Note For Anyone Writing About Me

Guide to Writing About Me

I am an Autistic person,not a person with autism. I am also not Aspergers. The diagnosis isn't even in the DSM anymore, and yes, I agree with the consolidation of all autistic spectrum stuff under one umbrella. I have other issues with the DSM.

I don't like Autism Speaks. I'm Disabled, not differently abled, and I am an Autistic activist. Self-advocate is true, but incomplete.

Citing My Posts

MLA: Hillary, Alyssa. "Post Title." Yes, That Too. Day Month Year of post. Web. Day Month Year of retrieval.

APA: Hillary, A. (Year Month Day of post.) Post Title. [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://yesthattoo.blogspot.com/post-specific-URL.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil

Fanfiction, Tamora Pierce, was on Archive of Our Own first. Warning that we have characters thinking they and/or other characters have lost their minds due to one character having woken up as a daffodil. I don't own the characters or the universe.

When Neal woke up, the first thing he noticed was that everything seemed much larger than usual. He looked around his page quarters. Everything was bigger, and his perception of color seemed a bit off. He looked down. Then he fainted.
When he came too, he looked down again. Sure enough, he seemed to be a flower of some sort. He couldn't tell what sort, seeing as his eyes were in what he presumed to be the bloom, but the shape of his arms suggested that he may have become a daffodil.
I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil. No. That had been a joke. He was not supposed to actually turn into a daffodil. It had to be a dream. It had to.
Experimentally, he tried to wiggle his toes, or where his toes should be. He felt no response. Looking down, he saw no response. He seemed to have taken root in his sheets. He tried to move a whole leg. Still nothing. Nealan of Queenscove began to panic. Wiggling his fingers was impossible. Waving his arms was much slower than it should have been, but there was movement. He could turn his head. He tried to speak. It was barely audible, but his voice existed. That was something.
Of all the stupid jokes I made, this has got to be the worst to actually have happen.
There was no way he could scream loudly enough to be heard with the door closed. He had to hope that someone would come looking for him, and soon.
Kel didn't see her best friend at breakfast. Risking lateness for class, she ran to the hall where all the pages lived and pounded on his door. “Neal!” She heard a squeak, barely. She kept pounding. When more squeaking was the only answer, she tried the door. It opened. Neal was not in his room, and there was a daffodil taking root in his bed. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it wasn't good. Turning to leave and tell the training master that Neal was missing, she heard more squeaks. They sounded vaguely like words, and they came from the daffodil.
“Kel? Can you hear me? It's... it's Neal.” Kel looked at the daffodil that was claiming to be her best friend, and it continued. “I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil.” She heard what sounded like nervous laughter. That was Neal, all right. But he was... a daffodil. That was a problem, and frankly one harder to solve than trying to keep her fellow pages alive when they were ambushed by bandits in the hills had been. That was a question that made sense, even if the answer was hard to get. This question should have been impossible.
“Should I get the Stump?”
“Probably. And Numair.”
“I'll be back.”
Wyldon was easy to find at the training yards. “You're late, Mindelan.”
She bowed. “Yes, sir. And Neal seems to be a daffodil.”
He stared at the one female page. “I think we need to get you to the healers. Clearly the stress of training has taken a toll on you. I've said it before, that women aren't cut out for this life.”
Kel bit her lip. That was the most logical assumption for Lord Wyldon to make, and unfortunately, it was the wrong one. “Please, sir. He hasn't reported to practice this morning yet. Can you at least come check his rooms before concluding I've lost my mind? I'm telling you, Neal seems to be a daffodil.”
“Very well, Mindelan, if only so that I can attest to the inaccuracy of your delusion when I drag you to the healers afterwards.” He followed her to Neal's rooms, then knocked on his door. “Page Nealan, this is your training master. Open this door at once.”
Only a faint squeaking was heard. Lord Wyldon knocked again. “If you do not open this door by the count of ten, I will open it myself.”
“It's unlocked, sir,” Keladry said.
When he reached ten, the door remained shut. Entering the room, Wyldon saw no signs of the Queenscove boy, though there was a daffodil on his bed. Gods, I've lost my mind too. Then he heard the squeaking again, coming from the daffodil.
“Yes, Neal, I brought him. He thought I was insane, though I'm not sure if he thinks differently now. He might think he's insane too.”
“I wish you were insane. If this is a delusion, it's shared.”
Wyldon swore, something neither Kel nor Neal had heard him do before. “We either need healers, all of us, or we need Numair.”
“Shall I get him, sir?” Keladry asked.

“No, you stay with our... daffodil. I'll get Numair.”

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