Chapter 5 — My Girl Builds Coffins
The highway curved and carved its way through the countryside, weaving towards a little chapel near the mountains. Wallflower piloted Sunset's sedan as they made their way to Rainbow Dash's funeral. Both hands on the steering wheel, her eyes laser-focused on the road, she drifted in and out of listening to Sunset as they drove.
"I told Dash she was being an idiot, over and over again!" Dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, Sunset shook her head and let out an exasperated groan. "Ever since high school, she's always had a chip on her shoulder, and when did she try to put it down? Never!"
"I know, hon." If it weren't for the road, Wallflower would've reached for Sunset's hand. It was hard to fight that instinct. "I'm so sorry," she said for what felt like the millionth time—hollow and empty and useless as always. Just like her.
"She didn't need to prove anything! Not to me, not to the girls, not to anyone! And…" Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose. "A-and now I have to go give her eulogy, all because she couldn't set aside her massive fucking ego and think of someone else for a change!"
The bitterness in Sunset's voice rang out, almost louder than her grief. In the week since Dash's death, Wallflower had heard Sunset speak about it in anger far more than any other emotion. Yet, beneath the tirades, Wallflower knew that her girlfriend missed and mourned her friend. Every time Sunset thought she ran out of tears, more somehow swelled from some wellspring deep within her, manifesting through another rant.
Every time, Wallflower was there to comfort her. As useless as it was—as she was—she wasn't going to let her girlfriend go through her grief alone. Wallflower might have been thoughtless and stupid, but she wasn't a monster.
That said, Wallflower had no idea what to do. Other than distant relatives she barely remembered, she had little experience with grief. Of all the things she'd mourned in the past, none of them had been a person. Years of isolation and rejection went hand-in-hand with that.
Were it not for her proximity to the rest of Sunset's friend group, she would barely consider Dash a friend at all. The loss was tragic, but Wallflower found that she couldn't feel much other than empathy for her grieving girlfriend, and she hated herself for not caring beyond that. Then again, it wasn't like she'd had much of a relationship with the deceased to begin with.
Like the others, Rainbow Dash had always made an effort to include Wallflower in their group ventures, cracking jokes and calling her "flower girl," but they otherwise had nothing in common. Except maybe for being hopelessly selfish, and being doomed to hurt Sunset in the long run.
For a moment, the couple in the car were quiet, other than Sunset sniffling and balling up tissues. While Wallflower tried to think of the best way to respond, she let her thoughts rise and fall with the road. Endless rows of trees that became taller and taller with every mile passed them by. The sky was a pristine blue, a rare clear day when winter was usually blanketing these horizons with snow.
From the corner of her eye, Wallflower saw Sunset reach for another tissue before slumping against the car door. Her eyes stared listlessly out the window, her hands trembling in her lap.
As much as Wallflower wanted to pull over and hold Sunset close, they had a funeral to get to. If it weren't for winding roads and time constraints, she would've given in to her endless desire for connection and touch right then and there.
There was no use fighting her inclinations anymore. All of Wallflower's efforts to do right by Sunset had failed. Whether it was because of her own selfish desires, or just sheer incompetence, the plan was a bust. The ring was coming, and there was nothing Wallflower could do to save the love of her life from a future chained to a worthless burden. Might as well indulge before she inevitably ruined Sunset's life completely.
And even if she couldn't hold Sunset's hand at the moment, Wallflower at least owed her some attempt at comfort, no matter how futile or meaningless.
Taking a deep breath, Wallflower looked in Sunset's direction with a gentle smile. "I'm really proud of you for agreeing to do the eulogy," she began. "I really mean that. I couldn't imagine how I would have reacted if I'd been asked."
In response, Sunset shrugged, then sniffled again. "Someone needed to do it. At least one of the seven of us."
"What about her parents?"
Another shrug. "Dunno. They're probably in shock." Sunset's tone grew quiet as she said, "They saw it, after all."
"Oh." Wallflower felt the pit in her stomach twist. "I—I can't imagine. I'm so sorry."
"It's Dash's own fault." Curling up into her seat, Sunset let loose a scoff. "She even nailed that stupid stunt, you know? Of all the fucking—" Sunset practically spat out the next word— "luck in this God-damned world, Rainbow Dash managed to jump thirty buses on a flaming motorcycle, into a pool of pure nitroglycerine—" another scoff— "and somehow managed to not blow it the fuck up, all without harming a single hair on her enormous, ego-swollen head!"
Wallflower jumped as Sunset pounded a fist against the dash, the sound reverberating like a gunshot. "Fuck!" Sunset shouted, falling back against the seat as tears welled in her eyes. "She would've been fine if she hadn't stopped to—to—"
While Sunset trailed off, Wallflower fought the red-hot adrenal fear coursing through her, glancing over at her seething girlfriend. "What did she do?" she prompted, trying her best to control the shakiness in her voice.
"She fucking dabbed!" Tears rolling down her face, Sunset threw her hands up in disgust. "She stood up to dab, knocked over her stupid motorcycle that was always one payment away from being repossessed, and then the whole pool exploded and now she's fucking dead!" A shrill sob escaped Sunset as she buried her face in her hands.
Her knuckles white against the steering wheel, Wallflower scanned the road for the nearest place to make an emergency stop. Every alarm bell in her head rang in time with Sunset's rising words and wild gestures. As her breathing quickened and her heart thundered in her chest, Wallflower made an abrupt lane change to pull into a nearby brake-check area for semi-trucks. Once the sedan had slipped between two slumbering tractors, their windshields blocked by curtains beneath the morning light, Wallflower threw it in park and shut off the engine.
By the time Wallflower could take her hands off the wheel, her mind was already far away. Her whole body trembling, she hunched over as if to make herself small, quiet, hidden. Her hands gripped her forearms tightly as she hugged herself, her nails digging into her skin. She held onto the world by a fraying thread as her eyes rapidly flicked between the steering wheel, the floorboards, the keychain hanging from the ignition, anything to stay in the present.
Apparently oblivious, Sunset continued shouting, the impact of each furious word like a hammer to Wallflower's skull. "It's always the fucking dabbing with her! I told her it was ridiculous, but did she ever listen to me? No, of course not!" After heaving a deep breath, Sunset added with a dark laugh, "Because if she did, she'd still be alive, and I'd be kicking her ass for being so fucking stupid!"
Jumping again when Sunset loudly punched the glovebox one more time, Wallflower heaved deep breaths, in and out. Her ears buzzed and rang, the world narrowing down to a tight tunnel as fear gripped her pounding heart, everything loud and angry and confined and alone and she was there and she was here and there was no running, no hiding, nothing she could say, nothing she could do, just stare at the floor and wait for it to be over while the screams and shouts battered her from without and hollowness and hunger clawed at her from within and her arm and her thighs burned and seethed—
"Wally? H-hey, Wally, look at me, okay?"
Sunset's familiar voice cut through the terror like a new blade through old scars, her hand reaching for Wallflower's shoulder to hold her gently or shove her to the floor, eyes wide and full of concern or disgust and regret or hatred. Wallflower more than flinched, recoiling from the arm reaching for her and pressing herself against the door.
It was only when the high-pitched yelp of her own pitiful scream reached her ears that black memories and bleak reality unwound, and just like that the hateful screams in her head quieted down, leaving her stranded on the side of the road with Sunset, who looked absolutely mortified.
"Fuck, W-Wally, I'm sorry, I—"
"—S-sorry, sorry—"
As each interrupted the other with rushed apologies, then fell silent, Wallflower curled into herself against the driver's door. The pained look on Sunset's face etched into Wallflower's mind, burning through her vision even as she closed her eyes. She was driving Sunset to her friend's funeral and couldn't manage to stop herself from making it all about her. All because, what, Sunset was being loud? Because she was trying to process her own pain? And Wallflower couldn't handle that, just like she couldn't handle much of anything, because her stupid, useless, broken brain wouldn't stop connecting things happening right now to things that happened almost a decade ago.
Sunset really deserved better.
Still, while Wallflower hugged her knees, as pathetic and hopeless and damaged as ever, it was Sunset who reached across the center console and placed her hand next to Wallflower's. Patient, present, waiting. Grieving, and still there for her.
God. Wallflower hated how warm Sunset's hand felt in hers. How the sensation of her gentle, yet sturdy grip as their fingers entwined made her racing heart slow. Just a little, but enough. Enough to let her gradually come back to the side of that winding state highway, in a tiny sedan between two looming, voiceless trucks, where she held her girlfriend's hand until the world came back into view.
Every moment, every touch, every whisper of assurance and love Wallflower hated because she knew she didn't deserve any of it. Rather than providing a permanent comfort, some kind of life-changing epiphany or moment of triumph, these gestures from Sunset—who was dedicated and committed and optimistic to a fault—were all in vain. Sure, Wallflower might feel better—did feel better—right now, but, soon enough, they would be here again.
Because Wallflower was a black hole, and it was nothing but Sunset trying her best all the way down.
"Hey." Sunset's voice, husky and raw with tears, demonstrated further to that fact. "I've got you, Wally," she said. "I've got you."
As Wallflower leaned into Sunset's offered embrace, whispering apologies and clinging to Sunset's jacket, all she could think about was how easy it was to slip into this. How powerless she was in the face of her own selfishness.
Maybe, at least, Sunset, too, felt warm beside her, as the rising sun shone through their windshield.
The unscheduled stop notwithstanding, Wallflower managed to pull into the chapel's parking lot about fifteen minutes before the service started. The sun was shining bright as she helped Sunset out of the car and took her girlfriend's hand. Although Sunset had finally stopped crying, Wallflower was certain that wouldn't last. She made sure to grab a couple packs of tissues before they headed into the church.
Inside, the sanctuary was decorated with various action shots of Rainbow Dash doing extreme sports, along with rainbow banners and balloons. Large printed photos of Dash doing finger-guns or a thumbs-up circled the closed casket beside the pulpit. Even this space was swarming with color, wreaths and bouquets of every shade lining the sanctuary.
The scene looked a little too cheery for a funeral, but Wallflower barely remembered the only other one she'd attended as a child. In any case, it wasn't her place to judge. No matter how she felt about this, she was here for Sunset.
The sounds of more crying filled her ears. Mustering a soft smile, Wallflower passed Sunset one of the packs of tissues. While Sunset opened the pack and immediately put it to use, Wallflower scanned the scene before her, not wanting them to linger for long.
Among the rows of pews, Wallflower quickly found where Sunset's friends were sitting. After giving a half-wave to Rarity, who had glanced in their direction, she tugged on Sunset's hand. Without a word, Sunset followed her to their seats at the end of the row.
Wallflower sat down beside Rarity, who was dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. As Sunset sat down on Wallflower's left, in the seat directly next to the aisle, Rarity murmured a quiet, almost inaudible hello.
"Hey," Wallflower replied, almost in a whisper. From over her shoulder, she heard Sunset mouth a shaky hello back to her friend before squeezing her girlfriend's hand tightly.
Not knowing what else to say, Wallflower glanced down their row at the rest of Sunset's friends.
Applejack sat beside Rarity, seemingly dividing her attention between checking on her crying girlfriend and speaking to the others. Pinkie Pie seemed strangely unbothered by the situation, admiring all the colorful decorations with "Ooohs" and "Aaahs". Next to Pinkie Pie on the other end of the pew, Fluttershy sat with a tablet on her lap—this world's Twilight attending remotely due to her job—and Angel Bunny beside her. The rabbit handed tissues to Fluttershy periodically, who, in between her own sobs, was trying her best to hold up the tablet so that Twilight could see everything.
Looking back over at Sunset, Wallflower heaved an inward sigh. On any other occasion, Sunset would be floating from friend to friend, bringing Wallflower along with every step to make her feel included. Now, her girlfriend merely stared at the pulpit at the front of the sanctuary—and the casket beside it.
Wallflower gently squeezed Sunset's hand. "I'm right here, hon," she whispered.
After a moment, Sunset, her eyes starting to water again, slowly turned to face her. "S-sorry. Just, um—"
"It's okay." Lifting Sunset's hand to her lips, Wallflower kissed it softly. "If you need anything, I'm right here, okay? And when the time comes, you've got this."
"...Okay." A tiny smile flashed across Sunset's face before she turned back to staring at the pulpit. Obviously forced, but that was good enough for now.
As long as Sunset knew Wallflower was there for her, however useless she was, that was enough. That was all Wallflower could do. Be there, like a bump on a log or a body occupying a seat. And as much as she would rather run and hide, today, Wallflower would be the best lumpy body she could be.
More guests entered the chapel as time agonizingly ticked by. Checking her phone, Wallflower realized that they still had about five minutes before the service started. She readied the next pack of tissues, moving them from her purse to the seat pocket in front of her, before checking on Sunset. Noting that there was no change there, she turned to see how the rest of the group was doing.
A few seats over, Applejack and Pinkie Pie were engaged in an apparently deep discussion. Applejack was pointing to a dead fly that had landed for its final flight atop the next row of pews.
"Now, see this here fly. See how it ain't movin'?" As she spoke, Applejack poked at the fly. She then looked over at Pinkie Pie, an expectant expression on her face.
"Well duh, he's just taking a nap, silly!" Pinkie exclaimed as she looked down at the fly. She poked it herself, then giggled. "Wow, he's a really heavy sleeper!"
"No, Pinkie…" Applejack took in a slow breath. "He ain't gonna wake up, ya see?" Applejack moved the fly back and forth. It didn't respond. "He's dead."
"Naw, he's not really dead! Nothing ever dies forever!" Pinkie Pie laughed. "Any moment now, he's gonna wake back up and fly around. Just like Momma told me Granny Pie's gonna come home from her vacation!" Her smile brightened. "Any day now!"
From a few seats away, Wallflower cringed. Beside her, Rarity sniffled, then delicately blew her nose. Fluttershy visibly winced, murmuring something to Twilight on the tablet.
"Uhhhh…" Rubbing Rarity's shoulder, Applejack glanced between Pinkie and her girlfriend. "W-well, Pinkie, you see that box up there?" She nodded towards the pulpit. "Dash is in that box, y'see, and—"
"Actually…" Fluttershy was barely audible as she droned, "The casket is empty. There was nothing left to bury."
Angel Bunny glared at Applejack. Rarity let out a loud wail.
Witnessing all of this, Wallflower just held Sunset's hand tighter.
"Ooh, Dashie's in that box? Like a jack-in-the-box?!" Pinkie Pie jumped up and down in her seat, clapping. "Like a surprise?! I can't wait for the surprise! Is this a big surprise party? Fluttershy wouldn't tell me where we were going! Who's the party for?" She stood up and looked around the room. "Ooh, cool! Dashie's parents, Missus Whistles and Mister Hothoof, are here too! And there's the guys from Dashie's racing team, too! Oh, I bet it's for—"
"Pinkie, will you shut the fuck up for five minutes?!" Sunset screeched, shooting up from her seat. "Please?!"
Before Wallflower could rush to calm her girlfriend, Pinkie Pie merely chirped, "Okie dokie!" and sat back down.
While Sunset heaved deep breaths as Wallflower guided her back down, Rarity and Fluttershy burst into full-blown sobs. From the tablet, Twilight cried out in panic at the sudden escalation of noise. A wadded-up tissue smacked Applejack on the forehead, Angel Bunny hissing at her before returning to Fluttershy's side.
Looking over to meet Wallflower's gaze, Applejack muttered, "I think I did more harm than good."
Gingerly rubbing Sunset's back with one hand, Wallflower reached over to pat Applejack on the shoulder with the other. "It's okay. You tried."
"Yeah…" Sighing, Applejack took off her hat and laid it over her chest. "Guess I made my peace with this a long time ago. Dash was always off doin' something stupid." After a moment, she added, "No surprise to me that she wound up killing herself."
The shock of those words echoed in Wallflower's head like crashing thunder, but when she turned and saw Sunset nodding angrily in agreement, they were more like a bolt of lightning shooting down her spine. Just like that, the world frayed at the edges until it was just Wallflower, Sunset, and the empty box at the front of the chapel.
A horrible thought gnawed at Wallflower's senses as she eyed the sunken, furious look on Sunset's face.
If this was how Sunset was reacting to Dash's death, how would she feel if it was Wallflower in that box?
It was a thought Wallflower hadn't let herself think in a long time. Years and years ago, as a young teenager trapped in a hateful home, the corners of her mind were always occupied by thoughts of ending her life and how her mother would react if she ever went through with it. In some versions of the story, her mother would suddenly realize all the wrongs she'd committed against her child. In others, she wouldn't even bother to hold a funeral. After seeing how her mother had reacted when Wallflower actually made an attempt, she was certain that things would play out like the latter.
During her months living on the streets, thoughts of giving up were never far from focus. After all, she'd been certain at the time that she'd end up dead soon, either from starvation or exposure or as a victim of violence. Given how she'd been affected by all three at different points in her life, could she really blame herself for thinking about taking the easy way out? And whenever she thought about it, whether she cut too deep one day and bled out, or threw herself off a building, or let herself curl up in a frigid corner of some parking deck to die, she was absolutely certain that there wasn't a single person in the world who would care. She expected that, at most, her body would be discovered, hauled off to a morgue, left unidentified for a few days, then torched in a crematorium without a single soul bothering to mourn.
It wasn't until she'd been found by Sunset, finished her inpatient treatment, and moved into Sunset's apartment that she started trying to push back against those thoughts. That was where all this had started, Wallflower now realized. Pushing back like that had been the first layer of the lie that she was "better," now buried beneath hundreds more that had been caked on over the years. Peeling all those layers back and beholding the ugly, hopeless core of her being, Wallflower allowed herself to wonder what would happen if her inevitable future collapse finally fulfilled the promise of her first unsuccessful attempt all those years ago.
A pastor at the front of the chapel started speaking, indicating to Wallflower that the service was starting, but she couldn't see or hear any of it. All she saw was Sunset's face lined with grief and rage as she glared hatefully at an ornate box that held her wife's remains. Her stupid, selfish idiot of a wife, too helpless in the face of her own angsty bullshit to bother sticking around for her wife and daughter—her family.
God, her daughter. Wallflower saw her daughter's face, pained and confused no matter how old she would be if it happened. Wallflower had grown up feeling like she didn't have a family at all, so of course once she had one with Sunset she would throw it all away.
While Wallflower knew that a second suicide attempt wasn't inevitable, she wasn't stupid enough to pretend it wasn't at least a strong possibility. After all, her coming apart at the seams in the years to come was absolutely inevitable—there was no way someone as frail and pitiful as her could keep herself stable for the rest of her life. She would collapse eventually, and there was no telling how far she might fall.
How could she possibly justify forcing Sunset to take that risk by accepting her proposal? If Wallflower died after they got married, it would haunt Sunset for the rest of her life. Sunset would forever tell herself that she should've known better, she should've known that Wallflower was poison, that she was a hopeless cause, a bomb Sunset willingly strapped herself to by so foolishly putting a ring on its fuse. But was Sunset to blame? How could it be her fault when she was so blinded by a love that Wallflower could never hope to understand? No, if Wallflower killed herself someday, everything that followed would be her own damn fault, just like it was Dash's fault now. And just like with Dash, Sunset would never forgive her—and, what was worse, Sunset would never forgive herself for marrying such a horrible, pathetic, mutilated parasite—
"S-Sunset, darling, that's your cue…"
The sound of Rarity's voice yanked Wallflower from her spiraling self-loathing, snapping her back to her seat in the pew. Still holding Sunset's hand, Wallflower felt her girlfriend tremble as she gradually stood up. The eyes of the rest of Sunset's friends, as well as the entire congregation, followed Sunset as she rose to give the eulogy.
When picturing this moment in the preceding days, Wallflower had imagined she would do her best to be present for Sunset as she took these fateful steps towards the pulpit. She would squeeze her hand, offer more tissues, maybe whisper words of encouragement. Instead, too lost in the depths of her own miserable realizations, Wallflower merely felt Sunset's fingers slip through her own as the latter broke away from her seat and strode towards the sanctuary.
All eyes on Sunset, she made her way to the front of the room in complete silence. Cursing herself for being a stupid, useless idiot yet again, Wallflower could only silently hope that Sunset had managed to calm herself during whatever speech the pastor had given. Hopefully something soothing. Some form of comfort. Maybe there had been a prayer, or even a song, that settled Sunset's nerves while Wallflower was lost in her own catastrophe.
The fact that no one had cared to notice Wallflower's despair—and how selfish it was to even occur—testified to how out of place she was here. She couldn't support Sunset on this day of mourning, much less Dash's other friends or family. Why had she even been invited? Even if she was destined to doom Sunset forever, why couldn't she at least help her in some way today?
The sound of Sunset climbing the stairs of the sanctuary punctuated the silence. She walked up to the pulpit, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists. The lights above the sanctuary illuminated both the sweat on her forehead and the paleness of her face.
Wallflower found herself holding her breath as Sunset stood at the pulpit.
"G-good morning," Sunset spoke into the microphone, words uneven on every syllable.
"Good morning," the congregation replied back to her. Minus Wallflower, of course, as well as Rarity and Fluttershy, who had both resumed crying. Applejack tried in vain to tend to both of them, while Pinkie Pie just bounced in her seat, grinning.
Sunset looked petrified up there. Wallflower wished there was more she could do for Sunset than stare.
"Umm…" The mic squealed when Sunset grabbed it, making her—as well as many in the audience—flinch. "Uhh, s-s-sorry. Um…" She visibly gulped. "M-my name is Sunset Sh-Shimmer, and I've known Rainbow Dash since high school, uh…"
Trailing off, Sunset glanced all around the room before her eyes settled on Wallflower. Giving her best attempt at comfort through the gray haze of misery surrounding her, Wallflower offered a tiny smile. Whatever she mustered at least gave Sunset the courage to press on, though she sounded far from comfortable up there.
"During high school, um, Rainbow Dash played…" Sunset paused yet again, then started counting off on her fingers. "On the soccer team… A-and the softball team… And the basketball team… And the volleyball team… And the lacrosse team… And the football team… Um…" Turning red, Sunset mumbled, "Well, actually, no, they wouldn't let her join the football team, so she started one for the girls… And then she got kicked off the team she started for trying to sleep with all the players…"
Wallflower winced as Applejack facepalmed. Shaking her head, Rarity shared a glance with Fluttershy, whose eye twitched. Wallflower heard Twilight ask from the tablet, "Wait, what?"
That last fact clearly upsetting some of the audience, Sunset scrambled onstage to continue. "Uhh! I—I—I mean…" The mic shrieked again when Sunset angled it back towards herself. "Sh-she, um, was in a band with me and the girls… H-her other friends, I mean, uh… But… She was a big athlete in, um, college, where she played…" Fanning herself with one hand, Sunset tugged at the collar of her dress with the other. "Um, everything…"
As Sunset continued stammering, Wallflower's mind again began to drift.
What would Sunset say if she were forced to give a eulogy for Wallflower?
A eulogy for her dead wife—her horrible, selfish dead wife who so cruelly allowed Sunset to make the fatal mistake of marrying her, knowing how things could turn out. Would she speak of how much they loved each other? Would she speak of Wallflower's miserable youth, of the traumatic seeds of the self-hatred and depression that ended her life? Would she speak about Wallflower as she was speaking about Dash, providing nothing more than a simple summary of her activities through the years?
No matter what she said, it would be more than Wallflower deserved.
Sunset was shaking now. Even though her words were lost beneath the white noise ringing in Wallflower's ears, Wallflower still heard hints of whimpering sobs in her wavering voice. She couldn't keep this up much longer.
If Sunset married Wallflower, she might have to give another eulogy like this someday. And, seeing how hard it was for Sunset to deliver this one, Wallflower couldn't bear the thought of making her go through something like this ever again.
Wallflower was unstable. She was toxic. She was a time bomb set to explode and there was no telling how big the blast would be, nor how poisonous the fallout. If they got married, Wallflower couldn't trust herself not to ruin Sunset's life forever. She couldn't.
Even if all her previous attempts to make Sunset see that had failed—backfired, even—she still had to try. She couldn't give up on Sunset's happiness. She couldn't regard Sunset with the same hopelessness with which she regarded herself. And, most of all, she couldn't let the girl she loved stand alone at the front of the chapel any longer.
Filled with grim resolve, Wallflower stood and entered the aisle. She saw the first of Sunset's tears as her girlfriend wiped at her eyes. She heard the murmurs of onlookers as she approached the pulpit. She saw her future as Sunset's wife, in all its joy and horror, flash before her eyes as she tapped Sunset on the shoulder.
"H-huh?" Sunset looked at her the way a child would behold a falling star. "Wallflower, what—?"
In one swift motion, Wallflower swiped the mic from Sunset, swung her arm out behind her, and struck a pose she knew Sunset despised more than anything on this Earth—the same pose Rainbow Dash had held in her final moments.
"Dab!" Wallflower dabbed.
Silence.
Absolute, total silence.
As Wallflower maintained the pose, dabbing for all the world to see, exposing herself as the terrible person she truly was, all eyes remained upon her. Especially Sunset's, big and blue and beautiful and bound to this moment, forever.
In the heart of the chapel, Wallflower Blush stood up, dusted herself off, and waited for her downfall.
It came in the form of Sunset Shimmer, eyes welling with tears, taking a step towards her.
Flinching, Wallflower closed her eyes, ready for the tirade and the terror and the shouting and the shaming and—
"It's exactly what Dash would have wanted!"
Wait, what?
Letting out a long, lamenting wail, Sunset threw her arms around Wallflower. Still weeping, she drew her into a tight hug. The crushing embrace yanked Wallflower's eyes wide open—whereupon she saw that Sunset's entire friend group was on their feet.
One-by-one, each of Sunset's friends filed out of their pews, climbed the stairs, and joined them at the pulpit.
Okay, maybe Sunset was just a little out of it. Giving a eulogy was stressful, after all. Surely, one of the others would see just how heartless—
Piling around her, five more sets of arms, one tiny pair of rabbit paws—and one cold tablet—pressed Wallflower into a group hug.
"Y-you're so thoughtful!"
"I didn't know you had it in ya, Wallflower!"
"Our dearest Rainbow Dash must be smiling down on us all, right now…"
"I don't know why we're hugging, but I like hugs! Yay!"
"Hello? Fluttershy? Can you turn the tablet back to the front? I can't see…"
This time, the thought escaped Wallflower. "Wait, what?"
Rainbow Dash's parents, Windy Whistles and Bow Hothoof, stood up from their seats in the front row. Both were crying—and smiling from ear-to-ear.
"Thank you so much for honoring Dashie's memory!" Windy sobbed, clinging to her husband's arm.
"She'd be so proud of you!" Bow added, wiping tears from his weathered eyes. "She's probably dabbing in Heaven right now!"
Speechless, Wallflower just stood there. Frozen. In a group hug.
Then, the entire congregation was on its feet.
And then…
They were clapping.
Cheering. Yelling. Crying.
Clapping.
Even the pastor gave Wallflower a thumbs-up from the corner of the sanctuary before walking over. Taking the mic from Wallflower's frozen hand, he gestured to the group with a broad smile before turning to the congregation. "It's so heartwarming to see such a loving, supportive gesture by a treasured friend on this day of mourning. Let it be a lesson to us all that, even in our darkest hour, we can each be a beacon of light unto each other…"
More words of hope and resilience, love and joy in the midst of despair, filtered through Wallflower's ears as the world buzzed and twisted before her into a cruel, sick joke.
If there was something—or Someone—up there, looking down, They had it out for her. They just had to. Nothing else made any sense.
"I love you so much," Sunset whispered, before kissing her on the forehead. The others surrounding them broke out into a chorus of "Awww's" before hugging her even tighter.
This time, Wallflower barely heard herself say it back.
The drive home was mostly silent. Every once in a while, Wallflower would hear Sunset humming to herself—melodies from songs she and Dash had performed in their old band, she guessed—but otherwise there was just the sound of the road and the sharp, grating white noise scraping at the inside of Wallflower's skull.
That was it. That was her last shot. No more perfect opportunity to save Sunset from herself could have been presented, yet somehow Wallflower had managed to fuck it up. Again.
No matter what she did, no matter how thoughtless or rude or stupid she was, everything she did just made Sunset love her more.
The sensation of Sunset's hand on her thigh barely registered in Wallflower's mind, but she still took hold of it. Eight years of loving instinct were impossible to overcome, it seemed. Maybe that's why she'd failed in her every attempt to get Sunset to see her for the worthless piece of trash she was.
With her head against the window, Wallflower sighed and closed her eyes. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw the ring, her daughter, her life with Sunset, all the happiness that could and would be hers… All of it would eventually wither and die, because Wallflower was a fundamentally broken person, too weak and selfish and hopeless to hold herself together forever, even for the sake of her future wife.
A cold lump settled in Wallflower's chest. That's what Sunset was, wasn't she? Wallflower's future wife—her partner bound to her in holy matrimony for as long as it took for Wallflower to blow it all to hell.
"Hey… Hey, hon?"
Still leaning against the window, Wallflower briefly glanced in Sunset's direction before she answered, her voice near a whisper. "Yeah?"
"I…" As Sunset took in a breath, she gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand, her other tangling her fingers with Wallflower's own. "I've… been thinking about something."
If Wallflower hadn't checked beneath the dresser that morning, like she did every morning, now, those words might have stoked her anxieties further. However, Sunset hadn't brought the ring to Dash's funeral—a wise choice, for multiple reasons. Without its presence, Wallflower had nothing further to fear, really, and found herself simply not reacting to Sunset's nervousness like she ought to.
"Oh?" Wallflower asked in a neutral tone, watching the world go by outside the window.
"Yeah, I, um." Sunset cleared her throat. "Being here today, seeing all our friends, Dash's family, her teammates, everyone here, it just… It kinda was making me think, y'know?"
Wallflower murmured something noncommittal. Not even she was certain of what she'd said. All she knew was that Sunset was gearing up towards something important to say. And while Wallflower was no expert on grief, there was only one thing she could think of that would have Sunset tiptoeing around her words so much.
Sunset gazed out the driver's-side window before soldiering on. "Life's too short, y'know? Everyone thinks they have all the time in the world to do the things they want. Dash might have been—" her words edged back into bitterness—"an idiot, but she was our idiot, y'know? Our idiot, with hopes and dreams that she never got to realize." Sunset hummed thoughtfully, then shook her head. "And I guess—I guess, in my own way, I've been putting some things off, too. But I don't want to wait any longer."
It wasn't going to be the question, no. But it was going to be close enough. A better version of Wallflower would have tried to stop it, or at least change the subject. If the ring was the locomotive, Sunset was laying down the railroad tracks right now.
Too drained and defeated and defective to make Sunset change direction, Wallflower just nodded and let the train come rolling.
"I was wondering if maybe…" Sunset trailed off, then tried again. "If we could, maybe, I dunno…"
Wallflower could hear Sunset's heartbeat from here. Her future wife—the one she would fail, always, ultimately, no matter how much either of them tried—drew in a sharp breath as she finished, "Go to that little place on the coast? Y'know, the cabin we've always wanted to rent out? Maybe next weekend?"
Slowly turning her head to meet Sunset's intense gaze, Wallflower painted a smile as Sunset's words placed them both on the tracks.
"Sure," Wallflower said. She felt the tracks beneath them rumble, as the future forged full-speed ahead. "Whatever you want."
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I needed to skip the part we’re Wally dabbed beacuse it made me fisically cringe sorry
Wally at this point take the hint that even the universe wants you to be happy with sunny
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Wallflower dabbing in the middle of the funeral was absolutely delightful. There might as well be a comedy tag for how much of Wally's failures have been making me giggle.
"Dab in the womb, Dab to the Tomb." - quote inscribed on Rainbow Dashs tombstone
"Get your tickets NOW for the amazing Rainbow Dash stunt show at the Wile E. Coyote Memorial Stadium!"
(She probably should have just jumped over the shark instead.)
This story (as of this writing) lacks the Comedy tag -- it is a penalty to make me laugh at a fucking funeral!
The scenes in the car before the funeral were absolutely breathtaking.
I maintian that if only Wallflower could put her feelings into words for Sunset, things would be much different (even so, only a few things would have to change!). I don't see you going for this in this story, but the side-associative mind of mine submits: When saying anything is a risk, you learn very well to say nothing.
She was so close, too... This juxtaposes well (from a dramatic standpoint) with the implosion that follows
Wallflower’s brain (probably)
She wasn’t talking to you, Wallflower, you fucking cretin.
I remember reading an anecdote once about JFK’s funeral, where his youngest, too young to understand death, kept asking silly questions about why daddy was in the box, and fidgeting and giggling in his seat.
We should send Pinkie Pie back in time, I think.
True to herself, Rainbow Dash wanted the full spectrum of venereal diseases.
Perhaps a limerick?
There once was a girl named Wally
Whose misery made her feel smally
She went out for a beat
And did a big yeet
In short, the green bitch took a fally
Wally would secretly love the limerick.
“You ever notice that all our friends are, like, pink, ‘n shit?”
Wow, what a touching funeral. I wonder if Pinkie Pie’s state of denial is indicative of an even larger problem or mental condition. Let’s send her to space for the space men to study.
I can't tell if this is a comedy or a tragedy anymore
Have I mentioned how delightfully warm and fuzzy this story is? 'Cause it is, and y'all should be proud.
Have I also mentioned how agonising this story can be? 'Cause it is and god this shit hurts.
God damn it why do you do this to us :(
A line worthy of preservation for all eternity.
Aww.
That was lovely and somber both and it never felt out of place. I'm glad Wally got to put the 'fun' in funeral, and that's exactly what RD would have wanted
Holy freaking cow, you've gotten tears out of me two chapters in a row.
I think this is one of the saddest things in the story, and so real. Can't even get away to mourn a dead friend.
Just a side note, I find it extremely odd Wally only finds out how Rainbow died on the way to her funeral. Like, surely it'd have to come up before then, right? Unless they actually set it up and held it on the same day.
Also it's so fucking ridiculous how many things Wally is getting away with, it's crazy. I'm starting to expect her to whip out a 45 and pop Sunset and just get applause lol.
I also can't believe the dab got RD killed, of all things. Not sure if I should laugh or cry at that. I'm still really enjoying this story, tho.
Okay, lemme start with what I didn't like so we can end with what I did. Because I did like this chapter. I really did. But I'm gonna pull a page out of your book and leave a big wall of text about something that I'm relatively passionate about.
I can believe Dashie getting got by her own hubris, even one as stupid as a dab (honestly, it's some god-tier comeuppance and yea, dabbing is stupid). I can believe Wally getting triggered by Sunset's anger in the car. I can believe Sunset floundering at the pulpit. Those are all very realistic, human things—anger and association and the baggage that comes with it and how it mashes together with the present to create this strange, dynamic monstrosity (affectionately) we call human interaction. But, sadly, what I can't believe is Wally being praised to the degree that she was for dabbing during Sunset's speech or Pinkie acting the way she did.
To Wally, I can see this backfiring on her spectacularly, but in a different way. Like, certainly the adults would have found it inappropriate and probably been angry initially, but Sunset? I could easily see her laughing at the gesture for its sheer audacity. It'd give her something to focus on and let all the stress and emotions wash away until what's left is just raw memories—ones she can sift through in the moment and piece together what she really wants to say about the friend she truly cared for, cause that's why she's angry, right? Cause someone she cared for went and did something stupid and hurt themselves. Not only would it feel more realistic, but it'd also act as an "haha! I did it!" moment for Wally, only for Sunset to shatter that metaphorical window by appreciating the gesture for all it represents (perhaps ironically), and have the added bonus of letting Sunset drag the narrative focus back to her and how this moment of Wally putting herself out there for what appears to be Sunset's comfort/amusement in her time of need. Because this is all about Sunset, right? Everything Wally's doing is for Sunset's benefit.
So like yea, I can see Wally's dab backfiring hardcore here, but not how completely and universally as it's written. (Turning off my editor brain for a moment, I can say that I love this idea of the universe simply asserting itself and saying "No, you're gonna be happy and you're gonna fuckin' realize that you deserve to be happy" that just seems to be happening over and over. That carries its own warmth and isn't lost on me.)
And Pinkie Pie. I wanna be direct with this: Pinkie Pie isn't stupid. She's airheaded and thinks weird thoughts and goes about things in very strange ways, but she is not stupid. Please don't do this to her.
I know you're going for laughs with the "haha, she doesn't understand death," but the reality is, someone like Pinkie would. She may not be intelligent in a book or math sense, but she is most certainly socially adept. She understands emotions. For all her airheadedness and seemingly random shenanigans, there is still a person who understands people in there, and making her too zany does her a disservice. (This is something a lot of the post-season 3 show writers even got wrong, and yes it bugs the shit out of me)
The thing people tend to get wrong with Pinkie Pie (and consequently why she's hard to write) is that despite how random she seems, she isn't. If one were to look only at points A and Z of her thought process, yea, she would seem like a fucking maniac (which is consequently where most of her "logic humor" comes from in the show, via other ponies doing exactly that). But there is always a distinct chain of logic that she follows if you listen to her explain it. A to B to C [... to Z] is always logical and very stepwise (sometimes too stepwise or overly itemized in such a way where others would mentally lump certain items together as single bullet points), and that truth should be maintained in everything she does, especially the zany shit. She simply sees the world through a different lens, one that might tend to be a little too optimistic or over the top, but still very much believable when all the pieces are visible.
Now, not all of the Pinkie stuff above applies to the scene, but the way you wrote her feels like an extension or summation/write-off of this, and you've soapboxed my story, so imma soapbox yours. :copper_smug:
Now, that out of the way, I really liked Wally's spiral here. It's still kind of cringy to see it happen because I wanna shake her by the shoulders and just be like "stop being so damn stupid, you lovable idiot and just fucking love yourself for once in your damn life," but the logic is still there, and I like how it's all relating back to the ring and Sunset. The narrative is very focused, and you use that directness effectively to just keep hammering home the relentlessness of her mental issues.
11511978
My suspension of disbelief was already on thin ice from that chapter, but this one truly killed it and dabbed at its funeral