Google says 1982 was the original release date, written by Emily Prager, illustrated by Frank Morris, published by Pocket Books.

I had forgotten just how fucking huge they were. Like, the sheer amount of product they had featuring the exact same shit. Shirts, sweaters, mugs, actual goddamn dog toys. It was endless.

They do! Well, at least certain species do. They groom the aphids to harvest a sweet excretion.

It’s a really neat relationship.

Top. Always top. That’s where all the tools I need for an application should be. Bottom area is for system tools.

It keeps things nicely separated, less risk of fat fingering something I don’t want to hit.

As terrible as it is as an idea, I’ve seen it used for chest binding before.

It’s cheap, easy to obtain, and not a lot of people question someone just randomly buying a roll or two.

For anyone feeling inspired: Don’t. That shit can cause some serious irritation of the skin. It’s not worth the pain.

Don’t be.

They’re bound and used for a reason. If we don’t keep the population down, they’ll erase what they please.

Atlantis? Erased. Jimmy Hoffa? Fuckin’ erased.

Did you know that we have absolutely no record of the first eraser as we know it? Because they tried to cover their tracks, erase themselves from our memories.

No one knows who gave their lives breaking them down to what we have now, but dammit, if you want to remember tomorrow, you’ll keep erasing!

That whole “Noble honor” thing.

A Paladin has the expectation of living up to a code, honor thyself and thy Deity aspect people lean in to.

Bards? Rockstar lifestyle, or that bit of intrigue. A Harper in the right bedchamber could find some fun things.

It’s cute when you do it in their shirt.

It’s fucking hilarious when it’s a pair of underwear, and they’ve never seen Mallrats.

That doesn’t look big gay enough.

That’s a font that says “I’m having a wonderful day!” and trots off. I expect my big gay fonts to scream “I’m super”. Maybe break into a song or two.

Wouldn’t that be the titan Atlas? Bound to wait as the world rested across his shoulders, chained by the weight?

I could imagine him being pretty damn pissed at us.