Luna was . . . well, she was in a decent mood. Everything seemed to be fine, and it looked like Tanya and Bryanna were finally on good terms- the jadette had even suggested that Bry get a little fun in the back of Luna's jeans. So, while standing around and waiting for Dr. Northend to show up for her "all-classes" exams to start, she was doing just that- giving the little woman a ride in her taut behind.
Imagine her surprise at seeing Jeremy Whistler hurry into the room- for the past few weeks, he'd been giving her the cold shoulder at every opportunity, and suffering for it- his grade had apparently dropped by quite a bit, not just here but all over the place. The young athlete didn't know what she'd done wrong, but she was eager to find out why, even if only to make his response to her less . . . frosty.
"I see you've been avoiding me," Luna said softly. English class knocked just over 2 inches off her, leaving her at the still-quite-impressive height of 6'1.72", whereas Jeremy, the only other person in the room, was knocked from 5'10" to 3'10.2" by his admittedly mediocre English grades. As such, the athletic ravenette towered over the young man quite threateningly, her ice-blue eyes glaring into Jeremy. "Why?"
His eyes shot downward, staring down at his feet. It was his favored response whenever confronted by someone of greater stature in the school. Today was the day of English finals and both Jeremy and Luna had arrived well before the exam would start. The boy fiddled with his books nervously. It was true, ever since track day Jeremy had given the her the cold shoulder, and to be honest it hurt the athletic girl's feelings- she wasn't sure what was up.
“You, um– “, Jeremy stole a glance at Luna’s icy stare before reverting to talking towards his feet, “You hurt me pretty bad on track day”. Jeremy became visibly tense after finishing, “I- I- It was my fault Ms. Rivers”, He quickly stammered, “I’ll try not bother you again."
Luna blinked in surprise. "I . . . hurt you?" She thought back to track day, honestly attempting to remember if she'd done anything particularly awful. She realized that she had to have been a bit of a bad girl- Tanya couldn't keep her hands off her! Suddenly, she flushed at the memory. "Oooh my god, I'm so sorry. My aim is usually nowhere near that bad," Luna apologized, a pleading expression on her face.
"I remember now, I pulled a pair of shorts off my shoe, but not the other end. That must have been really painful," she bit her lip softly, guiltily remembering tossing the mangled cloth in the trash, "but I hope you can forgive me. I usually try for one-hit-kills. Get Tanya going without causing any actual pain," she admitted with an embarrassed smile.
“You- what?”, Jeremy looked up at the now sympathetic Luna with a bewildered look about his face. “So you’re sorry you didn’t kill me faster?” he scratched his head, clearly trying to wrap his head around the concept. “After my legs got,”, the smaller male paused, “Caught, Michelle found me and…”, He trailed off, staring at something in the room. “And you step on your classmates to turn on your girlfriend? What about the other students? Why step on anyone?”
"Well . . . yeah," Luna murmured, quite apparently confused. "I mean, there's usually no problem. Quick squish," she clapped, pantomiming mashing someone to nothing in her palms, "Tanya gets all hot and bothered, I get laid, everyone wins, right? You're not low on black cards, are you?" Luna asked in concern, fidgeting a bit. She hated seeing anyone low on black cards, because that was potentially terrifying- a death without a black card went from fun to horrible and tragic in a half-second. She didn't like even the smallest thought of killing anyone permanently- it wasn't in her nature. That was why she talked to the lady who worked the card lounge- she was the one who made these cards anyway, and Luna could score an extra few every so often if she caught her in a good mood. "If you are, I could get you more . . ." Guiltily, she thought of her own stockpile of eighty as gifts from Coach Skye and the office lady who refused to give her name.
“I still got seven cards left, but I’d appreciate any you can offer.”, he had relaxed considerably now, assured that she had no malicious intent. “That’s…really nice of you.”
Luna was saddened that it looked like Jeremy had been scared of her, scared of Michelle. She just wanted everyone to be friends over this- after all, wasn't everyone just satisfying sadistic or masochistic urges anyway? "And, well . . . Tanya is a sadist. She gets off on seeing me with bloodstains on my shoes, watching me act like this big, dominant Goddess," Luna admitted with a sheepish grin. "And, in a school like this, it's completely safe. No harm, no foul, right?"
Sitting down at a desk that shrunk to fit his small frame he took on a pensive look again, “Luna, even if your stomps are…painless aren’t people upset by losing a black card?” he asked. “I mean, other people had to have been running from you during track, right? Wouldn’t that count as harm?”
"Well, not necessarily," Luna shrugged. "I mean, you're signing up for a school where bad grades shrink you. People generally either don't mind being mashed, or *want* to be crushed," she turned her head, too embarrassed to admit that she herself was among that number "so as long as I try to get everyone the black cards they need . . . everyone is happy, or at least nonplussed. I had no idea that you were so bothered by it," she put a hand on his relatively tiny shoulder in concern. He immediately tensed as the woman’s large hand easily wrapped gently around his shoulder before eventually easing. Reflexes. "How would you like it if I made sure I didn't intentionally get you? Like, if I know it's you, I step around you. That better?" She suggested, dropping two black cards onto Jeremy's desk from her pocket. Honestly, she could have given more, but she'd have to go back to her bag for them, or to the ones Coach Skye let her keep in a clothes locker.
As soon as he saw the cards slap on the desk he Immediately picked one up, a small, matte black rectangle embossed with the name and logo of the school in reflective gold, ‘Titan Institute, Valid One(1) Revival Post-Mortem’. It was a genuine black card alright.
“Wow, Luna this is…this is one of the nicest thing’s anyone’s done for me. Thank you!” Jeremy quickly stowed the cards in his wallet, a battered, faux leather hand-me-down. “Though, I guess the bar isn’t set very high when a lot of the people you meet either want to step on you or eat you.”, he smirked, an attempt at black humor by the typically silent kid of the class, now feeling at ease. “To tell you the truth, Luna, it was never my idea to come here in the first place,” Jeremy paused to watch some other students shuffling into the classroom and subsequently shrinking dramatically, “and I wasn’t exactly put here for the good of my health either . . . I think it’s because I’m gay,” he said frankly.
Luna’s icy blues narrowed, and Jeremy could see the bitter anger reflected in them, the painful memories of being screamed out, ostracized, hated by the people who claimed to love her. "You too, then? My parents kicked me out when I was 17. I had to save penny by penny to afford even this place . . . and I wanted to be here." Memories picked up in her head- being scared, being sad, being alone- she would definitely give Tanya a huge hug after the test was over. Her face softened looking down at Jeremy. "Trust me, I might enjoy being kinky with my girlfriend, but I'd never want anyone to be scared of me. I like making friends, like talking to people. Don't ever think otherwise. If you see my shoe overhead, my ass coming down on you, know that it was because Tanya was horny, I wanted to get her going, and I had no other options to squish- there will be no other reason. Okay? Don't worry about it," she laughed, giving Jeremy a light slap on the shoulder. "We're having fun here, y'know?"
Though it was clear to Jeremy that the slap was meant as a love tap, the sensation of a hand with a fist the size of his head slapping his shoulder rattled his diminutive frame. Still, he smiled up at the tall ravenette, having to crane his neck up further than usual because he was sitting.
“Well, better you than Jen Freeman, I guess”, he admitted. If there was anyone who’d have malicious intent towards their fellow students, it’d be her. “In that case, I’ll try not to dodge so much next time I see the bottom of your sneaker.”
"Honestly, I don't know what her problem is," Luna admitted, shrugging. "This is supposed to be fun, not . . . bullying," she narrowed her eyes. To herself, she thought that if the arrogant twat's grades ever fell, she'd have Luna’s own sneaker to answer to . . .
"Anyway, yeah," Luna grinned. "If and when I do come for you, just . . . try not to move. Less pain for everyone involved, y'know?" Noticing Dr. Northend walking into the room, she cursed under her breath. "Shit, the exam's starting in a few. Talk later!"
Feeling a little bit of squirming in the back of her pants as she scurried back to her desk, Luna flushed. Speaking of playing with people . . . the athletic girl plucked her little friend out of the back of her jeans, and kissed her puny friend's head as she set the little girl on her own desk. She barely looked up in time to hear Dr. Northend monologue:
“As you all should be aware today is exam day,”, Dr. Northend droned the procedural briefing on the test. While Luna was quick to grasp the information, thanks to study sessions with her girlfriend and a moderate grasp of the language in general, she could understand why some people might fear the redheaded professor's approach. She wasn’t one to make things easy for her students; you either knew what you were doing and learned quickly, or you didn’t and suffered for it. After mumbling out the last of the information Dr. Northend’s voice returned to its natural, enunciated sharpness, “and if any of you bugs even think about whining to me about how some giantess or whatever made you fail your test, you can keep it to yourself. You’re small for a reason.”
And with that, Luna was in a much better mood. The testing sheets proved to be blessedly simple, and even the essay questions weren't too taxing. It was a grinding slog of a test, no ifs ands or buts about it, and there were several easy mistakes you could make if you let your focus wander due to Dr. Northend's love of exact wording.
Still, though, schoolwork wasn't too bad. Luna was honestly glad she could go back to school rather than while her life away working in a soulless retail store . . . and, as the brochure promised, "survive four years at the Titan Institute and we offer job opportunities starting at $90,000 per year!" It had taken a while to save up for tuition, but . . .
Worth it!