#Gentle reminder that even the best of artists start from (chicken) scratch and if their art can reach greatness then so can yours!

[syncopatedid]

Haikyuu!! The Dumpster Battle is supposed to be a movie about the long-awaited showdown match between eternal rivals Karasuno Vs. Nekoma, but the truth is it's really a love letter tribute to Nekoma and a beautiful sendoff to the best match they ever played. Karusuno may have won the game, but it is the players of Nekoma who are the protagonists of this chapter of the story.

Nostalgic, right-in-the-feels stuff, all the members had their moment and I am soft! Highly encourage a big-screen viewing because the volleyball gets served way, WAY high! Even if you aren't already a fan of Nekoma you'll still come out of this movie entertained. And since it's hitting movie screens in more countries than your usual niche anime movie, it's a chance not to be missed.

Bonus: I went for a fan screening that came with a 33.5 bonus booklet and it is my favorite thing ever because it has pages with Furudate's chicken scratches and I live to see such drafts honestly because nothing like feeling your art level is finally on par with the pros; so inspired, ahahaha!

[jimjamthehorrorman]

"Texas Hold Em'"

(PART TWO of the "Unconditional Love" fic. In this AU, the boys are all alive, modern setting and not cannibals. Just a bunch of eccentric boys with secrets. Hope you enjoy!)

Early morning, a tinge of blue coats the walls like thick paint. You forgot to close the curtains, but this isn't your house, so how would you remember so easily? You wonder if your dog is having a good time lazying up the house with your friend who came to pupsit. But you have other things to worry about, she's in good hands.

The guest room at the boys farm was empty other than an uncomfortable old futon, some strange bone art (as you know, Nubbins and Bubba are quite the taxidermy artists) and the subtle smell of a "cinnamon clove" candle on the dresser that really ties it all together.

The sound of a rooster crowing next to the window reminds you..

"The boys are up already. Today I finally get to meet the notorious 'Chop Top'" you thought to yourself, struggling to get the heavy flannel sheets off so you can get dressed. "first day as a farmhand, that's a step up from gas station attendant."

When Drayton saw how easily you got along with the boys, he realized that you could be a good addition to the farm. Obviously you wouldn't live there full time. You've got your own home and your own life seperate from them, but something draws you there when you have free time. Actually, someone.

Stomping down the hall, you hear boots already mud clodden. Speak of the devil, he knocks at the door frame with a gentle thud. He groans in a way that almost sounds like "are you up?" You see his eye barely peak through the gap in the door.

"I'm getting dressed, Bubba!" You shout, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. You hear the sound of his heels turning and a slight jog that turns into some thudding and stomping again. He must have been embarrassed because he turned heel, ran, stumbled and hit the lamp in the hall on his way out.

"BUBBA YOU FOOL, YOU DAMNED NEAR BROKE GRANDMA'S GOOD LAMP!"

Drayton's up.

"GODDAMNIT BOY, GO ON OUT AND GET THE TRACTOR STARTED!"

You hope to yourself he isn't like that with you. Poor Bubba.

"You about ready in there Y/N? We've got to get some work done and then we'll get breakfast made." He took a totally different tone with you. It's almost sickening that he can be so nice to you and so mean to his brothers, but you can't complain because he'll do his best to hold his tongue with you around.

"I'll be out in just a few, Drayton! I'm putting my boots on now!"

He chuckled on his way down the hall.

"Chop Top's back from the VA Hospital, so be prepared. He's crazier than any of us." You can't tell if he's joking or dead serious.

You meet Nubbins at the door.

"Hey! Hey Y/N! Bubba wants you to meet the animals and his favorite are the birds! They're so nice, really good tempered! The ducks are his favorite but I think the chickens are mine!"

"Alright! We'll go check them out together, they have to be fed anyways right?"

"Oh yeah! And they eat real good too! Hungry little things!"

He prances down the lane towards a little crooked shack, Bubba's standing outside the door putting buckets of water and feed out for the birds. He just can't stop wearing that pretty mask and suit. He knows how much you like it and you haven't seen the other mask since the day you met. He's dressed to impress and he's going to get his dress boots dirty, you just KNOW it.

The sun's come up as you were coming down the lane and Nubbins, running in his standard silly formation, makes it to the door and slams it open, letting out all the chickens to Bubba's dismay. He hadn't finished putting everything down and now he has to get his shoes muddy to get back to the other side.

He looks to Nubbins and groans loudly, putting his hand up to his masked face. Shaking his head, he walks around the muddy nasty pen and finishes his job. As soon as he sees you he perks up, running out the pen and nearly ripping his good coat on the wire fence.

"Good morning big guy! Thanks for the privacy this morning!" You laugh as you watch his cheeks redden from under the mask. "It's alright you didn't know I was changing. Anything exciting planned for this afternoon?"

He points toward the gate at the end of the midpoint in the driveway, a truck is making it's way out toward the road and you see Drayton, his mouth running like he's cursing his whole way out. His window is closed but you feel for the poor soul on the other end of the phone.

Nubbins runs up and grabs you by the shoulder. "He's going to get Chop Top from the bus station in town! They finally got him out, he's going to get him and we'll have a great time, a hell of a time!"

You've heard wild stories about this guy, and you weren't sure how to feel about him but certainly he would come to be as close to you as the other boys.

Bubba and Nubbins finish doing their jobs while you get some Alfalfa treats for the cattle out back. Who knew these hefty old things were like big dogs themselves? The one with the biggest horns you knew to be "Dolly" the longhorn named by Drayton and his favorite. You give her a couple extra treats for good measure.

It's only been about fifteen minutes since Drayton left, and based on Nubbins' watch, he wouldn't be back for another 45. Now's your chance to get even closer to Bubba. He doesn't talk much but there's a spark and he for sure likes you.

More of an action than words guy, that boy.

"Hubba Bubba, look at you all fancy!" You smile at him, he's got his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his pant legs rolled to the knee and he's slinging a 50 lb bag of cracked corn into the feeder. He looks down at you, giving you a once over before wiping corn dust off of his tie and jacket. "I'm done with my jobs if you want to go on a walk!"

Bubba giggles to himself before putting the burlap sack on the pile and walking up to you, excited to spend time with you, knowing soon you two can have a snack at the barn.

"So, do you like living on the farm?"

He nods, he loves it here with all the animals, you can tell. He scratches his chin under the mask. He must get hot wearing those all the time and shaves quite often so it must get itchy.

Walking down a hill toward the barn you pass a beaten up old shed. Getting too close to the door he grabs your hand and snags you in close to him. He's shaking his head no.

"What's wrong with the shed, Bub?"

He looks uncomfortable and points to the barn.

"Okay okay, we'll keep moving." You give him a pat on the lower back and keep walking before giving one hesitant glance back at the shed. What's in there and why is he not letting you in? Weird.

Halfway to the barn you realize you're still holding Bubba's hand. He's tangled his fingers up in yours and you feel him gently trailing his thumb around on your hand. He looks down at you every once in a while just to be sure you're comfortable. He's nervous and it's easy to tell.

You try your best to reassure him by doing the same and smiling back each time. He lets out a relieved sigh as you make it to the barn. A decrepit old metal barn from the 50s filled to the top on one side with square bales of hay and the other side a little table with five chairs and a couple of empty stalls sit. The barn is open on both sides other than the back, a torn up old screen sways back and forth in the wind, like a piece of paper held on with tape. Bubba retracts from your hand to pull down some bales with ease, stacking them into something roughly resembling a couch.

He flops down on them with only a slight rustle of the hay, obviously more comfortable than the little rusty metal ones at the table. He sits up and pats the bale beside him. You walk over and flop next to him, looking around to see that Nubbins is nowhere close by, you wrap your hand around his and lean into him. Between the heavy overalls you have on guarding you from the itchy hay and this space heater of a man, you're warm and comfy. Bubba gazes down at you and envelops you in his arms. He too is very comfortable.

---

"I think they're in the house, I couldn't really tell you!"

You hear Nubbins in the distance, it sounds like he's yelling to Drayton and Chop Top but you can't be sure.

They can't possibly be back yet unless...

Bubba's asleep. You were asleep. How long have you been out? How long have they been home? Is Nubbins covering for you?

"Well tell them if you see them before us that Chop Top and I are making lunch and they'll be too late if they don't get themselves up here!" Drayton sounded like he was content for the moment but if you didn't get to the house soon you'd be in big trouble. Footsteps trail around the back of the barn, Nubbins peaks in and whispers loudly to the both of you.

"Get yourselves together love birds! Drayton's gonna whoop my ass if you two don't get in this house soon. It'll be real bad! So hurry on up!" He blows a raspberry at the now awake Bubba who groans at the thought. You look up to see the bottom of his mask has rolled up to reveal a normal looking chin and mouth, a freshly shaven face is hidden by the mask every day and you don't get to see it so this is a glance you didn't expect. As he starts to roll down his mask, you grab his hand. He looks at you scared and worried.

"I'm not going to take it off" you smile at him and he calms, holding onto your hands. "I just want to try something and you have to tell me if you're uncomfortable okay? I won't ever try to make you uncomfortable."

Bubba nods at you, his left hand trailing up your arm, resting on the nape of your neck where he can run his fingers along your hairline. As you lean in for a kiss, he closes the gap. Your lips touch and he pulls you in closer, holding you in his arms.

Bliss. You may have been kissed before, but he was a whole other ballgame. He had never kissed before and there was a level of touch starvation that he was trying to cope with upon this embrace. He was holding you and being held by you at the same time and he was beyond happiness.

Bubba's depraved lips were soft as silk and cherry flavored as they grazed over yours, his cologne thick but not overpowering smelt of burning oak wood in a crackling fireplace. The only fire here is one of desire and soon you would both be burning. His hands crept up and down your back and hips, trailing over your hands and back to your hair. Soon enough you felt smooth shaven skin and soft pillowy lips crawling down your chin and neck, circling your shoulder. You were completely and utterly surrendered and victim to his tender embrace.

*horribly obnoxious phone ringing*

Bubba breathed hard letting you go, a sigh escaping his lips as he pulled his mask down again. You reach into your pocket and pick up the phone. Of course, Drayton was getting finicky.

"Where are you kids? Your jobs couldn't have taken that long!"

"Sorry Drayton we'll be right there!" He hung up and you could see the dissapointment in Bubba's eyes. You were dissapointed too but relieved because you weren't sure how far that could have gone. "Sorry Bubba, Drayton wants us at the house."

He grunted as he stood up, helping you up after him. He held your hand as you walked back to the house. You didn't get a snack, instead you got a whole lot of a hot take.

---

The birds squawked and cooed softly as you passed by, echoing the same calmness that filled the breeze. In that breeze came the smell of lunch: a mixture of fried eggs, bacon, fried apples, little crunchy potatoes and fresh squeezed orange juice. The taste of cherry carmex chap stick still lay thick on your lips as Bubba walked beside you.

It was going to be the best job you could ever have dreamed of.

[hookedonapirate]

To Play the Game (and win your heart)

Summary: Some people would call it a job, but to Emma and her sister, Milah, it’s a game of the heart. Play by the rules and you’ll never get hurt.

Whatever you call swindling wealthy men out of their money, this con-artist duo has it down to a tee. Milah sets up an available, rich man and gets him to marry her. Emma seduces and lures the husband into having an affair so he’ll get caught in the act. He then loses his money in the ensuing divorce.

The sisters wear a coat of armor around their hearts to keep them intact, but when they set their sights on their next mark, professional golfer Killian “Hook” Jones, Emma never imagined how hard the game could be and how easily her heart could be stolen—especially when she switches roles with Milah and becomes the one exchanging vows with the gorgeous multi-millionaire. Heartbreakers AU.

Artwork by: @distant-rose​

Rating: Mature for connivery, vixen behavior and sexual themes.

Content Warnings: This story deals with conning and manipulation and also mentions/includes children with various disabilities, and also . 

Author’s Notes: So, over a year ago, I made this post about a story idea I had in my head for a really long time. Well, guys, I am soooo excited to say that I went ahead and wrote the thing! 

Thank you @captainswanbigbang​ and all of the moderators for organizing the event and for all of your help throughout the process.

A huge shout out goes to @ilovemesomekillianjones​ for all of her help with this fic. She really kicked some butt while beta reading, and if not for her, this story would not be what it is. 

Thank you @distant-rose​ for stepping in as my artist. She is so talented and I can’t wait for everyone to see all of the art she has planned for this fic. She even made me a playlist for this story including Emma’s and Milah’s theme song, Homewrecker by Marina and the Diamonds, and some other great tracks that fit well with the theme of the fic. 

Thank you @onceuponaprincessworld​ for all of her feedback and for her constant support and for letting me bounce ideas off of her during the process. Thank you @teamhook​ for her help and ideas with scenes I was struggling with.

This is the first time I’ve written a complete MC before posting the first chapter, so it feels surreal to be presenting this to you knowing it’s finished. This story has been a struggle, especially when it came to constructing Emma’s character, and I’ve definitely had some ups and downs during the writing process, but I’m really proud of how this fic turned out and I really hope all of you enjoy it! 

There are 12 chapters, and I will be posting every Tuesday, so let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Available on: AO3 FFnet

Chapter 1: Game Tutorial 

~Rule #1: Learn how to play the game like a pro. Learn how to play from the best of ‘em. Learn how to survive and learn how to win.~

 July 9th, 2015—Boston, MS

 “Well, this is just perfect,” Milah sighs, leaning against the car with her prepaid cellular phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, hazel eyes piercing down at the screen. Chocolatey brown locks cascade over her shoulders in thick waves, lightly affected by the gentle breeze slicing through the muggy, midsummer air. The brunette is wearing a pair of black denim shorts and a bright red t-shirt, showing off her flat, milky stomach as she waits for her sister.

 Emma and Milah are the same age, twenty-four years old, but that’s where their physical similarities end. Emma has fair skin, luminous green eyes that sparkle through her thick-framed glasses, and golden sunshine hair pulled back into a high ponytail, the ribbon curls bouncing with every step as she makes her way to the car from the Stop ‘N Gas. Alternating between scratching off a lottery ticket with the edge of her car key and chewing on the Slim Jim tucked inside the palm of her hand, she’s wearing a white tank top and slim, dark blue leggings. “Damn… I guess it’s back to work tomorrow,” Emma grumbles through a mouthful of the dry meat snack, tearing the losing ticket in half and throwing it into the trashcan next to the gas pump. As she leans back on the yellow bug next to her sister, she swallows the food in her mouth and takes another bite of the Slim Jim.

 “Well that's too bad.” Milah tucks the phone in her pocket and takes a long drag of her cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke out of her mouth and letting it drift into Emma's direction.

 “Come ooo- onn !” Attempting to wave the smoke out of her face, Emma starts coughing as she breathes some of it in. “How many times do I have to tell you that smoking is bad for you?”

 “And Slim Jims aren't? You're eating processed beef that's made up of mechanically separated chicken, and is loaded with salt and preservatives,” Milah points out scornfully.

 Emma cringes and immediately stops chewing, feeling the urge to vomit. “You mean beef, right?” she mumbles with her mouth full.

 “Nope. The meat base is made of chicken,” Milah replies pretentiously, a sly grin crossing her lips. “Sounds appetizing, doesn't it?”

 Emma’s features twist in disgust, she spits the chewed-up remains into the trash can and throws away what’s left in the wrapper with a snide retort. “At least I can't be afflicted with lung disease from eating Slim Jims. I'd rather be clogging up my arteries than breathing through a ventilator for the rest of my life. Besides, it's hazardous to smoke near a gas pump.” Emma grabs the cigarette from between her sister’s fingers and throws it on the ground before crushing it with the sole of her sandal.

 Milah becomes bug-eyed at the gesture. “What the hell, Em?! That was my last cigarette!”

 Emma sighs and rolls her eyes. “So buy another pack.”

 The brunette’s eyebrows are furrowed together as she scolds Emma, arms flailing in the air. “Yeah, I would, except, now we might have to decide on whether to spend our money on food or rent, so how am I going to buy a pack of cigarettes?!”

 Emma eyes her sister warily, her brows crinkling in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 Milah’s lashes are pressed together as she squints, flashing Emma her famous ‘ are you seriously kidding me right now?’ mien. “Well in case you forgot, sis, we received an eviction notice this morning, and we had to replace the engine of this old piece of crap!” Milah spats resentfully, gesturing towards Emma’s prized yellow bug to convey her point.

 “Hey, my car is not a piece of crap,” Emma argues defensively. She opens the driver's door, hearing the hinges squeak as Milah makes her way to the passenger’s side.

 “I just checked my bank account, and unless you have money I don't know about, or plan on seducing the landlord to get out of paying rent, then we’re completely screwed.”

 “Well, maybe if you hadn’t spent seventy-five dollars on the sandals you just had to have, then we’d have more money.” Emma is all for buying new shoes, but not if it meant they have to live on the streets because of it.

 Milah glowers at her. “They were half off. Besides, you know what they say—give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world. And we’re going to need a lot more than seventy-five dollars to catch up on rent. We're going to need some kind of miracle.”

 “Well, I asked for more hours at the bar, and you’ve picked up more too,” Emma reminds her.

 Milah shakes her head as they get in the car. “Still, we’re barely getting by. That engine set us way back,” she points out in frustration, buckling her seatbelt. “We need to make some money quick.”

 Emma nods in agreement, knowing her sister’s correct. “If only one of us could win the lottery or marry a rich man. I really don't want to spend the rest of my life eating ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Emma mutters, firing up the engine as she fastens her seatbelt. Lifting her eyes, she catches Milah’s big hazel ones gleaming at her, a slow, snide smile crawling across her lips. The hairline on Emma’s forehead rises as she arches a brow at her sister. “What?”

 “That’s a brilliant idea, Em.”

 Waving her head doubtfully, Emma looks ahead as she shifts the gear in drive and starts pulling away from the gas pump. “Eating ramen noodles for every meal? Not really. They're incredibly high in sodium, calories and saturated fat. And weren't you just cutting me down for munching on Slim Jims?”

 “Not that. I'm talking about marrying a rich man.”

 Emma snorts as she turns out of the parking lot, not believing what she just heard slip past Milah's lips. “That would kind of be difficult to do, considering neither one of us is even dating one.”

 Milah shifts in her seat anxiously, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Em, do you remember about two years ago… when we went to visit Mal and Lily for Christmas?”

 Emma thinks about that for a moment, unsure of what Milah is getting at. Mal had taken them in for a short while, after their adoptive mother died when they were seventeen years old. Milah and Emma aren't sisters by blood but they grew up in the foster system together and became inseparable when they were both adopted by a nice woman in Indiana. They had only been out of the system for a year when Ingrid was in a fatal car accident.

 Mal is the mother of Lily Page, who was Milah’s and Emma's classmate and friend, and took them in while they finished high school. When the sisters moved out, they got an apartment together in Boston. Milah had just turned twenty-two when they went back to visit Mal and Lily for the holidays. “Yeah, I remember. She taught us how to play poker. So?”

 “She did, but do you also remember how Mal spoke to us about the con and how we weren't supposed to tell anyone about it?”

 “The con?” Emma tries to recall, but really has no clue what Milah’s talking about.

 “Yeah. Mal told us how Lily's father left when he found out she was pregnant, so after that, she gave up on love. Said it was weakness, and only married her husbands for their money. When Lily turned twenty-one, she got her mother’s husband at that time to cheat on her. Then Mal divorced him and got a huge settlement out of it. The two of them took the money, and moved on to the next poor loser who fell into their trap. And they always used fake names so they'd never get caught.”

 “Yeah, okay I remember now.” Emma regards her sister with a cautious eye. “What's your point?”

 “Don't you see, Em? We could do the same. We could have Mal show us the con, and how to pull it off successfully.”

 Shaking her head, Emma quickly declines while biting back a laugh. “I am not doing that.”

 Milah shifts in her seat, her whole body facing Emma. “Just think—we’ll never have to be broke again. We can get a few good marks, take their money and move to Hawaii and buy our own bar on the beach or something. Come on, what do you say, Em? Let's do something bold . Something crazy .”

 “We do plenty of bold and crazy things,” Emma counters with a laugh.

 “Name one.”

 “What about the time we went skinny dipping in the sea with our former bosses?”

 Milah rolls her eyes. “You just proved my point. If that's the craziest thing we’ve ever done, I think it’s time we change that.”

 Emma stares at the road ahead of her, gnawing on her bottom lip. “But we’re not like Mal and Lily. What if we end up falling in love with one of the marks? I mean, do you really think we can pull this off?”

 “Sure, why not? Neither of us have ever been good at commitments anyways. But, we've been good at one-night stands and sex with no strings.”

 Emma has to admit, Milah’s correct on all counts, yet she still feels the urge to argue her reasons. “Well, yes, but those were only physical involvements and we always go to the guy’s place, making a dash before morning. Now you're talking about one of us going on romantic dates and getting a man to fall head over heels in love and make an actual commitment before ripping his heart in two?”

 “So? I can totally do that. I'll be the primary and you can get them to have an affair; that way you won't have to worry about the relationship part. All you have to do is look good, dress sexy and be your charming self, like when you pick up a guy at the bar. Only he’ll be married and rich instead of single and broke… and he’ll be my husband.”

 This is completely insane.

 Letting out a heavy sigh, Emma can't believe she is actually considering this plan. It seems so wrong to her on many, many levels. “I don't know…”

 Milah pulls one of Emma's hands from the steering wheel, encases it between her own and looks at her sister with pleading eyes, her left wrist revealing the tattoo of a raven's wings spread across the inside.

 “Please? Just consider it, that's all I'm asking.”

 Emma also has a tattoo on the inside of her left wrist, only it’s the wings of a white swan. They both got the tattoos using their fake i.d. cards, just after getting adopted by Ingrid at age sixteen. The wings symbolize their freedom from escaping the various foster homes, and they would never take it for granted. And yet, this little scheme they are contemplating would certainly take that freedom away if they ever got caught and landed in prison.

 Emma turns her head, briefly glancing at her sister, who is making a moue with her lips. “You're insane,” she titters, waving her head in bewilderment.

 Milah grins at her cheekily. “And you love me for it.”

 $*$*$

 May 5th, 2018—the outskirts of Storybrooke, ME

 Emma’s long blonde locks whip through the air, relieved to be free from the confinement of the red-haired wig as she tilts her head to the side and smiles at her sister, Milah. They’re just leaving the outskirts of Maine in their brand new flashy red Corvette Convertible with the top down, wearing designer sunglasses and silk dresses with thousand-dollar Giuseppe Zanotti shoes. And they have eighty thousand dollars to their name which will pay for their living expenses while they sink their claws into their next new mark.

 After Mal’s training, they'd started out small, tricking strangers at grocery stores by convincing them they’d forgotten their purses, or that their cupboards were bare and they needed to feed their starving children when they were using maxed-out cards so they’d be declined. The restaurant pranks were their most popular techniques; they’d plant a strand of hair or piece of glass in their food, or they’d discolor the chicken with red food dye to make it look raw in the middle and receive a free meal out of the charade. Or they’d sit at the bar wearing their sexiest dresses, luring men into buying them all the cocktails they could possibly stand before fleeing to the cab the men paid for when the sisters became too drunk to drive, leaving the poor guys all hot and bothered with no money in their pockets.

 The more cons they played out, the easier it became. Emma was always wary about it and her conscience often got in the way, but she slowly came around because she didn't want to let her sister down. Milah, however, was a natural. She had no problem lying and flirting with strange men to get her way, and always took the lead whenever they were working as a team. Soon enough, it was on to the big leagues.

 Their first real mark was a computer geek from MIT who worked at Google, was a momma’s boy, and had never cooked a meal in his whole goddamn life. The millionaire may have been smart, but luckily he wasn't clever enough to let his brain do all the thinking or let his mother talk some sense into him. Either that, or he was just that desperate when a gorgeous brunette, who was way out of his league, showed interest in him. They were married three months later when Emma kissed him so Milah could walk in and catch them. Emma cried that night for ruining the man’s life. Several more cons and broken hearts later, the consequences of their actions gradually had less of an impact on her due to Milah’s constant encouragement and incessant reminders that it’s better than sleeping on the cold, hard floor in a crowded homeless shelter or a cardboard box on the streets.

 “So how was the wedding?”

 Milah shrugs, a half-hearted smile curving her lips. “It was fine.”

 Even through the dark shades, Emma can tell something is wrong with her sister. She can always read her like a book. “You okay?”

 “Yeah, absolutely. Why wouldn't I be?”

 “I don't know, but I know when something's bothering you. We’re sisters remember?”

 Milah's smile grows as she slowly turns up the radio. “Of course, and you're also my best friend, Em,” she adds, speaking over the music as she leans over and kisses Emma's cheek. “It's just exhausting getting married and going through a divorce, that's all. And I kinda miss my blonde wig,” she says with a small laugh before briefly glancing down and admiring her feet. “But that's okay. Give a girl the right pair of shoes…”

 “And she can conquer the world,” Emma finishes enthusiastically.

 “I promise, sis… everything… is… fantastic.”

 The song Homewrecker by Marina and the Diamonds is playing as the music envelopes their ears. Milah throws her arms up in the air and Emma laughs, raising one hand while the other is still on the wheel. She grabs her sister's hand and they start singing loudly with the words of the song. Emma can't wait to get to their next destination. “Palm Beach, Florida, here we come!” Emma shouts at the top of her lungs.

 “Whoohoooooo!” Milah utters in excitement, both of the them floating on a cloud; nothing in the word could possibly bring them down.

 $*$*$

 Approximately two days and 1,529 miles later—Palm Beach, FL

 “What about him?”

 Emma dismisses the question with a soft shake of her head, grimacing at the idea of having to kiss the old man leaving his huge mansion—he looks as though he’s on the brink of death. She's already had her fill of the previous man with a cane—Milah’s latest ex-husband. “I don't think so,” Emma grumbles, proceeding to cruise through the wealthy neighborhood. The avenue is stretching wide and flat in front of them, a perfectly-aligned row of palm trees on either side as the sunlight scatters through the gaps. They’ve been on the road for twenty-four hours over the span of two days, and regretted the decision of not traveling by plane (Emma is afraid of flying), so it’s a relief to finally reach their destination. And as tired as they are, they’re bound and determined to find their next mark.

 Emma’s eyes are spanning over the nearby houses when she spots a modestly attractive man stepping out of his Mercedes Benz. He appears to be in his mid-thirties, has curly brown hair and is wearing an Armani suit. Perhaps a CEO of a large corporation? “What about him? He's kind of cute.” Just as Emma asks, another man, this one with dark hair who is equally as attractive and young, steps out of the house greeting the other with a hug. “Brothers maybe? That could be fun.”

 Emma receives an eye roll as she stops at a red light.

 “We don't play more than one guy at a time, I can only marry one, Em. And competition creates complications, especially between brothers.”

 Despite her words, Emma continues to observe them as Milah looks ahead, but to the blonde’s dismay, the two men start kissing—making out to be more precise. “Ummm… I take that back… not brothers… and you're definitely not their type.”

 “What do you mean I'm not their type?” Milah asks, clearly offended as she tilts her head to see what Emma is looking at. “Oh… I don't do gay guys either.”

 “Maybe they're bi? You could have a ménage à trois,” Emma teases with a laugh as the light turns green and she gently steps on the gas.

 “No thanks,” Milah replies, her words laced with distaste. “Get real, Em. Maybe you're into that, but I'm not.”

 Emma shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

 Half an hour later, they arrive at the condo they're staying in for the next two or three months, depending on how long it takes Milah to get the next man to marry her. The last one took two, but that was a new record for her. And he was only worth six hundred thousand. His last name was Gold, but he sure as hell wasn't made of it.

 They enter their room, blown away by the accommodations as they take a tour of the place. The beachfront apartment contains a large living space with a tan leather sectional, a matching loveseat and a large flat screen TV in the lounge area. There’s a separate laundry room in the apartment, and the kitchen is equipped with granite countertops and all of the stainless steel appliances they could possibly need.

 The glass patio doors afford a spectacular view of the ocean, and opens to a balcony scattered with outdoor dining furniture and a sunbed.

 In each of the two bedrooms, there’s a full patio window and a four-poster queen size bed adorned with a mountain of frilly pillows and silk drapes surrounding the bed. The en-suite bathroom that joins the two bedrooms contains a jacuzzi tub and shower encased in glass doors.

 Emma and Milah are squealing in delight, completely in awe as they soak everything in. Between all of the crowded foster homes and the studio apartments they lived in which were ran by slumlords, this is by far the nicest place they've ever stayed in.

 After getting settled and unpacking some of their things, Milah decides to test out the bathtub while Emma goes for a walk. It’s still early in the evening and she’s utterly exhausted, but she craves some time on the beach before retiring to her bed. The ocean always calms her.

 $*$*$

 Hook Jones is in jeopardy of losing his world number one ranking this week at the Players Championship in Ponte Verde, Florida. According to the scenarios presented by Twitter user @VC606, there are four players who could overtake Jones this week.–thebiglead.com

 The sun is cresting the horizon, leaving an array of colors across the sky as Killian moors his vessel to the port. He normally likes to start the mornings on his yacht whenever he can catch a break, but watching the sunset is just as calming. It allows him to reflect and plan his game before the tour. Some days are a zoo, with the cameras and crowds following him around on the green; the feeling of being closed in is the worst part about being a golfer. Being on the sea is his escape.

 It’s really quite ironic because ever since he was a child, he's been surrounded by people, even after he lost his family. He’s traveled around the world, and when he’s in Palm Beach he spends a lot of time with the children, who are his biggest fans. As much as he enjoys being around them, he’s always craving to have someone with him while he’s on the tour—someone by his side… someone along for the ride.

 With his vessel securely anchored in place, Killian makes his way from the marina and passes a few patrons, offering a courteous smile and a small wave. Most of them are familiar to him, and some are obviously here on vacation.

 Normally, tourists wear shorts when it’s sixty-eight degrees and end up looking like lobsters after spending four hours in the sun. Locals, on the other hand, wear winter jackets when it’s a touch below seventy degrees and always have deep brown tans. Killian can always distinguish a local from a tourist, not only by the hue of their tan, or lack thereof, and the way they dress, but also by the excitement buzzing in their eyes. Most of them spend their days snapping photos, drinking in the view and thinking of ways to move here, while the residents of Palm Beach spend their lives trying to find a way out.

 Nearing the beach, Killian feels the cool breeze touching his skin and blowing through his hair. This is one of cooler evenings in May, although he’s been accustomed to much more frigid temperatures from all of his traveling.

 His mind is frazzled with thoughts of the new foundation he had spent many years dreaming up and planning, the charity event to kick it off and the Players championship, where he is hoping to maintain his number one ranking. With everything going on, he has to be mentally prepared for the game, but he’s not worried. He’s always hungry for more wins, no matter how many he already has in the bag. Golf is his true love, and the game is all about focus and preparation.

 However, nothing could've prepared him for the vision currently demanding all of his focus when his eyes fall upon a beautiful woman. Well, an angel to be more precise, with skin fair and pure, golden hair shimmering, even in the dim light of the evening air.

 Bloody hell, she is breathtaking.

 She’s walking barefoot along the beach, wearing a white layered mini skirt, a beige sweater and a wide-brimmed sun hat, her long golden hair flowing in soft waves. Her gorgeous legs go on for days, she has high cheekbones and glossy pink lips, and her emerald green eyes are lit up like a firefly in the night. Her creamy skin looks like porcelain, and a calm expression is settled over the beautiful features of her face as she gazes across the ocean.

 She is definitely not from around here. Even if not for all of the evident signs, he would remember seeing a lass like her.

 Killian watches from the shadows of the pier, trying not to be seen. There’s an aura about her that pulls him in like waves of the sea. Before he knows it, she is walking away, leaving him dizzy and discombobulated as he struggles to remember what he was doing. He has to shake his head and collect his bearings, heading for home in his blue Mustang, but how in the bloody hell is he supposed to forget a woman like her?