To clear things up, this story is basically the Keepers. They live in different movies.

I still need a movie for Famanda and Jess+OC.

So, if you guys can review or PM me, that would be GREAT!

and if I pick someone else's and not yours, then that's just because they gave it to me first. So...yeah.

We go.

Willa hummed to herself as she walked to town, a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow, an open book in her hands. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she walked across the bridge.

Look there she goes that girl is strange but special! she heard the townspeople sing. She rolled her eyes.

"Must they sing about everything they see?" she muttered to herself. But she ignored them and continued walking to the library, her eyes not moving from the pages of her book. She leaped over a barrel and gracefully wove herself through the crowds without looking up, feeling their stares.

"Where do they get all this background music when they sing, anyway?" she asked herself quietly. She closed the library door behind her, blocking out the song.

"Why, HELLO, Willa!" the librarian laughed happily, organizing books. "Finished the book already?"

"Bonjour, monsieur. I couldn't put it down! You got anything new?" Willa asked, climbing onto the ladder.

The librarian chuckled. "Not since yesterday!"

"That's okay," Willa shrugged. "I'll take...THIS one!" she pulled out a book and jumped down from the ladder. The librarian adjusted his glasses.

"That one? But you read it twice!"

"But it's my absolute FAVORITE!" Willa sighed, pulling the book on her chest and sighing happily.

"Keep it!"

Willa looked up, surprised. "Are you sure, monsieur?"

"I'm positive! Anything for my best costumer!"

"Oh, THANK you, monsieur!" Willa placed the book into her basket and walked back outside, groaning when she heard their voices filling the air. Still singing? REALLY?! she thought.

She heard one voice rise above the rest.

"Just watch I'm going to make Wills my WIFE!"

She groaned. Gaston. She kept her head down and kept on walking, hoping not to bump into him.

Sadly, that didn't work.

"Willa? Are you reading?" Gaston tore the book out of her hands.

"Gaston, may I have my book back, please?" she held out her hand, trying to stay polite.

"Women shouldn't be reading, Willa! Soon they will be getting ideas...thinking...!" his face pulled back in disgust. He dropped the book in the mud and stepped on it.

"Gaston, you are positively prime-evil!" Willa said, her voice staying calm as she lifted her book and wiped off the mud.

Gaston laughed. "Why, THANK you, Willa!"

Willa rolled her eyes. Obviously, Gaston cannot tell when someone is insulting him.

A group of girls squealed and sighed. Willa looked up to see them staring at Gaston, who was flexing his bicep. He kissed it. Willa placed her book in her basket and weaseled around Gaston, out of town, and back to her father's house.

"Wow," the boy gasped once him and two men reached the top of the castle. He held tight as he leaned over. "A guy can get used to a view like this."

"Maybeck!" one of the red-head twins hissed.

Terrance Donnie Maybeck raised a finger. "One sec." He nodded. "Yep. I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle!"

One of the Stabbington brothers stepped up. "When we finish this job, you can buy your own castle!" he hissed, grabbing Donnie by the back of the shirt and yanking him away.

In the room, twelve guards stood in front of the Lost Princess's crown. One shivered, then sneezed.

"Ugh. Hayfever?" Maybeck asked, a rope tied around his waist, leaning against the crown's pedestal nonchalantly.

The guard sniffled and nodded. "Yup."

A couple seconds later...

"WAIT!" the guard spun around, but the boy was already gone, and so was the crown. He looked up and saw Maybeck being raised back through the ceiling and running off. "MAYBECKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

Charlene Turner looked at the clock. "7:00 AM, Pascal! Time to start chores!"

She looked down at the little chameleon. He made a little squeak-groan, turning blue.

"Oh, c'mon, Pascal!" Charlene giggled, headed towards the broom closet, 70 feet of hair trailing behind her.