Pony Pleaser

by Craine

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Trixie, Rarity
Length: 9308

If Rarity knew that one drunken night could make ponies subjugate themselves to her will and happiness... she'd have stopped drinking years ago. --Trarity--

Rarity wakes up with a splitting headache, a hatred for light and sound, fuzzy memories she's sure are better left forgotten, and Trixie Lulamoon clung onto her beneath the covers.

Join Rarity as she struggles to understand how and why the most boastful mare in the universe has dedicated every living breathing moment to please her. And feel free to laugh at Rarity's pitiful attempts to hate it.

Rated "Teen" for suggestive themes, implied alcoholism, innuendo, and crack-shipping syndrome... Don't judge me.

Enjoy!

Published 2014-02-28 05:50:06 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-01 07:19:50 UTC

Part One

Rarity didn’t give up. Not often, anyway.

In her line of work, giving up meant pinching pennies and living off canned yams for a week. Giving up added another failure to an unspoken list of failures. If a dress needed that extra pattern, or that extra trim, Rarity would do so with knitted brows and a squared jaw. If a meal needed to be skipped, it was skipped. If sleep needed to wait, then by the sun, it would wait.

And it was always worth it.

Rarity wouldn’t carry herself the way she did if she gave up. She wouldn’t be who she was if she gave up. She wouldn’t be a blistering success, who mailed rain checks to Canterlot clients. Canterlot. Clients. She wouldn’t fend off obsessed stallions and mares alike with sticks. She wouldn’t receive free spa treatments on weekends. Those were the merits of a winning pony. And that’s exactly what Rarity was.

So why did this mare of incalculable success wake up one morning with a groan and a loose curse?

Being tangled in her red sheets with pillows scattered around her floor wasn't the reason. Nor the beating migraine and acute awareness of light and noise. Not the cloudy haze that filled her mind when she tried to remember what the Hell she did last night. Not even the bitter acidic taste of booze behind her throat.

But Trixie Lulamoon? Sleeping? In Rarity’s house? In her bed? Clung around her chest? Definitely.

Like any sensible pony who personified eloquence, grace, and good manners, Rarity screamed and hurled the intruder away with her magic. If Trixie hadn’t hit the wall so hard, or was even recognizable at the time, Rarity wouldn’t have drowned the shouting magician with apologies. When Rarity did recognize her, the interrogation began.

Why was Trixie in Rarity’s bed? Evidently, she was ‘invited’ to stay warm. Why was Trixie in Ponyville to begin with? Evidently, Rarity ‘escorted’ her from Manehatten. Why didn’t Rarity just stay at a Manehatten hotel? Evidently, Coco Pommel tried and failed to convince her to find one. What did Coco Pommel have to do with this? Evidently, last night was a celebration for Coco’s success as a fashion assistant.

And there it was; full clarity.

The drinking, the dancing, the intimate meetings between her face and the floor, her arms and lips pried off of random ponies. Rarity had made a right mule of herself, and she didn’t need a clear memory to understand that. Coco must have kept Rarity on a leash in her wild haze, and the unicorn swore, by Celestia’s mane, she’d find that sweet little thing and apologize. Vigorously.

Before that, however, she’d have to get out of bed. Which normally wouldn’t be a challenge. Of course, normally, an azure hoof wouldn’t bear down on her chest. Trixie demanded Rarity to stay in bed and rest. As preposterous as that sounded—being ordered in her own home, by a pony who didn’t belong there, that is—hearing the words ‘I’ll make breakfast’ was just outright absurd.

But, evidently, Rarity agreed to this little set up the other night. Which only hurled another volley of questions at Trixie. Most of which Rarity was too flustered to remember even as she thought them.

“What in the seven pits of Tartarus did we do last night?”

That question stuck. And as the words barreled from Rarity’s mouth, they stopped Trixie right at the bedroom door. Trixie turned to the other unicorn with a shade of blue that most certainly wasn’t that dark before.

“We, ah… talked,” Trixie said.

“Talked,” came Rarity’s flat response.

Trixie turned away again and said, “Talked...”

Oh, yes. Of course. That’s the only logical explanation for sleeping in Rarity’s bed, and making her breakfast. Made perfect sense.

Rarity frowned as her ‘guest’ sauntered away. Clearly, this was some kind of scheme. For what? Rarity could only hypothesize. Last she heard about Trixie, her and Twilight Sparkle were on… reasonable terms. And she did promise to never set hoof in Ponyville again.

Yet there she was. And as Rarity defiantly hopped out of bed, galloped down the stairs, stopped at the kitchen, and gawked at the other mare flipping burnt pancakes, Rarity was determined to find the truth.

The truth. Yes. That’s exactly why Rarity hadn’t called the proper authorities the moment she saw the showmare. That’s exactly why she chomped through the crispy monstrosities that used to be pancakes.

As for why she let Trixie wash her dishes, dust her furniture, and mop her floor? Well, it did allow her to catch up on her latest design. And polish her schedule for next week. And save her hooves from routine scuffs and smudges—but that was just a side effect. By that day's end, Rarity vowed to find the truth.

She failed.

She’d spent hours through the day and into the late night observing Trixie, scrutinizing her. From the springy steps Trixie took from task to task, to every swing of those hips when she dusted furniture, Rarity almost never looked away from her. But she saw no evil end, no ulterior motive. Trixie smiled as she cooked, whistled as she cleaned, and blushed when she caught Rarity staring.

The next day proved no different.

Rarity woke up in an empty bed, as per their agreement, and cantered downstairs where a shivering Trixie lied on her couch, curled in the blanket she was given.

Several questions—including why Rarity felt a sting in her chest, and why on Earth she’d soberly let Trixie stay the night—raced in her head. Even as she prodded the shivering showmare awake, Rarity tried to make sense of it.

But Rarity couldn’t make sense of it. Even when a smile as impossibly tired as it was beautiful greeted her, Rarity searched for answers that weren’t there. And she searched on and on as Trixie hopped up, folded her blanket, and pranced to the kitchen.

Pans and cooking sheets clanked in the kitchen, and Rarity found herself trapped by indecision.

Clearly, this poor mare had no place else to go and was too proud to admit it. Rarity couldn’t very well look at that sparkly wide grin and turn it out the door. She couldn’t just lift her nose to the service Trixie so desperately provided.

What was another day? Yet another question Rarity would kill to have answered.

But like the rest, the answer never came. And like the first morning she woke up with Trixie clued to her chest, Rarity only had more questions. Like how long Trixie planned to stay, why she listened when Trixie demanded her not to lift a hoof, and how in the jumping jellybeans Trixie could approach Opalescence without getting mauled.

That last one got Rarity’s attention. Not since Fluttershy had anypony gotten so close to her cat.

Yet there Trixie was, playing with her, rolling with her, even cuddling her without a single claw to her face. Rarity dared to admit she was actually jealous, watching how Trixie occasionally laid on the floor and huddled a purring Opalescence in her arms like a lioness would her cub, nuzzling gently behind the cat’s ear.

It all settled on one thing. An impossible thing. An answer out of thousands of possible answers. Trust. Opalescence trusted Trixie. And whether she accepted it or not, Rarity now knew she could trust her too. She didn’t, of course, oh no.

Trust implied that Rarity didn't need to spend every waking moment watching Trixie. Trust implied that Rarity could've left Trixie alone in her home while she ran errands. Trust implied changing Trixie’s sleeping arrangements.

And, of course, trust meant giving up—accepting that Trixie meant her no harm.

Rarity didn’t trust Trixie. She didn’t want to trust Trixie. Hell, she didn’t even want her there to begin with. In fact, Rarity often paced in her room, wearing her carpet ragged as she murmured to herself. Oh, the excuses she created: I can’t afford an extra mouth to feed. I’m used to living alone. If I wanted a maid, I’d hire one.

Every one of those excuses fell dead behind Rarity’s throat or, with Trixie’s every good deed, slipped out as a stupid ‘thank you’.

It was preposterous. Somehow, Trixie was using Rarity—taking advantage of her generosity—like any underhanded pony would. She was just trying to soften her up, to pry away at her guard so she could exact some kind of revenge.

But…

Not once had Rarity suggested, or even allowed Trixie to leave Carousel Boutique. The fact that Trixie never asked, or that she ducked beneath the windows she passed by, locked a silent agreement between the two unicorns.

And why not? Rarity was an idol in her village. The go-to fashionista. The token drama queen. Ponies looked up to her. If anypony ever found out why she stayed inside more than usual, much less who’d been staying inside with her…

The scandal would be catastrophic. She’d be in the papers, her name slandered with an advertised affair that would be completely untrue. The smiles and warm greetings from old acquaintances would turn to cold disgusted frowns. Ponies she didn’t even know would point and laugh at her.

She’d be a great big joke. Ponies would lose respect for her, and in turn, her credibility would crumble like ash in her mouth. Business would dry up, letters from future clients would cease, the competition would storm in and trample on the remains of her career.

And her friends…

Trixie was never leaving that shop.

Ever.

For a while, it worked out. Ponies would push that door open, holding their torn suits or dresses, Rarity would throw on her prize-winning smile, promising easy fixes and a generous discount or two, and Trixie would dive behind the couch, or lock herself in the bathroom. Problem solved. Trixie wasn’t chased around town by a seething angry mob, and Rarity’s reputation remained untouched.

If only Rarity could remember how to say ‘no’.

It was Trixie’s stupid grin that made her forget. A grin Rarity was forced to be intimately familiar with no thanks to her sister, Sweetie Belle. A grin that only a job well done could give. A grin filled with hope that Rarity was thoroughly pleased. A grin that would be crushed if Rarity ever turned away from those burnt pancakes, or yelled if her wool sweaters were sun-dried, or fainted if her inspiration room was cleaned—heaven forbid.

But the last straw? The straw that had Rarity sitting in dim light, rubbing her hooves together and discussing ‘how-to-get-rid-of-Trixie’ schemes with herself? When she started to like it.

Whatever inconceivable evil Trixie planned, it was working. Like a charm. Rarity knew it the night she invited Trixie to sleep in her room where it was warmer. Every morning, when Trixie nudged her awake and asked what she fancied for breakfast, Rarity smiled. That smile always dropped when Trixie returned it.

Trixie always took Rarity’s sheets and pulled them back over her, and Rarity always stayed in bed until she was called down. Trixie, Rarity suddenly noticed, always snatched a peek at her before she left that bedroom.

There were even times when Rarity furbished her clothing designs while Trixie, having finished her chores, watched.

The moment Trixie asked about her technique and her knowledge of seasonal colors, accenting trims, and unsightly frills, Rarity was stunned, but she answered those questions all too gratefully.

She often went on tangents and detail much too thick. Detail that would bore a pony like Applejack to tears. Or make a pony like Rainbow Dash groan and fly out of Carousel Boutique. Through the roof, even.

But Trixie?

Trixie listened. With her rump pressed firmly on the floor, and her tail sweeping back and forth behind her, Trixie gave her hostess her undivided attention with bright eyes and curt nods. In a severe lapse in judgment, Rarity asked for the other mare’s consultancy. Which, to her disappointment, was declined. Trixie flat out told her she didn’t want to ruin something that was inherently beautiful.

For the rest of that day, Rarity’s face grew hot every time Trixie looked and spoke to her, and always turned away to hide it. Perhaps Rarity misinterpreted Trixie’s words. Perhaps she just wanted to believe Trixie was talking about her and not her clothing designs. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps Rarity was literally going insane.

Or worse—perhaps Rarity actually started to trust the showmare.

Yes. Definitely insane.

One would think Rarity to just say, ‘Get out of my shop’, by that point. But she didn’t. Instead, she left Trixie alone in her shop while she ran errands. She left her beloved cat in Trixie’s care—to be loved, fed, and pampered.

Rarity even let Trixie sleep in her bed.

It was the right thing to do, of course. Ponyville nights were nippy wherever one stayed, and Rarity’s room—beyond the toasty folds of her bed sheets—was no different. Besides, Trixie was still cold, huddled in a ball on the rug beside the bed. Rarity couldn’t very well allow this.

Oh, the smile that broke Trixie’s face when Rarity pulled the covers aside and said, ‘Come on’. And the Olympic leap onto that bed that tossed and ruffled those sheets with extreme prejudice. A mental note to chew Trixie out for that was completely forgotten the next morning.

When Rarity woke up with the other unicorn clung to her chest.

Perfect. She’s a cuddle bug.

Yes. A cuddle bug: ponies that latch around the warmest thing in their sleep.

Oddly enough, Rarity didn’t move. She just lied there and watched. The showmare’s rhythmic breath, the stirring and nudging whenever Rarity moved even an inch. So peaceful—nothing like the boastful arrogant magician she’d met years ago. And certainly nothing like the tyrant that enslaved her village.

Rarity smiled as Trixie nestled harder against her. She brought her white hoof across that silver bed-ruffled mane, smoothing the squiggly strands.

Trixie stirred. Then she woke, those misty magenta eyes creaking open, looking up into bottomless indigo. Rarity grimaced; she hadn’t meant to be caught staring, never mind waking the mare.

Just as Rarity opened her mouth to apologize, Trixie buried her face back where it was. Rarity gasped.

“Five more minutes,” came Trixie’s mutter from Rarity’s chest.

The fashionista was awestruck, not because Trixie made no effort to tear herself away. No. Rarity lied frozen in those sheets because she didn’t want to get up either. And honestly, it scared the diamonds right off her flank.

She wanted to scream, to pry those blue arms away and leap out of bed, to accuse Trixie of things that may or may not have been fair.

Rarity fell back into her pillow and snoozed for five more minutes instead.

It became routine, as natural as breathing.

For days onward, the unicorns woke, Trixie made breakfast, they ate together, Trixie cleaned, Rarity polished her schedule and handled clientele, Trixie watched Rarity craft her masterpieces, Opal was fed and pampered, Trixie slinked, scooted, and shimmied from hiding spot to hiding spot avoiding Rarity’s customers, and they’d both end the night sound sleep together.

A cycle that, Rarity decided, wasn’t too terrible.

That is, of course, until Fluttershy walked in on Trixie dusting the display room.

When Rarity heard an all-too-familiar scream from her balcony, she added ‘forgetting Thursday spa-date with Fluttershy’ to her list of failures.

When Rarity reached halfway down the stairs to face the music, Trixie was already spewing some nonsense about being Rarity’s ‘fashion consultant’ to cover the truth. Trixie’s cascading sweat and painfully forced smile made Rarity count her blessings, fully believing Fluttershy would detect the lie, leave, and never return.

But to Rarity’s near-heart attack, Fluttershy believed it. She very well nearly fell down the stairs when Fluttershy emerged from her reclusive ball, gave eye contact, and started talking with Trixie.

Before Rarity knew it, both ponies sat at her guest table, giggling and joking like they’d known each other for years. For an instant, Rarity believed this whole thing was some cruel joke by her friends, to teach her a thing or two about binge-drinking.

“Rarity, why didn’t you tell me Trixie was so well-versed in fashion?” Fluttershy said.

Because nopony ever told me,Rarity thought.

And that was true. Trixie had spoken of seasonal colors, accenting trims, and unsightly frills as though Rarity had personally taught the mare herself.

In fact… Rarity did teach the mare herself. Because she asked, and because she watched.

Genius. That’s what it was. Pure genius. A perfect ploy. A cover up as only a true magician could possibly do.

Admittedly, Rarity was a bit jealous that she hadn’t thought it herself. Understandable, though; she was practically slamming her face against a wall trying to figure out how to be rid of Trixie.

Her mind wandered as Trixie yammered on with her little fib. Perhaps, if even for a little while, having an assistant wouldn’t be so bad. Even if it was Trixie.

She could see it clear as water; the two would wake early in the morning. Trixie would trot to the kitchen and brew Rarity’s coffee, no longer having to ask how she liked it.

They would step into the inspiration room, coffee mugs in their magical grasps, and sketch their inspirations. They’d mull over their own work, then each other’s. They’d debate those seasonal colors, accenting trims, and unsightly frills, but would never argue.

When the final planning stages were done, and she nibbled at the daffodil sandwich Trixie was all too happy to make her, Rarity would bring their visions to life.

She’d work hours into the midday, stopped only by that familiar creak in her neck. A creak that eager blue hooves would knead and caress. All tension and the will to work would leave Rarity with sighs and moans.

Rarity would levitate her needle and thread away, and fall gently on her stomach. Trixie would smile from above and cast herself on top of the other mare, straddling her proudly. Those hooves would press and roll deep into Rarity’s neck and back, filling the room with crackles and breathless moans.

And whenever Rarity would try to discuss their next assignment, Trixie would shush her with stronger hooves and a whisper that would prickle at Rarity’s skin.

“Let me please you…”

Rarity would relax, expecting an even better massage, but would be lifted to her hind legs instead.

Her face would burn, staring down at the surprisingly strong arms locked around her waist, then back at eyes that commanded her every breath. Those arms would twist her around, forcing her front to Trixie’s. That scorching breath would fill Rarity’s nose, and those blue lips would pull back into that confounded grin.

And with a single whispering coo, Trixie would hoist Rarity off her hooves, press her down on that inspiration table and—

“Um… Rarity?” Fluttershy gently called.

At that moment, shrieking and startling the other ponies was justifiable in every way. After all, Rarity had just scared herself.

The absurdity of it all. To allow her mind such scandalous thoughts. If she hadn’t allowed herself to adapt to Trixie’s presence and servitude, to actually expect Trixie to wake up in bed with her, to expect breakfast when she came down stairs, to smile knowing Trixie made no effort to leave, then she wouldn’t have had this problem.

And the worst part about all this?

Rarity was too shell shocked to stop Fluttershy from saying her goodbyes and leaving. Too late to bribe the shy Pegasus within an inch of her life not to tell anypony else.

Fluttershy was gone, and with a grinning Trixie standing much to close, Rarity thought her entire life was gone too.

“Rarity?”

The unicorn jumped. “Wha-huh?”

Trixie stared at her in a way disturbingly similar to Sweetie Belle. “Shouldn’t we be going?” When Rarity raised a brow to this, Trixie tilted her head at the front door. “Your Fluttershy said she didn’t mind. And truly, I haven’t been treated at a spa since… Goddess, what’s it been? Three years?”

She would… Fluttershy would offer her shared spa treatment to Trixie. This, however, was the absolute perfect time to remember a skill Rarity had forgotten since Trixie’s stay: how to say—

“No!”

Trixie’s ears flattened and her smile furled down. Rarity bit her lip and glanced at the floor.

“I-I mean… don’t you think it’s a bit… risky?” Rarity asked with a conspiratorial whisper.

“Yes.”

Rarity stared and waited for a moment. Then for another moment. And another. When it became clear Trixie wouldn’t elaborate, Rarity blanched.

“You… you aren’t serious, are you?” Rarity asked.

Right then, in that moment, the sweet, tender, humbled mare that barreled into Rarity’s life was utterly destroyed. And a proud, spoiled, arrogant bitch took her place.

With her nose lifted, Trixie huffed and said, “After what I’ve put myself through the past six days? A spa trip really isn’t enough. But it’ll do.”

Rarity frowned. And Trixie caught it immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, for somepony so ‘generous’ you certainly don’t care for your guests,” Trixie said, turning her head away.

Rarity gasped with a hoof to her chest. “I beg your pardon? Firstly, I’ve been nothing but civil and tolerant with you. I've provided shelter, a warm bed, and food, for Celestia’s sake!” she said as Trixie’s hoof stamped the carpet. “Plus, it’s far too dangerous for you to leave. Too dangerous for either of us, really.”

The moment Trixie turned back to her with a dark scowl, Rarity realized her mistake.

“Right. Heaven forbid I go outside and stain your flawless reputation.”

Rarity nearly stumbled back, her brows curled up and her breath hitched. “I didn’t mean…” She paused. Then frowned again. “W-well it’s not like asked you to come here! You brought this on yourself!”

“Yes you did,” Trixie said matter-of-factly. Again, Rarity raised a brow, and Trixie narrowed her eyes. “Manehatten. You insisted.”

If Rarity’s eyebrows lifted any higher, they’d have torn from her head and slithered away. “I. Was. Drunk!” she protested.

Trixie jumped and her ears wilted at Rarity’s sharp tone.

“Honestly!” Rarity continued. “How could you possibly expect me to remember that night now, when I couldn’t remember it then?”

Trixie puffed her chest and squared her jaw, her voice raising just a little. “How could you expect me to believe you’ve forgotten everything you’ve said to me? The drinks you’d bought for me? The dancing? The—”

Even as Trixie eyes hit the floor with crimson cheeks, Rarity felt backed into a corner, like a beaten dog. She didn’t remember any of this. She couldn’t hope to remember any of this, and Trixie was antagonizing her.

She only remembered colorful blurs that may or may not have been ponies, swirling lights, rib-rattling music, a wooden floor that wouldn’t leave her face alone, the incessant ramblings of a fuzzy blue blur that sounded something like weeping, and the wild lips and tongues of ponies she was sure she’d never met…

“Oh heavens… Trixie, what did I—”

“I opened up to you, you know,” Trixie said, never looking at Rarity. “I told you everything, and… and you said I was…”

The half-lidded eyes. The calculated sway in the step. The soft whispers for sweet dreams at night. The longing stare that met her every morning… Right then and there, every question that dangled at Rarity’s nose in that crazy, crazy week, taunted her even more. Egging her. Daring her to find the answers.

And now, come Hell or high water, she would.

“What… what exactly did you hope to gain from all this? And what did I say to you?” Rarity’s voice was firm and unforgiving. And for the first time in that whole week, Rarity didn’t care. Trixie’s eyes shifted aside.

Rarity stepped closer and said, “Well?”

Trixie said nothing for an impossibly long moment. Then she turned toward the door and walked.

Between the unacceptable, inexcusable urge to launch forward and trample the other mare for turning her back, and the heart-stabbing fear of ponies seeing her leave the Boutique, Rarity’s neck fur stood on end.

“And just where do you think you’re going?!” Rarity demanded.

Trixie stopped, and Rarity allowed the tiniest smirk.

“Trixie is going to treat herself. With, or without you,” the showmare declared.

Rarity pointedly ignored Trixie’s returned third-person speech. “Oh? And with whose bits, exactly, hmm?”

Rarity was known and even revered for her attention to detail, a seamstress’s number one tool. But when she saw the brown sack levitated by Trixie’s magical grasp—that was there the whole time—Rarity felt like the most oblivious tramp in all of Equestria.

Trixie shook the bag and rattled the bits inside, and Rarity’s smirk completely vanished.

Fluttershy’s payment… Of course.

Trixie turned back to the door, and with every step, the knowledge of defeat crept around her chest, squeezing and digging into her lungs. But as Trixie’s hoof touched that door knob, Rarity knew that feeling was different. Something worse, actually.

Much, much worse.

“Stop!” Trixie stopped. “You… y-you’re not welcome in Ponyville, remember? What do you suppose would happen if anypony saw you?”

Rarity’s heart lurched as that lie spewed from her lips. Nopony ever said Trixie wasn’t welcome back. No, Trixie just promised to never come back. Perhaps Trixie didn’t remember that. Perhaps she’d come to her senses. She wouldn’t leave Rarity—the Boutique, that is. She couldn’t.

Trixie turned the door knob.

“You will not leave this shop!” Rarity’s voice punctuated with the force of gunfire, and her horn went aglow.

Trixie left that shop.

Rarity nearly screamed her lungs out of her chest. But she stopped. This was just another trick. And if that past week had proven anything, Trixie was full of those.

Rarity took a deep shuddering breath. She glance up and her glowing horn, entirely unclear what she was just about to do. The horn lost its glow and Rarity laughed at herself, but laughed more at Trixie’s transparence. Surely, Trixie was just toying with her, seeing how far she could go before thoroughly freaking Rarity out. But she wouldn’t freak out.

Trixie wasn’t a foolish mare. Not really.

She’d proven to be very inquisitive, what with learning how to flip a pancake without hitting her face with it. Or learning, against all odds, how to make Rarity’s bed just the way she liked it. Or learning how dimmed Rarity wanted her lights when she read a book. Or learning just how tightly Rarity liked—but never admit—to be held when they slept.

Trixie wouldn’t leave her—Carousel Boutique, that is. Unless she wanted to be chased with torches and pitchforks.

A minute passed. Trixie didn’t return. Another minute passed. Trixie didn’t return. And before Rarity knew, the ‘something worse’ from earlier returned. With a vengeance. Never realizing she was pacing and glaring at her front door, she barged out of her shop, shouting after Trixie with wide eyes and a hoarse voice.

Rarity skidded to a stop when she did see Trixie. Grinning at her. A mere ten feet from the boutique. With a few passing ponies staring at them. Rarity pursed her lips at Trixie’s dainty little ‘hmph’ and tail-flick.

Of course, Rarity thought, if she’d just done the intelligent thing and gave up, she wouldn’t have put up with this.

Trixie turned toward the spa and walked. Rarity followed her, frowning at the grass and grumbling something about ‘stupid servants’.

Author's Note

SURPRISE, F**KMOTHERAS!! I wrote a thing!

Part Two

Stupid servants… Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s exactly what howled in Rarity’s head again and again, her every breath filled with dense steam, and somehow bothered by the sweat trickling off her face and legs. The Ponyville spa was supposed to refresh and rejuvenate. The steam room was supposed to do this in stride. It didn’t.

Rarity wore the same frown as when they’d first arrived. The same frown she wore at the front desk, where Lotus and Aloe offered her and her escort a sideways stare.

She stared at the tiled floor, no relaxing sigh, no rolling eyes, no commentary on how the week’s filth fell from her coat. Nothing. Just frowning and kicking herself for leaving the boutique unlocked.

Trixie gently called her name, and she refused to answer.

Rarity merely looked up from the floor and frowned at the other mare sitting on the opposite bench. Trixie’s ears wilted and she forced a smile. Before long, though, the smile dropped.

“You aren’t still mad, are you?”

Rarity said nothing.

“Oh, come on, it’s a good thing we got away from that place. It got a little cramped."

Rarity said nothing, and Trixie returned the frown.

“What, now you’re not talking?”

Rarity frowned harder and said nothing.

“Oh, real mature. Why did you even bother coming? Killjoy.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes and said nothing. Trixie bit her lip and rubbed her sweaty elbow.

“I-It’s not like I was wrong, you know! I’ve done so much for you, how could I not treat myself?!”

Rarity said nothing.

“I’m not the bad pony here! Haven’t I proven that?!”

Rarity leaned back on her bench and said nothing. Trixie hesitated, her brows curling up.

“Haven’t I?”

Rarity crossed her arms, looked away and said nothing. Good thing too, she couldn’t look at the crushed expression on Trixie’s face.

“I’m not… I’m trying to be a good pony. I just wanted…”

Rarity shut her eyes tightly and said nothing.

“Please? Just talk to me.”

Soon, Rarity realized, her sweat came from more than just the steam. When a tender hoof pressed on her thigh, and a gentle muzzle brushed beneath her chin, that sweat became ice-cold.

“I’m sorry…”

That was it.

That was the straw that, not only broke the camel’s back, but broke the back of that camel’s entire species. Those two words brought Rarity to her senses after all this time, and made her mistakes as clear as any diamond.

She’d allowed herself to get attached to an enemy. She’d allowed herself to stare into those guilty eyes and see a cutthroat monster in their reflection. She’d allowed her heart to lurch at that apology, to believe she’d been wrong about Trixie. Even on the first day she’d met her.

But Rarity couldn’t have been wrong.

Trixie fooled her. She handled and manipulated her, and she did it on a lie. A lie of omission, yes, but a lie, all the same. Rarity had gotten used to Trixie—her voice, her smell, her calming presence. She deceived her like she did all that time ago. Like a master magician would.

And she still had no clue why.

So yes, that was it. Rarity was tired of being played with, of being lied to. No more games, no more lies and no more hiding. For either of them.

“What happened that night?” Rarity’s voice darted into the silence like a stone against glass

When Rarity finally opened her eyes, she saw Trixie sitting on the floor close to her, that tender hoof still placed on her thigh. And she finally looked down into Trixie’s sparkling desperate eyes.

“You said it was okay,” Trixie said.

Again, Rarity raised a brow, and Trixie continued.

“I saw you at that club in Manehatten with another mare. Coco Pommel, was it? At first, I avoided you like the plague. I mean, what were the odds of seeing a Ponyvillian in Manehatten?”

Rarity allowed a tiny smile, but dropped it immediately.

“I’d put on another show that night—first successful one in days—and I celebrated. Well… tried to celebrate.”

Rarity pursed her lips at the implication, but said nothing.

“You were stumbling the whole time. Guess you had a few drinks before you arrived, I don’t know.” Trixie paused and allowed her own smile. “You were so spry. So friendly with everypony. Honestly, I didn’t expect such volume and expression from a mare like you.”

By now, Rarity’s face was blank, but her ear were pointed and alert.

“Your friend Coco seemed a bit nervous, though. She always gave you shifty glances and whispered something to you I couldn’t make out.” Trixie laughed. “You always waved it off and partied on.”

Rarity noted the weightlessness of Trixie voice, and the swift sweep of her tail as she spoke.

“There were a few close calls. You know, when you’d almost see me. So I spent a good chunk of time as far away from you as possible. Easy to do with crowded groups and what not. Well, that, and you kept falling on your face.”

Rarity sputtered on herself searching for an excuse, but stopped and clamped her mouth shut.

“But when I saw you again…” Rarity’s eyes were now bright and unmoving. “When I saw you again, you were dancing. And… I couldn’t look away. Everypony was watching you, even the ponies dancing with their own partners. You were wild. Unchained. Like water from a broken dam.”

It took every cell in Rarity’s body not to say, ‘Go on’. Even more to keep the smile off her face. She failed the latter. Trixie’s hoof fell off of Rarity’s lap, reminding the fashionista that it was even there, and both of their smiles faded.

“Then you saw me,” Trixie said.

Rarity’s brows knitted as she said, “You sound disappointed.”

Rarity nearly shoved a hoof into her mouth. She couldn’t stop those words even as she said them. Thankfully, Trixie didn’t seem to mind.

“At first, maybe,” Trixie replied with a coy smile, her eyes never leaving Rarity’s. “I wasn’t really excited to have my name shouted in a crowded club and yanked onto the dance floor.”

Rarity covered a giggled with her hoof and blushed. “Oh my…”

“But when we started dancing, I forgot who you were. You were a completely different animal, nothing like the mare I saw back in Ponyville. You were so visceral, I could just…”

Trixie stopped when Rarity’s eyes halved and her blush darkened.

“I, ah… I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“A bit,” Rarity said.

Trixie cleared her throat. “Well then… We finished dancing, and you introduced me to your friend, Coco. We all sat together, and you bought us both drinks. And, uh, despite Coco’s warning, I returned the favor.”

“Heavens, how much did I drink?” Rarity asked.

Trixie grimaced and said, “Coco told me where the nearest hospital was. That’s how much you drank.”

“Ah.”

Trixie cleared her throat again, shifting on her haunches as her tail continued to swish to and fro.

“We started talking, and you asked me why I was there. I answered and, well... Heh. I guess I just couldn’t stop.” Finally, Trixie’s eyes hit the floor. “I told you everything; that I was homeless, traveling from town to town with my magic shows. That my reputation hadn’t improved much since my last… visit to Ponyville. That I’d give my horn just to look ponies in the eye and see anything but contempt.”

Rarity’s eyes softened. “What… what did I say?”

Her muscles twitched as Trixie’s hoof returned to her thigh.

“You said it was okay,” Trixie said just barely above a whisper. “That bad things happen to good ponies.”

Rarity allowed that tiny smile again. That certainly sounded like her, even if she was drunk. Soon, though, her smile dropped, knowing full well she may’ve never even thought that three years ago.

“What happened next?” Rarity said, somewhat mystified.

A sad smile crossed Trixie’s lips and she said, “I laughed in your face.” When Rarity gave a confused pout, Trixie looked back up at her. “I didn’t believe you, of course. I thought you were just saying that, or the alcohol was saying that. I don’t know. But you just… kept insisting.”

Trixie shifted away again, but a firm hoof guided her chin back in place, forcing her to look at that hoof’s smiling owner

“I-I… tried to leave. You grabbed my hoof and demanded me to stay. You kept tellng me all these… wonderful things. That our bad history wasn’t my fault, that I wasn’t a bad pony, I only made bad decisions. And I just kept pulling away denying everything you told me.”

Something like tears collected in Trixie’s eyes, and the softest quietest coo came from behind Rarity’s throat. Trixie tried to move her head away again, but was held by Rarity’s hoof.

“I slapped you…”

Rarity froze.

“And you… you kissed me.”

She knew it. Rarity knew it.She saw the signs, saw through the blurry memories, denied their very existence the whole time, and she knew it. But now, just as she’d established, there were no more lies. And there was no more hiding.

Rarity’s other hoof caught the tears hanging from Trixie’s eye, and gently clutched at her other cheek. “What happened next, darling?” Rarity said.

Trixie sniffled and continued. “You kept telling me I was a good pony, and never even told me how or why. But it felt so good, I wanted to believe you. I haven’t believed that in a long, long time.” The showmare smiled again. Widely. “You asked me the last time I slept in a warm bed. I answered and… w-well, you know the rest.”

Rarity felt Trixie struggle a bit harder against her grip, and she let go. If the seamstress didn’t know any better, she’d think Trixie looked disappointed when those hooves lifted from her face.

“Not quite…” Trixie’s smile dropped. “I recall your mention that I denied a Manehatten hotel. But if I was so… inebriated… how on Earth did we make it to Ponyville. Or my Boutique for that matter.”

“I knew where you lived.” Rarity’s eyes widened with something like fear, and Trixie rolled her eyes. “Amulet?”

“Right, right. Of course.” Rarity said. “I suppose you’ve kept tabs on all of us during that time.”

Clearly, Trixie was the designated driver, so to speak, if she was sober enough to remember what train to take. Or what a train even was. There was still one last thing, however, Rarity needed to know.

“Trixie… When we arrived at my Boutique…”

Rarity could see it in Trixie’s face. The fear. The panic. The blush so red it couldn’t have possibly been healthy.

“Well, we got there, and… you were still so full of energy.” Trixie looked away, and this time Rarity let her. “You gave me a tour, dancing and twirling all the while. Laughing. You were so…”

Rarity’s smile turned coy.

“Uh… You told me what you did for a living, but I was, ah… distracted,” Trixie said.

“Oh?”

“By all the lovely antiques, that is!” Trixie blushed harder and took a deep breath. “You said there’s always room for one more. Then you collapsed on the floor. Just… laughing.”

I must have been obliterated, Rarity thought.

“When you finally remembered where your room was, I helped you upstairs. And you just kept saying I was a good pony, and deserved so much more. I tried to guide you to bed, but you just couldn’t be still and...”

Rarity leaned closer and said, “And?”

Trixie looked up at Rarity’s expecting eyes, her own eyes desperate for escape. “And… that’s all.”

“Trixie.” Rarity noted the chest-gaping tone in her own voice, and the jump in the other mare’s shoulders. “And?”

“We… talked… the rest of the night.”

This time Trixie didn’t look away, almost as if staring hard enough with those glistening eyes would hide the obvious lie.

“Talked.” Rarity said flatly.

Trixie nodded slowly. “Talked...

Rarity didn’t pry. The desperation practically leaking from Trixie’s eyes begged her not to. Instead, Rarity leaned back on her bench, pressing her matted mane against the warm tile.

“Very well,” she said.

Rarity noted the utter confusion on Trixie’s face, then smiled as the showmare relaxed. And after a few counted moments, Rarity sunk into the bench, and inhaled the eddies of steam, coating her airway with warmth and filling her lungs.

“Did you mean any of it?”

Rarity pulled away from the tile, a damp trail of purple mane on the tile, and looked down at Trixie. To Rarity’s surprise, Trixie hadn’t moved from that spot. And for the first time, she realized just how close she actually was, how warm her breath was on Rarity’s waist.

“T-that’s not what I meant to say,” Trixie said, pressing a hoof hard against her temple. “I mean… They say ponies don’t lie when they’re drunk. And I knew you wouldn’t remember anything the next morning, but what about now? Am I… Do you still think…?”

Rarity smiled.

“That depends, darling,” she said leaning closer to the other mare. “Did I really agree to you cooking breakfast that night?”

And there it was: the flattened ears, the glistening eyes, the bitten lip. Finally, every question Rarity had for that whole week was answered. Like a filly with her hoof caught in the cookie jar, Trixie lowered her head and shook it.

“I… I didn’t mean to lie to you. Hay, I didn’t even want to be there when you woke up. I just…” Rarity’s smile dropped at that. And Trixie caught it. “I just wanted to be all those things you said. To see if I could. To see if it was enough to count.”

Rarity tilted her head and said, “Count?” Her voice was kind, gentle as the steam slicking their coats. “Count for what?”

Trixie started shaking, and Rarity saw that terrible, unacceptable moisture in those eyes. “For… for all the horrible things I’ve—“

Rarity pressed her hoof against those soft blue lips. “Trixie. You’re a good pony,” she said.

She meant it. And as Trixie’s ears rose like the corners of her mouth, Rarity was sure she’d never meant anything more in her entire life.

“You’ve changed so much…” Rarity whispered.

She meant that too. Trixie had changed.

From the morning she’d first woke beside Rarity, Trixie made that quite clear. She was well-mannered, dutiful, and clean. She didn’t parade around Carousel Boutique like she owned it. She didn’t try to poison her or her cat—although the burnt meals were a close second. She didn’t try to seize Ponyville and bear down on it with a domineering hoof.

No. For six days, Trixie had subjugated herself to near-slavery to please her hostess. To be a good pony.

And she’d succeeded entirely.

“Of course,” Rarity withdrew her hoof, “if you’re still unsure…” She tilted and caressed the back of her neck with the tiniest cringe. “I’ve had the most dreadful creak in my neck and back lately.”

Trixie’s ears jutted up, alert and ready. Rarity couldn’t help but giggle, remembering that exact reaction whenever she asked Trixie a favor. Like dimming the lights, making tea, or reading to her.

“Lie down for me.”

The edge of finality to Trixie’s words took the oxygen right from Rarity’s chest. And for reasons that frightened her more than foal-sitting, Rarity grew excited—eager for the hooves that would press and roll against her tense, delicate backside.

Rarity watched Trixie back away, ignoring the blurry vision that had everything to with the steam, she decided. With a feather-light touch, Rarity’s hooves were on the tile and her soft belly followed suit. As she crossed her arms beneath her chin, Rarity waited.

And waited.

For several moments, the seamstress felt no hooves on the slick of her back. The seconds ticked on, Rarity tensed, and her face reddened.

“Trixie?”

There was a small gasp. “O-oh! I’m sorry, I, ah… zoned out for a moment,” Trixie said. Rarity nearly jumped the showmare’s long-anticipated touch. “You’re just so…”

Rarity couldn’t not smile by this point. And a mischievous tug in her chest sharpened that smile.

“Hm? What was that, dear?” Rarity asked.

“I-I… Nothing. I’m just rambling again,” Trixie replied.

Rarity raised a brow. “Oh? Distracted by all the antiques in the steamroom, I see,” she teased.

Considering there were no antiques in the steamroom at all, Rarity received nothing but silence. And with a taut flex of her back, she smiled even more at Trixie’s breathless huff. Finally, Trixie’s other hoof joined the cause, and she got right to work.

And Rarity was certain she’d never been more uncomfortable in her entire life.

Indeed, Trixie made well on her silent promise, pressing and rolling her hooves against Rarity’s back. Actually, those hooves buried themselves in Rarity’s shoulder blades, and she hissed through her teeth.

“How does that feel?”

“It… it feels—” Rarity cringed. “Ough.”

A sharp breath escaped Trixie’s nose, and Rarity shivered as it brushed against her glistening back. Those rough inexperienced hooves changed their technique, caressing Rarity’s neck with little circles instead.

“Better?” Trixie asked.

Rarity tensed again, and Trixie frowned.

“N-no,” Rarity answered, her arms now uncrossed and prone to the tile. “Maybe you should—“

“No. I got this.”

With a defeated whine, Rarity pressed her cheek against the floor and tried to think of all the good in her life.

It was strange that every blessing she counted—the same ones she counted when Sweetie Belle and her friends slept over—now had a splash of Trixie to them. But every time she meditated on that, those damned hooves pushed a muscle the completely wrong way, or came a bit too close to cramping a joint.

“Guh. Trixie, I beseech you,” Rarity said, lifting her head off the tile, “Let us find another way to—“

“No!” Rarity’s eyes darted left and right as a firm hoof pressed against her head. “I can do this. Just relax.”

Rarity frowned. “It hurts. And I’d very much appreciate it if you—“

Trixie swiftly threw a hind leg over Rarity’s dock and straddled her down. Rarity’s sentence was sucked right back in with a sharp gasp.

“Trixie is going to please you, and that is the last we will speak of it!”

Ironically, in any other circumstance—say, if Trixie had a clue what she was doing—she might’ve had a point there.

But Trixie was failing; Rarity was not pleased. And as those hooves dug and crushed into her back even harder, grinding muscle to bone, Rarity was quite sure she’d wake up in the hospital, paralyzed from the neck down.

Soon, however, Rarity’s desperate grimace furrowed into a deep dark scowl. Right then, the urge to buck her assailant off and trample on her, blurred her eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was her instinct to escape from danger, or the maddening notion that Trixie literally tried to hurt her.

Maybe Trixie hadn’t changed after all. Maybe the last six days were just a ploy. Maybe Trixie just wormed into Rarity’s life—got her comfortable, got her attached—for this single moment. Just as Rarity thought the first time.

Rarity was stupid to second guess herself; Trixie being at the right place and time for Fluttershy to walk in? Crafting a story with such deftness and skill that Rarity started to believe it herself? Leaving Carousel Boutique, knowing full well how much that threatened Rarity’s reputation?

How could she have been so blind?

“Almost…”

Trixie hadn’t changed at all. She was still the same deceitful creature that contaminated Ponyville’s soil with her ‘magic tricks’. The same soulless tyrant that made Rarity sew the most horrendous mockeries to old-world art in Trixie’s honor.

“If I can hit just the right spot…”

But Rarity would have no more of it. She’d buck this evil incarnate off her dock and turn her into the proper authorities. She should have done that when they woke in bed together—

“There!”

A deep crackle and pop echoed into the steam room.

“Uhnga!” Rarity’s body went as rigid as a tree trunk, then turned to complete mush. With a rather spectacular thud, her face hit the tile. “Mmmmm…”

Trixie relaxed her own muscles, her strokes now gentle and rhythmic. “Now. How does that feel?” she asked.

Rarity could hear the smirk in Trixie’s voice and frowned.

With her strength quickly zapping, Rarity lifted her face and pressed her chin against the tile. She wanted to say she didn’t like it—that Trixie was still hurting her—and three different times, she made the attempt. If not for the raspy moans escaping her throat, Rarity may have very well succeeded.

Trixie huffed above her and said, “Would you believe I’ve never done this before?”

The remarkable list of answers to that erased Rarity’s frown, but when she picked one of those answers, those sickening, detestable, marvelous hooves pushed and popped knots out of her lower back.

Between the growing warmth on her dock, and swearing those knots weren’t there before, Rarity simply didn’t know what was right anymore.

One moment she was ready to turn Trixie in, and actually watch the trial where they’d sentence her for her crimes. The next, Rarity was biting back moans and wholly believing she would die if those hooves ever stopped.

A deeper knot popped from Rarity’s lower back.

“Oh, Trixie…”

Rarity didn’t even have the decency to blush when Trixie giggled above her.

For minutes, the steam room was filled with crackles and breathless moans. The knots that shouldn’t have been there were long-since gone, but the massage continued, filling Rarity’s vision with a different kind of haze.

The haze she saw as she snuggled in bed. The haze she saw when Trixie turned off the lights and crawled into that same bed.

A cold spike met Rarity’s heart at the thought. Falling asleep here would surely have terrible consequences. Ponies who’ve waited in line far too long could’ve barged in and gawked at the spectacle. Some who may’ve been eavesdropping could’ve blown the whistle to Lotus and Aloe and got her permanently banned.

Or worse—much, much, worse—Rarity could’ve woke up in that steam room alone, cold and abandoned. She would cast her head to and fro, searching, gently calling Trixie’s name. But there’d be only silence, only her, her drenched coat, and her thoroughly pleased and relaxed muscles.

Rarity would leave that steam room to discover her session already paid for. And after a long futile search around town, Rarity would return home. Alone. She’d close the door behind her and see, for the first time, how empty Carousel Boutique truly was.

She’d enter her kitchen and make her own daffodil sandwich for the first time in a week. And eat it alone.

She’d notice the shamble she’d left the place before she left. And clean it alone.

She’d idly doodle some design she’d never use. And mull over it alone.

Finally, when nighttime cast its shadow over the sky, Rarity would crawl in that bed, nearly forgetting to turn off the lights. She’d snuggle against those covers, eyes wide and alert. Waiting. But nopony else would come. Nopony else would crawl under those covers with her. Rarity would realize just how cold her bed truly was. And sleep alone.

For days onward—weeks, months, maybe even years—Rarity would wake up alone.

All alone.

“Rarity…” a gentle voice that couldn’t have possibly belonged to Trixie whispered. “Rarity, wake up.”

Right then, Rarity felt her own shivers, and the muzzle nudging behind her ear. With a croaky moan, the unicorn’s eyes fluttered open.

“You fell asleep.” Rarity shivered again, hearing every tone in Trixie’s voice for the first time. “Bad dream?”

“Yes, I…” Rarity lost herself in Trixie’s closeness, her ear twitching at the scorching breath. “Thank you.”

“Mhmm…” Trixie cooed.

Rarity smiled and purred at the muzzle once again nudging her ear. With eyes closed and head tilted, Rarity allowed the affection, embraced it, invited it. And the affection came, those blue lips and nose brushing diligently unto her.

Rarity purred again, turned her head, and burrowed her own muzzle under Trixie’s chin. The showmare’s breath hitched, but soon it released gustily and she met Rarity’s actions with her own.

Rarity paused at the soft lips brushing against her ear, but for only a moment. She continued her nuzzling, harder, more forceful. And her own lips brushed against Trixie’s cheek. They stopped and they stared. One looking up, the other looking down. Eyelids halved. Breath shallow and quiet. Thoughts gone. Reason gone. Consequences damned.

They pushed forward and crushed their lips together.

It was beautiful. A union that cast even Rarity’s finest art into the garbage pile, that turned Trixie’s greatest, most revered stage performance into child’s play. A stumbling, desperate dance of lips, tongues, and years of denied affection.

They stopped, and with a mutual smack from their lips, jerked their heads back with broad eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” Trixie said.

“No, no,I… don’t know what came over me,” Rarity replied.

Rarity only just realized Trixie was still straddling her after she was dismounted. With red faces and stomach turning silence, both mares stood and faced one another.

“We… should go,” Trixie said. “Before we dehydrate.”

As Trixie sauntered passed her, Rarity strained to look away, but her ears followed Trixie’s every step, and her heart pulled tight the farther Trixie became.

Then, she felt it again. The same stomach twisting sickness she felt as Trixie left her Boutique for the first time. The ‘something worse’. Trixie’s every step were like guns firing at Rarity’s ear, growing louder and deeper the farther she went.

And right then, at that very moment, Rarity knew what she was missing. She knew a lot things in that moment. Things that ‘old’ Rarity would laugh at. She now knew the answer to every question. She knew that Trixie was indeed a good pony.

And she knew, more than ever before, how much she liked good ponies.

Trixie left the steamroom, and hastily--wordlessly--Rarity followed. In silence they traveled the cold hallway leading to the front desk. They paid for their session in that same silence, completely unaware of those same sideways glance from Lotus and Aloe.

They left the spa, their every step weightless and aloof, walking close. More than a few heads turned as they continued along the path, staring in awe. But it was fine. Those ponies didn’t exist. Not to Rarity. They didn’t exist on the way back to Carousel Boutique.

And they didn’t exist when they arrived.

Rarity stepped ahead and opened the door, reprimanding herself again for leaving it unlocked. She got over it, though. There were bigger things to take care of. Important things.

“Rarity. Listen, I…”

Beautiful things.

Rarity stomped her hoof on the doorstep and said, “Not another word.” Trixie jumped a bit, and shrank away from her hostess.

Rarity turned to the other unicorn, and nearly showered her with apologies when she saw that dejected, terrified face.

“I’ve given it much consideration, and I think…” Rarity’s face grew hot. “I think, if we’re to move on, and avoid future hang-ups, we should… talk… about what happened at the spa this afternoon.”

Instantly, the fear melted from Trixie’s face, and there was only confusion. Rarity waited a beat. Then that confusion turned to avid, wide-eyed wonder. And maybe, still, a little fear.

“T-t...talk?”

Rarity turned toward her shop and walked, making doubly sure her tail brushed under Trixie’s chin. She walked on. Slowly. Deliberately. Swayingly. She looked back with eyes that only years of honed femininity could give, and--as she expected--saw a blue face not quite as blue as it used to be.

Trixie wordlessly followed her. That door glowed with magic.

And shut gently behind them.

Author's Note

*paces back and forth*

It's drafted. A bonus chapter that has cooked for as long as this chapter is drafted and sitting is sitting in Gdocs, dammit. Honestly, it can go either way: end it here, or throw in some more of that wholesome Trarity. What do you ladies ad gents think?
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Not a WORD, Jenkins...