A/N: Uh hi everyone.

I know it's been a while (*cough* a year *cough*). A lot has happened since I last updated: I graduated college, started working three jobs, and got a cat. I am starting to get a hang of being an adult though which means I will be creating a writing schedule! I'm hoping to update once a month if not more often.

This chapter is brought to you by the fact that today is my 22nd birthday and this is my birthday gift to myself (the fact that the last time I updated was on my 21st birthday is totally coincidental. Totally). I know this update is short, I just wanted something out there so you guys knew I was alive and well. Thank you all for your patience!

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Thanks for reading, favoriting, and following. You guys truly make my day :)

Blessings to you all,


Flynn was having the best nap he had ever had- which was really saying something.

Until something wet went into his ear.

His scream tore through the air as he was ripped from his peaceful requiem and thrust back into the real world.

Flynn's eyes burst open and he was nearly blinded by the vibrancy of the room. Everywhere he looked he saw color, and not just regular, safe colors. Oh no. Whoever contributed to this did not fear colors or the people who had yet to see them.

Flynn had been to (read: stole from) many art museums all over the continent. Most of the paintings were nice, some breathtaking, and a few that were just plain weird. Each one had had nice color schemes that were mostly complimentary to whatever the artist was going for, but overall the colors were bland. Paintings of landscapes or fruit always paled in comparison to their real life counterpart because artists had to make sure people who could not see color could enjoy the painting too.

This artist clearly did not care and Flynn somehow could not pull his eyes from the walls. It was beautiful, plain and simple. Every piece of art he had ever seen had never even come close to what he seeing. He tried to get a closer look but found he could not move.


He was restrained. He could handle being restrained. He had escaped the guards enough times to know how to get out of this. He pulled on the ropes…but wait those were not…

"Is this," he struggled, "hair?!"

"Struggling- struggling is pointless," a voice attempted to command. "I know why you're here and I'm not afraid of you."

Flynn gazed at the shadowy area of the room, half expecting to see a large thug looming in the darkness. Imagine his surprise when a small girl walked into the light.

Forget the paintings around the room or around the world, she had to have been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Golden hair, button nose, petite body, and large, green doe-like eyes took his breathe away. There was something extremely familiar about those eyes…

"Who are you and how did you find me?" She asked, her tone commanding.

Flynn sat there slack-jawed. He was still too stunned to procure words.

"Who are you and how did you find me?" She demanded.

Get it together, Rider. He cleared his head. "I know not who you are, nor how I came to find you, but may I just say," he put on his most charming smile, "hi. How you doing? The name's Flynn Rider. How's your day going?"

For the record, Rapunzel knew she did not have this situation totally under control. Sure, he was tied up and his satchel was hidden, but she really had not expected him to talk. And even if he did talk, she surely did not expect him to talk like that. He was very strange.

"Who else knows my location, Flynn Rider?" Rapunzel aimed her frying pan closer to him.

"Alright Blondie-"


"Gesundheit. Here's the thing. I was situation, gallivanting through the forest, I came across your tower and- oh! Oh no! Where is my satchel?!"

We got him, Rapunzel thought triumphantly. "I've hidden it. Somewhere you'll never find it."

Flynn took one sweep around the room. "It's in that pot isn't it?"


Flynn was out before the frying pan stopped ringing.

"Alright Pascual," Rapunzel sighed, "we need a better hiding spot."