#Ed Shaughnessy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dancingkirby · 2 years

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FANFIC: YUGIOH GX RAREPAIR WEEK DAY 5

PROMPT: Reunion

TITLE: The Properties of Love and Hate

SHIP: Denyshipping (Amon x Edo x Ekou), Sacrificeshipping (Amon x Ekou)

RATING: M WORD COUNT: 6436

SUMMARY: Amon looked amused at Ed’s continued silence. “If you desire my wife so badly, I have a little proposal for you. You can have her, on one condition…I get to claim you too.”

NOTES: This, like all of my submissions for this event, is a queued post since I will be on vacation during the actual Rarepair Week; I plan to post on Ao3 when I return home at the end of the month. This is a slight AU where Amon and Ekou were both brought back, and is set about five years post-canon. Edo’s name is spelled as “Ed” in this since it’s set in America (I know. It’s weird), and I’m using the fanon that he’s from England. I chalk up any mistakes on my part to him being exposed to the slang of other countries over the years. LOL This fic is dedicated to @immicolia and her love of Edo’s bitchfaces.

Rated for sexual content (I tried to make it relatively non-explicit, and there’s some fade-to-black), cursing, and alcohol use.

In general, Ed Phoenix was happy with the direction his life was going. Tonight, though, proved to be an exception. Why had he ever agreed to go to this bloody stupid event?! Part of it, he supposed, was boredom. He and Ryo were taking one of their regular breaks from their relationship; things got so intense between them that they both agreed it was for the best to avoid emotional burnout. Also, Emeralda had told him that it would come off as “strange” if he didn’t show up, especially since he was currently living in the Silicon Valley area for a stint in the American Pros. Then again, she didn’t know what had happened in that cave in the other dimension, did she? In any case, here he was, in the ballroom of this reception hall, at a gala celebrating both the IPO and app launch for the social-media website Cogito.

Cogito–or “Geet,” as it was often affectionately known by its fanbase–billed itself as a site for “civilized academic debate,” (emphasis theirs) particularly when it came to thorny philosophical questions that didn’t have answers elsewhere. Ed had no idea how it had managed to attract such a large and rabid fanbase…but somehow, it had. Perhaps it was due to their viral advertisement campaigns, which made liberal use of the latest memes before they had a chance to get outdated. Or maybe it was simply because lots of college students used it to cheat on their homework, despite this being decidedly against the Terms of Service. Even Ed had to admit that he’d visited the site a couple of times; he did have several PhD’s by this point, after all, and he couldn’t play extreme sports or duel all the time.

Currently, though, he was suffering through what seemed to him to be an excruciatingly long speech by the website’s founder…Amon Garam. No wait, Ed kept forgetting, he was going by Amon Shaughnessy now. Not that it mattered to him.

“Five years ago, my wife and I had nothing…except for each other and an idea,” Amon was saying. “But we had the grit and perseverance to make that idea a reality. What started as a small website that I coded in the basement of my grandparents’ home has become something much more. And we would like to thank our supporters for standing by us. Also, thank you to my grandparents for taking us in when we needed it, and big thanks to Ekou, who has always given this project her whole-hearted support, spending countless hours debugging and offering suggestions. And of course, she is the mastermind behind our famous advertisements.”

Ekou, who was standing on the podium at her husband’s side, beamed and gave the audience a little nod of acknowledgement. Ed, on the other hand, was fighting the urge to make a “gag-me” gesture. He doubted that things had ever been quite as dire as Amon said they’d been. There were a lot of things missing from his version of events, not the least of which was that he had been adopted by a family of billionaires…until Goa Garam had kicked both him and Ekou out for revealing their “love” for each other. What was more, he had heard that Ekou had later gotten access to her funds back due to the intercession of her dying mother. Oh, and to top it all off, was Ed seriously the only person who remembered that Amon had tried to kill the woman who would become his wife?! They’d both initially been thought to be permanently dead. Then, much like Ryo, they had washed up on a beach…on Miyako Island, if he was remembering correctly. That was in the early months of 2007. Cogito had been launched in the summer of 2008…not quite four years ago. They had certainly gotten back on their feet quickly for people who had had “nothing.” And now, they lived in a sprawling mansion in Palo Alto with their three children, and hobnobbed with all the biggest names in tech.

In any case, Amon was finally done talking, people had clapped, and they had opened the floor to questions. Ekou said, “First, here’s the answer to the question that everyone always has. Yes, that is how my name is actually spelled, and no, I don’t know what my parents were thinking.” A ripple of polite laughter rose from the crowd. Ed had the idea that when she had said “thinking,” what she had really meant was “smoking.” Over the past few years, she’d become famous in her own right from her popular fitness and lifestyle channel on YouTube on which Amon made periodic guest appearances. Ed, always having an interest in fashion, noted that she was attired in a smart dark blue pencil skirt and matching blazer that was meant to complement her husband’s suit (which was gray, to match his eyes), and still had the same short haircut.

The questioners all had favorable opinions of both Cogito and the Shaughnessys–prescreened, obviously–and now it was time for the cocktail party, which would be followed by a late supper in the dining room for a select few guests. Ed had turned out to be one of those few, rather unwillingly. For now, he was just glad that he was old enough to legally drink in America, so he could dull the monotony a bit. However, he knew he had to be careful about that, since he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol and was already feeling the effects after drinking only one cosmopolitan. He had been on his way to grab some canapes to balance it out when he almost literally bumped into Ekou. She had changed into a vintage-looking cocktail dress with a full skirt, and also appeared to have had a drink or two.

“Hey! Edo!” she said. “Whoops, shoot, sorry, Ed. I forgot that I was speaking English for a second there.”

“It’s quite all right. I do the same thing sometimes myself,” he admitted. It tended to be jarring whenever he moved to an English-speaking country after an extended stay in Japan, getting accustomed to his first name having two syllables and then hearing it pronounced with only one again.

Ekou, meanwhile, looked a bit surprised. “Wow, you’re British? Somehow, I guess I never picked up on the accent when you spoke Japanese.” That was understandable, Ed thought, given that she had been rather preoccupied at the time.

“I’m English,” he corrected automatically. “Although I haven’t actually lived there since I was a child. Well, anyway, it was great seeing you again…” –He broke off here and added “alive” under his breath– “but I wanted to go check out those shrimp…now see how Americanized I’ve become, I don’t say ‘prawns’ anymore…” He was starting to wish that Ryo was here with him, since he’d merely stand there and give everyone his best Hell Kaiser glare until they left him alone. He just wanted to get out of here before he had to talk to…

“Ekou! I see that you’ve found an old friend?”

Too fucking late. Now, Ed had to make small talk with Amon Shaughnessy…and the years had not diminished his hatred of the man one bit.

“Hello,” he muttered, affixing the man with what Ryo often referred to as his “bitchface.” Amon, clearly having the time of his life, strode over and stuck out his hand. Ed forced himself to shake it.

“Hello, Ed Phoenix. Are you enjoying the party?” he asked mildly. He was completely sober, or at least appeared that way. Ed very much doubted that he was genuinely making harmless small talk, although he was unsure what the hidden agenda might be. He’d have to stay on guard.

“I’ve been to worse,” he finally said. Now would be the perfect chance to give this arsehole the punch in the face that he so richly deserved. He felt his hands balling into fists…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Amon told him silkily. “The press is here, after all, and they would love to have a story to plaster all over the front pages tomorrow morning. And that might ruin your career, don’t you think?”

Ed found himself hissing “Kisama!” He couldn’t think of anything in English that could quite encapsulate what he was feeling; “You bastard!” seemed woefully inadequate. To be perfectly honest with himself, though, having something to get this emotionally invested over was as thrilling, in its own way, as one of his skyboarding excursions.

Amon, far from being insulted, made no attempts to hide how much he was enjoying the banter. “And you refuse to let bygones be bygones. How sad.”

“You don’t have to be mad anymore, Ed,” Ekou chimed in, laying a hand on his forearm. “Nor did you have to be to begin with. It was my choice, and look! Everything turned out fine.” And she still didn’t pull her hand away. Why did that simple touch feel so good, make all his thoughts muddled?

Meanwhile, Amon tilted his head consideringly. He lowered his voice. “I have always been curious about something; perhaps you can enlighten me. Why were you that protective of a woman whom you had only just met? Could it be…that you were in love with her?”

This non-sequitur left Ed completely blindsided. For several seconds, he stood there in stunned silence, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Finally, he managed to spit out, “I don’t have to be in love with someone in order to get angry when they’re being treated like a human rubbish bin, thanks.”

“Yes, yes, you’re all about heroics and justice, aren’t you?” Amon sighed, switching to Japanese. “Perhaps ‘love’ is too strong of a word. You want her, then.”

Ed, normally the king of snappy comebacks, couldn’t think of anything he could say that wouldn’t serve to dig himself a deeper hole than the one he was currently in. Because, well, it was true. Since he’d been twelve, he’d considered himself to be exclusively attracted to men…until he’d met Ekou. He hadn’t quite recognized it for what it was at the time, but then, after they’d all returned to their own world, he’d started having dreams about her. Ryo hadn’t been at all concerned about this when Ed had finally confessed this to him, saying something along the lines of, “So you’re bi. Congratulations.” However, he himself was rather shaken to realize that something he’d always believed to be a fundamental truth about himself was inaccurate. Ekou was unlike any other woman he’d ever met…and it didn’t help matters now that her hand was still on his arm.

Amon looked amused at Ed’s continued silence. “If you desire my wife so badly, I have a little proposal for you. You can have her, on one condition…I get to claim you too.”

He took a step backwards. He’d never known Amon swung that way until right now, much less felt like that about him in particular. How long had this been the case? Perhaps all the way back to their duel?

“You are absolutely disgusting,” he whispered. However, he’d hesitated just an instant too long before replying for it to be believable, and he knew it. The whole twisted idea spoke to something deep inside him: the part of him that was never completely satisfied unless he was doing something dangerous. And somehow, Amon seemed to have sensed this.

“It’s only disgusting if you choose to see it that way,” he replied. “I expect that you know a little something of business after spending a decade in the Pro League. Think of it as a mutually beneficial transaction. We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want, of course.”

“Doesn’t she get a say in any of this?” Ed retorted.

“Of course I do,” she assured him. “In fact, it was my idea. We have an open relationship, and I’d always thought that you were cute. Then I saw your name on the potential invite list for this party, and I said to Amon, why don’t we invite him and see what happens?” She giggled a bit, and her face was flushed, although Ed wasn’t sure how much of this was attributable to her amorous feelings and how much was due to alcohol consumption.

So they’d planned all this from the start. Why was he not surprised? Somehow, knowing this excited him further still.

It was at this moment that he saw a flash of light in the background. Ekou finally removed her hand and hissed, “Amon. Cameras.”

“We will continue these negotiations after supper, if you wish. It was nice speaking with you, Mr. Phoenix,” he said, speaking English once again for the benefit of their audience. The two of them walked away to greet more guests, perfectly in sync with one another and not at all acting like they’d just propositioned him for a threesome. How did they do that? A boy with wavy brown hair, who appeared to be about twelve, ran up to the pair and started a conversation with Amon. Ed watched for a few more seconds before looking away.

At least now he could check out the shrimp. Prawns. Whatever. Although he wasn’t certain that he had much appetite anymore.

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The supper proved to be a drawn-out affair, lasting eight courses, with a different wine pairing for each. Ed was both pleased with this because it delayed the inevitable awkward conversation, and annoyed because it meant he had more time to get wrapped up in his ruminative thoughts. He picked at his food and tried not to look at the couple who was throwing the party, but his eyes kept wandering up the table against his will. Ekou had changed her outfit yet again, this time into an emerald green evening gown, and she and Amon were absorbed in amiable conversation with the people seated nearest to them, who appeared to be mostly stuffy investor types. Amon had a pad of paper at the ready, and he was taking copious notes. He’d thought that they were both thoroughly occupied with their socializing…and then Ekou happened to look right at Ed during one of his furtive peeks. She gave him a little smile and wave, until Amon said something which had everyone around them laughing. Immediately, she turned all of her attention back to her husband.

Now that he had gotten over the initial shock of the couple’s proposal, Ed continued to ponder exactly why he hadn’t been completely repulsed by it, as he knew he ought to be. Why was his heart racing every time he thought about it, and not from fear? Why had he felt the color rise in his cheeks when Ekou had smiled at him, or as he contemplated how the muscles of Amon’s powerful arms were evident through multiple layers of fabric? He hated the guy, both for the agony he’d put Ekou through and the flippant attitude he’d had towards the whole thing. That was not up for debate. And yet here he was, getting increasingly vivid fantasies of the guy fucking him so hard that he wouldn’t be able to walk the next morning. On the other end of the spectrum, there was Ekou herself, who could probably kick his ass if she felt like it, yet also had that aura of vulnerability about her even now. And he wanted her too, for very different reasons. He wasn’t certain there was a word for this sort of phenomenon.

He attempted to think of something, anything, that he could use as a reason to turn them down. Fidelity wasn’t the issue here. He and Ryo had decided long ago that they were allowed to have other relationships when on hiatus with theirs, the only two rules being, “always use protection,” and, “don’t do anything too stupid.” The first one wouldn’t be an issue; he wasn’t so far-gone that he couldn’t insist on that. However, he couldn’t be certain whether or not this would qualify as “too stupid.” There was also the fact that he’d never had sex with anyone who wasn’t a cis man before…but that couldn’t be too different, could it? Might even be easier in some ways. Ugh, there he went again, actually considering this outrageous idea! All of this wine must be going to his head.

Finally, dessert was over, and he guessed it must be close to midnight now. People were starting to gradually leave the table and drift off toward the front entrance to arrange for their drivers to come pick them up, although they were in no big rush. Amon and Ekou had been one of the first couples to leave; perhaps they had decided not to continue the discussion after all, and would allow him to go home and pretend like none of this had ever happened…? Then, right as he was getting up, they came back into the room, and Amon beckoned at him. No such luck. He had to make up his mind, and do it fast.

He was fully aware that he didn’t have to follow them; it wasn’t like Amon was holding him at gunpoint or anything. Yet he set off after them anyway. Once they reached their destination, a dark corner of the now nearly-vacant ballroom, Amon turned to him and inquired, “Have you reached a decision yet?”

Ed had, just in these past few seconds. Nevertheless, he was still determined to not capitulate without some resistance, since that was all part of the game.

“If you’re looking for some sort of formal relationship, I have neither the time nor the inclination for that,” he said tartly.

Amon nodded. “Good. Neither do we.”

“It can be only this one thing, or more than once…or if you don’t want to do it at all, just say so and we’ll never mention it again,” Ekou chimed in. But Ed did want it. That was the problem.

“Right…” he began, rushing on before he had the chance to change his mind, “Then my decision is yes.” There was no turning back now.

“Excellent,” Amon responded; to Ed’s slight disappointment, he didn’t make an accompanying finger steeple. “Ekou and I will go out the front entrance, pose a bit for the cameras, and get our car. You go out the side door, down that hall to the left...” –he pointed– “…and we will bring the car around as soon as we’re able.”

It turned out to be a while before they were able. There must have been more cameras than anticipated, Ed thought, although he wouldn’t put it past Amon to dawdle simply to annoy him. Nearly twenty minutes later, he was contemplating giving up and leaving, (even though that would be a hassle, since he’d already called his own driver and told him he wouldn’t be needing a ride home tonight), when he finally saw a black Mercedes turn the corner of the building and pull up next to him. The back door opened automatically, and he took one last second to confirm with himself that he was really, really sure about this before climbing in.

There were three back seats, and he noted with some relief that Ekou had chosen the one in the middle. Thankfully, the interior was roomy enough that no one got squished. Each seat had what seemed like a hundred different buttons to adjust various settings, although he opted not to use any of them. Tinted windows and a partition between the back and front afforded them some privacy. The radio was on, and was currently featuring some guy singing about dynamite. (Having lived in Japan for most of the past three years, Ed wasn’t exactly in the loop about all the newest American pop hits.)

“Do you like our car?” Ekou asked. “We got it last year, after Rachel was born. Three kids, three back seats, you know?” Indeed, Ed could see a few small toys strewn about. It was strange, being reminded that these two were parents. Ed himself had never wanted any children of his own; he found that his work at the orphanages more than fulfilled him.

For a surprisingly long time, the three of them were able to maintain a civil conversation about their rules and expectations for this encounter. Ed was okay with just about anything, really, with the exception of some of the more hardcore fetishes. He was pleased to learn that they had already been planning on strict condom usage before he brought it up. Eventually, this segued into a sort-of civil conversation about their experiences in Dark World. Ed soon found it was easier to keep track of the time by the songs that played rather than continuously looking at his smartphone, and they talked all the way through Katy Perry and Gotye and Owl City and Bruno Mars and Flo Rida. Tongues had been loosened by the alcohol, it seemed. Even Amon was more verbose than usual, and Ed began to suspect that he was more inebriated than he was letting on.

“You posed as a butler?” he snorted. “How completely undignified.” He said this last in a mocking tone.

Ed crossed his arms. “Well, we can’t all have our own personal Exodiamobiles to wait on us hand and foot, can we, Your Majesty?”

“I still wish I could’ve seen that,” Ekou breathed.

“No, you don’t. Judai told me that he looked fucking ridiculous riding on it. Was that your big plan, Amon? To become king because all of your opponents died laughing at you?”

Amon looked away, staring out the window; could it be that he was pouting? “Obviously, I didn’t think things through as well as I had previously assumed.”

“Is that code for ‘Yubel made me their bitch,’ by any chance?”

“Oh? I seem to recall that I made you mine first. Perhaps bitches in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” As he turned his head back towards Ed, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips, Ed had to admit that he’d walked right into that one.

“Save it for the bedroom, you two,” Ekou interjected. “Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that either of you walked twenty miles a day while battling morning sickness and having to keep an eye on Chronos.” A new song started on the radio, and she suddenly perked up. “Okay, okay, both of you shut up now. Paparazzi is on.”

Ed instinctively jerked his head towards his own window, worried that photographers were tailing them. Amon muttered, “No, she’s talking about the song. It’s her favorite.”

Indeed, she was listening to it with all of her attention, eyes shining with enigmatic emotion. She sang along with the chorus, and proved to have a surprisingly good voice. Ed could pretty quickly figure out why she liked this song so much, and wondered if Yubel was familiar with it. For the last line, Ekou changed the words up a little, crooning, “Baby, you are famous, chased you down until you loved me…” She trailed off, beaming up at Amon. Ed sighed.

“Oh, but we can’t leave Ed out!” she continued, perhaps misinterpreting the reason for his annoyance. “My hero.” She playfully batted her eyelashes at him. Ed thought, why not? He’d done some improv in Dark World, after all.

“Yes, m’lady,” he replied, deliberately exaggerating his accent. He took her hand and kissed it. “I must defend thine honor, and save thee from yon evil dragon!”

“Oh?” Ekou purred, leaning as far towards him as her seatbelt would allow and giving him a face full of cleavage and perfume. “And what if this lady likes both the knight and the dragon, Sir Ed?” Ed decided that doing this sort of thing had been much easier when none of his blood supply had been diverted. Before he had the chance to think anything else, she had grabbed him by the necktie and aggressively claimed his lips with hers.

Ed had assumed that kissing was one thing that would always be about the same, no matter the gender of his partner. However, he’d been unprepared for how extraordinarily soft Ekou’s lips and skin were. Her hand released its grip on his tie, moving upwards to cup his cheek instead. In contrast to her initial ardor, she gently brushed his lips with the very tip of her tongue, wordlessly seeking permission to deepen the kiss. He granted it. The way her tongue darted around inside his mouth, active yet never quite dominating, was incredible. And Amon could have this every day if he wanted it; in fact, he had taken it for granted to the extent that he’d thought nothing of sacrificing her. Lucky bastard.

Speaking of which, he had been very quiet during all this. Ed briefly opened his eyes and darted his gaze around Ekou’s head, and saw that he was watching them intently. They made eye contact, and Amon’s appraising glance showed no insecurity whatsoever. All too soon, the car turned into a residential area and slowed down, and Ekou broke the kiss.

“This is our street,” she informed him. Ed ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect his scattered thoughts.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Didn’t you say something about ‘saving it for the bedroom?’”

“Consider it a preview, then,” she replied simply. The car started up a driveway, which was very nearly as long as the street itself. They paused briefly at a gate until a security guard opened it and waved them on, ultimately coming to a full stop right next to the house’s main entrance.

“Perfect timing,” Ekou commented as both the engine and radio cut off. “Call Me Maybe was starting and I’m really sick of it.” The driver rolled the partition down to ask if they needed anything else, and she added, “No, thank you, Vicente. You can go home. Leave the car out here for now; we’ll move it to the garage tomorrow.”

The mansion itself was typical for this area, from what Ed could discern in the dark as he got out of the car: white stucco exterior, tiled roof, and lots of arched doorways and windows. He was pretty sure that this style was called Colonial Spanish Revival. The Mercedes had parked in the middle of a roundabout at the end of the driveway, which had a fountain in the center of it, of all things. There were palm trees planted everywhere, of course, and he could just make out a fenced area off to one side, which he was certain was where the pool was located. All in all, it was much more space than a family of five needed…or could use, really. He had always preferred flats himself.

Perhaps getting a little annoyed that Ed was taking this long to inspect his surroundings, Amon laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him into the house. Things were completely quiet in there; it seemed that the servants had all either retired for the night or gone to their own homes. Only turning on enough lights to allow them to navigate, the pair led him up the stairs, a little way down a hall towards the back of the house, and…this was it. He was actually in their bedroom. When he had woken up this morning (or probably yesterday morning by now), he would never have guessed in a million years that this was where he’d pass his next night.

As soon as they were in the room, Amon flicked the overhead light on. Ekou began stripping immediately after that, grumbling about how she hated long dresses. And she didn’t stop with the dress, either. Her back was turned to the men, but that expanse of almost startlingly pale skin was plenty for Ed to look at already. He wondered how much sunscreen she went through to keep it looking that way in California. Then she looked over her shoulder almost shyly, saw both of them staring at her, and turned around. All of Ed’s further attempts at rational thought flew out the window. She murmured an apology about her stretch marks, although in all honesty he hadn’t noticed them. Not when there were two much more important things grabbing his attention.

“Isn’t she exquisite?” Amon whispered in his ear, having snuck up behind him. This time, he put both of his hands on Ed’s shoulders, and laughed low in his throat at his little jump.

Ekou shifted around a bit, biting her lip. “Uh…guyyys? I don’t think I can wait for much longer.”

“Let me see,” Amon requested. His wife, always compliant to all of his wishes, sat on the bed and spread her legs. Almost primly, he remarked, “Yes, wet already, aren’t you?.” Bending his face back down to the level of Ed’s ear (which was a considerable distance), he explained, “That means she’s ready.”

Ed rolled his eyes and said, “I could figure that much else by myself…” only to break off with a gasp as Amon’s lips trailed downward, first nibbling on his earlobe, then kissing his neck.

“What do you think, Ed? Should we give her a show?” How clever of him to frame the question like that, to make it seem like this was solely for Ekou’s benefit.

Ed finally ducked out from his grip and turned around to look at him head-on. He’d recalled the redhead having unpleasant, almost rodent-like facial features, but that aspect didn’t seem nearly as prominent now. It could be that he’d simply grown into his looks a bit…or maybe it was merely Ed’s “wine goggles” that were doing the talking. No matter the reason, he shrugged in an attempt to appear as nonchalant as Amon, responding, “Yes, I suppose we should.”

In next to no time at all, Amon had tilted Ed’s face upwards and was kissing him. Unlike his wife, there was nothing at all gentle or soft about his style, and he thought he’d probably have telltale bruises on his lips tomorrow morning. But he didn’t care about that now, not when the other man’s hands were slipping ever further downwards and Ekou let out a little whimper in the background. Then, suit jackets and ties were being flung every which way, and he found himself kneeling on the bed facing Ekou, who was breathlessly telling him how and where to touch her, and then Amon, who had stepped away for a few moments, had returned with the necessary supplies, and then he was behind Ed, pushing him downward towards the mattress, and this was about the time that he simply surrendered to the oblivion of pleasure.

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The next morning, Ed woke up to find himself alone in the bed. Through half-open eyes, he peered at the alarm clock. Almost 11 AM; thank fuck that his schedule was light today and he didn’t have to be anywhere until that interview at 4 this afternoon. His head ached and his mouth tasted horrible, but he felt oddly content as he recalled what he could of the events of last night.

He'd ended up sandwiched between the two of them; there was so much body heat and sweat was dripping everywhere and all three of them were breathing heavily. One pair of hands, large and powerful, were clamped onto his hips, while a second, more delicate pair wandered up and down his back, scratching at his skin with manicured fingernails, trying to find something, anything, to grab onto. Amon’s rhythmic grunts mingled with Ekou’s squeals and whispers of how good this felt. Being stimulated from both ends like this was overwhelming, just this side of too much. He loved it.

Things had gone more or less smoothly. There’d been only one minor hitch: in the absence of the visual cues he was accustomed to, Ed had failed to notice after he’d finished that Ekou hadn’t come as well until she’d actually told him. He’d hesitated, unsure what would be the best way to get her off, until Amon had intervened with a smug, “Allow me to demonstrate how it’s done.” He’d proceeded to go down on his wife, bringing her to orgasm multiple times, while Ed watched.

Oh well. It had been a rather titillating educational experience, and at least he’d know what to do next time. If there was a next time.

He forced himself out of bed (and found that he could walk after all, even if he was a little sore), and headed into the bathroom. There, he discovered that every hygienic implement he could possibly need had been laid out on the sink counter, and his clothes either neatly folded or hung up. Did that mean the servants had been in here while he was still sleeping…and nude? He decided that worse things had happened to him. They’d probably all had to sign non-disclosure agreements anyway.

After he’d showered and done all that, he got re-dressed in his clothes from last night and headed off to find out where everyone was and see if he could get something to eat. Eventually, his wanderings took him to a sunlit breakfast nook, where he finally his erstwhile bedmates. They were both still in bathrobes, hand wrapped around mugs of coffee. They didn’t notice Ed’s entrance, probably because they were busy looking at an assortment of computer printouts scattered across the tabletop.

“What’s this one? Have we used it in an advertisement before?” Amon asked, pointing at one of the images.

“That’s called ‘Y U NO,’” Ekou told him, “And no, we haven’t used it yet. A little strange, since it’s one of my favorites. But it’s a couple years old already; do you think that’s too late?”

“Well, we could always ask Sid’s opinion if it comes to that.”

While the couple continued to puzzle over the Y U NO conundrum, a dark-haired toddler sat in a high chair nearby; Ed guessed that this must be the “Rachel” that Ekou had referred to last night. A variety of diced foods had been placed on the high chair’s tray for her to pick and choose from. In the next room over, he could hear a cartoon playing on TV and kids laughing. It could have been a scene playing out in any one of millions of households across America, and showed no indication that the two adults had been having hot and nasty sex with him less than twelve hours ago.

After a couple of minutes had gone by without anyone realizing he was there, Ed finally cleared his throat. Both of their heads jerked up in surprise.

“Good morning, Ed,” Amon said blandly. “Coffee?”

“I prefer tea,” he replied. He winced internally; he’d been intending to sound arrogant, but it had come out more petulant than anything else.

Ekou nodded. “We can do that too. Hot tea or cold? And did you want anything to eat?”

“Cold. With dry toast and a poached egg.”

She punched an intercom button near the table and relayed this order. “That shouldn’t take too long to get here,” she said.

While they were waiting, Ed took his opportunity to get one issue out of the way.

“Ekou, I’m...sorry about last night,” he ventured. Typically, he was not the kind of person who offered many apologies, but this was Ekou. At any rate, she didn’t seem bothered.

“That’s all right,” she told him. “It all worked out in the end. Were you satisfied otherwise?”

“Yes,” Ed stated simply. Very much so, in fact, although he wasn’t completely ready to admit that even to himself.

“Then we will do it again, if you are so inclined,” Amon said. He had finished looking at the memes, and picked up a copy of the Sunday New York Times that had been placed nearby.

As Ekou had anticipated, Ed’s breakfast arrived shortly thereafter. They even had the brand of bottled tea that he liked. Coincidence…or not? He was about half finished with his food when the door to the TV room opened and a pajama-clad small child walked into the breakfast nook.

“Mommy? Who’s that?” he asked. He didn’t look alarmed, only curious. Perhaps he was used to this sort of thing; Ekou had mentioned an open relationship.

“This is our friend, Mr. Phoenix,” she told the kid. “Can you show your big-boy manners and say hi, Max?”

“Hi, Mr. Phoenix!” Max piped, offering a smile and a wave.

Ed finished chewing the bite of toast in his mouth, then answered, “Hello, Max. Nice to meet you.”

Max’s face lit up. “Mommy! He sounds like Obi-Wan Kenobi!”

She smiled at her son indulgently. “That’s his accent. He’s from England, just like Obi-Wan’s actor.”

“Isn’t Ewan McGregor Scottish?” Amon offered somewhat distractedly, face still buried in the newspaper.

“Hm. Maybe. But anyway…was there something you wanted, Max?”

“Yeah. When are Anna and Sasha coming over?” Max bounced on his heels.

Ekou’s eyes widened. “That’s today?!” She reached for an appointment book that was lying on the table and frantically flipped through it. “Yes. 1:30. Thank you for reminding me, Max. Now go get dressed, and tell Lior to do the same. As a matter of fact, we all need to get out of our pajamas.”

“Mr. Phoenix isn’t in his pajamas!” Max pointed out, giggling.

“That’s because Mr. Phoenix has his act together and we don’t,” Ekou commented drily. “Now go. Get a move on.” Once Max had scurried out of the room, she added quietly, “Shit. I’d totally forgotten. I have to get going. I haven’t even done my workout yet.” Then she stood and vacated the room as well, taking Rachel with her, so Ed and Amon were alone here now.

“You may leave, or you may stay,” Amon told him, setting the paper down. “Whichever you prefer.”

“I should probably leave. I have an interview later today to get ready for,” Ed answered. His phone buzzed, and he reached for it and unlocked the screen. It was a text from Emeralda, demanding to know where he was, along with several missed calls. He typed out a quick reply, declining to answer her question but confirming that he was, in fact, alive.

“I’m in trouble now…” he muttered. Before he left, though, he turned to the redhead and said, “Last night didn’t change anything between us, you know. I still loathe every fiber of your being, and will punch you in the face one of these days.”

“But of course,” Amon answered, looking totally unperturbed. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

#GXRarePairsWeek #day 5 #fanfic #denyshipping #sacrificeshipping #edo phoenix #aster phoenix #amon garam #adrian gecko #yugioh gx ekou #yugioh gx echo #queue post

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georgiamay-grad602 · 2 years

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Publishing Company Research

About

Unit Editions is an independent publishing venture, producing books for an international audience of designers, design students and followers of visual culture. The company was formed in 2009 by Tony Brook, Patricia Finegan (both Spin) and Adrian Shaughnessy.

High quality design and production standards are partnered with insightful texts and informative commentaries to produce books on a wide variety of subjects – subject that are either neglected or ignored by mainstream publishers.

Unit Editions books are only available through this website and a handful of specialist shops. Our books are shipped postage free to anywhere in the world. Superior protective packing is used to ensure that books arrive in pristine condition, and all large format books are shipped with protective corners.

Unit Editions attends (and sometimes hosts) events, conferences and lectures. At many of these events our books are on sale, often at a lower price.

We have a number of important books currently in the pipeline. The best way to keep up to date with our publication schedule is to sign up for our weekly newsletter. People who receive our newsletter are the first to know about new titles and special offers.

Works

Paula Scher: Works (concise)

This monograph covers Paula’s early days in the music industry as an art director with CBS and Atlantic records; the launch of her first studio, Koppel & Scher; and her 25-year engagement with Pentagram.

It also provides an up-to-date look at Paula’s idiosyncratic hand-painted maps, part of her prolific artistic practice that complements her still-growing graphic legacy.

The book also a visual record of contemporary New York’s urban fabric, indelibly transformed by the designer’s innovative approach to environmental graphics and identity design: from MoMA to Charter Schools; from the High Line to Shake Shack.

Her logos for global corporations and cultural institutions have cemented her reputation as a giant of identity design.

A large section of the book is devoted to the designer’s socially and politically motivated posters, New York Times Op-Ed illustrations and campaign work.

In a long interview, Paula’s frank and open words lay bare the reality of design culture in the USA. The 326-page book is designed by Spin, under the creative direction of Tony Brook.

Paula Scher, the ‘accidental postmodernist,’ has come to be seen as an emblem of American design: a ‘master conjurer of the instantly familiar.’ (ted.com)

Specifications Size: 203mm×258mm Pages: 326 Print: Four colour litho Cover: Foiled with inside flaps

Rick Poynor: National Theatre Posters: A Design History

Across the decades, the National Theatre’s poster designs have been the responsibility of just five individuals: Ken Briggs, the theatre’s first graphic designer; Richard Bird; Michael Mayhew; Charlotte Wilkinson; and Ollie Winser.

An enormous range of graphic approaches has been used – typographic, illustrative and photographic. This diversity of expression reflects the designers’ temperaments and skills, the fashions of the time and changing conceptions of the most effective way to communicate graphically with the theatre’s audiences.

National Theatre posters, when viewed collectively, comprise both a history of design at an institution central to British cultural life, and a case study of the way the poster as a medium has evolved in Britain in the last half-century.

Specifications:

Foiled hardback with 2 Pantone colour wrap Size: 216mm×310mm Pages: 256 Print: Four colour litho Special Features: Buckram cover foil backed

Action Time Vision

About

The same thing happened in graphic design. All you needed were a few a sheets of Letraset and access to a photocopier, and you could make your own record covers. And lots of people did just that.

Action Time Vision: Punk & Post-Punk 7" Record Sleeves [Unit 26] is a celebration of DIY graphics from the punk and post-punk eras. You might call it outsider graphic design.

With a few exceptions, trained designers rarely did 7” singles covers for this notoriously shouty and aggressive music. Apart from a few covers done by Barney Bubbles and Peter Saville, most punk and post-punk covers were designed by band members, label owners or friends.

Few of the sleeves showcased here are beautiful in the normal sense of the word. But they all have an urgency and an exhilarating disregard for design conventions that makes them exceptional. They are all clarion calls for independence and freedom from pop industry norms.

The work in this book is culled from the record collections of designer (and Unit Editions co-founder) Tony Brook, and leading punk scholar Russ Bestley. As one of the world’s leading authorities on punk and post-punk music, Russ has contributed an insightful essay to the book.

The book also features interviews with designer Malcolm Garrett, Mute founder Daniel Miller and Sniffin’ Glue editor and musician Mark Perry.

Specifications Size: 230mm×170mm Pages: 320 Binding: Lay-flat Special Features: Three paper stocks

Studio Culture Now

About

Studio Culture Now features in-depth interviews with a host of leading design studios. The interviewees share their experiences, insights, fears and joys, and reveal how they deal with the fundamentals and aspirations of studio life.

Candid and generous, these extensive Q&As form a blueprint for anyone planning a studio practice, or anyone struggling with maintaining one.

Topics covered include: getting jobs, working with clients, balancing creativity with profitability, accounting, hiring, promotion, wellbeing, and much more. The interviews, mostly conducted in the past few months, also reveal how studios are adapting to the changes brought about by the coronavirus pandemic.

Specifications

Title: Studio Culture Now: Advice and guidance for designers in a changing world Size: 151mm × 235mm Pages: 492 Printer: Ediprima, Italy Cover stock: Brossul, 210gsm Papers: Munken Print White 1.5 80gsm; Materica Clay 120gsm; Materica Kraft 120gsm; Woodstock Rosso 80gsm; Magno Gloss 100gsm; Magno Natural 80gsm

About

Slanted Publishers is an internationally active publishing and media house founded in 2014 by Lars Harmsen and Julia Kahl. They publish the award-winning print magazine Slanted, covering international developments in design and culture twice a year. Since its establishment in 2004, the daily Slanted blog highlights events and news from an international design scene and showcases inspiring portfolios from all over the world. Over the years, more than 180 video interviews with designers and entrepreneurs have been made, forming an archive that bears witness to our time.

In addition to the Slanted blog and magazine, Slanted Publishers initiates and creates projects such as the Yearbook of Type, tear-off calendars Typodarium and Photodarium, independent type foundry VolcanoType and others. Slanted’s publishing program reflects their own diverse interests, focusing on contemporary design and culture, working closely with editors and authors to produce outstanding publications with meaningful content and high quality. These publications can be found in the Slanted Shop alongside other extraordinary products by young design talents and established producers from all over the world. Slanted was born from great passion and has made a name for itself across the globe. Its design is vibrant and inspiring—its philosophy open-minded, tolerant, and curious.

Christina Wunderlich - Mono Moment��Monospace Type Design Release: February 2022 Volume: 208 pages

Friedrich Nietzsche was probably one of the first to feel the aesthetic appeal of monospaced typefaces. Since he started writing with a typewriter, typefaces, and punctuation have been important to him. In the meantime, we encounter monospaced typefaces regularly in everyday life: in design and in art, in coding, on tax records, or on our ID. If you take a closer look, you will encounter non-proportional typefaces more often than expected.

Monospaced typefaces are defined by their fixed, equal width for all characters. Every character, letter, and number occupies horizontally and vertically the same space. Proportional typefaces, in turn, have harmoniously balanced spaces with variable widths between their characters. The widths are not set proportional. That is why monospaced typefaces are also named non-proportional. What exactly is the attraction of typefaces, whose letters and characters each occupy an equally large space?

Due to the increase in typeface production over the past few decades, almost every well-developed font family also has a mono or semi-mono cut. When searching for the word “monospace” on the World Wide Web, countless entries can be found in addition to the results such as “I am looking for a beautiful monospaced font,” “Top Ten Monospace Fonts,” or “Best Monospace Fonts for Coding.” At a time when it has never been easier to design and publish typefaces, this book provides a good orientation to monospace!

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