BLEERP…. BLEERP! BLEER- Marceline smacks the alarm off with a quick flick of the wrist. Body sprawled lazily across the sheets, she moans, and then shifts again. Her cheek squishes against the cool pillow, leaving temporary lines. A faint female voice is heard in the background, but she ignores it, drifting comfortably back into sleep. 'This bed is so soft….'

The voice comes again, louder, but still garbled. Her wandering mind can't make out the words and she chooses not to put in the effort too. She tries to remember her dream. 'What was it?'

Scattered images play through her head, unidentifiable shapes, and blobs of color. It seemed blissful, sweet. Cavity-giving sweet. I want to remember, but I can't! She shifts through the colors in her mind until one comes brighter than the others: pink. A cold hand shoves her in the side, not her own, and she rolls over to ignore it. I'm so close… It has to do with pink, but what is it? Who is it?

Another shove and she pulls the cover over her head to complete darkness. Great for thinking. Another detail appears: A smile. A beautiful smile, so free and exposed, it warms her whole body the second she sees it. Marceline smiles to herself in the serene moment, shrouded in black. 'I love that smile, but who does it belong to? I've never seen it on anyone I know…A smile has never felt so good to see before.'

She feels herself coming closer, closer, and closer to the truth, the details becoming sharper, crisper and clearer! Suddenly, at the exact moment she sees the girl's face, the covers are ripped off her body and ice cold water is dumped on her. She jolts up in a frenzy, tangling up in her wet covers and falling backwards to the floor.

Keila's face appears in her groggy vision with a smirk. "How'd you like that wakeup call? Its 9:30 and you have a class to get to at 10:30 Marce. I'm not gonna let you skip out again." Marceline doesn't reply, but only shivers slightly with a confused look. The fall swirls her thoughts as she wonders frantically, 'who is this girl?' The empty bucket tilts off the bed and falls right on her forehead with a hard smack.

"Ow, ow…" She mutters, but right at the impact, she knows.

Keila nudges her awkwardly positioned body on the floor curiously. The raven-haired girl looks up at her with a goofy smile, the effect of her epiphany. "Hey, you cool? Why are you smiling? You dream about somethin' nice?"

Marceline, after staring into the distance at the blurry image of the beautiful, pink-haired girl, glances back at her friend. She mumbles happily, "Yeah, Bonnibel."

Chapter 2:

Different Perspectives, yet Similar Mornings

Bonnibel grins as the morning sunlight blooms over her face and across the room. The vertebrae in her back click into place as she stretches her arms upwards. Her body springs out of the pink sheets as she skips to the bathroom. Her face is rejuvenated, fresh, with a natural blush. She smiles herself and goes for her toothbrush. Something is telling her that today, will be a great day.

She brushes her teeth thoroughly, flosses, and swishes mouthwash around twice. It's hard work to get her teeth to stay in such a pristine condition, like all of her possessions, and she works harder to keep them like that. Her mind, however, in going through its daily remembrance of the current day's plans, tends to skip over something largely important.

Bonnibel walks into the kitchen, already dressed in her day's attire: a composition of a pink, white shorts and some pink high-tops. She glances at herself briefly in the hallway mirror and frowns for a moment. 'Not enough pink…Hm…"

"안녕하세요!", Lady announces, slipping lazily back into her Korean slang, stirring some scrambled eggs. "How'd you sleep?" She slides over to one of the stools near the counter with a grin.

She replies in sing-song tone,"Amaz-ing!"

Lady looks at her over her shoulder. "Hmm. Good dreams I see?" The younger girl rests her head in her hands with a pleasant sigh. Lady turns off the fire and fills some glasses with orange juice.

"You don't know the half of it." The glasses click as they make contact with the granite. Lady sets two plates with eggs and jelly-spread wheat toast along beside them.

"Spill the deets, then. 그리고 다른 모든" She says nonchalantly and picks up her fork. Bonnibel pauses before taking sip of her orange juice. "

I don't remember exactly, but it was bliss! I recall people laughing and joking around. Also… the color red. For some reason, I can't get it out of my head!" she finishes with and wider smile.

Lady drinks some of her juice with a nod and Bonnibel digs in politely into her eggs. "Also, thanks for the breakfast, Lady!" Lady swallows, and then waves her off with the shake of the head.

"괜찮아. I just followed our agreement, right? Then days I don't have morning class and you do, I make breakfast."

Beckman pushes her plate away, full enough. "Yeah, I know that, but it's nice to do." The Korean girl eyes her suggestively.

"You know who it was?"

She drinks the rest of her juice and gathers the dishes. "No… but they feel faintly familiar…"

Lady looks her over. "Well, you should hurry up and find out: It's 9:15 and your class starts in thirty minutes."

Bonnibel's eyes widen and she hurries to dump them in the sink. "Really?! " Running out the kitchen, she slings on her pink satchel and house key lanyard with cupcakes on it. Lady comes up beside her and props a straw colored fedora with a pink ribbon on her head.

"See ya!"

Bonnibel races out the door with a wave and begins her brisk walk across campus. "BYE!" She calls out over her shoulder. Lady shakes her head with a grin, and goes back inside.

Marceline inhales her bacon in seconds flat as she gathers her things frantically. Keila follows her around the house in her pajama's questioning her like there's no tomorrow. "-So you pretended to be her girlfriend? That was your plan? Why not 'hey, let's call the cops and not get ourselves killed?"

Marceline hops on one foot as she pulls on her crimson high tops. She glances at herself in the mirror near the door: grey plaid shirt and dark grey jeans with rips at the knee on one leg. Nice. "Yeah, um, actually, I really did like her and it worked out pretty good. I wasn't really thinking; I just wanted to hang out with her more. Scratch that: do like her. I hope I see Bonnibel again." She finds a stray comb and yanks it a couple times through her long black hair.

Keila groans. "Even though you beat him up, you could've really gotten hurt!" The older one offers a cocky grin.

"Did ya forget how I beat him up?" Keila shoots daggers from her eyes. She's not joking.

Marceline sighs, still trying to comb her wild hair. "Okay look. I'm sorry. But you of all people should know I can beat anyone's ass." The other's frown curves into a smile.

"Got it. But just so you know, you're late."

Marceline gives up her efforts and ties her hair into a pony tail. Keila takes a glance and plants a light grey cap with a cute design of a horse breathing fire over her messy locks."There, hair disaster done. NOW GO."

Marceline's green eyes glance at the clock. "It's ':45, so I got thirty minutes. Good, I can get some coffee." Marceline shoves her house key in her pocket, and pulls on her large guitar case over her back. "Love ya, Keke!"

Kelia grumbles as her friend hugs her and bolts out the door. "Don't do drugs or get yourself killed!" She calls out the door and the woman saddles her red bike. She gives thumbs up and pedals down the block.

Bonnibel steps up familiar pathway to the biological sciences department giddily. Her weight shifts from foot to foot in anticipation. The crisp morning air tickles her nose with a pleasant scent of fresh dew.

"Hey, Beckman! You ready for the first report?!", an excited voice yells. Looking over her shoulder, no one seems to stand out from the crowd to the girl. Looking through the waves of early-goers, one face pops out to be recognized. He runs over and pulls his satchel higher on his shoulders. Bubba Gambell.

"Yes! I've been working with chemical compounds and biological make-ups. How about you?"

He hops around, squealing. Bonnibel shakes her head at his antics, but stays to watch anyway. After his little dance, Bubba calms himself, but the goofy smile won't leave his face. "Okay… I'm working on certain psychological aspects and their take on particular foods, or in this sense, desserts."

She leads the way inside. "What do you mean?", Bonnibel asks absently.

Bubba follows, still rambling. "What I Mean' is how our brain reacts to certain stimuli if altered on formidable items, common objects, such as common foods! For a basic example, take a glass of water and add a deep coloring to it. It changes no flavor whatsoever, but if you don't inform the drinker of this, what will they think?"

The corridors are swept clean and polished, their shoes squeaking on the hard wood along with everyone else's. Bonnibel notes the silence before facing the boy. "Um… I don't know."

Bubba makes a weird gurgled noise in joy. His footsteps quicken and she has to keep up. "With a color, we already know, has a predispositioned 'taste' per-say! So, as an added variable, you add some fruit…"

Frankly, though she doesn't admit it, Bonnibel zones out. On a regular basis, Bubba is very easy to get along with. But… when he gets excited about something… he will not stop talking about it. Not for a while. Zoning out is a skill needed. She hums a song in her head as the turn another corner. The song's been playing around campus for a while, but the band hasn't really made an appearance yet. To her social crowd at least. The chorus has her slightly tap her shoe to the beat.

Another corner is turned into a wider hall. When an important sounding word comes up, she tunes back in. They're reaching the classroom anyway. "… when they drink it, it'll taste like a different substance then it really is! Isn't that fascinating?" Bonnibel puts the missing pieces together, and then gives a thumb up. Bubba smiles wider at the gesture and opens the door.

"WHERE IS MY BEAKER?! GAHH! "a voice yells out in the flurry of students. Unlike the clean hallway before, the floor is littered with multiple papers, spills of unknown substances, and the occasional person. "Shut up will ya? SOME people are trying to write a paper here!" a deeper one snaps from the desks. A body from on the floor jumps up with an armful of notes. He readjusts his glasses and waves at the two.

"Hey Bonnibel. Hi Bubba." Bubba steps up as a couple sheets from his messy grasp flutter to the floor. Bonnibel waves back.

"Hello, Odin." As his papers are returned, Bubba makes his way back to his area.

Odin scratches his hair, messy and out of it's neatly combed style. "Thanks Bub. I just finished my thesis for the progress check on future-"A loud beeping sound fills the commotion and he panics. "Sorry, that's my burner!" He scrambles back into the mob.

Anyone would mistake this scene for of a fight of… well… 'nerds'. The sudden loud noises, constant yells and frequent cries of frustration make for a stressful environment. An environment many would find impossible to concentrate. Something to strive to escape. But for Bonnibel Beckman, it is her escape. She smiles and slips through into the flustering group of bodies in lab coats.

Her workspace is covered in notebooks, many sticky notes of references, and stray test trays. Luckily, nothing is out of place or knocked over. Bonnibel slips on the white coat and her bulky wide frame spectacles. She pours one tube containing a purple concoction into a beaker containing a bubbling blue one. A bright pink puff of smoke forms. She grins in her success, writing something down. "SCIENCE!"

"SHIT!" Marceline curses as her long legs fly through the halls, ending with the girl slamming into a wall trying to make a sharp corner. Being late is a surprisingly not a normality for her; Music Class was strict on attendance. And..just to add on, this was her about to be the third latest time. Maybe she should anticipate Coffee shops with longer lines, next time. She skids into the studio, sneakers loudly audible. All heads turn her way as the double doors slam shut. Her body is still in the doorway; A blast of cold air tells the now appearing goosebumps on her skin that she's in the right place.

Her watch beeps. Thank Glob, she made it! Marceline allows herself inwardly fist pump. She straightens up for a moment, and then makes her way down the aisle. Amidst the faces of students with spiked up Mohawks, multiple piercings and overall rebellious appearance, she finds her seat. Plopping her stuff down, she sighs. Slowly, all the gazes return to the instructor.

He clasps his hands together seriously after running one of the two through his brown hair, streaked with a couple of strands of white. Marceline looks up at the humming air conditioner, moving her fingers to strum the memorized chords of a song on an imaginary guitar.

Mr. Petrikov's voice is deep and commanding. "Now… as all of you know… today is pre-exam's. One by one, you'll come up and replay the piece you've chosen to replicate the mood you've been given at the beginning of the month." Marceline frowns as someone with a limp white Mohawk on top of his head raises his hand.

"What if your mood sucks?" he asks and the room rumbles with snickers. Mr. Petrikov raises a brow. "Mine was queasy. How the hell do you write a song about being queasy?" More snickers and the occasionally loud guffaw.

Mr. Petrikov's lips quirk up in the corner, almost a smile. "Well, you should've thought about that and asked that question four weeks ago." The student's face goes red for a moment, with anger or embarrassment, no one is sure. He picks up his clipboard with a smirk. A SMIRK.

"Oh yeah, Redmin? You're going first." The music room is rumbling after that, and the student's face replicating his name perfectly. "Unless anyone wants to get their turn over with?" As murmurs break out, Marceline props her feet up on the back of the students chair in front of her and unzips her case. A hand suddenly grips hers and yanks it in the air.

Immediate silence follows. It takes her a while to process what just happened, but Mr. Petrikov's voice signals her thoughts to make sense of the situation. "Well, then Miss Abadeer. You're either brave, bold, or just stupid. We'll see after you show us your piece." The hand grasping hers lets go. The instructor collects his papers and moves to sit next to one of the students in the front row.

"Also, for being the first up, 10 more points. Just for the heck of it." He grins and everyone turns to her with amusement and envy. She swallows and whips around to stare back into similar eyes, but with mixes of reds and browns. Like the jungle. A smirk appears underneath the pair and her eyes narrow. Marceline stands up, but growls under her breath.

"Marshall Lee? What the hell?!"

He leans back in his seat and offers a hand out to shake. "Miss me?"

Bonnibel bites her lip as the clock ticks down. 45 minutes left. 20 minutes left. 5 minutes left. She prepares her paper work in a neat stack on her cluttered workstation, her results so far to the right. The decibels in the room are probably enough to make the deaf-students in the room across the hall wince. She chuckles briefly at the comparison, but then blatant concentration returns.

"I got this..I got this.." She hypes herself up as soon the professor is right next to her station. She goes to stand up straight, but he waves her back into her previous seat.

"It's all fine, Beckman. I know you're work will always impress ME if not others." He giggles and leans over her station, eyeing the many fizzing chemicals with glee. His feet swing in the air and Bonnibel smiles whole kindheartedly. Fixing his glasses once upon his stubby nose, he begins, "So what do we have here?"

"Well, I'm working on the process of zanoits and how they interact with the human's biological process of thought." Professor Toter strokes his white mustache, so much its comical. He seems to gesture, 'continue, I'm genuinely interested' somehow and she does.

"Well first I had to test the chemical..." She breathes and tries to pronounce the word correctly, speaking slower for a moment. "Zan-toit-it-ner, and its interactions to determine its possible purpose in this." She gives him the chart of different experiments run on the chemical and waits as he looks it over, the stroking of his facial hair becoming frantic.

A slow grin spreads across his plump cheeks. "So, Bonnibel, you don't have to show me everything yet, since this is just a progress check. But do tell, if you would, what are you trying to accomplish in the long term goal?"

Crud. Glib-globbit. Bonnibel curses inwardly and her hands unconsciously turn into fists. This is where most of her classmates laugh at her. Call her idiotic. Say it was all a waste of time. And she knows that if the Professor thinks the same way, her whole ability to research it will be shut-down, all resources taken away with the shake of a head. Not to mention a failing grade of an F on the project, thus making her fail the whole semester and good possibility of the class.

The pink haired girl musters all the confidence she can and sits up taller, flipping to the correct page in her notebook. She opens it and turns it for his bespectacled eyes to see. "I will be attempting sir, to make an AI, capable of breathing, living on its own free will."

The drawing shows a detailed sketch of a circular being with small dots for eyes, and tube like appendages for arms and legs. In the pace of it's brain is a simple formula, with many other components fixed into a sugary solution. His eyes instead glimmer with pure scientific fascination in silence as the minutes tick by.

Finally he says, eyes never leaving the book, "So how does this have to do with your studies? How do you intend to make this.. a reality?" Bonnibel swallows, but takes out a miniature safe from her book bag made of pure titanium. With a click of her key, it opens to reveal one densely packed and protected, test tube. She slides on glove to grasp the glass. Cautiously she takes a drop from a eyedropper, one drop, and puts it on a thin plastic tray to set under her microscope.

The professor hurries to get his step stool and bring it over to her station. He eagerly presses his eye to the viewglass and inhales sharply at the sight. Bonnibel smiles, pleased that she's one over his favor. "Those professor, are the organisms I like to call zanoits. And they are the only way this could ever be possible."

Marceline stands in front of the wall of stringed instruments, biting her lip. Mandolin's, guitars of electric and acoustic, violins.. Heck, almost a hundred were probably up there, she estimates. With all eyes on her, she quickly decides on the ukulele, it being the most practical and closest.

Marceline's legs shakes as she sits on the tiny black stool. 'Like really, why is this so uncomfortable?', she wonders aimlessly. 'My couch is better than this!' "Miss Abadeer!" He cuts in, as if sensing her inward conversation. "Anytime now. Your mood as I recall was, tranquil, as in meaning relaxed and at rest." He looks around the auditorium, catching all stray eyes and attention. "Also, I'd like to add if any of you who went for the preconceived extra credit of including the meaning for the word nostalgic in your song, please come up in front."

A random group of kids got of from their individual seats and move to sit upfront. Marceline scoffs and tunes the instrument in her lap. Truthfully, she waited til the last second to make her own project. Heck, most of it wasn't even done.

She meets Marshall's gaze and he grins knowingly. But still, she works best under pressure and at improvising. She waits as a thought pops into her head, an addition to her quick song and jets her hand up.

Mr. Petrikov of course blinks, annoyed. "What is it?" She grins wickedly. "I did that too. The extra credit-whatevers. Nostalgic means to look back on the past or somethin', right?"

Clearly displeased with her grammar, he says sharply back, "Yes. In a way, it does. So I'll put you down for that then. Don't disappoint."

A nod in response. Her fingers move onto the correct placement. "My short song is called Interlude Holiday." A quirky, light tune associated with a calming day at the beach echoes through the room. Her eyes find Marshall's and he offers a thumbs up, nodding his head to the beat.

Soon plenty join him, it being extremely enjoyable. Even the instructor allows himself, she finds smugly, to tap his foot lightly. His pen scribbles frantically on the pad. Slowly her voice joins in, wavering at first, but becoming solid after a few seconds.

Now I can move on to facing,

Big girl problems no more.

High school drama graduated,

With honors!

Ah I'm drinking coffee while I,

Read the paper; I've been,

Savin' money eatin' only Top Ramen!

Oh, Oh, Oh, Ohhh-oh!

Now I get a holiday!

Wherever I go, I might stay.

I don't plan on comin' back...

Ever, If I can help it!

She breathes and looks around quickly. This is where she got stuck. Quickly making up for a finish, she repeats the chorus, slowly fading out lower and lower.

Now I get a holiday,

Think I'll stay.

Holiday,

Think I'll stay.

She ends when it becomes no longer audible and sets the ukulele down in her lap. It's quiet in the room, and everyone looks confused for a moment. To make up for it, she finishes with a loud strum. It does it's job to show she's done, and an acceptable chorus of people start clapping. Marshall, of course, would be the one to whistle and say, "Marceline your voice is so hot!"

A couple of people look around to see who it was, but then more wolf whistles come out too by others. Murmurs of agreement appear and Marceline holds her forehead, bangs covering her eyes. She grins and shakes her head, thinking, 'I'll so have to get him for that later.'

Suddenly, a distant bell tong sounds in the distance and her head snaps up. 11:30 already?

Mr. Petrikov clears his throat and speaks up, walking over to the girl with an unusual smile placing his features for the students, but to her, is usual. "Well, well, that was something. Although I wish there was more, it was good as a short melody as well. You get both extra credit points along with an A on the assignment. Nice job working with such complicated-"

"Yeah, yeah thanks! I have to go!" Marceline blurts out with a smile. Quickly setting the instrument back in its place, she runs over and grabs the paper out of his hand. He looks on confused. "Wh- I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what's going on here." Marceline swings her guitar case over her shoulder and runs back down the steps, pulling a strip of laminated paper out of her back pocket.

She blows her bangs out of her view and slaps it in his open palm. "I gotta go practice for tonight. See ya there," She leans in for second, "Simon". She spins on her heel and sprints back up and out the double doors, Marshall right by her side. He offers a half-hearted wave right before the doors obscure his view and symbolize their presence leaving.

Mr. Petrikov looks down to see the paper is a ticket to a performance in the nearby park, by a band called the Scream Queens. He has a brief goofy smile on his face, but as soon as he realizes where he is, returns to being strict. "Redmin! Your next." The groans of the boy ensures at his name being called. The instructor returns to his seat but gingerly places in his pocket. 'You know I will' he thinks to himself.

You know the drill: I don't own anything, including the song. It's Holiday by Paramore. Short but sweet. Check it out. I DO own the story though; that's all MANGO right there :D

AND I think you guys need this quick sum-sum, due to THE HORRIDLY LONG break. It's also so it might make a few confusing things in here clear up about some new characters that I probably won't be able to fit in the chaps.

Mr. Petrikov: He's Simon Petrikov, an instructor at the University. He teaches a music art Class and an Archaeology class

-Has a preference for the cold. With the rebellious musical students, he is strict, so they call him secretly,"The Ice King"

-with his Archeology class, he's more laid back, easy-going and calm in demeanor

Professor Toter: I'll let you peeps guess who this guy is in Adventure Time.

-is extremely short, with white hair and a white mustache

-is know for being fun and happy(but can be scary as fuck if you don't take science seriously)

THATS IT FOR NOW! UNTIL NEXT UPDATE! FOLKS! R&R for meh, tell me whatcha think.