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nostalgicfun · 10 hours
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. . . ☁️
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nostalgicfun · 14 hours
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nostalgicfun · 18 hours
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Wilton Yearbook | 1998
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nostalgicfun · 3 days
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nostalgicfun · 4 days
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Curious George 🍌
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nostalgicfun · 4 days
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Kiwi! 💛
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nostalgicfun · 6 days
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I couldn't stop thinking about Bookworm after making this post so I went and downloaded it and it's exactly as fun as I remember!
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Obscure Games from My Childhood: Bookworm Adventures (1 & 2)
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nostalgicfun · 7 days
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they should have let me go here for school when i was 3
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nostalgicfun · 7 days
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Obscure Games from My Childhood: Bookworm Adventures (1 & 2)
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nostalgicfun · 8 days
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Kermit Plush! 💚
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nostalgicfun · 8 days
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Obscure Games from My Childhood: Fairies (2005)
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nostalgicfun · 8 days
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Not my usual type of post, but I did this prompt but with the word "no" instead of "lies!" It was written for Valentine's Day for the writing club I'm in, so I'm a little late posting it, but oh well. Writers aren't known for doing things on time. :)
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HEXES AND NO’S
A miscast curse. A miscast curse, that’s how I spent the last four months traveling the kingdom countryside—and mountainside, and beachside—with a witch.
She’d been a vile thing, that witch. Resentful.
She’d seen me in my garden, where I was pruning my roses and humming. She’d seen me there a hundred times before, to be sure, as I knew how she often watched me from that gnarled tower atop the hill. But when I looked up from my roses, I saw her looming there on the other side of the garden wall, and she gave me quite the fright. I dropped my basket and clutched one hand to my chest, startled. “Oh! Hello, I didn’t see you there. Would you like to a rose for your Valentine? It’s a day for love, after all.”
It was a day for love. Surely, no matter how green, even the witch had a Valentine. Unlike the men of the kingdom, few women had the misfortune of being alone on the day of love—unless it was their own choosing, of course, as was the case with me and my rose garden.
Before I could finish handing a rose over to her, she howled with rage. “Enough!” she cried, brandishing her wand. “I’ve had enough of you Valentine fools! You, so pretty, with your suitors flocking to you, to only consider the most beautiful of suitors!”
“Oh—,” I stammered, “There are no suitors for me, I—”
With a sneer of her warty nose, she flicked her wand at me.
“No!” I cried, but it was too late. The curse hit me square in the chest.
When I looked up, she had a look of almost remorse on her face, and her cheeks were flushed a darker green. “Oh, what have I done?” she asked, kneeling before me, leveling with me. “Are you okay?” The witch took my by my shoulders.
Though dazed, I still managed to shove her away, “No!”
“I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Is there anything I can do that would make it better?”
“No!”
“Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me.”
“No….?”
“Oh but you must!”
My hands went to my throat. “No,” I said, and again, “No.”
She saw the panic growing on my face and realized something was wrong. “What is it?”
“No!”
“No what?”
“NO!”
She stared at me blankly, eyes searching for some inkling of what might be vexing me. She balked. “Is that all you can say?!”
“NO!”
“Well, is it?”
“NO!” I realized I could nod my head yes, but could only say no. I could think the words, but could not will them to my mouth. They all came out no, no, no.
“Then it’s as I thought!” She chewed her nails. “Oh me, oh my,” said the Valentines Day banshee, “I don’t know how to reverse this.”
I was aghast. “No.”
She shook her head. “No.”
I stood defiantly and wrenched her up by the arm. “No!” I snapped, when I was trying to say “Fix this, you terrible, jealous, warty hag!”
I was glad that “no” was the only thing that came out, though. When I studied her, I saw that despite her wartiness, her green skinned-ness, her snaggletoothedness, she was frightened and young, of an age with me. I sighed and relinquished my grip on her arm. “No.” I pointed to her wand.
She shook her head. “No,” she told me, “I don’t know the counterhex, not off the top of my head. I know of a potion, but the ingredients are quite hard to come by. It would take months of traveling to gather them.”
Horror swelled in my eyes. “No!”
“Yes!” she cried, and then she buried her face in her hands. “If you’ll forgive me, I will promise to you that I’ll reverse it. I just need to gather the ingredients, even if it’s an undertaking.”
So there we were, me and the witch—the witch and I—traveling the countryside. The ingredients we needed were obscure: Hair of the werewolf, tonenail of the troll, golden fairy dust, Moonflower Mandrake, and Broomstick Bush. Some of them could only be harvested at certain times. Moonflower Mandrake, for example, could only be harvested by the sea after a full moon. We missed the full moon by two days.
“NO!” I cried, my hands fisting in my hair. “No, no, no!”
The witch grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she moaned. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
“No!” I snapped. I wanted to shout, “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gotten distracted by that traveling circus,” but all that came out was another “no.” Besides, she’d won me that stuffed black cat from the balloon popping game, which was cute enough.
But at present, the witch huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?
“No,” we said in unison, and for the first time, the witch smiled at me.
We stayed in a seaside cottage while we waited for the moon to return. The first night, she brought me sea salt taffy. I sat huddled up beneath a quilt, looking out over the sea when she appeared with it.
“Mind if I sit with you?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“I don’t know if that’s a no-no or a yes-no.” She sat anyway. “I brought you this,” she said. “Try it.”  
“No.” I turned my head away.
“It’s not poisoned,” she promised.
Knowing she wouldn’t give up, I rolled my eyes and took it for no reason other than to placate her. I would brook no peace offerings.
Oh, but the taffy was phenomenal. Between the two of us, we finished the box in under an hour. “I knew you’d like it,” she said to me as she motioned for me to take the last piece. “It’s the least I can do for causing us to miss the full moon.”
There was nothing more for us to do than sit at our rented cottage and look up, up, up into the unending  night sky. She pointed out constellations and told me facts about the sea and sirens and sailors, and I listened.
When at last she realized how long she’d been rambling, she looked at me, abashed, and said, “Oh I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
I smiled. “No.”
The next ingredient, toenail of the troll, was easier than I’d expected. In my mind we’d have to march up to a troll quite theatrically and battle it, tearing it asunder for its prized…toenail.
I had not expected the witch to walk up to it and simply ask.
“Sure,” said the troll, “but you have to solve a riddle if you want it.” He was orange and lumpy and overly round in the middle. Nothing at all what I’d expected a troll to look like, but at least we weren’t battling him.
The witch, used to this, rolled her eyes. “Get on with it then.”
The troll cleared his throat. “I am invisible, yet everyone seeks me. I can't be bought, yet many give me away for free. I am powerful as a storm, yet gentle as a dove. What am I, that everyone yearns for? It's simple, it's…?” His voice trailed off, waiting for one of us to finish the sentence. We stared blankly, instead.
“No,” I said when I tried to say the answer out of instinct.
“Yes,” said the troll, “you must answer.”
“My apologies, I cursed her to only say ‘no.’ I’m sure she’s as intelligent as she is beautiful when she can say or write more than one word.”
I held my hand to my chest. “No?” I said, since I couldn’t say “You think I’m beautiful?”
Several times the witch guessed in vain. “Freedom,” she guessed.
“No,” said the ogre, and I agreed, “no.”
“Power! Happiness! Peace!”
“No, no, and no.”
She huffed. “You give it away for free…gentle as a dove…yearns for…” She tapped a green finger to a green chin.
There was no way to convey the word that was on the tip of my all-but-useless tongue. Not verbally, at least. I reached out and squeezed her hand, I looked at her with pleading eyes. I knew the answer that I could not say; I had to convey it somehow.
She studied my face. “Flowers?” she asked, clearly recalling me and my basket of flowers the day we’d met. Or maybe after seeing me in my garden for so long, she’d simply come to associate me with roses and their thorns.
“No,” said the troll and I together.
I gathered her other hand in mine, but still she didn’t know. I did the only thing I could and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tightly. I rested my head in the crook between her shoulder and neck—I let the warmth of my body melt into the coolness of hers.
I felt her still in my arms. “Oh,” she said. “The answer is love.”
It all went by so quickly. The time had dragged on and on, until suddenly it was gone. The last ingredients were gathered, the potion brewed, the incantation said.
The witch, with noticeably shaking hands, ladled a scoopful of the purple goop from the cauldron into a cup, which she passed to me. “Here,” she said.
I nodded. “No” came out, when I meant to say, “Thank you.”
I made the mistake of sniffing the potion. It smelled like dirty coins and long-since-forgotten cheese. My face must have reflected this.
“Is it that bad?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Is that a yes-no or a no-no?” She smiled sadly when she said it; it had become an inside joke of ours over the past few weeks spent traveling together, and now was likely to be the last time she’d say it.
Still, I rolled my eyes just like I did every time. “No no,” I said.
She nodded. “Well,” sighed the witch, almost with resignation, “drink up.”
I steeled myself, lifted the goblet, and drank. It didn’t taste half so bad as it smelled, thankfully, but a counter-hex feels strangely in one’s body. My whole brain tingled as if someone tap-tap-tapped cold fingers along it, and my throat fizzed and sizzled. The goop, merely a vessel for the counter-hex, bubbled down down down into my chest with each swallow.
My skin glowed, then faded back to normal. My whole body tensed, and I dropped the goblet. The whole thing left me dizzied and I dropped to a kneel lest I lose my balance. At once, the witch was at my side. She tilted my head back with one hand and looked me in the eyes, her face searching mine.
“Well, you lived. It’s over, then,” she sighed. “You’re free. You can go home.” She sat there beside me on the ground with her knees drawn up tight. “You can go home to your roses and gardens and gentleman callers, and I can go back to my tower up high on the hill, and we can carry on as if this never happened at all.”
The witch had lived on her hill with her goats and toads and gazing ball as long as I’d lived in the valley below with my roses and daisies and ribbons.
I was silent. I had the ability to speak again, and I was silent.
“I’m sorry,” continued the witch. “You are so beautiful and I’m so…” she turned over her warted green hands and examined them. A long moment passed where she did not look at me. Just down at her knobby green hands. She saw knobs and warts, and once I had, too. Now I saw black nails and skin the green of spring and Christmas trees and the vines my roses call home.
“I’m so me. I’m jealous. But not of you, of…” She heaved another sigh. “You’re…everything. And you must think me the horriblest, the most wickedest witch in all of the west—and maybe I am for what I’ve done to you—to have hexed you in such a way. And a terrible part of me knew it was the only way for you to ever spend time with me, and for that I’m deeply sorry. But you’re so beautiful, and I’m so…me. I’ve learned, though. I’m sorry. Our paths need never cross again.”
She would not meet my gaze, so I lifted one hand to her face. “No,” I said.
She blinked. “Did it not work?” She looked appalled. “Have I cursed you forever?”
“No,” I smiled.
Bewildered, she studied my face, then wiped the tears from her eyes and laughed. “You frightened me! Stop that!”
I just smiled. “No.”
Our faces were inches apart. “Say anything else!” she told me.
I thought long and hard. I hadn’t said anything other than “no” in months. It was as if my lips had forgotten how. Whatever I said next had to be good.
“I love you.”
You accidentally cross a witch, and she curses you, saying “You can only speak lies”. Unfortunately, this makes it so you can only say the word “lies”, and the witch admits she’s an apprentice that screwed up the spell. Now you’ve teamed up with her to figure out how to undo it.
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nostalgicfun · 8 days
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Witchy Pikachu! 🧡
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nostalgicfun · 9 days
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nostalgicfun · 9 days
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Obscure Games of My Childhood | BreakThru!
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nostalgicfun · 10 days
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Sailor Moon Stationery 💜
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nostalgicfun · 10 days
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Just spent five minutes repeatedly trying to call my cat over to me because he was laying on my eBay setup only to realize it was the giant kiwi
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