Ahoy there! I've gotten into this show quite considerably, thanks to a guy I share classes with. So you can all blame him for this.

This is T for now, but will be M later so I'll do this now …

Usual warnings that go on all my stuff, M rated for a reason, yadda yadda yadda. Oh, and it's girl on girl. If you don't like it, don't read it. Simple.

I don't own AT (though I wish I did. Seriously.) or the characters involved, they belong to (the fabulous) Pendleton Ward.


The quirky sound of a soprano ukulele fills the air in the music room and I sit with my boots propped against the windowsill. It's proving difficult to find the words for my new song, so I'm trying to pick out a few riffs on Duke the uke. Due to the expensive nature of my axe-bass, I've stopped bringing it to school. I'm sick of it getting bashed to bits during the crush between classes. Plus it's a bitch trying to carry it home on the train. So my substitute is Duke, who is little enough to stuff in my backpack during transit. I snort in frustration as I hit a bum note for the third time in a row and put Duke away, slinging my satchel off my shoulder and removing my books. The music room's empty except from me and I crack my knuckles in the silence.

I don't mind that I'm alone today – like always. The other kids avoided me as soon as I showed up here. It's been, like, three months and I'm still hanging around with nothing interesting to do or anyone cool to talk to. They think I'm just that weird, loner kid with the dark clothes and pale complexion. Of course, no one is openly hostile toward me. I'm much too intimidating for that. Instead they avoid me like the plague and whisper about me in the hallways. I heard she's from England. She looks so angry all the time. What do you think she does in that music room every day? It's all a bit tiring, honestly. My dad's always too busy with work to pay attention to his only daughter, and I haven't ever met my mother - it was always just dad and I - so he's really the only person I've spoken to in months. And isn't that just ridiculously sad.

It's not like I'm too shy to approach anyone; I just don't see why I have to go to them and make it look like I'm desperate for acceptance – 'cause I'm not. There don't really seem to be any kids worth my effort, so I've not done anything about making friends. I'm glad for the solitude, though, especially today. I've got an arse-load of maths homework to do. If I were surrounded by a squealing group of friends I'd never get it done. Maths is hard.

As I chew my pen and squint at the equations on my paper I can't help but mull over my writer's block. One of my few talents is writing songs. And right now I can't think of a damn thing. A lack of inspiration has left me as dry as dust, creatively. Usually when I'm running low on fuel, I write something angsty aimed at my dad, but even that's wearing thin these days. I don't think there any other ways to say, "you suck, pay attention to me" that I haven't already tried.

I grunt, running a hand through my dark hair in frustration and throw my pen across the room. Screw maths, I think and slam my book into my bag, refusing to complete the stupid homework. The teacher's going to kill me; I've not finished a homework assignment since I got here.

Resigned to my fate, I thump my forehead down on the desk with a wince and proceed to snooze through the rest of lunch, only to be rudely awoken by the bell announcing the start of fifth period and my impending doom.

"Well, well, Marcie," Mr Canis sighs, folding his arms across his unspeakably hideous mustard blazer. "That's thirteen homework papers you've missed. What seems to be the problem?"

Mr Canis is cool, but he's one of those teachers who really tries to understand his pupils and I'm not really into that. He's overly enthusiastic about the most boring subject on the planet and tells the most awful jokes. Despite the fact that I should generally loathe the man for being the figurehead for my least favourite subject, I quite like him. Even though I don't want him to be friendly with me. Or ask me how I'm feeling today. Or why I don't have my homework.

I shrug, hoping he'll break and let me go to my next class. He deliberately kept me behind to ask about my repeated avoidance of the extra work and I can't help but feel like I'm letting him down.

"No, no. Not this time. I've been way too soft on you," he looks moderately annoyed, as though he realizes that I've been taking advantage of his generous nature for the past three months. I blush unhappily. "I mean it, Marcie. If you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to be forced to talk to your parents."

With an unhappy grunt I stare down at his shoes uncomfortably, "I suck at maths."

"No, you don't."

"Yes I do!"

"Are you arguing with me?" He smiles and I scowl deeply. "You're better than you think you are. I think your view of your abilities is affecting the standard of your work, Marcie."

"It's Marceline," I mumble.

"Marceline," he corrects. "If I could get you one on one tuition, bring you up to speed on the areas you seem to be struggling with, I think that could help improve your outlook on your math-life." He's such a dork that I can't help but snigger, the thought of him tutoring me brightening the prospect of extra math classes.

"Can't I just flunk?"

"Not unless you want to spend next year with me, too."

I wince at the thought. "Fine. When do we start our lessons, then?"

He blinks at me, then smiles, standing from his perched seat on the edge of his faux-wood desk. "Sorry, I may have made that a bit unclear. I wont be tutoring you. I'm just going to get you the tuition." He laughs at my horrified face.

"Who the hell's going to be my tutor, then?" I sputter unattractively, unable to keep from frowning at him.

"Oh, I have a student in mind. Very dedicated, very smart. I think she'll really help you. You'll have seen her about the school most likely, she's a senior. Bonnibel Borrire."

Okay, so that's the prologue. I know that wasn't very steamy, but believe me, it'll get there. I want to take my time with this one.

All (or at least most) of the characters from Adventure Time will feature in this fic, so see if you can spot them through their guises as it goes on. The first is Mr Canis, an Internet cookie and a special place in my heart for anyone who can guess which character he is!

Please R&R, reviews are like crack to writers and I'm too poor to afford real crack.