All Teeth

by Regidar

All Teeth/No Hope

It’s a wicked life
isn’t it

Trixie?

and that’s how you really feel

isn’t it
Trixie?

you’d like a different life
wouldn’t you?

One with everything
in
place.

The shelves lined with success.

The pictures framed with gold.
the memories fond,
the friendships strong.

the LIGHTS

the SOUNDS

the COLORS

the SHAPES

The theatrics

and the pomp.

It is all

you want.

So I’ll do my best
to act the part—
please forgive me if I stutter
or forget a line

we all need a reminder

from time to time.

go to the shelf
the one without accolades or awards
and retrieve for you and I
the book.

The one full of photographs
Taken at different rate of frame
and different shutter speeds
take a look through the archive
of days gone by.

hidden inside, you just may find

evidence that you were

once just fine.

(but is it that easy?)

With hat in hoof,

you moved.
Turned it upside

down.

With a smile hollowed out

a plume of smoke rose up.

And for a moment, you reached out—

(As if you’d ever been there in the first place)

—and you stepped back.

Is it difficult now?
To open those pages.
Will you do it anyway?
Just to remind yourself.

there are other possibilities.

How strange is this obsession
with moments that have passed
and will never be repeated
when the memory itself is already
so difficult to forget
why do we need to be reminded
of what we can no longer touch?

Or hear?

Or see,

Or hold.

do you suppose that maybe
silver iodide conjuring these images into temporary permanence
was not what any were ever meant to do?

or do you suppose that

there could be something

profoundly wrong

with you

and that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be?

Wrench the book open,

Trixie.
You don’t even need to start at the start.

It will all hurt your heart.

(As if that had ever been there in the first place)

Taxidermied time
Glowing and glistening
In its otherworldly shine

You can almost hear it again.

(almost.)

Run your hoof along the corner of the page
Feel how old this is
how long you have had it
and ponder how it has not even lived half its life

in your

possession.

Not to unearth any unpleasantness

of the past

but you can almost remember how she smiled

when she passed it on to you.

And yet

it remains
a mockery.

(what good are memories of the good times

when it feels as though there will never be

good times

ever

again?)

Ah! I see you’ve opened up to the wedding.

Excellent choice.

Look at how happy everyone is.
Look at how happy.

(as if you were ever happy in the first place)

you

stepped

back.

I don’t blame you,

Trixie.

You are flesh and bone,
just like everyone you know.

(Except, of course,

those photos.)

Flesh and bone,
just like everyone you know,

just like all of us.

As such,
you have your
fears and doubts.

which rarely slip out

Yet you show them off in the display
When you perform on stage
All can see it

clear

as

day.

I know.

(i’ve felt the same way)

It’s a wicked life,
Isn’t it,

Trixie?

filled with both good

and bad.

yet, doesn’t it feel...

(like these scales were tipped long before you?)

As if the photographs

(that you hate)

Which live in the book

(that you hate)

Have somehow,

in their timelessness,
always existed.

as if Trixie Lulamoon

(who you hate)

was an inevitability.

pick another page.

One of your first shows!
How precious.
What humble beginnings for

The Great

And Powerful

(so great and powerful)

Trixie.

Now look at you!
Isn’t this the life you always wanted?

Couped up in your little wagon?
Wandering the lands?

Begging for scraps
Like a dog

in the streets?

Unrecognized by any and all?

At least from the bottom

there’s nowhere to fall.

Trixie,
Trixie,

Trixie.

You don’t need to say a word.
I already know.
And yes,

it is unfair

how a little mistake

can ruin your life like that.

how being just a bit too reckless
mars your reputation forever.

Everyone is flesh and bone.
Just
Like
You.

(so what’s wrong with me?)

Flipping through the pages now
It is only reasonable
To feel the anger
And dismay

That comes with

looking in

through a window in time

back to a place you are never allowed to return.

The rage it inspires?
That is normal.
For once,

you are normal.

(“for once”)

It doesn’t matter
to whom this album once belonged
they are all dead.
they are all gone.

except for

in this book.

in this horrible mockery,

they are trapped.

Why don’t you set them free?

Everyone else
will just be forgiven for anything
While you are guilty
of everything.

doesn’t it make sense to just

let go

of the reins

and riding crop

and give yourself

a well deserved rest?

(so set them free.)

Any last wishes

or contemplations
before you join them

in the afterlife of ashes?

nothing of each other

nothing of you

nothing.
nothing left.

(...)

Oh,
Trixie.

You are adorable.
Please, believe the lie
that you will be missed
when you are gone.

(Set them free.)

Take a last look

At the empty shelves of failure

notice now, as you always have

the poverty and squalor

you exist within

(because you could not call this living)

all of this

in pursuit of your passion

was it worth it?

don’t answer.

(Set them free.)

Set yourself free.
Bleed for all eternity.
Pawn your tragic history for a bit or three.

But don’t

expect more.

The overwhelming majority of lives

were much more interesting than yours.

Much more interesting than mine.

(SET THEM FREE!)

You tossed the book on the stove,

and watched it burst to flame.

You choke on the smoke,

you watch them wither away.

All of them trapped there,

who were dead anyway,

yet as you watch the last photographs

of you and your mother together

when you were so young that

your memory does not evoke

the true nature of what it was

rather some vague facsimile

of what had once been

not too dissimilar

to the photos

but

weaker

and

further

away

you

began

to

wonder

if

you

made

another

terrible

irreparable

irreversible

mistake.

Lay down,
Trixie.

Lay down

in the center

of your wagon

and let

the flames

take you

as

they

have

taken

that book of scraps.

Lay down,
Trixie.

Lay down

and accept

the pure misery

and agony

that will give way to

something

(Anything.)

more beautiful

and less painful

than this

existence.

“Everyone else
will just be forgiven for anything
While you are guilty
of
everything.”

It’s a wicked life,
Isn’t it

Trixie?

Feels almost as if

you were meant to be crushed.

Meant to believe in love.

Built to break.

An army of

An army of

An army of

(You and who’s?)

…

…

You still have a friend.

You have not met them yet.

Yet they are there.

In some distant timeline.

She loved you.

She loved you.

(Love?)

Don’t get your hopes up.

An army of

And yet,
Why are you still

trying so hard

to please

all who despise you?

(I just want—)

What?

(I just—)

…

(Want to be…)

(Loved.)

It’s a wicked life,

Isn’t it
Trixie?

Your shoulders were not meant to hold this weight.

After all—
You were

(Built to break.)

An army of

Yes,
All it is
Is

An army of

Imperfect animals

An army of

Imperfect animals

An army of imperfect animals

An army of

Imperfect animals

Demanding perfection

From other armies of

Imperfect animals

All those little cells

Little animals

Troops marching in their units

Units marching as the army

That you are

Orders from

high command

do not reach

each

battalion

and each battalion

will not listen

the same

as they

once did.

Each imperfect animal
Holds the power

To rebel

These armies
will collapse
from within

just as readily

as they fall

to

one

another.

The army of

(imperfect animals

that

i

am)

the way it fought so valiantly

against any and all.

yet,

you, yourself

just an

(imperfect animal.)

rebelling in

your army of

(imperfect animals.)

Waiting, to see

if any part of your army of

(imperfect animals.)

will turn

all to teeth

to

consume

you

from

within.

Her eyes, your mother’s eyes,

they were dull

until her day

of reckoning

until the revolution

took her away

from you.

and the sun?

you hate the sun.

you wish,

in your darkest night

that even the moon did not reign your life

after all

what is it but

just cold sunlight

No sun.

No heat.

No moon.

(not even the stars.)

A cold, dead world.

A void,

your life.

And what about

your trust?

your love?

(my hope?)

Did you ever
have any of that

at all?

(...)

Close your eyes.

Dream of the lie.

You will be missed when you die.

(and she might save my life.)

No deus ex

no machina.

when a single soldier falls

the army goes on.

no stars?
no stars.

no light from above

just the glow all around

the flames licking your coat

(and my lungs filled with smoke.)

We are all

An army of imperfect animals

And we are all

All teeth

And know

No

(Hope.)

Author's Note:

Comments

[Regidar]

I tried to preserve the original formatting best I could, and had to improvise for the ending there. You can read the story with the original formatting here.

[PacifistDoodl3r]

(this fic did resonate with me)

[Daedalus Aegle]

Painful and beautiful.

[Trixie Gayming]

Jesus this is a whole lot in such little space. Poor Trix. She doesn't deserve this life.

[Turbotune]

That was a pretty cool story, glad that I read it.
11434957
I think that if you wish to perserve the format, you can try doing like this fic by The Red Parade and post the text afterwards. It could work out.

[Ice Star]

Holy shit it’s even better than I remembered!

(Any reason the other little ending wasn’t a chapter in its own right and wound up as an external link?)

[Bad Horse]

This moved me. Very poetic. Many excellent short phrases. I read the lyrics to the song after reading the story, and the lines I liked most aren't from the song, except for one, "You were built to break." "An army of imperfect animals" comes across lamely in the song; it only came to life for me because you added the word "cells", and the references to Trixie's mother dying of cancer. What you wrote here is IMHO much better than the song that inspired it.

Readers: The linked-to Google docs give world suggestion privs. You can leave comments on them, and even suggest changes to individual lines. That was a bold move by Regidar.

[Nopetrain]

This is a reference to that episode where Trixie attempts suicide by jumping inside the maw of manticore and Starlight saves her?

[Regidar]

11435010
none of us do.

11434982
I'm glad it did. Well, maybe glad is the wrong word. We can make it through this.

11435003
It's what I've always tried to be. thank you <3

11435275
I'm glad you read it too! I'll look in to experimenting around with doing something similar to what Red did, fimfic avant that he is. I gotta say, I don't hate how the final product turned out here in the formatting. I like constructing visually appealing text but also like the tab key a bit too much.

11435755
one of my favorite episodes. the show writers were correct and brave to do what they did there. I have always empathized with Trixie the most out of any character—except perhaps starlight, but she has a true skill and raw talent and inherent power to her that I simply do not wield. Walking disaster and attention whore that she is, Trixie is the closest candidate to sharing my internal dialogue out of any of the characters. I love her dearly.

11435507
I wanted to be edgy and cool. I dunno, shake things up a bit.

11435717
I think the Have A Nice Life cover of All Teeth is one of my favorite songs in existence. The lyrics were very powerful to me when I was in high school, but what endures is the perfect riff and the crushing wall of sound that blasts in on the second half. Dan's wonderful woeful wails really get me goin'. But you know me, I'm a sucker for that lo-fi depressive post-industrial doomgaze.

I'm really glad you liked this so much! That means a lot. I'd written the bulk of this story back in July and August of this year and it sat around stewing, almost complete but not quite. On Sunday, I was struck with what "an army of imperfect animals" could actually mean, and I added that part into the story. I also cleaned up the end because originally it did not have the hope attached to it. I've written enough stories that end the other way. One of my most popular fics of all time is literally just an extended suicide note. Sorry, Trixie. You get to live.

[themoontonite]

im angry at you for making me feel things with the little horses . stop it (gorgeously real and relatable work as always 💛 )

[Ice Star]

11435924
Huh, it actually gave me the impression that the ending was scrapped or a bonus that never made it into the final draft. But it doesn’t sound like that’s the case?

[Regidar]

11435989
i will never stop

11436041
nah, just a novel way of presenting the ending. i could wax poetic on the pretense of how having to access the ending that way simulates the act of teleportation, with the sudden shift to a different website but that would be quite self-important, wouldn't it

[Ice Star]

11437222
I’m just wondering what happens if the ending gets lost or severed in the future because of something happening to the document.

[Regidar]

11437280
For some reason I think google docs will be around longer than fimfic will

[Ice Star]

11437430
I was just referring to the specific document and the individual settings.

[PresentPerfect]

bro

this is fantastic

[Miro MM]

well I can't make a swans reference here, this is have a nice life and Giles Corey man fuck. But holy shit im so fucking surprised that a story like this exists, combining one of my all time favorite single artists and bands and making a poetic surreal story omg this is hitting all the things I love, I think you might actually be one of, if not my all time favorite writer because of stuff like this. MASTERPIECE AHHHHHH IM FANBOYYYINGGG RNNN