Originally we weren't going to tell you who we were. But then after seeing the low number of reviews, we decided to reveal ourselves. This is Potions For Foxes and indigo's ocean's Valentine's Day Collaboration.
We both thought that it'd be fun to do a collaboration, especially after reading Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. So I went through my page of yet-unwritten fanfics and this was the one that we both decided on.
Data-match does exist, but we don't own it. And don't really want to. It's lame and the questions can quite stupid (my junior high did match-up grams). But I digress.
indigo's ocean wrote the chapter, but I'm doing the AN for it, just to make things real confusing. Keep in mind this is her chapter. She's writing Envy.
Here's teh summary (I wrote it!)
Summary: Valentine's Day isn't Ed or Envy's favorite holiday, but when the crazy results of Match-Up Grams are revealed, Ametris Academy is turned upside down. Ed regrets freshman mistakes. Envy wonders if he can be trusted. Winry tries to unsingle herself. Russell and Ling do their own thing. And Sloth and Wrath are up to Something.
As for the title, well Dark Blue just didn't cut it anymore. Just kidding. No, love the song. But it didn't have much to do with the story. At all. Not even the theme song. We were going to call it "JUST REVIEW THE DAMN STORY" but you can't put profanity in the title. Bummer. "Match Made in Heaven" was suggested, but I didn't like that. I wanted "Match Up" but was informed that it just didn't cut it either.
So I decided to wake Indigo up at about 12:30 am to whine about the lack of reviews and visitors. She thought the title might have something to do with it. Me, I don't like changing things… but decided, why not? So, after a half hour of really bad names, I went back to my old habit: Song Lyrics/Titles.
And Stupid Cupid it was.
It was going to be Stupid Cupid (quit hitting on me) but FFN doesn't do ()'s.
And I really think the sexiest (yet it's an intellectual sexy) or rather, thrilling, is 'hearing' my words in Indigo's writing. It's awesome. Her Envy is epic and far more badass than any Envy I've written. Her writing has a definite edge and she's not unwilling to stray into the hopeless side of things (compared to me, who has to have nice happy endings somewhere).
The fact that Indigo is Catholic is also immensely helpful. While I have read The Confessions of St. Augustine, I don't know much about Catholicism (except that they raise real just exquisite boys). I've also never gone to a school that required uniforms.
But yes, I'm in love with her writing style. If you liked Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous you'll love this. And if you haven't read it, then you definitely should. (Be sure to bug her to update too!)
Stupid Cupid (quit hitting on me)
I suppose the most important thing to start with in a story like this is an introduction. So, here I am – Envy Angeloff, age sixteen going on seventeen, high school junior, green-streaked dark hair and purple eyes, formerly single, enjoys long walks on the beach in the moonlight, et cetera.
Make any jokes about my last name and I'll kill you. It's pronounced 'on-jel-ov', in case you were wondering.
Let's see. I don't eat much so I'll stay thin and pretty, though I have a weakness for chocolate. To be honest, I'm the type of guy most people would consider feminine, maybe even androgynous. Not that I help matters, since I grow my hair long and wear whatever the hell I want. It would be nice, though, if people would stop taking one look at me and automatically assuming I'm a) female, b) some kind of foliage, or c) gay.
Not that choice c is very far from the truth.
Unlike other males my age, I've never been much interested in girls' butts. And their breasts aren't that much better. Not that girls are unattractive, or anything – Sloth would probably skin me alive if I went that far. It's just that... I don't know. They're just so soft, and jiggly... It grosses me out.
At this moment, if there was one random fact about myself I would choose to share, I suppose it would be my slight piercing fetish. I have this major thing for rings – lip rings, belly button rings, eyebrow rings, you name it. Although earrings are boring, and I think I might draw the line at a dick ring. And when girls put stuff down there, it's just wrong. Aside from that, if anyone in the vicinity has a piercing, rest assured I've noticed.
Back then, the only two people I knew to have broken my school's 'no piercing rule' were yours truly (more on that later) and another junior, Ling Yao. If you can't tell from the name, he's male, Chinese, and very, very attractive. Though, like Roy says, maybe that's just the lip ring.
That day, he was wearing a plain metal ring, dark and shiny, that arced over his lip. He had the most distracting habit of running his tongue over the lip ring when he talked, so that whenever I tried to strike up a conversation with him I would find my eyes wandering inexorably downward until they found his mouth. And then, whenever the ring would click against his teeth or be prodded by his tongue or even wiggle with the movement of his lips, I would lose my train of thought and my voice would just trail off and I would just staaare...
Even remembering is awkward.
So I had long since given up trying to be friends with him, even though Roy still sometimes made a half-hearted attempt on my behalf. I was fine with just looking. And fantasizing. A lot.
The only class we had together was AP English, which was great – the desks in that class were divided into two rows on each half of the classroom, facing each other. I sat in the front corner closest to the teacher's desk, and he sat in the front next to the desk that was directly across from mine. I was able to stare sidelong at him for forty-five excruciating minutes without getting caught. Except by Roy. But he knew the signs, so he didn't count.
"You're drooling, Angel," he said two minutes after the bell had rung and Ling had finally gotten settled. "Really, you are."
I tore my eyes away from Ling to glare at him. "Don't call me that!" I hissed, after hastily wiping my mouth, just in case. He was the only person who could call me 'Angel' and get away with it. Greed tried whenever he saw me, but I don't have anything against severely injuring a family member.
He smirked. I hate that. I mean, all right, he's pretty attractive. But he's my best friend, and intent on making my life hell in so many ways. I would never want him as a boyfriend. "See those papers on your desk?" he said, gesturing at the small pile. "You were supposed to be passing them around to the of the class. Five minutes ago."
"Oh. Oh! Fuck, Roy, why didn't you tell me? The only reason I'm passing this class is because of you!" Which, incidentally, wasn't really true – when I put my mind to it I can do well in school, and my sister Sloth has a major thing for literature in general.
The asshole chuckled to himself as I grabbed a packet and shoved the rest of the stack into the chest of the poor girl sitting behind me. Rose, I think her name was. Quiet, shy, good-looking for a girl. I don't know her very well.
When I turned back around in my seat, I caught the eyes of the person sitting directly across from me, to Ling's left. Edward Elric. Edward fucking Elric, almost friend and bane of my existence in freshman year. Both. We actually hit it off really well, before he asked me out. And I asked him if he was gay. I glared at him out of reflex.
Roy punched me in the shoulder, hard enough to maybe leave a bruise. I jerked my arm out of his reach. "What the hell?"
"Look at your desk," he said, nodding significantly at the stapled packet. I shot another glare at him, then looked down.
I realized that the pink paper should have tipped me off. It was a match-up quiz. No, scratch that – a Match-Up Gram, like a singing gram or a candy gram, only one that will tell you your perfect date. I had never in my life desired a singing gram or a candy gram (even though I like sugar, the calories are pretty much a complete waste), and I didn't think a 'Match-Up Gram' (oh, give me a break) would be much better. Though... I did like the idea of soulmates.
"Too bad the matches are only boy-girl," Roy said, leaning over to poke me in the shoulder. I would have snapped at him, literally, only at that moment "Professor" Rix turned around and walked towards the front of the room. He gave me a look, I know he did. That man has it in for me, I swear he does.
"Alright," he said, grinning wickedly. "You know I'm not much for this Valentine's Day crap."
"I'm not either, believe me," I muttered, looking down at my 'Match-Up Gram' (the cheesiness – it was killing me) and riffling through the first few pages. I tuned out most of Rix's speech. He's one of those snarky bastards that always have to inject their own opinion into whatever they're doing. A lot like Roy, actually. But I'd want Rix for a boyfriend even less than I would want my best friend.
"- and Yao," Rix said, "who hold some shady sort of position in that shadowy body." What the fuck was he talking about? I heard Ling's last name. Out of habit, I glanced over at the ponytailed teenager. He was leaning his chin on his hand, doodling some sort of scribbles in the margin of his 'Match-Up Gram' (gag me with a spoon). Too bad the quiz didn't take sexual orientation into account. I would have definitely put gay, just so I would have had a chance with Ling. Then again, with my luck, I would have gotten matched up with Roy.
"Of course," Rix continued, "you're probably supposed to talk to our very own class representatives: Angeloff and Whoever-I-Want-Out-Of-My-Class-When-The-Stupid-Senate-Is-Meeting."
That proved it. He hated me. For revenge, I ignored the rest of his speech. I got enough stupid witticisms from Roy and company (company being myself, mostly), thank you very much.
Roy punched me in the shoulder. Again. I whirled around, about to say something, but he shook his head and gestured to the paper. "We're starting," he mouthed.
Oh. That was just great.
The first page seemed to be a general information sheet. This is your very own Match-Up Gram (whee) from . And then blah, blah, blah about how this would measure our compatibility with a member of the opposite sex – of course, America isn't that open minded yet – and that the results in no way, shape, or form influenced our future and were often wrong. So, in other words, 'We suck and don't go slit your wrists when you're not matched up with the he/she/it of your dreams.' Right. Got it.
So. First things first – male or female. Hmm. This would determine from which side of the fence our matches were chosen. My pencil hovered for a minute over 'female', before I shook my head. Tempting as it was, I had a feeling Rix might go through our answers after we handed in the quizzes. He tended to do asinine things like that. Reluctantly, I filled in 'male'.
What grade? Junior.
My parents? Um. Now that's a tricky one. Technically, they weren't divorced. They just didn't live together, and never had. But if I put 'not divorced' – oh, there was the solution to my problem. No, they weren't divorced. But I lived with my father.
Name? Envy Angeloff. Oh, shit, it asked for a middle initial too. Arbitrarily, I picked G. For green, like my hair, since my mother didn't actually scribble a middle name onto my birth certificate. I'm just glad I got a kickass first name, even though she had to ask the doctor how to spell 'Envy'. She told me that story like it was something to be proud of.
I filled out the rest of the information quickly, and was about to turn to the next page when Rix cleared his throat. "Elric, this isn't a test," he said, startling half the class. "There's no grade, quit trying to steal off Angeloff's answers!"
I jumped a little and looked up at Ed, bristling. Not only did he spend the first six months of freshman year under the impression that I was a girl, he also has a really obvious crush on my sister. Which is stupid, because he's a total jerk, and even though they flirt with each other all the time I know that Sloth doesn't mean it. She barely talks about him at all outside of AP English, which means they're not even very close. She only dates people she knows pretty well... and then people she doesn't know at all. Hmm.
He was probably trying to look at my answers because he couldn't see hers, and thought that since we're siblings, we'd end up compatible. As if that would happen.
Then again, Rix seems to like making jokes with my name. Asshole. He could have just said that because he wanted to say 'steal off Angeloff'. Funny, Rix. Fuckin' hilarious.
Anyway. Miss 'Match-Up Gram' (aren't we cool?) got even more personal on the next page. As I read the questions I imagined them being asked by a middle aged lady, with dyed red hair piled up on her head, a purple coat trimmed with fox fur, and a string of white pearls around her neck. Her fingernails were painted blood red and she was getting fat.
Hurrah for a vivid imagination.
Your ideal date is:
Going to a move
B. A big party
C. Just hanging out
D. Go to the game
E. I don't date
I remember my first date with Martel, my current ex-girlfriend. Our relationship lasted for all of two weeks, and is one of the reasons I'm almost one hundred percent sure that I prefer boys. She had been invited to this huge-ass party held by some random chick I don't know. She got drunk, I got drunk, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the backseat of Russell's car. With him snoring on top of me. Luckily I still had the majority of my clothes on, and was able to sneak out before he woke up. He was in AP English with me too, and talking to him was still pretty awkward – I wasn't sure how much he remembered either.
So choice B was a definite no.
Second date with Martel was a movie. Both booze and Russell were conspicuously absent, though I did manage to convince Martel to get a lip ring. I don't remember much of the movie, except that it sucked.
Choice A was no, too.
And sports suck. So I only had one option left, since I do date. Hanging out would be nice, though it would be so much cooler if they had stuff like going ice skating or bumming around in the coffeeshop at the bookstore like Sloth and I do. Or running around the mall like crazy, trying on all kinds of clothes and buying maybe one thing. If they're lucky. Hm. Maybe that counted as hanging out.
C was the lucky letter, then.
I glanced up – Rix is sitting at his desk, tapping his fingers and keeping an eye on the clock. He was probably going to snatch the quizzes from us as soon as he could. I figured I had better start picking up the pace.
Fake designers – only a girl would ask that, don't be stupid. I bet not even Sloth knew about that kind of stuff; she's into thrift store clothing and Forever 21 more than Banana Republic or whatever. And why the hell were they called fake designers, anyway? Favorite Disney princess – Jasmine, easily. She was cool and did things for herself instead of sleeping all day or singing with pretty animals or reading books. Got to ride on a magic carpet, too.
I wondered if I had somehow been slipped the test for girls, especially when, later, I got asked for my favorite actress. Queen Latifa – I remembered her from an ad for some environmental movie with a little polar bear, but that's about it. Kiera Knightley was great in Pirates of the Caribbean, except at the end of the last movie when everyone got to see a little bit too much of her legs. That ruined the movie for me, I think, especially when I saw it with Roy in the theater. Afterwards even he said it was pointless. After saying it was hot.
Angelina Jolie's lips are too big; call me petty but I can't forgive bad facial features like that. So she was out, leaving Lindsay Lohan and Julia Roberts. The Lohan chick screams 'bitch' and uses too much fake tanning lotion, and didn't she get caught stoned and speeding? On the other hand, Julia Roberts has class, and Pretty Woman was a great movie no matter what Sloth says about the evils of prostitution.
I pick her.
Your dream vacation would be
Visiting a tropical paradise
B. Taking a cruise through the Mediterranean and stopping at famous historical sites
C. Accompanying an ecology team to help save the whales
D. A safari in Africa
E. Staying at home
Ooh, that's a tough one. I all sounded like awesome vacations, except choice E. Maybe if I was obsessed with Warcraft and Halo and stupid things like that, but I actually had a life. And I didn't want to spend it in dusty old museums, or laying down my life to save a whale. According to the Discovery Channel, they had got plenty of people watching out for them already. Africa was all well and good, but it seemed kind of messy. I had to pick A, the tropical paradise – lounging around all day in the shade (I like my skin pale), sipping mai-tais and things like that and watching the sun set over the ocean... perfect.
Politically, you would consider yourself
C. Very conservative
D. Don't know, don't care
Sloth was the political one, not me. I mean, sure, I paid attention to the election and all that shit, and cheered on Inauguration Day with the rest of the fucking world, but it's really not that big of a deal. As long as they were saving rainforests and keeping Mom's bed open at the homeless shelter... I marked D.
This was such a stupid quiz. I didn't know why I was bothering.
I'd date someone with a car, or money. Preferably both, but since we only have one choice I'll pick money, since I'm chronically broke.
I preferred shopping at thrift stores with Sloth, but since that isn't an option we'll go with Hot Topic. Made me sound like such an emo but they have cool stuff. Like chains. And really cute corsets that I would never think of wearing since I'm a guy.
My mom shops at... Geez. Goodwill? Wal-Mart was the closest; I put that.
My ideal pet would be a cat, since, sadly, ferrets aren't on there and neither are rats.
I had never gone camping and never planned to. I'm one of those people has to shower every twenty-four hours at least, otherwise my hair gives me hell.
What is your favorite type of music?
Rap sucked, and hip-hop was just some male singer crooning with a beat. I all sounded stupid anyway. Country was always about someone's lost dog or car or baby or booze or girlfriend or Jesus – or, sometimes, all of them, and metal was entertaining though it tended sometimes scared the shit out of me. My favorite type of music was indie or alternative. Classical was second on my list and not on the 'Match-Up Gram' (leaves a bad taste in my mouth). Really – have you ever, honestly, heard Mozart's Requiem? Verdi's Requiem? Mendelssohn's Concerto in E minor? I swear to you, that song is sex. On a stick. And any of those pieces will change your perception about classical music.
I abhorred intimate conversations.
First dates were first dates; I guessed how great they were depended on the person.
Singing. That was a hard one. I didn't generally, but everything changes in the shower. I ended up putting choice D, 'When no one can hear me'.
Sports sucked in general.
What do you feel about breakfast?
Favorite meal of the day
B. Great, if I have time
C. I hate breakfast
D. Don't care either way
I never ate breakfast, unless Lust bought blueberry muffins. I didn't like breakfasts at restaurants; they tended to be full of greasy potatoes and greasy scrambled eggs and greasy bacon and other greasy, fatty foods that made me feel disgusting after I ate and probably took three days to work off completely. I put C.
And when I was sick, if people came and got all mushy-gushy asking me how I'm feeling, I tended to throw things at them. But if I was left alone, I got really bored and start feeling neglected. I decided to put E, 'Depends on my mood'.
How long was this stupid quiz? The next section was the ideal girlfriend/boyfriend bit, which was pretty much every single girlfriend/boyfriend cliché Miss Match-Up could think of. I sighed, looked at the clock, skimmed through the next few questions, and wondered who the hell thought of giving us this quiz.
In a girlfriend/boyfriend, looks came first, and then personality. Though I wasn't not sure how true that was – after all, I had chosen Martel for her looks and we hadn't lasted long at all. And Roy was really gorgeous but if I went out with him we'd probably break up within a week. And Ling...
I glanced up at Ling. He was busy with his own test, wiggling his lip ring as he thought. Damn. Maybe I'd match perfectly with a girl who matched with him – that was the closest I could hope to get. I rolled my eyes, and turned back to my own lovely 'Match-Up Gram' (hooray).
I'd go to the action movie and take her to the chick flick later. And buy her candy, probably, though it would make her fat.
If my girlfriend/boyfriend had an awful day, I would... probably leave them alone. That's what Martel and Sloth always wanted, and I had never really been friends with anyone who would want a cuddle and a movie, or a romantic dinner. Well, maybe Roy would have wanted a romantic dinner, but with a girlfriend, not me. ...A romantic dinner and then really hot sex afterwards.
Your ideal girlfriend/boyfriend would
Always be ready to shoot some hoops
B. Show up after a bad day with a movie or a carton of ice cream
C. Love playing video games
D. Get along well with your parents and/or family
E. Always be willing to help you with your homework
Well, shit. Those were all pretty good choices, I thought, except for A since I didn't play basketball. Um, and then D wasn't that great, either, since I didn't get along that well with my immediate family and having a significant other that did would be really awkward. I got enough homework help for three people from Wrath, which was utterly humiliating but quite handy, especially in math. And I didn't really play video games, though having a boyfriend/girlfriend that could, and loved them, would be pretty kick ass.
B, I decided. I would leave my boyfriend/girlfriend alone but if I had a bad day, they were expected to show up at my door with a horror movie we could watch together, and cuddle on the couch, and laugh at the horribly cheesy scary parts. Or we could watch a chick flick, and laugh at everything because everything in a chick flick is horrible and cheesy. Like this 'Match-Up Gram' (enough, already).
I liked salad the best, because it was the least fattening.
My ideal wedding would be in a ship on the ocean.
Horror movies were my favorite, hands down.
If you were a fruit, you would be a
What the fuck kind of question was that?! Why would anyone even want to be a fruit? I tapped my pencil against my lip. Passion fruit – someone who was horny or passionate or ridiculously romantic would put that to sound witty. (I wondered what Roy's response was.) I had never tasted a cranberry in my life, just cranberry sauce and cranberry juice and I wasn't a big fan of either. I thought there was also a band called The Cranberries but I had never heard anything by them so it didn't really matter. Kiwis... reminded me of those round fat Australian birds. Coconuts... were all right, though a bit of an acquired taste. I supposed I would count as an acquired taste too, but in a different way. And I refused to even think about coconut milk.
That left choice E, lemon. Oh well, what the hell. I filled in the bubble next to E and wondered what it said about my personality. Hopefully Miss Matchup wasn't a fanfic fiend like Sloth. I stopped being her editor when she discovered smut. Girl on girl smut. Wonder what would happen if Elric found out about that.
Hmm. I would never make a homemade birdhouse, unless I was forced to under torture.
I didn't do martial arts, though Daddy-dearest had me try for a week.
Same with wrestling. Sports suck.
After I had completed the fifth and final page – a series of random and utterly pointless questions about hobbies – I put my pencil down and flipped over the stupid 'Match-Up Gram' (no more please). There was a heart on the back and a little note: We will have your results in time for Valentines Day! So they would make sure to get it back to us just in time to ruin some poor girl's life. Or make her day. Either way, I wasn't very enthusiastic.
I glanced over at Roy, who had finished his questionnaire five minutes earlier and was tapping his foot impatiently against the side of his desk. He winked. I rolled my eyes. Ling was still working, it looked like, or doodling, because the way his pencil was swirling all around the page made it clear he wasn't doing anything remotely like filling in bubbles. I wondered what he was drawing. Then he started messing with his lip ring again and I forgot everything I had been thinking before.
He had this really alluring way of playing with his piercing – first he would slide his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, swish it around a bit and wiggle the ring, and then bite his lip, nudging it with his teeth. Sometimes he would run his tongue over his upper lip too, and that would make the lip ring wiggle. Or he would bring up his hand and mess with it, turning it around and around. Before I got too distracted, I would generally find myself wondering if it hurt.
Today he seemed content to play with it just a little. Swish, bite, repeat. Swish, bite, repeat. I hoped Roy was watching me enough to let me know whether I was drooling.
Roy also kept telling me that my staring was totally obvious. I chalked that up to him already knowing about my fetish and sitting next to me in class, but just in case I glanced around the classroom, to see if anyone watching. And saw Ed, staring at me, staring at Ling, who was staring at the scribbles on his pink paper.
What an utterly pointless, messed up, practically nonexistent love triangle. Out of long habit, I glared.
If it wasn't for Ed, the vast majority of the student body wouldn't think I was gay. Then again, vast majority of the student body would also be laboring under the delusion that I was a girl, so maybe I do have something to thank him for. Yeah, right.
He was great in freshman year. We had several classes together, and since we were one of the few that didn't come from the uppity prep schools to start with, we bonded over our shared awkward social status. We liked the same music. We both had a slightly dangerous fondness for chocolate and little relatives that were ahead of the curve in weirdness. Cousin Wrath, because of way too many things to count, and Ed's brother Al, because of his fondness for friends that he would bring home and care for like stray cats. And that weird art school.
Then he asked me out. And I asked him if he was gay. I think I mentioned that before. What I didn't mention was that his response was to yell something like, "Fuck, you're a GUY?!"
I don't quite remember what happened after that. I think I hit him. Maybe I gave him a black eye. And then I think I ran.
Yeah, I think I did give him a black eye. That was when Roy came up to me and asked if I was the badass homo, and I realized what kind of rumors had been spread by whoever had witnessed that altercation. I punched him in the face, too, but he didn't get a black eye. And then we became friends. ...In retrospect, that probably only made the rumors worse.
Somehow, Ed managed to shake the rumors – probably because he got a girlfriend. Can't remember who it was, but they were pretty serious for a while. According to Sloth. But his words (you're a GUY?!) are going to follow me around for the rest of my high school career, even though I had Martel, who was a senior and pretty hot. We only lasted two weeks, though, and she basically confirmed my orientation. Still. I am a guy, even if I wear girl pants because I'm skinny and they fit better. Even though I do sometimes come to school wearing nail polish or eyeliner. Even though my hair's nearly down to my waist. I am a guy.
I still couldn't believe he managed to think I was a girl for that whole time. Hello, Ed, where are the boobs? T and A and I had neither. Bitch.
But, back to the story...
"Angeloff, Elric," Rix said suddenly, and we started and turn to stare. "Stop trying to off each other by glaring; it's not going to work."
The whole class stared at us. He hated me. He really did.
Edward rolled his eyes and pulled out some kind of crap thriller. I glared at him for another second before glancing at Roy, who shrugged in a 'What are you gonna do about it?' gesture. Nothing. I wasn't going to do anything. Edward fucking Elric could pretend I was a girl, cultivate his stupid crush on my sister, and I wasn't going to do anything. It didn't matter anyway.
Ling had looked up too, so I couldn't start staring again. Instead, I looked blankly at the pink paper of my 'Match-Up Gram' (not so funny any more) until the end of the period.
-end chapter one-