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The Pants Macabre
Nopony liked working the early shift at Bouffant’s Bobs and Beehives. The tips certainly weren’t good; most of Canterlot’s finest thought it beneath them to awaken before the crack of dawn to partake of such mundane necessities as a haircut. Neither was the clientele at that hour at all interesting to a young up-and-comer counting himself lucky for landing a job at a posh Canterlot salon; most real up-and-comers were still up partying at that hour.
And yet, each day he could, Zephyr Breeze volunteered to take the early shift. And each day, just as dawn cooked off the cool morning mists that hugged the cobbled streets of Canterlot, Zephyr Breeze would pause his snipping or sweeping to gaze out at the tall, sun-silhouetted mare who came swaying down the street with uncanny grace. Each day, his pulse would quicken as she passed Bouffant’s, giving him a brief but tantalizing glimpse of her cold, intense eyes, dark-grey braids, and whatever black and lacy ensemble she’d chosen to wear over her ash-toned, winged frame.
Zephyr lacked the words to properly describe the elegant and gothic assemblages of black buttons, black bows, black corsets, black gowns, or other, more ephemeral sundries—also black—in which she dressed. All he knew were the feelings of fire that the exotic pegasus excited in him, and that each day her path ended at a store across the street called “Inky’s Abyss.”
“Hey kid!” his boss would shout. “Quit gawkin’ and get back to work!”
And each day, Zephyr sighed, wishing he felt confident enough to talk back—or better still, to walk across the street and talk to her.
But each day, all he did was sign himself up for another shift, resigning himself to the bleak abyss of pining.
“I can’t do this anymore, man,” Zephyr spoke into a darkness broken only by one tiny votive candle and its reflection. “Every time I watch her go by, it’s like she drives another nail into my soul… and it’s like my hooves are poor pegasi trapped under ice, pounding with chill blood, yet with no way to escape. But like, in a good way?”
He glanced up, taking in the reflections of a massive frown and single upraised eyebrow on Discord’s mismatched face. “I have several questions,” he said slowly. “First of all: are they still seriously telling that old schoolfilly story about summoning me by saying ‘Discord, Discord, Discord’ in a darkened bathroom?”
Zephyr shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Only ’cause I’m paying special attention to Fluttershy’s immediate circle of relations on account of us… ah, well…” Discord frowned deeper, letting his lips descend off the bottom of his own face. “You are aware that I’ve… kind of… taken an interest in her? And before you object, I’ll have you know that interest is entirely honorable and very traditional for a Draconequus spending time with a mortal. We put our top priority on achieving mutual satisfaction at all hours of the day, night, and anytime she wants me to make it be!”
“Sure man, sure, I get it, you and Shy are friends—”
“Second question! Where’d you even learn the word ‘man?’ I should think you’d say ‘stallion,’ if that.” Discord narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t been through the magic mirror, have you?”
“Look man, it doesn’t matter—”
“Third question! Are you really so colossally oblivious that you were honest just now when you described myself and Fluttershy as ‘friends?’”
Something about Discord’s words made Zephyr wonder if he should pay closer attention to them, but he couldn’t resist groaning in frustration at now none of them seemed to be leading in the direction he was hoping to get. “Listen… I appreciate you coming here, but like I said, I really need some help! I don’t know how to talk to this girl, or how to get my flank moving to just walk across the street when I see her go by. And I… well…” Zephyr blushed with rare and genuine embarrassment. “It’s not like I got a lot of dudebros I can ask for advice with this sort of thing, y’know?”
Discord opened his jaw and wetted his lips, but then closed it again. This repeated several times at varying cadences, before he finally said: “Yes… I believe that.”
“So can you help me?”
After a bit of muttering and beard-scratching, a light bulb appeared over Discord’s brightening eyes. “So what you’re saying is that if I could hook you up with something that would help get your rump over and talking to this prospective ‘big twitty goth girlfriend,’ you’ll let me get back to… ah… look: you do know what me and Fluttershy are up to, right?”
Zephyr furrowed his brow. “I don’t want my rump to talk to her.”
Discord faceclawed. “And yet, that would probably get you to stop talking to me. Congratulations, broseph: you’re now the proud owner of the thing that any self-described goth girl wants most dearly in this world.”
“You mean…” Zephyr gave Discord an aggressive wink. “‘The Zeph?’”
Somehow—improbably—Discord managed to faceclaw twice, at the same time, with what looked like two of the same claw. “I mean the tight black pants, you… oh, wait, I forgot to actually—” He snapped his lion paw, and Zephyr jerked upwards as a sudden feeling of constriction sucked itself onto his barrel, nethers, and hindlegs.
“This bathroom is darker than the emptiness of solitude itself,” the pants said in an incongruously confident and rakish Trottingham accent.
Zephyr found himself prancing from side to side due to the sheer discomfort that clamped itself down on some of his most sensitive bits. “Whoa, mama! Discord, can you—?”
“Master Discord’s left us to fend for ourselves, I’m afraid.”
Following a few frantic glances about the small, darkened space, Zephyr reached over and flicked the light switch on, revealing his dingy apartment’s half-bath. Sundries in cracked white tile and porcelain lurked beneath walls in aging flower-themed wallpaper. Notably absent was the Draconequus. But Zephyr’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the desperately clingy pants that had somehow plastered themselves onto his back end, seemingly accentuating some parts while leaving little-to-nothing to the imagination about others…
“Pick your jaw up, mate.” Zephyr bushed beet-red as he realized it had come open. “There’s a good lad. Now c’mon, I’ll tell you how to style that mop of yours so it’ll raise the dead.”
“My…” One of Zephyr’s hooves drifted up toward his bun on instinct. “I… I guess… if you’re sure that you know what you’re doing…”
“Of course! Hollow ennui is just fine on its own, but trust me: it pairs even better with breathy kisses!”
Zephyr’s eyebrows climbed and his muzzle pulled into a wide grin at the thought of sharing her embrace—
“Oi! Quit that smiling! You’re kin to darkness now, not some ruddy schoolcolt!”
“Oh, right… sorry…”
“Come on, where’s your confidence?! Got our work cut out for us here, we do…”
Zephyr’s summoning of Discord had taken place on Friday night, at the start of a weekend. He’d meant to spent time talking with Discord, thinking things through, making a plan, practicing his approach, screwing up his courage, and being ready to finally cross that fateful street first thing Monday morning.
“Sod that noise,” the pants insisted. “True lords of night don’t slumber in their graves, unless they’re literally slumbering in their graves! No, you’re gonna catch her right before her store closes on Saturday afternoon. Play your cards right, and come Saturday night, you won’t be slumbering in that grave alone!”
And so Zephyr found himself trotting a familiar path to work, but under deeply unfamiliar personal circumstances—those being the insanely tight pants that seemingly drew everypony’s eyes that came anywhere near him, as well as the swept-forward, heavily-gelled “deathlock” manestyle that repurposed his beloved bun into a single sharp point that scooped down over his muzzle.
“Come on, now: strut! Yeah, work it!”
Zephyr blushed and squinted into the setting sun, trying to blot out the sight of wide-eyed ponies all around him on the busy sidewalk. “You’re so tight, it’s awful hard to work it when I can barely even shuffle it!”
The pants gave a throaty guffaw. “Just stick with me, lad, and I’ll see you through.”
The sun hung low and crimson in the purplish sky by the time Zephyr reached the wrought-iron latticework marking the entrance to Inky’s Abyss. He glanced across the street, eyeing the nondescript white door to Bouffant’s Bobs and Beehives, and felt a surge of pride at the realization that he’d at least crossed the street! Or maybe it was adrenaline… or maybe just nerves. His stomach danced an unsteady jig at the prospect of actually going further…
“You’ve already done the hard part, lad. Step through the doors, and the rest is as inevitable as death itself.”
Zephyr swallowed hard and tried to screw up his courage… but then was startled by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. He turned and beheld a pair of earth pony stallions whose coats were matted with what looked like white grease paint, and who seemed to have so much metal pierced and studded at various points that Zephyr couldn’t help thinking they’d be able to hock it for at least a month’s rent if they ever were down on their luck.
“Oh, s—sorry, guys,” Zephyr said, trying to step backwards… but his legs wouldn’t move.
“Now’s not the time to show weakness,” the pants urged. “Rule these grave-born minions!”
“I—I mean… go to heck, losers!”
The stallions stared slack-jawed at him, as if in disbelief at what they’d heard. Zephyr felt a similar sentiment from the pants.
“I’m just… gonna go inside now…”
Zephyr unlatched the heavy iron door and pulled it open, jumping slightly at the metallic squeal it made. He pressed inside with a determination borne more from not wanting to see if the guys outside would take his words personally than from really hoping to achieve his goal. Sounds of a pulsing, yet somehow somber, music assailed his ears. Similarly, his eyes beheld an almost uniform sea of black. It overwhelmed him, and distracted him, trying to differentiate the blackness of long coats from the near-black of patterned dresses, to say nothing of the glinting blackishness of various accessories on display racks or studded through the faces of the black-clad patrons. Zephyr stumbled through the black melee, uncertain quite where he was going—
“Agh!”
—until he plowed directly into her.
She fell back on her bottom with a sharp intake of breath, and fixed her piercing gaze upon him. All breath fled his body in a single overwhelming instant of panic. He wanted to reach for her, and help her to her hooves. But instead, he stood frozen.
Fortunately, the pants were there to give him a swift kick in the butt. Somehow.
“Ow!” Zephyr shouted, spinning about and rubbing his rump in a manner that he only regretted in hindsight.
“Now, you idiot! Do it! Do it now!”
“Ow… wow… whoa there, gentle… mama of the night,” Zephyr ad-libbed, struggling to recall the lines he’d practiced with the pants. He smiled as he realized that her eyes were wide and fixated on them. “Hey,” he said, accompanying the single word with a hoof-stroke through his mane… which he’d forgotten wasn’t back in his customary bun. “Y—You look positively ravishing.”
“Ohmigosh, where did you get those pants?”
Zephyr grinned like a fool regardless of what the pants shouted at him, because it was the first time he’d actually heard her voice. It was deep, and it flowed like smooth honey from her lips to his ears. Somehow he’d imagined it would be higher, or more petite—but he liked it. It was interesting, like her. Dark, rich, and captivating… just like her.
“Well, I’d like to tell you,” he said, remembering a line. “But you see, miss…?”
“Inky Rose,” she said, a faint smile quirking at her lips.
“Miss Inky Rose. Lovely, that. Well, only problem is, I’m kinda busy right now. I’m afraid I’d have to spend some time to talk you through the ancient and forbidden magics that I had to use to get it.”
Her smile deepened. “Would you, now?” The words made his heart race faster; their tone was truly intoxicating. “How much time would you need?”
He shrugged, and brushed a wing across his chest in the nonchalant manner he’d only ever managed without a prospective date present. “Maybe next time you get off, I could be there… and we’ll just have to see how much time that takes?”
Zephyr didn’t expect Inky to giggle. She met his look of surprise with one of her own, but then covered her muzzle with a hoof and cleared her throat. In an instant, her dark, aloof manner was intact once more, and she gave him but a single nod. “I close at seven. Dinner’s on you… and I make you no promises, other than listening.”
“Works for me, babe—OW!” Zephyr flinched at another slap from the pants, in the pants. “I mean… I’ll see you there, dark mistress of my night.”
He turned away and took off walking down a random black-swathed aisle with what he hoped came off as confidence. A few moments later, the pants started whooping. “Oh, lad, you did it! I can’t believe you did it!”
“Um… thanks for the vote of confidence?”
“I thought you’d stuck your hoof in your mouth for sure, but then you just kept with what we practiced… and look at you! You’ve got a date!”
“Yeah.” Zephyr couldn’t resist smiling. “I do!”
“But of course, you realize…” Zephyr felt an uncomfortable sensation of warmth from the pants. “A true Lord of Darkness doesn’t count in single drops of blood; he counts in oceans of it.”
Zephyr paused in mid-stride. “...He what?”
Without warning, the pants yanked him laterally, turning him to look across a display of black clothes at a smaller white unicorn with heavily mascara’d amber eyes and a slick black mane that included a single curl around her horn. Her eyes went wide at his sudden movement, but soon narrowed to what appeared to be normal for her.
“Look at this pretty young thing,” the pants said languidly. “I respect setting your sights on the store owner; she’s a haughty, intelligent creature, isn’t she? But a pony like that is bound to have competition for her heart. You should have your iron in another fire too, for when that happens.”
Zephyr’s muzzle pulled back in horror. The unicorn mare took a step back in some combination of surprise and disgust at his expression. And with equal or greater disgust, Zephyr said to the pants—though more directly to the mare—“Get off my arse this instant! The Zeph is not some two-timing hussy!”
She blanched, then backed away slowly.
“Oh, c’mon; you’re making a dog’s breakfast out of this. Trust me, she’d be easy prey!”
“The Zeph doesn’t want ‘prey,’” Zephyr shouted, starting to tug the pants downwards with his wingtips. “The Zeph wants a nice pegasus girl who he can fly home to dinner with mama!” His struggle intensified, as the pants seemingly clamped on tighter. “And… preferably a little bit hotter than that dang vixen Rainbow Dash, who spent ten years leading The Zeph on, and who needs to be shown that he can totally do better!”
The pants pressed ever-upwards, shouting insistently while threatening his blood circulation in spots that Zephyr didn’t fancy losing. And for his part, Zephyr kicked, pulled, and eventually reached around and tried to bite-tug the vile things off of him, losing his balance and falling into a display rack in the process. The myriad garments of black fell down over his head, cutting off his ability to see beyond his immediate struggle. There was little he could think to do but yanking in desperation, apart from cursing Discord for this odious “gift” in his few spare moments of lucid cognizance.
All at once, he felt a different kind of pressure on the back-half of his barrel, and heard another voice cutting in around the pants’ feverish ranting. As he pulled with all his might, he felt something else slip in by his hooves and wingtips, giving him the extra strength he needed to make progress. Inch by agonizing inch, the pants came down, barking offensively all the way—but they were coming down. And by the time they slipped down off his cannons and fully off his hind hooves, its voice dropped to a dead silence, and its thrashing abated entirely.
Zephyr froze in that silence, dreading who or what he might find if he emerged from the relative safety of the pile of clothes on top of him.
“Hey big guy,” said a voice that speared his heart with ice. “I figured that had to be a bit uncomfortable, but that must’ve been a serious pinch of death. Are you okay?”
He swallowed, and struggled to bite back tears, as Inky Rose lifted the clothes off his head. He met her cold but concerned eyes with a plaintive expression.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I just… I thought these magic pants that my buddy Discord gave me would help me make a good impression. Turns out they’re just a big ol’ pair of jerk, though! And I…” He looked away from her. “I didn’t mean to mess up your store and scare away any customers…”
“Magic pants from Discord?”
Zephyr glanced up, not expecting to find her holding them up with her wingtips, stretching them out, and examining them with a smile of startling warmth. She turned that smile on him, and extended a hoof toward him. “How’d you get your hooves on something like this?”
“Well, I…” Zephyr blinked, fearing that she was more interested in his connections than him.
“Don’t worry,” Inky said, seeming to pick up on his concern. “It’s just… I’ve seen you in the barber shop window some mornings, looking like you wanted to say something to me. And I guess I’ve spent enough time wondering what you’d say if you came out that door, that I totally didn’t expect you to come into my shop, try on the goth look, and show a bit of confidence. Gotta say, you didn’t do half bad… up to a point.”
He cracked an embarrassed grin, but then took her hoof in his own. He felt warmth radiating from it, contrary to her cold exterior. Strength, too; she effortlessly pulled him up onto his hooves. After dusting himself off, he gave her a shrug. “Well, confidence or not, I kinda blew it with the magic creepy-pants, eh?”
“So they’ve been enchanted with a personality?” Inky turned back to examining them for a moment, but then shot him another smile. “Sorry; I make all the clothes that I sell here, and I’m always looking for new materials. Chaos-infused magic fabric would be fun to play with… but… well, maybe sometime later.” She folded the pants up with her wings and set them down on a shelf. “Maybe I can let one of my staffers close up tonight; I’d like to get to know the stallion who keeps making impressions on me a little better.”
Zephyr felt his face flush, but for once it was not at all with embarrassment. His heart thudded audibly in his ears, and a deep smile overtook his muzzle.
“I think I’d like that,” he said, offering a hoof to her—and thrilling at the sensation of her touch.
Amidst the multi-hued chaos of the distant plane where Discord made his home, he casually folded and set down a newspaper he’d been reading, took one last puff from an ornate pipe, then winked.
“And that, my friends, is the story of how Zephyr Breeze finally got a girl in his pants.”
And yet, each day he could, Zephyr Breeze volunteered to take the early shift. And each day, just as dawn cooked off the cool morning mists that hugged the cobbled streets of Canterlot, Zephyr Breeze would pause his snipping or sweeping to gaze out at the tall, sun-silhouetted mare who came swaying down the street with uncanny grace. Each day, his pulse would quicken as she passed Bouffant’s, giving him a brief but tantalizing glimpse of her cold, intense eyes, dark-grey braids, and whatever black and lacy ensemble she’d chosen to wear over her ash-toned, winged frame.
Zephyr lacked the words to properly describe the elegant and gothic assemblages of black buttons, black bows, black corsets, black gowns, or other, more ephemeral sundries—also black—in which she dressed. All he knew were the feelings of fire that the exotic pegasus excited in him, and that each day her path ended at a store across the street called “Inky’s Abyss.”
“Hey kid!” his boss would shout. “Quit gawkin’ and get back to work!”
And each day, Zephyr sighed, wishing he felt confident enough to talk back—or better still, to walk across the street and talk to her.
But each day, all he did was sign himself up for another shift, resigning himself to the bleak abyss of pining.
“I can’t do this anymore, man,” Zephyr spoke into a darkness broken only by one tiny votive candle and its reflection. “Every time I watch her go by, it’s like she drives another nail into my soul… and it’s like my hooves are poor pegasi trapped under ice, pounding with chill blood, yet with no way to escape. But like, in a good way?”
He glanced up, taking in the reflections of a massive frown and single upraised eyebrow on Discord’s mismatched face. “I have several questions,” he said slowly. “First of all: are they still seriously telling that old schoolfilly story about summoning me by saying ‘Discord, Discord, Discord’ in a darkened bathroom?”
Zephyr shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Only ’cause I’m paying special attention to Fluttershy’s immediate circle of relations on account of us… ah, well…” Discord frowned deeper, letting his lips descend off the bottom of his own face. “You are aware that I’ve… kind of… taken an interest in her? And before you object, I’ll have you know that interest is entirely honorable and very traditional for a Draconequus spending time with a mortal. We put our top priority on achieving mutual satisfaction at all hours of the day, night, and anytime she wants me to make it be!”
“Sure man, sure, I get it, you and Shy are friends—”
“Second question! Where’d you even learn the word ‘man?’ I should think you’d say ‘stallion,’ if that.” Discord narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t been through the magic mirror, have you?”
“Look man, it doesn’t matter—”
“Third question! Are you really so colossally oblivious that you were honest just now when you described myself and Fluttershy as ‘friends?’”
Something about Discord’s words made Zephyr wonder if he should pay closer attention to them, but he couldn’t resist groaning in frustration at now none of them seemed to be leading in the direction he was hoping to get. “Listen… I appreciate you coming here, but like I said, I really need some help! I don’t know how to talk to this girl, or how to get my flank moving to just walk across the street when I see her go by. And I… well…” Zephyr blushed with rare and genuine embarrassment. “It’s not like I got a lot of dudebros I can ask for advice with this sort of thing, y’know?”
Discord opened his jaw and wetted his lips, but then closed it again. This repeated several times at varying cadences, before he finally said: “Yes… I believe that.”
“So can you help me?”
After a bit of muttering and beard-scratching, a light bulb appeared over Discord’s brightening eyes. “So what you’re saying is that if I could hook you up with something that would help get your rump over and talking to this prospective ‘big twitty goth girlfriend,’ you’ll let me get back to… ah… look: you do know what me and Fluttershy are up to, right?”
Zephyr furrowed his brow. “I don’t want my rump to talk to her.”
Discord faceclawed. “And yet, that would probably get you to stop talking to me. Congratulations, broseph: you’re now the proud owner of the thing that any self-described goth girl wants most dearly in this world.”
“You mean…” Zephyr gave Discord an aggressive wink. “‘The Zeph?’”
Somehow—improbably—Discord managed to faceclaw twice, at the same time, with what looked like two of the same claw. “I mean the tight black pants, you… oh, wait, I forgot to actually—” He snapped his lion paw, and Zephyr jerked upwards as a sudden feeling of constriction sucked itself onto his barrel, nethers, and hindlegs.
“This bathroom is darker than the emptiness of solitude itself,” the pants said in an incongruously confident and rakish Trottingham accent.
Zephyr found himself prancing from side to side due to the sheer discomfort that clamped itself down on some of his most sensitive bits. “Whoa, mama! Discord, can you—?”
“Master Discord’s left us to fend for ourselves, I’m afraid.”
Following a few frantic glances about the small, darkened space, Zephyr reached over and flicked the light switch on, revealing his dingy apartment’s half-bath. Sundries in cracked white tile and porcelain lurked beneath walls in aging flower-themed wallpaper. Notably absent was the Draconequus. But Zephyr’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the desperately clingy pants that had somehow plastered themselves onto his back end, seemingly accentuating some parts while leaving little-to-nothing to the imagination about others…
“Pick your jaw up, mate.” Zephyr bushed beet-red as he realized it had come open. “There’s a good lad. Now c’mon, I’ll tell you how to style that mop of yours so it’ll raise the dead.”
“My…” One of Zephyr’s hooves drifted up toward his bun on instinct. “I… I guess… if you’re sure that you know what you’re doing…”
“Of course! Hollow ennui is just fine on its own, but trust me: it pairs even better with breathy kisses!”
Zephyr’s eyebrows climbed and his muzzle pulled into a wide grin at the thought of sharing her embrace—
“Oi! Quit that smiling! You’re kin to darkness now, not some ruddy schoolcolt!”
“Oh, right… sorry…”
“Come on, where’s your confidence?! Got our work cut out for us here, we do…”
Zephyr’s summoning of Discord had taken place on Friday night, at the start of a weekend. He’d meant to spent time talking with Discord, thinking things through, making a plan, practicing his approach, screwing up his courage, and being ready to finally cross that fateful street first thing Monday morning.
“Sod that noise,” the pants insisted. “True lords of night don’t slumber in their graves, unless they’re literally slumbering in their graves! No, you’re gonna catch her right before her store closes on Saturday afternoon. Play your cards right, and come Saturday night, you won’t be slumbering in that grave alone!”
And so Zephyr found himself trotting a familiar path to work, but under deeply unfamiliar personal circumstances—those being the insanely tight pants that seemingly drew everypony’s eyes that came anywhere near him, as well as the swept-forward, heavily-gelled “deathlock” manestyle that repurposed his beloved bun into a single sharp point that scooped down over his muzzle.
“Come on, now: strut! Yeah, work it!”
Zephyr blushed and squinted into the setting sun, trying to blot out the sight of wide-eyed ponies all around him on the busy sidewalk. “You’re so tight, it’s awful hard to work it when I can barely even shuffle it!”
The pants gave a throaty guffaw. “Just stick with me, lad, and I’ll see you through.”
The sun hung low and crimson in the purplish sky by the time Zephyr reached the wrought-iron latticework marking the entrance to Inky’s Abyss. He glanced across the street, eyeing the nondescript white door to Bouffant’s Bobs and Beehives, and felt a surge of pride at the realization that he’d at least crossed the street! Or maybe it was adrenaline… or maybe just nerves. His stomach danced an unsteady jig at the prospect of actually going further…
“You’ve already done the hard part, lad. Step through the doors, and the rest is as inevitable as death itself.”
Zephyr swallowed hard and tried to screw up his courage… but then was startled by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. He turned and beheld a pair of earth pony stallions whose coats were matted with what looked like white grease paint, and who seemed to have so much metal pierced and studded at various points that Zephyr couldn’t help thinking they’d be able to hock it for at least a month’s rent if they ever were down on their luck.
“Oh, s—sorry, guys,” Zephyr said, trying to step backwards… but his legs wouldn’t move.
“Now’s not the time to show weakness,” the pants urged. “Rule these grave-born minions!”
“I—I mean… go to heck, losers!”
The stallions stared slack-jawed at him, as if in disbelief at what they’d heard. Zephyr felt a similar sentiment from the pants.
“I’m just… gonna go inside now…”
Zephyr unlatched the heavy iron door and pulled it open, jumping slightly at the metallic squeal it made. He pressed inside with a determination borne more from not wanting to see if the guys outside would take his words personally than from really hoping to achieve his goal. Sounds of a pulsing, yet somehow somber, music assailed his ears. Similarly, his eyes beheld an almost uniform sea of black. It overwhelmed him, and distracted him, trying to differentiate the blackness of long coats from the near-black of patterned dresses, to say nothing of the glinting blackishness of various accessories on display racks or studded through the faces of the black-clad patrons. Zephyr stumbled through the black melee, uncertain quite where he was going—
“Agh!”
—until he plowed directly into her.
She fell back on her bottom with a sharp intake of breath, and fixed her piercing gaze upon him. All breath fled his body in a single overwhelming instant of panic. He wanted to reach for her, and help her to her hooves. But instead, he stood frozen.
Fortunately, the pants were there to give him a swift kick in the butt. Somehow.
“Ow!” Zephyr shouted, spinning about and rubbing his rump in a manner that he only regretted in hindsight.
“Now, you idiot! Do it! Do it now!”
“Ow… wow… whoa there, gentle… mama of the night,” Zephyr ad-libbed, struggling to recall the lines he’d practiced with the pants. He smiled as he realized that her eyes were wide and fixated on them. “Hey,” he said, accompanying the single word with a hoof-stroke through his mane… which he’d forgotten wasn’t back in his customary bun. “Y—You look positively ravishing.”
“Ohmigosh, where did you get those pants?”
Zephyr grinned like a fool regardless of what the pants shouted at him, because it was the first time he’d actually heard her voice. It was deep, and it flowed like smooth honey from her lips to his ears. Somehow he’d imagined it would be higher, or more petite—but he liked it. It was interesting, like her. Dark, rich, and captivating… just like her.
“Well, I’d like to tell you,” he said, remembering a line. “But you see, miss…?”
“Inky Rose,” she said, a faint smile quirking at her lips.
“Miss Inky Rose. Lovely, that. Well, only problem is, I’m kinda busy right now. I’m afraid I’d have to spend some time to talk you through the ancient and forbidden magics that I had to use to get it.”
Her smile deepened. “Would you, now?” The words made his heart race faster; their tone was truly intoxicating. “How much time would you need?”
He shrugged, and brushed a wing across his chest in the nonchalant manner he’d only ever managed without a prospective date present. “Maybe next time you get off, I could be there… and we’ll just have to see how much time that takes?”
Zephyr didn’t expect Inky to giggle. She met his look of surprise with one of her own, but then covered her muzzle with a hoof and cleared her throat. In an instant, her dark, aloof manner was intact once more, and she gave him but a single nod. “I close at seven. Dinner’s on you… and I make you no promises, other than listening.”
“Works for me, babe—OW!” Zephyr flinched at another slap from the pants, in the pants. “I mean… I’ll see you there, dark mistress of my night.”
He turned away and took off walking down a random black-swathed aisle with what he hoped came off as confidence. A few moments later, the pants started whooping. “Oh, lad, you did it! I can’t believe you did it!”
“Um… thanks for the vote of confidence?”
“I thought you’d stuck your hoof in your mouth for sure, but then you just kept with what we practiced… and look at you! You’ve got a date!”
“Yeah.” Zephyr couldn’t resist smiling. “I do!”
“But of course, you realize…” Zephyr felt an uncomfortable sensation of warmth from the pants. “A true Lord of Darkness doesn’t count in single drops of blood; he counts in oceans of it.”
Zephyr paused in mid-stride. “...He what?”
Without warning, the pants yanked him laterally, turning him to look across a display of black clothes at a smaller white unicorn with heavily mascara’d amber eyes and a slick black mane that included a single curl around her horn. Her eyes went wide at his sudden movement, but soon narrowed to what appeared to be normal for her.
“Look at this pretty young thing,” the pants said languidly. “I respect setting your sights on the store owner; she’s a haughty, intelligent creature, isn’t she? But a pony like that is bound to have competition for her heart. You should have your iron in another fire too, for when that happens.”
Zephyr’s muzzle pulled back in horror. The unicorn mare took a step back in some combination of surprise and disgust at his expression. And with equal or greater disgust, Zephyr said to the pants—though more directly to the mare—“Get off my arse this instant! The Zeph is not some two-timing hussy!”
She blanched, then backed away slowly.
“Oh, c’mon; you’re making a dog’s breakfast out of this. Trust me, she’d be easy prey!”
“The Zeph doesn’t want ‘prey,’” Zephyr shouted, starting to tug the pants downwards with his wingtips. “The Zeph wants a nice pegasus girl who he can fly home to dinner with mama!” His struggle intensified, as the pants seemingly clamped on tighter. “And… preferably a little bit hotter than that dang vixen Rainbow Dash, who spent ten years leading The Zeph on, and who needs to be shown that he can totally do better!”
The pants pressed ever-upwards, shouting insistently while threatening his blood circulation in spots that Zephyr didn’t fancy losing. And for his part, Zephyr kicked, pulled, and eventually reached around and tried to bite-tug the vile things off of him, losing his balance and falling into a display rack in the process. The myriad garments of black fell down over his head, cutting off his ability to see beyond his immediate struggle. There was little he could think to do but yanking in desperation, apart from cursing Discord for this odious “gift” in his few spare moments of lucid cognizance.
All at once, he felt a different kind of pressure on the back-half of his barrel, and heard another voice cutting in around the pants’ feverish ranting. As he pulled with all his might, he felt something else slip in by his hooves and wingtips, giving him the extra strength he needed to make progress. Inch by agonizing inch, the pants came down, barking offensively all the way—but they were coming down. And by the time they slipped down off his cannons and fully off his hind hooves, its voice dropped to a dead silence, and its thrashing abated entirely.
Zephyr froze in that silence, dreading who or what he might find if he emerged from the relative safety of the pile of clothes on top of him.
“Hey big guy,” said a voice that speared his heart with ice. “I figured that had to be a bit uncomfortable, but that must’ve been a serious pinch of death. Are you okay?”
He swallowed, and struggled to bite back tears, as Inky Rose lifted the clothes off his head. He met her cold but concerned eyes with a plaintive expression.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I just… I thought these magic pants that my buddy Discord gave me would help me make a good impression. Turns out they’re just a big ol’ pair of jerk, though! And I…” He looked away from her. “I didn’t mean to mess up your store and scare away any customers…”
“Magic pants from Discord?”
Zephyr glanced up, not expecting to find her holding them up with her wingtips, stretching them out, and examining them with a smile of startling warmth. She turned that smile on him, and extended a hoof toward him. “How’d you get your hooves on something like this?”
“Well, I…” Zephyr blinked, fearing that she was more interested in his connections than him.
“Don’t worry,” Inky said, seeming to pick up on his concern. “It’s just… I’ve seen you in the barber shop window some mornings, looking like you wanted to say something to me. And I guess I’ve spent enough time wondering what you’d say if you came out that door, that I totally didn’t expect you to come into my shop, try on the goth look, and show a bit of confidence. Gotta say, you didn’t do half bad… up to a point.”
He cracked an embarrassed grin, but then took her hoof in his own. He felt warmth radiating from it, contrary to her cold exterior. Strength, too; she effortlessly pulled him up onto his hooves. After dusting himself off, he gave her a shrug. “Well, confidence or not, I kinda blew it with the magic creepy-pants, eh?”
“So they’ve been enchanted with a personality?” Inky turned back to examining them for a moment, but then shot him another smile. “Sorry; I make all the clothes that I sell here, and I’m always looking for new materials. Chaos-infused magic fabric would be fun to play with… but… well, maybe sometime later.” She folded the pants up with her wings and set them down on a shelf. “Maybe I can let one of my staffers close up tonight; I’d like to get to know the stallion who keeps making impressions on me a little better.”
Zephyr felt his face flush, but for once it was not at all with embarrassment. His heart thudded audibly in his ears, and a deep smile overtook his muzzle.
“I think I’d like that,” he said, offering a hoof to her—and thrilling at the sensation of her touch.
Amidst the multi-hued chaos of the distant plane where Discord made his home, he casually folded and set down a newspaper he’d been reading, took one last puff from an ornate pipe, then winked.
“And that, my friends, is the story of how Zephyr Breeze finally got a girl in his pants.”
You got me. I didn't see it coming. In that regard, you succeeded.
You started losing me in a few places, but it was a close thing. Possibly an indication you should trim words a bit. If so, it didn't need much. 10% off probably would have seen me through all the spots I wanted to start skimming. Some other kind of tweaks might work too.
My first reaction—around the ice analogy—is that it needed to be a bit hammier. Before long—possibly by the next paragraph, but certainly somewhere in Discord's dialogue—I was satisfied with the hamminess.
Mission accomplished, space cowboy.
You started losing me in a few places, but it was a close thing. Possibly an indication you should trim words a bit. If so, it didn't need much. 10% off probably would have seen me through all the spots I wanted to start skimming. Some other kind of tweaks might work too.
My first reaction—around the ice analogy—is that it needed to be a bit hammier. Before long—possibly by the next paragraph, but certainly somewhere in Discord's dialogue—I was satisfied with the hamminess.
Mission accomplished, space cowboy.
Genre: It’s A Goth-Off
Thoughts: Well I think it’s safe to say this wins a special commendation for Best Title. Great concept there. I’m going to have to pick on this for some other things, though.
The biggest issue that I have with this is that its opening is relatively slow and unfocused. Author, I can understand why you’d want to build up Zephyr’s crush on Inky the way you do here, but right now I feel like it’s just very slow getting out the gate. Similarly, the comedic aspects of this are slow to emerge, almost to the point where it’s a rough tone shift when Discord starts getting jokey. And honestly, as much as I hate to turn my nose up at a Discord scene, his appearance toward the beginning doesn’t feel like it’s firing on all cylinders yet. Maybe there’s just less humor in Zephyr’s obliviousness than the fic is currently banking on.
Once the pants come on, though, this turns into a much tighter story (pun intended). There’s a solid emotional core in Zephyr’s wish for confidence as he navigates his conflict between outward appearances, inner truths, and deeper aspirations. I feel like Zephyr is used well here, precisely because he is a loser, and we get to see him trying to step forward from that. This gets more cute and enjoyable as time goes on; it’s definitely a grower in that sense.
Oh, and the Discord line at the end was suitably groan-worthy. 8/10, Author; mission accomplished. I just wish the front was as tight as the back was (I regret nothing).
Tier: Almost There
Thoughts: Well I think it’s safe to say this wins a special commendation for Best Title. Great concept there. I’m going to have to pick on this for some other things, though.
The biggest issue that I have with this is that its opening is relatively slow and unfocused. Author, I can understand why you’d want to build up Zephyr’s crush on Inky the way you do here, but right now I feel like it’s just very slow getting out the gate. Similarly, the comedic aspects of this are slow to emerge, almost to the point where it’s a rough tone shift when Discord starts getting jokey. And honestly, as much as I hate to turn my nose up at a Discord scene, his appearance toward the beginning doesn’t feel like it’s firing on all cylinders yet. Maybe there’s just less humor in Zephyr’s obliviousness than the fic is currently banking on.
Once the pants come on, though, this turns into a much tighter story (pun intended). There’s a solid emotional core in Zephyr’s wish for confidence as he navigates his conflict between outward appearances, inner truths, and deeper aspirations. I feel like Zephyr is used well here, precisely because he is a loser, and we get to see him trying to step forward from that. This gets more cute and enjoyable as time goes on; it’s definitely a grower in that sense.
Oh, and the Discord line at the end was suitably groan-worthy. 8/10, Author; mission accomplished. I just wish the front was as tight as the back was (
Tier: Almost There
But she didn't put on the pants. So the pun doesn't...
Anyways.
The comedy was a little rough for me on this one, I'm afraid. Agreed with Coffee that the story not trying to be funny in the first scene is a tone problem that should be patched up if you wish to revise this. If I can try and explain the uncertainty Coffee experienced with Discord's scene, I think it has to do with the dynamic between these two characters, as shown, not being terribly funny. It's mostly just Discord bullying Zephyr--who is immune to it anyways--while Discord distracts us by making irrelevant comments about himself and Fluttershy.
One of the ways comedy works is when a character in a position of respect/power does something to lose that respect/power. It's sometimes called the 'comic drop'. Like Celestia getting caught stuffing her face with pastries. Or, in most show-scenes featuring Discord, his ability to take everyone else down a peg simply by taking nothing seriously. Shit's hilarious. Here, the dynamic on display is one of Discord, who is clearly more intelligent than Zephyr, talking down to him. Zephyr is already low on the respect scale, while Discord is already high, and nothing really changes throughout the scene, so the comedy kind of fails to land. Now, how funny would the scene be if Zephyr managed to find a way to catch Discord off guard? If Discord got so frustrated with Zephyr that he did something terribly foolish with his magic that came back to bite him? I think you already have this dynamic hidden under the surface, a little bit, but if you dialed up Zephyr's obliviousness, it could work heaps better.
The same dynamic in that scene continues between Zephyr and el pants macabros, really, so the comedy is hinging on a funny accent and a lot of references to Zephyr's tight-ass clothing. And that stuff is okay, but it does wear a little thin after a while.
I dunno. I'm not a comedy doctor, I'm just trying to explain why it didn't work from me.
Other than that, I like that this has an actual arc! I disagree with anyone who calls this story a feghoot, frankly, because feghoots are generally written entirely in service of the pun at the end, whereas there is an actual story behind this one. So yeah. Thank you for surpassing my expectations when I saw someone call this a feghoot. There's more to it.
Thank you for submitting and good luck in the contest!!
Anyways.
The comedy was a little rough for me on this one, I'm afraid. Agreed with Coffee that the story not trying to be funny in the first scene is a tone problem that should be patched up if you wish to revise this. If I can try and explain the uncertainty Coffee experienced with Discord's scene, I think it has to do with the dynamic between these two characters, as shown, not being terribly funny. It's mostly just Discord bullying Zephyr--who is immune to it anyways--while Discord distracts us by making irrelevant comments about himself and Fluttershy.
One of the ways comedy works is when a character in a position of respect/power does something to lose that respect/power. It's sometimes called the 'comic drop'. Like Celestia getting caught stuffing her face with pastries. Or, in most show-scenes featuring Discord, his ability to take everyone else down a peg simply by taking nothing seriously. Shit's hilarious. Here, the dynamic on display is one of Discord, who is clearly more intelligent than Zephyr, talking down to him. Zephyr is already low on the respect scale, while Discord is already high, and nothing really changes throughout the scene, so the comedy kind of fails to land. Now, how funny would the scene be if Zephyr managed to find a way to catch Discord off guard? If Discord got so frustrated with Zephyr that he did something terribly foolish with his magic that came back to bite him? I think you already have this dynamic hidden under the surface, a little bit, but if you dialed up Zephyr's obliviousness, it could work heaps better.
The same dynamic in that scene continues between Zephyr and el pants macabros, really, so the comedy is hinging on a funny accent and a lot of references to Zephyr's tight-ass clothing. And that stuff is okay, but it does wear a little thin after a while.
I dunno. I'm not a comedy doctor, I'm just trying to explain why it didn't work from me.
Other than that, I like that this has an actual arc! I disagree with anyone who calls this story a feghoot, frankly, because feghoots are generally written entirely in service of the pun at the end, whereas there is an actual story behind this one. So yeah. Thank you for surpassing my expectations when I saw someone call this a feghoot. There's more to it.
Thank you for submitting and good luck in the contest!!
The Pants Macabre:
It took a while into this before I realized it was supposed to be a silly story. Even after that point I still felt like it wasn’t as silly as it could have been, maybe holding itself back. I think it should lean into the silliness and go all out. I might have some bias against this story as I only know Zephyr from clips from the show and not actually watching the episodes he is in, so it’s hard for me to nail down his mannerisms. I also couldn’t really put a voice to the pants, so much of that humor was lost on me. I think there is an excellent silly story here, it just needs to be shined up a bit.
It took a while into this before I realized it was supposed to be a silly story. Even after that point I still felt like it wasn’t as silly as it could have been, maybe holding itself back. I think it should lean into the silliness and go all out. I might have some bias against this story as I only know Zephyr from clips from the show and not actually watching the episodes he is in, so it’s hard for me to nail down his mannerisms. I also couldn’t really put a voice to the pants, so much of that humor was lost on me. I think there is an excellent silly story here, it just needs to be shined up a bit.
Zephyr lacked the words to properly describe the elegant and gothic assemblages of black buttons, black bows, black corsets, black gowns, or other, more ephemeral sundries—also black—in which she dressed.
That might be my favorite quote from this whole thing. A few other points made me chuckle, but this almost made me spit take.
Best title of the round:
Though the pedant in me would rather the "The" not be there...
As it is, my only problem is with the last line since, as >>Miller Minus points out, she doesn't actually put the pants on. That's easily fixed, though--she could go into a dressing room, come out wearing the pants, and Zephyr's hairdo could burst into flames, and then we cut to Discord. Still, very fun.
Mike
Though the pedant in me would rather the "The" not be there...
As it is, my only problem is with the last line since, as >>Miller Minus points out, she doesn't actually put the pants on. That's easily fixed, though--she could go into a dressing room, come out wearing the pants, and Zephyr's hairdo could burst into flames, and then we cut to Discord. Still, very fun.
Mike
Personally, knowing that this was Zephyr Breeze, who is basically a joke character (like Cheese Sandwich, when you see him, you expect jokes, not angst or anything terribly serious), I was prepared for funny... so when Discord asks if they still try to summon him by chanting his name in a darkened bathroom, I was hooked. I actually like the whiplash of "this looks like an ordinary story" to "this is a ridiculous comedy" very quickly, as long as there's some setup to make me recognize at the start that maybe it's not going to be an ordinary story, and using the Zeph as the main character automatically does that.
I am a simple woman. Show me an idiot being an idiot in a funny way, one of my favorite characters, and a moderately happy ending, and I am probably going to enjoy the story. Given that Zephyr Breeze's second-most-famous trait is his oblivious womanizing (mareizing?), I liked the fact that he did not want to hit on any other girls and was in fact offended by the suggestion; it made him a lot more sympathetic.
I agree that Inky should have put on the pants at some point during the end to justify Discord's closing line.
I am a simple woman. Show me an idiot being an idiot in a funny way, one of my favorite characters, and a moderately happy ending, and I am probably going to enjoy the story. Given that Zephyr Breeze's second-most-famous trait is his oblivious womanizing (mareizing?), I liked the fact that he did not want to hit on any other girls and was in fact offended by the suggestion; it made him a lot more sympathetic.
I agree that Inky should have put on the pants at some point during the end to justify Discord's closing line.
The Retrospective Macabre
OMG was the writing process for this one rough. I had family in town for much of the writing period, so my ability to do anything but brainstorm and ruminate was pretty limited until the night before this was due. I'd all but given up on submitting anything when my brain suddenly kicked out a hot remix of three old bits from my story idea slush pile. That left me with just some wee hours to write it, but at least I had a few older things to help serve as guideposts.
Before I continue, let me be crystal clear: I did not use anything written before the story-writing period for this contest began. However, my notes contained two little mini-scenes that inspired the moment where Zephyr watches Inky pass by in the morning, as well as Zephyr's summoning of Discord in the bathroom. The first scene was more of a mood/theme inspiration, written for different characters. The second scene was... well, I actually wrote an earlier bathroom scene, but it was focused on Zephyr trying to get Discord to help him woo Rainbow Dash, and the story it would've belonged to never went anywhere further than that scene. I just took the idea and wrote a new version of it from scratch. Again: no older material directly appeared in this.
It was actually the third bit from my slush pile that made the whole thing coalesce: the title itself. "The Pants Macabre."
Oh, but it's a lovely title. I've been sitting on it for a couple years, trying over and over to come up with some kind of Rarity-based story for it, but to no avail. Someone in the Discord chat mentioned that it elevated the story in their estimation, apart from anything else about the story itself. And I get it; I love the title. The last thing I expected was that throwing Rarity out of the concept, and fusing it with Zephyr of all ponies, would finally help get it off the ground. But here we are.
It's not without its problems, though. >>thisisalongname is on the right track in pointing out that it's possible to miss (at least up until it becomes robustly clear) that this was supposed to be a comedy. >>Miller Minus knocked my socks off with his evaluation that the comedy doesn't quite work because it's "hinging on a funny accent and a lot of references to Zephyr's tight-ass clothing". I knew this was a flawed piece from the morning after I submitted it, but I couldn't quite nail down why--though I started figuring it out in my self-review (>>CoffeeMinion). With respect to >>alarajrogers and >>LoftyWithers, I think this needs to be punched-up quite a bit to scan fully as a true comedy.
But I think this will get there. >>wishcometrue helped bolster my confidence that there were some laughs in here, and >>Baal Bunny gave a very specific suggestion about fixing up the end. (For what it's worth, I thought about having Inky do that, too, but it was so late and I was so tired by the time I dragged this thing across the finish line that I physically couldn't go back and make more tweaks.)
Anyway, thank you to all who read and/or commented on this! And regardless of the thing's shortcomings, winning silver is nothing to sneeze at!! :yay: