Adventures in Loliland
Feb. 6th, 2006 02:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tobu_ishi(aka, There's No Place Like Harajuku)
What do you picture when you hear the word "gothic"? Soaring architecture? Insecure teens in too much eyeliner, writing bad poetry? How about the word "lolita"? Underaged girls? Adult men with fetishes for them?
How about the words "gothic lolita"?
Before that phrase has too much time to mutate into some bizarre mental image of adult men writing bad fetish poetry about underaged architecture, let me explain it as best I can:
The famous Harajuku district of Tokyo is known for being a mecca of teenage fashion. Located next to the same station as the renowned Meiji shrine, it's a warren of intersecting streets and alleys filled with shops selling anything and everything a teenager or young adult would ever consider adorning themselves with. There are stores selling nothing but socks--but socks of such varieties as no normal mind would even dream up--stores selling lingerie, stores selling standards like GAP and Nike, stores selling funky miscellany like leather corsets and feather headdresses, second-hand stores, premium outlets, stores where a pair of jeans will set you back tens of thousands of yen...and of course all the other things necessary to keep the kids busy in a town laid out like a mall, such as trendy little restaurants, crepe stalls and other vendors, and cute photo booths to commemorate your shopping trip with your friends.
The place teems with shoppers of all ages, tourists, and young people showing off their favorite fashion trends, which range the full gamut from valleygirl to punk to, well...the lolitas. At times it feels like you're in the middle of a convention space scattered with cosplayers, as you come around the corner and are confronted with a young woman literally dressed like a clown, or a young man whose old-fashioned suit coat is so covered with safety pins it must weigh as much as a coat of chain mail.
My favorite stores? Takenoko (purveyor of fine Takarazuka-type showgirl ensembles), the crepe shop near it (which will give you a crepe stuffed with chocolate ice cream, fresh strawberries, whipped cream, a slice of cheesecake, a sprinking of cereal, a cookie and a drizzling of chocolate sauce for a mere 450 yen), and STORE MY DUCKS, a seller of bland GAP-type clothes which I love purely for its wonderful name. Oh, and Closet Child. A second-hand gothic lolita boutique, where I bought the dress that is the foundation of my lolita ensemble.
And what is a lolita ensemble? Let me first explain that a lolita outfit is not, NOT NOT NOT, meant to be sexy or a sexualization of childhood. "Lolita" in the gothic lolita sense refers to the style of dressing of young girls in the Victorian era or thereabouts, involving petticoats, ruffles, lace, and rich fabric tailored in a cute, modest style. "Gothic" refers to the old-fashioned look and elegance of the style, usually in dark and demure colors or shades of white, as opposed to other types of lolita dress which may be brightly colored, floral, or pastel.
My ensemble, for example. A black velvet dress, trimmed in narrow cream-colored lace, with a snug high collar, decorative criss-crossed ribbons down the front, long sleeves slightly puffed at the shoulder, and a full, layered skirt just past knee-length with a sash tied in a bow at the back. Completing the outfit are a pair of cream knee socks, a black headband trimmed in lace to match the dress, and cute, chunky black heels.
That's pretty exemplary of your typical gothic lolita. My outfit, in particular, is categorized as "kurololi" (black lolita), something I had confirmed for me when someone referred to me as kurololi while I was hanging out on the Harajuku bridge.
"'Kurololi'?" I asked, excited but masking it as curiosity. "Am I really?"
"Well, of course," the girl said, smiling.
To know how much that meant to me, here's a little background for how I got on that bridge in the first place. Gothic lolita is more than a style of clothes. It's something of a hobby crossed with a lifestyle. Young women in the Tokyo area will spend huge amounts of money on their ensembles, often owning several, and bring them to Harajuku in rollaway suitcases to change into them and spend the day promenading the streets of Harajuku, most particularly the bridge that leads to the park, which is taken over almost completely on Sundays by the lolita and other "extreme" fashion cases like the Visual Keis, who wear crazy colorful outfits made popular by Japanese visual rock stars. To be lolita is to enter a social group that accepts you outside your usual, humdrum lifestyle; girls who live sparrowdrab lives can put on their lolita plumage and be something exotic and lovely for the day, someone who is eagerly photographed by the tourists and professional photographers who come to the bridge for this purpose, someone outside the norm.
In a country like Japan, so conformist in daily life, the fashion scene on the streets and the bridge of Harajuku is a precious release for many young men and women.
And then there's me. An American exchange student, fond of dressing up (Halloween and cosplay, for two examples) and missing getting to do it in a country where they don't even trick or treat. The gothic lolita scene has interested me ever since I heard about it. So what did I do?
Well, first I went to the bridge on a Sunday, talked to a few lolis and asked if a gaijin loli would be welcome. They ranged from blandly positive to excited about the idea. I'd heard stories of lolitas being exclusive and hostile, so this cheered me up, but a chance meeting with a few actual gaijin loli renewed my nervousness. They were army brides, they said, interested in the scene; but they didn't seem to have many friends among the Japanese lolis, and their outfits looked cheap and bought at a low-end boutique.
Well then, I figured, step one is to not look cheap. Unfortunately, I can't afford to spend hundreds of dollars' equivalent on an ensemble, so it was off to find a quality second-hand boutique. This search eventually led me to Closet Child, a tiny third-floor shop just off Takeshita Street, the main shopping drag of Harajuku. The clothes were gorgeous and the price was right. What were the odds of them having an outfit in my (large, by Japanese standards) size? Terrible, and yet there was my dress, hanging among the kurololi designs and fitting me so perfectly that the owner actually knocked a few thousand yen off the price when I came out of the dressing room for a second opinion, citing "niai" (it "suited me").
That was encouraging. I made the headdress myself, out of lace and ribbon bought at Tokyu Hands, a hobby and craft megastore. I bought lacy socks at a shop on Takeshita Street. I already had the heels.
Then...I stalled.
What can I say? Nervous is not an emotion I usually have to deal with. I finally got up the nerve yesterday--I wanted to debut on a Sunday, when there would be plenty of other loli around to meet--packed my stuff into a bag and hopped the train to Harajuku to take my stab at joining a cultural phenomenon.
The hardest part was finding a place to change. I wanted to maintain the Clark Kent into Superman feel of entering the place in plainclothes and sneakily changing into my gear, but ended up breaking down half an hour later and asking a loli where on earth they changed clothes. She directed me to the La Foret department store and its luxurious bathroom stalls, each as spacious as a handicapped stall and equipped with its own countertop, sink and mirror. The change took another half hour or so, what with hair and makeup. Then I was out on the street, head held high, on my way to satisfy my crepe cravings and perhaps calm my nerves a little in the process.
People glanced. A few of them smiled or whispered. I heard someone exclaim "Kakkoii gaijin!" to her friend, but there are so many foreign tourists in Harajuku that it could have been any number of "cool/good-looking foreigner"s in my vicinity. I bought my crepe, I wandered Takeshita Street. So far I hadn't been paid any particular attention, positive or negative, except by a few startled tourists who did double-takes when they realized this loli was a natural brunette.
I decided it was time to take it up a step, and migrated to the final testing ground: the bridge.
The place was teeming with crazy fashion, tourists, and photographers--typical Sunday scene. My initial walk down the bridge was halted by yet another Harajuku standard, an evangelist. There are so many teenagers there that it's prime picking ground for anyone touting a religion. This one was a rather eccentric British Christian who had some refreshingly disapproving views about violence, war, and the current state of affairs in Iraq, but rather spoiled it by being convinced they were all signs of the coming Rapture. George Bush as the Antichrist is an amusing theory, but not one I felt like hearing about all day, so I extricated myself after a bit of a chat, had a stroll through the shrine park (where some amazing jumpropers were doing their thing), and returned to meet the lolis.
Encounter one did not go well. I approached my target, a large cluster of lolitas in quality outfits, and realized I had no idea how to start a conversation with them. Being speechless is a scary state for someone as vocal as I am. This translated into what I can only imagine was a hopelessly desperate and beseeching look, as I stood there like a lump.
Conversation stuttered and died. The loli nearest me began to giggle, and edged dramatically away from me. A strained moment later, one of them said dryly, "Let's go," and they all turned and flounced off the bridge and down the street.
Well, screw you very much, too, I thought grimly after the initial kick-in-the-stomach sensation had passed, and reverted to Plan B. I pulled out my copy of Sense and Sensibility, and went to lean against the bridge railing and read. Let them get used to me, I figured, because I'm here for the afternoon come hell or high water. Stop going to them, and let them come to me.
As a matter of fact, it worked--because after a few pages, a tourist came up to me and asked for my picture. Thanks to cosplay, I was now on familiar ground. I went back to reading my book at his request and he snapped the shot.
This must have broken the ice, or marked me as open for photos, or something, because two or three Japanese photographers--the real thing, this time--descended on me asking for pictures. On went the charm, and the usual questions of why I was in Japan were answered. Several similar encounters later and I was feeling much better and ready to try meeting people again. And I now had a conversation topic...the fact that my extremities were freezing off, and many other lolis were shifting their feet and blowing into their hands as well.
"Cold, isn't it?" I remarked to someone nearby, hoping for a conversation...and getting photographed had indeed broken the ice, because conversation was now more than ready to be had. (I also suspect that a) I was much more appealing now that I was cheerful and assertive rather than wandering like a lost kitten, b) the strategy of approaching ones and twos like myself was smarter than trying to shoehorn my way into a group, and c) that first group, by Murphy's Law, apparently happened to be the one gang of bratty lolis on the bridge.)
I ended up hanging out all day and talking and being photographed with several groups of loli, exchanging cell phone numbers and email addresses with a very sweet Visual Kei girl named Ai, and receiving the business cards of several photographers and a circle of Visual Keis. One photographer asked me to sign a card for him. I was called "cute" repeatedly, the ultimate compliment for a loli. By the end of the day, when I approached another large group of mixed fashion, including several lolis, with the intent of complimenting one of the Visual Keis' amazing outfits, the whole group exploded in exclamations of "Cute!" and "She's just like a doll!" as soon as I started speaking, and we ended up chatting for some time.
Most significantly, I was given sisterly advice by one girl to avoid being associated with another girl across the bridge. Following her gesture, I saw a Japanese girl in an exaggeratedly cute pink dress, unusually short-skirted, and lacy thigh-high stockings. She was, at the moment, posing in an overtly sexual way for a tourist. "She's not the real thing," my advisor told me with a roll of her eyes. "'Loli-chan! Loli-chan!'" she added, in a high, giggly falsetto, as the girl changed to another sexy pose for another clueless tourist. (The standard pose for a lolita is a modest stance, hands folded or holding a prop like my book, and a demure gaze at the camera.)
The "fake" loli obviously didn't mind being ostracized, if her happy preening for the camera was any indication--she was there for the limelight alone. What touched me deeply was that I had been given that advice at all. Despite my nationality, I wasn't a fake. I was a fledgling "real thing", being shown the ropes.
First tentative successes are a heady thing; I've got friends to meet, now; and the crepes are as good as ever. Can you blame me for planning to go back this Sunday? ^_^
What do you picture when you hear the word "gothic"? Soaring architecture? Insecure teens in too much eyeliner, writing bad poetry? How about the word "lolita"? Underaged girls? Adult men with fetishes for them?
How about the words "gothic lolita"?
Before that phrase has too much time to mutate into some bizarre mental image of adult men writing bad fetish poetry about underaged architecture, let me explain it as best I can:
The famous Harajuku district of Tokyo is known for being a mecca of teenage fashion. Located next to the same station as the renowned Meiji shrine, it's a warren of intersecting streets and alleys filled with shops selling anything and everything a teenager or young adult would ever consider adorning themselves with. There are stores selling nothing but socks--but socks of such varieties as no normal mind would even dream up--stores selling lingerie, stores selling standards like GAP and Nike, stores selling funky miscellany like leather corsets and feather headdresses, second-hand stores, premium outlets, stores where a pair of jeans will set you back tens of thousands of yen...and of course all the other things necessary to keep the kids busy in a town laid out like a mall, such as trendy little restaurants, crepe stalls and other vendors, and cute photo booths to commemorate your shopping trip with your friends.
The place teems with shoppers of all ages, tourists, and young people showing off their favorite fashion trends, which range the full gamut from valleygirl to punk to, well...the lolitas. At times it feels like you're in the middle of a convention space scattered with cosplayers, as you come around the corner and are confronted with a young woman literally dressed like a clown, or a young man whose old-fashioned suit coat is so covered with safety pins it must weigh as much as a coat of chain mail.
My favorite stores? Takenoko (purveyor of fine Takarazuka-type showgirl ensembles), the crepe shop near it (which will give you a crepe stuffed with chocolate ice cream, fresh strawberries, whipped cream, a slice of cheesecake, a sprinking of cereal, a cookie and a drizzling of chocolate sauce for a mere 450 yen), and STORE MY DUCKS, a seller of bland GAP-type clothes which I love purely for its wonderful name. Oh, and Closet Child. A second-hand gothic lolita boutique, where I bought the dress that is the foundation of my lolita ensemble.
And what is a lolita ensemble? Let me first explain that a lolita outfit is not, NOT NOT NOT, meant to be sexy or a sexualization of childhood. "Lolita" in the gothic lolita sense refers to the style of dressing of young girls in the Victorian era or thereabouts, involving petticoats, ruffles, lace, and rich fabric tailored in a cute, modest style. "Gothic" refers to the old-fashioned look and elegance of the style, usually in dark and demure colors or shades of white, as opposed to other types of lolita dress which may be brightly colored, floral, or pastel.
My ensemble, for example. A black velvet dress, trimmed in narrow cream-colored lace, with a snug high collar, decorative criss-crossed ribbons down the front, long sleeves slightly puffed at the shoulder, and a full, layered skirt just past knee-length with a sash tied in a bow at the back. Completing the outfit are a pair of cream knee socks, a black headband trimmed in lace to match the dress, and cute, chunky black heels.
That's pretty exemplary of your typical gothic lolita. My outfit, in particular, is categorized as "kurololi" (black lolita), something I had confirmed for me when someone referred to me as kurololi while I was hanging out on the Harajuku bridge.
"'Kurololi'?" I asked, excited but masking it as curiosity. "Am I really?"
"Well, of course," the girl said, smiling.
To know how much that meant to me, here's a little background for how I got on that bridge in the first place. Gothic lolita is more than a style of clothes. It's something of a hobby crossed with a lifestyle. Young women in the Tokyo area will spend huge amounts of money on their ensembles, often owning several, and bring them to Harajuku in rollaway suitcases to change into them and spend the day promenading the streets of Harajuku, most particularly the bridge that leads to the park, which is taken over almost completely on Sundays by the lolita and other "extreme" fashion cases like the Visual Keis, who wear crazy colorful outfits made popular by Japanese visual rock stars. To be lolita is to enter a social group that accepts you outside your usual, humdrum lifestyle; girls who live sparrowdrab lives can put on their lolita plumage and be something exotic and lovely for the day, someone who is eagerly photographed by the tourists and professional photographers who come to the bridge for this purpose, someone outside the norm.
In a country like Japan, so conformist in daily life, the fashion scene on the streets and the bridge of Harajuku is a precious release for many young men and women.
And then there's me. An American exchange student, fond of dressing up (Halloween and cosplay, for two examples) and missing getting to do it in a country where they don't even trick or treat. The gothic lolita scene has interested me ever since I heard about it. So what did I do?
Well, first I went to the bridge on a Sunday, talked to a few lolis and asked if a gaijin loli would be welcome. They ranged from blandly positive to excited about the idea. I'd heard stories of lolitas being exclusive and hostile, so this cheered me up, but a chance meeting with a few actual gaijin loli renewed my nervousness. They were army brides, they said, interested in the scene; but they didn't seem to have many friends among the Japanese lolis, and their outfits looked cheap and bought at a low-end boutique.
Well then, I figured, step one is to not look cheap. Unfortunately, I can't afford to spend hundreds of dollars' equivalent on an ensemble, so it was off to find a quality second-hand boutique. This search eventually led me to Closet Child, a tiny third-floor shop just off Takeshita Street, the main shopping drag of Harajuku. The clothes were gorgeous and the price was right. What were the odds of them having an outfit in my (large, by Japanese standards) size? Terrible, and yet there was my dress, hanging among the kurololi designs and fitting me so perfectly that the owner actually knocked a few thousand yen off the price when I came out of the dressing room for a second opinion, citing "niai" (it "suited me").
That was encouraging. I made the headdress myself, out of lace and ribbon bought at Tokyu Hands, a hobby and craft megastore. I bought lacy socks at a shop on Takeshita Street. I already had the heels.
Then...I stalled.
What can I say? Nervous is not an emotion I usually have to deal with. I finally got up the nerve yesterday--I wanted to debut on a Sunday, when there would be plenty of other loli around to meet--packed my stuff into a bag and hopped the train to Harajuku to take my stab at joining a cultural phenomenon.
The hardest part was finding a place to change. I wanted to maintain the Clark Kent into Superman feel of entering the place in plainclothes and sneakily changing into my gear, but ended up breaking down half an hour later and asking a loli where on earth they changed clothes. She directed me to the La Foret department store and its luxurious bathroom stalls, each as spacious as a handicapped stall and equipped with its own countertop, sink and mirror. The change took another half hour or so, what with hair and makeup. Then I was out on the street, head held high, on my way to satisfy my crepe cravings and perhaps calm my nerves a little in the process.
People glanced. A few of them smiled or whispered. I heard someone exclaim "Kakkoii gaijin!" to her friend, but there are so many foreign tourists in Harajuku that it could have been any number of "cool/good-looking foreigner"s in my vicinity. I bought my crepe, I wandered Takeshita Street. So far I hadn't been paid any particular attention, positive or negative, except by a few startled tourists who did double-takes when they realized this loli was a natural brunette.
I decided it was time to take it up a step, and migrated to the final testing ground: the bridge.
The place was teeming with crazy fashion, tourists, and photographers--typical Sunday scene. My initial walk down the bridge was halted by yet another Harajuku standard, an evangelist. There are so many teenagers there that it's prime picking ground for anyone touting a religion. This one was a rather eccentric British Christian who had some refreshingly disapproving views about violence, war, and the current state of affairs in Iraq, but rather spoiled it by being convinced they were all signs of the coming Rapture. George Bush as the Antichrist is an amusing theory, but not one I felt like hearing about all day, so I extricated myself after a bit of a chat, had a stroll through the shrine park (where some amazing jumpropers were doing their thing), and returned to meet the lolis.
Encounter one did not go well. I approached my target, a large cluster of lolitas in quality outfits, and realized I had no idea how to start a conversation with them. Being speechless is a scary state for someone as vocal as I am. This translated into what I can only imagine was a hopelessly desperate and beseeching look, as I stood there like a lump.
Conversation stuttered and died. The loli nearest me began to giggle, and edged dramatically away from me. A strained moment later, one of them said dryly, "Let's go," and they all turned and flounced off the bridge and down the street.
Well, screw you very much, too, I thought grimly after the initial kick-in-the-stomach sensation had passed, and reverted to Plan B. I pulled out my copy of Sense and Sensibility, and went to lean against the bridge railing and read. Let them get used to me, I figured, because I'm here for the afternoon come hell or high water. Stop going to them, and let them come to me.
As a matter of fact, it worked--because after a few pages, a tourist came up to me and asked for my picture. Thanks to cosplay, I was now on familiar ground. I went back to reading my book at his request and he snapped the shot.
This must have broken the ice, or marked me as open for photos, or something, because two or three Japanese photographers--the real thing, this time--descended on me asking for pictures. On went the charm, and the usual questions of why I was in Japan were answered. Several similar encounters later and I was feeling much better and ready to try meeting people again. And I now had a conversation topic...the fact that my extremities were freezing off, and many other lolis were shifting their feet and blowing into their hands as well.
"Cold, isn't it?" I remarked to someone nearby, hoping for a conversation...and getting photographed had indeed broken the ice, because conversation was now more than ready to be had. (I also suspect that a) I was much more appealing now that I was cheerful and assertive rather than wandering like a lost kitten, b) the strategy of approaching ones and twos like myself was smarter than trying to shoehorn my way into a group, and c) that first group, by Murphy's Law, apparently happened to be the one gang of bratty lolis on the bridge.)
I ended up hanging out all day and talking and being photographed with several groups of loli, exchanging cell phone numbers and email addresses with a very sweet Visual Kei girl named Ai, and receiving the business cards of several photographers and a circle of Visual Keis. One photographer asked me to sign a card for him. I was called "cute" repeatedly, the ultimate compliment for a loli. By the end of the day, when I approached another large group of mixed fashion, including several lolis, with the intent of complimenting one of the Visual Keis' amazing outfits, the whole group exploded in exclamations of "Cute!" and "She's just like a doll!" as soon as I started speaking, and we ended up chatting for some time.
Most significantly, I was given sisterly advice by one girl to avoid being associated with another girl across the bridge. Following her gesture, I saw a Japanese girl in an exaggeratedly cute pink dress, unusually short-skirted, and lacy thigh-high stockings. She was, at the moment, posing in an overtly sexual way for a tourist. "She's not the real thing," my advisor told me with a roll of her eyes. "'Loli-chan! Loli-chan!'" she added, in a high, giggly falsetto, as the girl changed to another sexy pose for another clueless tourist. (The standard pose for a lolita is a modest stance, hands folded or holding a prop like my book, and a demure gaze at the camera.)
The "fake" loli obviously didn't mind being ostracized, if her happy preening for the camera was any indication--she was there for the limelight alone. What touched me deeply was that I had been given that advice at all. Despite my nationality, I wasn't a fake. I was a fledgling "real thing", being shown the ropes.
First tentative successes are a heady thing; I've got friends to meet, now; and the crepes are as good as ever. Can you blame me for planning to go back this Sunday? ^_^
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-06 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-06 01:53 pm (UTC)Thanks for the information about this scene. I plan to attempt to go to Japan through the JET program, and I was wondering if there was any way I could make use of my cosplay habits. Doing gothic lolita has been an interest of mine for about a year now, so I'm excited to hear about this.
Do you have any advice for a Loli attempt?
no subject
Date: 2006-02-06 02:20 pm (UTC)I guess just do the stuff I did that turned out right (like buying a quality outfit, being friendly, and posing for pictures when asked), and avoid the mistakes (like the lost-kitten stare).
no subject
Date: 2006-02-07 12:44 am (UTC)Well, we do need pics, pregger or not :p
Date: 2006-02-07 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-06 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-07 03:34 am (UTC)I wanna go to Japan :(.
You sound muchly cool; may I friend you?
no subject
Date: 2006-02-07 06:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-07 01:41 pm (UTC)It's a little ironic; a Japanese girl being a "fake" and a gaijin being "real". Even though I don't know you, I'll just say I'm proud. I too have heard stories of gaijin lolis trying to fit in and getting burnt. Now I'm asking myself if it really was because they were gaijin.
^_^
no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 04:11 pm (UTC)*hugs* Man I've been wanting to do a Loli outfit since I saw "Full Moon Tsukoyomi" in a Newtype Magazine. <3 Yesyes yes!!! Pictures!! Aaaah I'm so happy for you! And this is sooo neat! You must look like a Gothic Lolita Barbie! <3 They said you look "just like a doll" after all! ^_^ Whaaaa~ I want a dollfie to dress up.... Wait... I have too much sewing to do now anyway @_@.
I know you must have looked amazing! You always look nice in pictures... cept when you get those glowing eyes... Ahhh the curse of big peepers.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-09 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-10 12:28 am (UTC)I know its been a while, and I asked if I could borrow some photos for a report. As it turns out, I won't need to borrow photos; I am going to Japan in six weeks, on a school field trip (Yes. High school. High school field trip. To Japan. Don't ask how, I'm still in shock myself.). Unfortunately, it's only for ten days. I'd heard about the bridge myself (I'm a fledgling Ed cosplayer), but I'm not sure if we'll be in Tokyo on a Sunday.
Anyways, good for you! I wish you many more happy bridge trips. Maybe I'll see you milling around Tokyo (I am legally blind and also have Uchiha photo eyes).
On a side note, when will Fullmetal Folly update? I love the story, but haven't seen anything new.
Many happy photos,
Lirin
no subject
Date: 2006-02-10 06:17 am (UTC)I'm sorry, I forgot about those photos for a while, though I did ask my friend and he said it was fine. I hope you have a wonderful trip, though! Where are you going?
Well, have you read up to the confrontation between Dante and Envy, and the Elric brothers' reunion? That's the furthest we've gotten, but the new site is going live for our birthday in late February and we'll be moving again. (We've been mostly working on it, recently. No more eaten posts! All restored!)
-Tobu
no subject
Date: 2006-02-15 12:51 pm (UTC)Lirin
PS- I don't know how often you read fanficion, but have you stumbled upon "He Who Searches"? Aside from- or more probably because of- the fact that it's well over 500 pages and growing, this story is brilliant.
Website is here---
http://yuuki.livejournal.com/101041.html
no subject
Date: 2006-02-16 10:04 am (UTC)I've had "He Who Searches" recommended several times, but I have yet to read it. I'll have to get to it one of these days.