== > Tavros: Be in basic training.
(Disclaimer: I know crap all about military. This was a 10min drabble for my moirail.)
"Alright you useless nookfucks," the drill instructor yells. "Let´s see you do some push ups. 100 a piece, get on it!"
Basic is hard. They yell at you for absolutely anything, and the drill instructor seems to delight in belittling you, but you don´t care. Another you, a younger you would have. But then, a younger you beliived Vriska when she told you that you would never amount to anything without her.
Rose calls it emotional abuse. It sounds so harsh, but you suppose that might have been appropriate. She talked to you a lot, in that interminable time while your universes smashed into one another.
She´s helped you understand a few things.
And so, you ignore the Instructors insults and do push ups. Most of the recruits start flagging around 30, but years of being wheelchairbound have given you plenty of shoulder muscles.
40
50
Only a quarter of your unit is still trying.
The instructor is yelling at the others
60
70
"How many, recruit?"
"75, Sargent. 76, 77."
"Alright big guy, lets see if you´re as tough as you think you are. Up!"
You stiffle the urge to protest that you never claimed to be tough. She just want´s to rile you up.
You get up and take the postiion she indicates. The rest of your unit is standing aside now. The first punch hits you before you are even standing.
"Pay attention!" The instructor yells. "This isn´t sandpit hopgrub, you weakling.
Weakling.
W8kl8ng. That´s what Vriska called you. But she´s wrong. You know that now. She´s a liar, a connviing liar who doesn´t deserve you friendship.
You duck the next punch, move forward, up inside her guard, not the same as a lance so you punch her in the gut instead, sending her flying across the room.
There is a moment of shocked silence. The drill instructor gets up.
Shit. You think. Now I´m fucked.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
You look around, dazed. The rest of your unit is aplauding. You.
They´re applauding you.
