Sҽρƚιɱσɾҽ

What I’d give for one of the Cinderella remakes to go into how when you’re in an isolated and abusive situation, sometimes you need to be saved and you’re not weak if you can’t escape by yourself

She’s impossibly wealthy. The dress isn’t a fabric he can recognize, but it’s beaded with cut diamonds, faintly milky opals that shimmer with a rainbow, little pale aquamarines, and somewhere are little bells gently ringing with each step - he’s a Prince and he can’t afford to dress like that. The slippers ring too … there is nothing like that crafted by the hands of humans. That’s fairy stuff. She has an in with them that eclipses royal politics. She is powerful in the Old Ways.

All this wraps around the poorest woman he’s ever seen in his entire life, and he’s seen some very, very, poor people in his time.

Poor in money, but poor in “oh you poor thing!” as well. This is someone who has been robbed blind. This is someone who carried themselves waiting for the lash, for a browbeating, for harsh, cruel, abrupt, punishment.

He expects her to be haughty, or hard, or meek or… something else… but she’s just nice. She’s just … nice.

The rigid posture comes out of his back, his tongue unsticks. She’s like sitting by the embers of a low, calm, fire. He feels warmed and rested simply speaking to her. He wonders if it’s magic, and it might be, but if it is it is magic that is her own.

And that terrifies him, because he’s trained to see these things and he knows someone with a cruel hand is waiting to douse her, and snuff her, and beat the last glimmer out of her shining eyes - eyes that put that dress to shame and and and and… she’s gone.

Oh god, she’s gone. It will be all over her sweet, kind, warm face that she transgressed and … oh god they’ll kill her, whoever they are. This will embarrass them and if there’s anything he knows, it’s that you don’t humiliate someone who has power over you and walk away unscathed.

And all he has is a fairy slipper that will only ever fit her foot (it’s not merely shoe size, it’s a kind of spiritual fit as well), and the vain hope that he can keep such a bright light from burning out. It doesn’t even touch his heart that what he’s feeling is a kind of pure philia, not until it enraptures him soul to bones, all at once. Oh god, oh no, oh shit… he’s reached well above his station, but…he can try to be good and worthy.

So picture some years in the future when the xenonite suits are so safe that Grace's class can now take field trips into his biodome. Rocky's there because this is a big moment for everyone involved and also he just loves listening to Grace in his element. One of the more mischievous kids tries to sneak off from the group and there are plenty of chaperones but Grace is the first to notice.

His posture changes, goes focused but loose in a way Rocky's never seen before as he peels of from the crowd. Rocky just stands there, stunned, as he watches his sweet, gangly, goofy, clumsy blob of a friend turn into a hunter. Grace circles around the pebble, slightly crouched, head turned and honed in, arms loose to the sides, and maybe the little one notices and does that nervously excited giggle-squeal thing kids do when they're being chased and tries to get away, but Grace expertly corrals them. He doesn't even have to run for it, he just pens the kid in, lunges-

Hear me the fuck out. Noah Wyle is ADHD and it bleeds through with his stimming. That man is physically incapable of standing still. Rocking, shifting, drumming...

And Robby does it all. Plus that boy thrives in the chaos of a trauma room. The more hectic, the more his brain gets the happy pats and quiets down. It's where his anxiety is forced to take a backseat. Where his depression is told to shut the fuck up. All the negative voices are pushed behind a line because the dopamine is dopamining and there's so much going on that there's no room for the other fuckery his brain is trying to drag to the front.

Gimme a Robby on Vyvanse who doesn't feel the hunger at all during the day but is ravenous once the meds wear off and he's home.

A Robby who is on a high enough dose that he's on his fucking A Game but still stims because it doesn't fix everything and he's getting dysregulated the more his mental health declines so the stimming is increasing.

Gimme a Robby who forgets to take his meds one day and the ED gets to see the full goblin that he is just ping ponging so over the place because no matter what he's still brilliant, he just can't focus on one thing at a time right now but as soon as a trauma comes in he can LOCK THE FUCK IN.

A Robby with hyperfixations.

A Robby who talks Jack's ear off about said hyperfixations. But once they're done he never mentions them again.

He'll eat the same thing for every single meal for three months in a row and then all of a sudden be repulsed by it.

A Robby with such horrible Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria that Dana often has to step in and redirect his brain and it doesn't always work.

A Robby that can't ever seem to get paperwork in on time.

A Robby that's always early because he's so terrified of being late because of his time blindness that he arrives for his shift at 6am and ends up sitting in the park panicking still that he'll miss it (he never does. Dana or Jesse usually grab him).

A Robby that has always been a reader because THAT holds his attention as long as he is interested in the book but it will literally CONSUME him to the point that he'll read the whole thing in one night and needs Jack to physically take it out of his hands and tell him to go to bed.

A Robby that knows just enough about so many topics. Has doom boxes filled with abandoned hobbies. Impulse control with money. A Robby that, when he gets into a topic, won't shut up, but is so self-conscious about it that he's become a master of masks.