart jumped, and he cringed when he heard what atrocious lie left his lips, but it was better than putting himself into an early grave from disgrace and humiliation.
"If you say so." they took the bait, it seemed. Good. He could live with that.
Nosing around at the top of their head, he just closed his eyes, trying to calm himself as they curled themselves up on his lap, the shirt they wore still faintly smelling of his cologne. When did they steal it, he had no idea, but he had to admit it suited them more than him.
Precious little thing.
"Shame though."
"Why is that, my Treasure?"
They smiled. He could feel it, even if they were facing away from him, eyes he likes to gaze into away from his, a shame really. He pressed a gentle kiss to their temple just because he could.
The sun was already hidden from them, last hues of purple painting the sky, moon high up and calling them both with how beautiful it looked.
"Because I love you too, dummy."
They were right, his horoscope sucked. Because if he actually had to wait more, before he could say it properly, he was sure to lose not the one closest to him, but his mind in its entirety.
and with that, I'm taking the stage to announce my hiatus I'll be taking.
while it is fun to write those short fics and takes, I do feel like the quality got worse over time, and because of that, I'm taking a step back to work on the issue. You will still (probably) see me around here, but I do want to focus on some other things, maybe better, maybe not. who knows (not me, certainly not me)
