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The Great Wish Movie Rewrite Chapter One

Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!!!!! Chapter one of my next project, The Great Wish Movie Rewrite, is up on AO3! Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61920016

What to expect:

Magnifico is the protagonist, and we see the story and his non-one-dimensional struggle through his perspective.

Asha and Amaya are antagonists.

Star Boy is in it.

NO OCS!!!!!!!!! Just a straightforward, comprehensive narrative of what the movie should've been like.

(This work is complete, and knows where it's going, and a new chapter will be added every Friday).

Excerpt:

In most monarchies, the king claims sovereignty over his people, but in the kingdom of Rosas, King Magnifico’s subjects were the tyrants. 

It was his fault, he thought regretfully, for using sorcery in the first place to begin granting wishes. He should have remembered that a genie was a prisoner to the whims of others, and so too his ability left him at his people's mercy. 

“I want a million coins! A parakeet, a banana split, a swimming pool, a trampoline, uhhh. . .” a little boy licking a lollipop was sitting on his lap, demanding.

"Well, we'll see about that." Magnifico glanced around for the boy's parents. "How did you get past the guards?" The palace gates, flanked by statuesque soldiers, led to the long, carpeted hallway that opened to the throne room. There the king sat upon his throne, resplendent in star-stitched robes, with all the dignity of Father Christmas.

"Great! When grown ups say 'we'll see about that', it always means yes!" The little boy jumped up off the king's lap, then skipped away, outside into the queue of people waiting their turn to make a wish. 

Resentfully, King Magnifico raised his sceptre, then granted the boy’s wishes with a sweeping shimmer, since he had no heart to disappoint him. 

As the boy disappeared, someone else stepped forward, shoulders slumped in sorrow. “My king,” said a peasant girl, coming up to the throne, clutching a shawl around herself. “My mother twisted her ankle, and can no longer walk after slipping on one of our chicken's eggs. She’s unable to even stand upright. Will you heal her?”

King Magnifico quickly forgot the previous boy's entitlement, and nodded slowly. "A twisted ankle? That is a serious affliction." 

"It's swollen to the size of the egg she slipped on."

The king raised his scepter, then waved it in an arc, healing the girl's mother at once. “There, her pain is gone now,” he said as the girl’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across her face. She bowed, then turned to leave, and Magnifico remembered briefly why sorcery was a blessing.

But no sooner had the girl disappeared, than through the grand doors strode a middle-aged man with fox-like features and an air of impatience. A long travelling cloak billowed behind him as he marched with a walking stick up to the king, who studied him with a steady gaze.

"Your Majesty," the man began without even a bow, "I come to you with a request. I have heard of your power to grant wishes, and seek your aid."

The king leaned forward. Magnifico possessed an innate desire to help those in need, and often found it difficult to say no, but he grew weary since lately it was becoming clear that a fool who makes a wish often finds that what he desires has consequences. 

"Well, go ahead.” Magnifico waved his hand. “Speak your wish.”

The man’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered it, then said without shame, "I wish for absolute power. I desire to command armies, to rule with an iron fist, and to have the loyalty of every citizen."

Magnifico’s eyes narrowed, and his voice grew cold as he replied, “Such a wish speaks to ambition beyond measure. But power without wisdom is a path of which to be wary.”

“Sure, sure.” The peasant stood tall as he pulled a scroll from his cloak. “Now, let me be clear on the terms and conditions of this wish: no action, policy, or decree should be contested or overturned by any other entity. I require immunity from any form of legal or physical retribution. This wish should remain in effect for the duration of my lifetime, and extend to my successors, ensuring that the absolute power granted is maintained beyond my tenure. Once granted, this wish must be irrevocable to any changes or nullifications.”

The king’s gaze grew colder still. “I see,” he said. “You think you can waltz in here and demand absolute power with such brazen terms? Absolute authority is not a game to be played. It must be wielded with responsibility.”

The peasant smirked, and folded his arms. “Oh, please. Save the moralising. We’ve no objection to you as a wizard, you know, but as a king we hate you.”

King Magnifico’s heart rate quickened, but his voice remained even. “You are not just seeking to overthrow me; you are aiming to become a tyrant. Power without limits corrupts, and turns rulers into monsters. I will never allow this kingdom to be weakened by the hunger for control. I hereby decree your banishment. Guards, escort this man out of the palace, and ensure he departs from our borders immediately. Any attempt to defy this order will be met with execution. Let it be known our kingdom will always stand against the darkness of greed. We will remain a land of generosity and justice.”

As the king’s words echoed through the throne room, the guards stepped forward with practised ease. They seized the peasant by the arms, who, despite wriggling like a snake, was no match for their strength. The guards dragged him towards the gates.

“I will not be treated like this!” the man sputtered, flailing his arms. “I demand to speak to someone in charge!”

“I am in charge!” Magnifico banged his fist against his throne’s armrest. But he began to see that by giving gifts freely, even if he sat on the throne, his people wielded the power. He was constrained by the very magic that defined him, having to listen to a thousand such ridiculous requests a day. And most times, his subjects couldn't even get their teeth around the word 'thank you'. 

King Magnifico knew things could not go on this way, and so that night, he asked for the counsel of the person he trusted most to advise him: his dear wife, Amaya, who he called to the top of the tallest tower in his palace.

Finish reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61920016

The Great Wish Movie Rewrite Chapter One

Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!!!!! Chapter one of my next project, The Great Wish Movie Rewrite, is up on AO3! Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61920016

What to expect:

Magnifico is the protagonist, and we see the story and his non-one-dimensional struggle through his perspective.

Asha and Amaya are antagonists.

Star Boy is in it.

NO OCS!!!!!!!!! Just a straightforward, comprehensive narrative of what the movie should've been like.

(This work is complete, and knows where it's going, and a new chapter will be added every Friday).

Excerpt:

In most monarchies, the king claims sovereignty over his people, but in the kingdom of Rosas, King Magnifico’s subjects were the tyrants. 

It was his fault, he thought regretfully, for using sorcery in the first place to begin granting wishes. He should have remembered that a genie was a prisoner to the whims of others, and so too his ability left him at his people's mercy. 

“I want a million coins! A parakeet, a banana split, a swimming pool, a trampoline, uhhh. . .” a little boy licking a lollipop was sitting on his lap, demanding.

"Well, we'll see about that." Magnifico glanced around for the boy's parents. "How did you get past the guards?" The palace gates, flanked by statuesque soldiers, led to the long, carpeted hallway that opened to the throne room. There the king sat upon his throne, resplendent in star-stitched robes, with all the dignity of Father Christmas.

"Great! When grown ups say 'we'll see about that', it always means yes!" The little boy jumped up off the king's lap, then skipped away, outside into the queue of people waiting their turn to make a wish. 

Resentfully, King Magnifico raised his sceptre, then granted the boy’s wishes with a sweeping shimmer, since he had no heart to disappoint him. 

As the boy disappeared, someone else stepped forward, shoulders slumped in sorrow. “My king,” said a peasant girl, coming up to the throne, clutching a shawl around herself. “My mother twisted her ankle, and can no longer walk after slipping on one of our chicken's eggs. She’s unable to even stand upright. Will you heal her?”

King Magnifico quickly forgot the previous boy's entitlement, and nodded slowly. "A twisted ankle? That is a serious affliction." 

"It's swollen to the size of the egg she slipped on."

The king raised his scepter, then waved it in an arc, healing the girl's mother at once. “There, her pain is gone now,” he said as the girl’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across her face. She bowed, then turned to leave, and Magnifico remembered briefly why sorcery was a blessing.

But no sooner had the girl disappeared, than through the grand doors strode a middle-aged man with fox-like features and an air of impatience. A long travelling cloak billowed behind him as he marched with a walking stick up to the king, who studied him with a steady gaze.

"Your Majesty," the man began without even a bow, "I come to you with a request. I have heard of your power to grant wishes, and seek your aid."

The king leaned forward. Magnifico possessed an innate desire to help those in need, and often found it difficult to say no, but he grew weary since lately it was becoming clear that a fool who makes a wish often finds that what he desires has consequences. 

"Well, go ahead.” Magnifico waved his hand. “Speak your wish.”

The man’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered it, then said without shame, "I wish for absolute power. I desire to command armies, to rule with an iron fist, and to have the loyalty of every citizen."

Magnifico’s eyes narrowed, and his voice grew cold as he replied, “Such a wish speaks to ambition beyond measure. But power without wisdom is a path of which to be wary.”

“Sure, sure.” The peasant stood tall as he pulled a scroll from his cloak. “Now, let me be clear on the terms and conditions of this wish: no action, policy, or decree should be contested or overturned by any other entity. I require immunity from any form of legal or physical retribution. This wish should remain in effect for the duration of my lifetime, and extend to my successors, ensuring that the absolute power granted is maintained beyond my tenure. Once granted, this wish must be irrevocable to any changes or nullifications.”

The king’s gaze grew colder still. “I see,” he said. “You think you can waltz in here and demand absolute power with such brazen terms? Absolute authority is not a game to be played. It must be wielded with responsibility.”

The peasant smirked, and folded his arms. “Oh, please. Save the moralising. We’ve no objection to you as a wizard, you know, but as a king we hate you.”

King Magnifico’s heart rate quickened, but his voice remained even. “You are not just seeking to overthrow me; you are aiming to become a tyrant. Power without limits corrupts, and turns rulers into monsters. I will never allow this kingdom to be weakened by the hunger for control. I hereby decree your banishment. Guards, escort this man out of the palace, and ensure he departs from our borders immediately. Any attempt to defy this order will be met with execution. Let it be known our kingdom will always stand against the darkness of greed. We will remain a land of generosity and justice.”

As the king’s words echoed through the throne room, the guards stepped forward with practised ease. They seized the peasant by the arms, who, despite wriggling like a snake, was no match for their strength. The guards dragged him towards the gates.

“I will not be treated like this!” the man sputtered, flailing his arms. “I demand to speak to someone in charge!”

“I am in charge!” Magnifico banged his fist against his throne’s armrest. But he began to see that by giving gifts freely, even if he sat on the throne, his people wielded the power. He was constrained by the very magic that defined him, having to listen to a thousand such ridiculous requests a day. And most times, his subjects couldn't even get their teeth around the word 'thank you'. 

King Magnifico knew things could not go on this way, and so that night, he asked for the counsel of the person he trusted most to advise him: his dear wife, Amaya, who he called to the top of the tallest tower in his palace.

Finish reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61920016

Wicked Rewrite Chapter 2 (Not Like Other Girls)

Didn't expect to continue this, but didn't expect to get 6 kudos that fast. Join us for a story about the Wicked Witch actually being wicked. A twist on the twist.

Excerpt:

“I don’t read the same thing every day, you know,” Elphaba said, flipping a page. “That's the thing about books. Once you get all the information out of one, then you can get more from another. You should try it sometime."

"Oh, I like reading about poetry, philosophy, and architecture," said Glinda, feeling a stab of irritation at whatever stereotype her roommate was trying to pin on her. "Like I said, I got into Shzzz for my literary merits."

"I'm sure whatever references you made to nursery rhymes were very insightful. But I'm talking about actually familiarizing yourself with our politics and history," said Elphaba. "Tonight, I’m reading some of the speeches from the Codified Chronicles of Ozma’s Reign. I want to accomplish important things, like changing our outdated laws.”

“That sounds interesting," said Glinda. "What kind of laws do you want to change?"

Elphaba let out a long-suffering sigh, as if Glinda couldn't possibly understand the depths of what she was doing. "Well," she said, finally sitting all the way up, and turning to look at Glinda down her crooked nose. She adjusted her glasses. "I think that anyone with green skin should be automatically exempt from having to share a room with anyone. And we shouldn't have to go outside to any social gatherings. The sun, after all, makes us a walking target for sunburns and rain."

"I see."

"Furthermore, I think that anyone with green skin should be legally required to wear a crown. It’s only fair. After all, if we can't blend in, why shouldn't we stand out royally?"

Glinda nodded, only half sure Elphaba was making a joke. "I don't know what to make of what you say sometimes," she admitted. "Why should anyone treat you differently for being green?"

"I think it's actually a superior way of being," said Elphaba. "I'm not like other girls, after all. My brain works completely differently. I read actual books instead of wasting time gossiping about fashion trends or boys."

"We don't really talk about those things," said Glinda, but Elphaba wasn't listening.

"Other girls are too busy looking in mirrors, but I actually look at the world around me. You know, the real world, not just my own reflection."

"I don't think—"

"While other girls are obsessing over how to please people, I’m actually trying to make the world a better place. A bit more ambitious, wouldn't you say? I don’t waste my energy on frivolous things like popularity. I’d rather have intelligence and independence, qualities other girls wouldn’t even know how to handle."

Glinda's eyes fell upon the hat on her nightstand. "I have an idea," she said, going to pick it up. "I may not have a crown for you to wear, but how about this? You don't like flashy things anyway, right? This black hat ought to match the rest of your wardrobe."

"I couldn't wear that, it's not sensible at all!" Elphaba flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It's tall and pointy. Points are childish and shallow."

"You know," said Glinda, "you say you like to be sensible, but I don't think that's really what you want. A blanket that's thin and moldy isn't a sensible choice. Dark raggedy clothes aren't practical for fitting into a school. I think what you're really trying to be is different." She handed Elphaba the hat. "Take it. Then you can really stand out."

Elphaba stared at the black pointed hat in her gnarled green hands. She traced the brim with a long nail, and her mouth twisted thoughtfully. Slowly, she raised it, and set it on her shiny mane of black hair. She shook her head to adjust it, and walked across the room to the mirror.

"I must admit…" she said, after a moment. "I think it actually suits me."

Just then, a gust of wind crashed the window shut, and heavy hailstones banged into the glass. Glinda yelped, and ran to push a table in front of it. "The latch is broken," she said. "Hand me something to fasten it with, Elphie—It's alright if I call you that, isn't it?—Elphie? Elphaba?"

She turned to see Elphaba standing by the window, her eyes wide, hands raised in the air. The storm was swirling around her, but not touching her. She seemed to barely notice it. 

"Elphaba, are you—" Glinda started, her voice faltering as she caught sight of Elphaba's expression.

Her fingers twitched as the wind howled louder. A thick, dark cloud began to gather over her head. Little bolts of lightning crackled from it, raising her hair around her pointed hat, like eerie spiderweb threads.

Glinda tripped backwards as Elphaba's hand moved in a sharp motion, and the storm outside obeyed, growing stronger. It was no longer a natural force, but something pulled into motion by Elphaba herself. The wind howled more fiercely, answering her every movement. A flash of lightning illuminated her bright green face as the room started buzzing violently.

"Elphaba!" Glinda shouted, eyes wide. "What’s happening?"

"It's… It's working," murmured her roommate, staring at her hands in disbelief. "Everything I've read… everything I've studied… I can do sorcery." Elphaba lowered her arm, the wind outside dying down in response. The storm ceased, just as suddenly as it had started. She stood motionless for a moment, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

Glinda stared at her roommate, unsure whether to be terrified or amazed. "You did that? With your... your hat?"

"It wasn’t the hat," Elphaba said. "It just awoke something. That was... me."

"Oh…" Glinda covered her mouth with her hands. "I guess you're really not like other girls, after all."

"Quite right." A smirk crept up on her face. "I knew that since I was born." But just as her smugness was reaching unbearable heights, Glinda slipped on a puddle and threw out her hands.

The electric feeling in the room returned more intensely, and rainbows shot out of them, followed by blinding light.

Wicked Rewrite Chapter 2 (Not Like Other Girls)

Didn't expect to continue this, but didn't expect to get 6 kudos that fast. Join us for a story about the Wicked Witch actually being wicked. A twist on the twist.

Excerpt:

“I don’t read the same thing every day, you know,” Elphaba said, flipping a page. “That's the thing about books. Once you get all the information out of one, then you can get more from another. You should try it sometime."

"Oh, I like reading about poetry, philosophy, and architecture," said Glinda, feeling a stab of irritation at whatever stereotype her roommate was trying to pin on her. "Like I said, I got into Shzzz for my literary merits."

"I'm sure whatever references you made to nursery rhymes were very insightful. But I'm talking about actually familiarizing yourself with our politics and history," said Elphaba. "Tonight, I’m reading some of the speeches from the Codified Chronicles of Ozma’s Reign. I want to accomplish important things, like changing our outdated laws.”

“That sounds interesting," said Glinda. "What kind of laws do you want to change?"

Elphaba let out a long-suffering sigh, as if Glinda couldn't possibly understand the depths of what she was doing. "Well," she said, finally sitting all the way up, and turning to look at Glinda down her crooked nose. She adjusted her glasses. "I think that anyone with green skin should be automatically exempt from having to share a room with anyone. And we shouldn't have to go outside to any social gatherings. The sun, after all, makes us a walking target for sunburns and rain."

"I see."

"Furthermore, I think that anyone with green skin should be legally required to wear a crown. It’s only fair. After all, if we can't blend in, why shouldn't we stand out royally?"

Glinda nodded, only half sure Elphaba was making a joke. "I don't know what to make of what you say sometimes," she admitted. "Why should anyone treat you differently for being green?"

"I think it's actually a superior way of being," said Elphaba. "I'm not like other girls, after all. My brain works completely differently. I read actual books instead of wasting time gossiping about fashion trends or boys."

"We don't really talk about those things," said Glinda, but Elphaba wasn't listening.

"Other girls are too busy looking in mirrors, but I actually look at the world around me. You know, the real world, not just my own reflection."

"I don't think—"

"While other girls are obsessing over how to please people, I’m actually trying to make the world a better place. A bit more ambitious, wouldn't you say? I don’t waste my energy on frivolous things like popularity. I’d rather have intelligence and independence, qualities other girls wouldn’t even know how to handle."

Glinda's eyes fell upon the hat on her nightstand. "I have an idea," she said, going to pick it up. "I may not have a crown for you to wear, but how about this? You don't like flashy things anyway, right? This black hat ought to match the rest of your wardrobe."

"I couldn't wear that, it's not sensible at all!" Elphaba flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It's tall and pointy. Points are childish and shallow."

"You know," said Glinda, "you say you like to be sensible, but I don't think that's really what you want. A blanket that's thin and moldy isn't a sensible choice. Dark raggedy clothes aren't practical for fitting into a school. I think what you're really trying to be is different." She handed Elphaba the hat. "Take it. Then you can really stand out."

Elphaba stared at the black pointed hat in her gnarled green hands. She traced the brim with a long nail, and her mouth twisted thoughtfully. Slowly, she raised it, and set it on her shiny mane of black hair. She shook her head to adjust it, and walked across the room to the mirror.

"I must admit…" she said, after a moment. "I think it actually suits me."

Just then, a gust of wind crashed the window shut, and heavy hailstones banged into the glass. Glinda yelped, and ran to push a table in front of it. "The latch is broken," she said. "Hand me something to fasten it with, Elphie—It's alright if I call you that, isn't it?—Elphie? Elphaba?"

She turned to see Elphaba standing by the window, her eyes wide, hands raised in the air. The storm was swirling around her, but not touching her. She seemed to barely notice it. 

"Elphaba, are you—" Glinda started, her voice faltering as she caught sight of Elphaba's expression.

Her fingers twitched as the wind howled louder. A thick, dark cloud began to gather over her head. Little bolts of lightning crackled from it, raising her hair around her pointed hat, like eerie spiderweb threads.

Glinda tripped backwards as Elphaba's hand moved in a sharp motion, and the storm outside obeyed, growing stronger. It was no longer a natural force, but something pulled into motion by Elphaba herself. The wind howled more fiercely, answering her every movement. A flash of lightning illuminated her bright green face as the room started buzzing violently.

"Elphaba!" Glinda shouted, eyes wide. "What’s happening?"

"It's… It's working," murmured her roommate, staring at her hands in disbelief. "Everything I've read… everything I've studied… I can do sorcery." Elphaba lowered her arm, the wind outside dying down in response. The storm ceased, just as suddenly as it had started. She stood motionless for a moment, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

Glinda stared at her roommate, unsure whether to be terrified or amazed. "You did that? With your... your hat?"

"It wasn’t the hat," Elphaba said. "It just awoke something. That was... me."

"Oh…" Glinda covered her mouth with her hands. "I guess you're really not like other girls, after all."

"Quite right." A smirk crept up on her face. "I knew that since I was born." But just as her smugness was reaching unbearable heights, Glinda slipped on a puddle and threw out her hands.

The electric feeling in the room returned more intensely, and rainbows shot out of them, followed by blinding light.

Wicked Rewrite Chapter 1

Wicked reimagines The Wizard of Oz, portraying the Wicked Witch as good. Well, this is a rewrite of Wicked, exploring her as truly wicked.

Focuses on Glinda and Elphaba's dynamic, without dwelling as much on the political animal plot.

Basically I wanted to see what the story would be like if Elphaba was actually a bad or mean character like Snape or Bellatrix instead of a misunderstood misfit, and Glinda had a good, less shallow personality.

Excerpt:

The headmistress smiled broadly as the girls came forward. Glinda curtseyed to her new roommate, but Elphaba kept her eyes on the ground. Glinda caught the faintest flicker of them darting to her hat. 

Finally, the girl spoke in a deep, low grumble: 

"No," she said, eyes invisible behind thickset glasses that seemed almost purposefully styled to be ugly and a ripped up traveling hat pulled low, "I'm not seasick, I didn't eat grass, and yes, I've always been green."

Glinda stopped herself from stepping back in surprise. "Oh! I wasn't going to say anything about your being green. This is Oz after all, everyone has unique traits. I… I like it, actually, it reminds me of the Emerald City!"

Elphaba's pointed nose crinkled, and she let out a sharp laugh, as if sharing an inward joke with herself. "It reminds you of the Emerald City!  Everyone in Oz has unique traits! Of course you'd say those things." She repeated the words in a disdainful tone as if saying them this way explained why they were bad. 

Elphaba folded her arms as if it was unreasonable for somebody not to immediately know what to say to someone with bright green skin who had introduced themself by bringing it up.

"I wish I had gotten placed with a roommate who was actually sensible," the green girl huffed, and trudged to the stairs with a straight back and swish of her long plain dress. 

Glinda's cheeks flushed and she lowered her hat, before following behind, her own frilly dress billowing as she walked. She'd wanted to wear something fun and charming on her first day, but now felt in stark contrast with more dull, mature standards.

She wasn't sure what kind of roommate she'd just ended up with, but being stuck with someone so prim, proper, and hostile for a whole semester filled her with dread. Maybe she could find a way to switch rooms with someone else later. 

But right now the Main Hall was empty—even Madame Morrible had left. Right now everyone else was up in their own rooms, paired with girls they'd known they'd wanted to be with from the first second. Right now, nobody else wanted Glinda. 

Right now, Glinda was stuck.

***

The Wish Rewrite got a little delayed because the other person on this account who was working on it is waiting for a break to finish it. However, the whole thing is almost done and will be a high quality finished story posted on a schedule like the Lorax Rewrite. In the meantime, I wrote this in a couple days. Only the one chapter exists, so it's unknown if I'll finish the whole story or not at this point.

reblog this if you're okay with booping spams please !!

So are boops kind of like an annual tumblr version of llamas on deviantart??? I'm still new here... In any case, seems fun to spam.

One reason I rewrote the Lorax the way I did was actually because I got annoyed at a book I was reading. Books always give the youngest child the hardest role, which is kind of cliché. But the last straw was that this main character had to help provide for their family. And that just hit a nerve. It's one thing to use the typical trope of 'the oldest got all the attention, but the youngest was ignored' for the millionth time, but why does it always make it seem like the oldest child has no struggles, all while giving their more common struggles to the youngest just to fit a marketing cliche? Anyway, it gave me the urge to write some realistic oldest child representation for once, and it happened to fit the archetype for this story really well. (Kind of a random priority, but I have a lot of random priorities that cause me to write). Sometimes there's just a story where you feel like "okay, wait, wait, stop. I'm the one who actually knows how this really happened though."

Thank you so much for saying this, it really makes me happy to know it was enjoyed!!!

Because the original had a lot of plot holes and wasn't satisfying.

What to expect:

1. Actually tells the Once-ler's whole story from beginning to end (no Ted)

2. Gives Once-ler more agency and develops his motives beyond "my family made me do it."

3. Includes "You're all going to jail!" scene

4. Animals die/the stakes are raised

5. Logical explanations for why they couldn't just plant more trees or use a ladder, why Once-ler didn't just plant the seed himself, etc.

6. The Lorax is actually significant

7. Characters like Once-ler's dad, Norma, and O'Hare are woven in, but don't steal the spotlight. (Example: Norma isn't an annoying girlfriend who steals the role of the Lorax).

8. NO ANNOYING OCS, MARY SUES, OR STUPID ROMANCES!!!!!!!!!! Just a straightforward, comprehensive narrative of what the movie should've been like.

This entire novel is complete and has been through multiple drafts. If you follow it, you can be sure that it does have an ending and the author knows where it's going with foreshadowing and extra plot twists. Chapters will be released each week.

THANKS FOR 50 KUDOS!!!!!!!!!!!

Because the original had a lot of plot holes and wasn't satisfying.

What to expect:

1. Actually tells the Once-ler's whole story from beginning to end (no Ted)

2. Gives Once-ler more agency and develops his motives beyond "my family made me do it."

3. Includes "You're all going to jail!" scene

4. Animals die/the stakes are raised

5. Logical explanations for why they couldn't just plant more trees or use a ladder, why Once-ler didn't just plant the seed himself, etc.

6. The Lorax is actually significant

7. Characters like Once-ler's dad, Norma, and O'Hare are woven in, but don't steal the spotlight. (Example: Norma isn't an annoying girlfriend who steals the role of the Lorax).

8. NO ANNOYING OCS, MARY SUES, OR STUPID ROMANCES!!!!!!!!!! Just a straightforward, comprehensive narrative of what the movie should've been like.

This entire novel is complete and has been through multiple drafts. If you follow it, you can be sure that it does have an ending and the author knows where it's going with foreshadowing and extra plot twists. Chapters will be released each week.

Well, no surprise with the result. I kind of wanted it to be biased though, to prove a point, since a lot of people outside sites like this don't understand.

Necessity of Creativity

Necessity of Creativity

Thoughts on Shipping and Romance

I’ve never really understood the way some fandoms treat ships, especially when romance is forced between any two characters just because they share a universe—whether they’re opposite genders or the same. It feels like people attribute way too much to romance, giving it credit for things that don’t actually have anything to do with it.

For instance, just because two characters experience an adventure together, that doesn’t automatically make it romantic. When characters reflect on their relationship and suddenly every interaction is seen through a romantic lens, I find it confusing. It erases the significance of other types of relationships, giving romance all the credit.

Take this example: Would character A not have risked their life for character B if they weren’t in love with them? Would they have refused to go on an adventure together if romance wasn’t involved? That seems to be the implication. But character A shows they care just as much about their other friends, without romance involved. And honestly, wouldn’t they be a bad person if they didn’t care about their friends just because there wasn’t romantic attraction?

To me, this shows that romantic attraction is overrated and gets credit for things that belong to other types of relationships—like friendship, camaraderie, or family bonds. These are often more important, especially in survivalist or intense adventure settings.

I’ve tried to express this before about ships from a certain book series, and my friends at the time insisted that I must be asexual. But I think that’s toxic. I don’t dislike romance; I just don’t think it’s being defined correctly in some cases. When I see certain ships, I don’t understand what’s uniquely romantic about them. It feels like people are using romance as a qualifier for meaning, when it’s not the only way relationships can be meaningful.

A relationship can grow into romance, but the distinction often isn’t clear in people’s minds. It’s like they see every stage of a relationship as inherently romantic, and nothing else. (This especially happens with boy and girl characters, but it can be any). I'm not sure if it's a very healthy way to view romance.

Does anyone else notice this?

THANK YOU

Thank you for 40 kudos on the Lorax Rewrite!!!!!!!!!!!

Over the Garden Wall Novelization Chpt 1

(A very rough draft of a novel I might finish later for Ao3, depending on people's interest. I was thinking about the day I also almost got hit by a train and the police thought we died).

Chapter One: Into the Frog Pond

When Wirt had told his younger brother that he was too busy to look for frogs, that didn't mean he'd wanted Greg to get run over by a train. 

He also hadn't meant that he'd wanted to get hit by the train himself. Who would have expected they'd both have to dive off the tracks just in time for the big black blur to rumble over them, and that they'd be plunged into the river's icy October waters to drown?

That was the kind of thing that happened whenever you had to babysit Greg. 

It all started on Halloween when Wirt had to take him trick or treating.

Greg was a short, fat five-year-old, currently wearing an upside-down teapot on his head. "I'm an elephant," he said, spinning around. "The spout is the trunk!"

Never in a million years would Wirt have understood this, if his brother hadn't pointed it out. But he couldn't say much, since his own costume was just as bad. He held onto the tall red dunce cap meant to be a wizard hat that kept blowing off in the wind—it's a lesson we all must learn that Halloween costumes never cooperate as well as we hope.

The sound of crunching leaves grew louder underfoot as they approached the graveyard gate: a few rusted iron bars with spikes. Beyond it, the gravestones were pale shapes in the dark. Somewhere in the distance, a frog croaked, a low, drawn-out sound echoing off the stones.

"Come on!" said Greg, pushing the gate open. "Me and Dad saw a big one in the duck pond."

"Okay," Wirt said. "I just don't want to get my costume wet." He brushed off some mud and pulled his blue cape tighter as they crept inside.

Kerrrrok, kerrrrok, kerrrok

"I think it's the giant bullfrog," said Greg. "Me and Dad see him whenever we go fishing." 

Greg jumped over flat graves as if they were no more than hopscotch squares.

Wirt stood still, watching his breath mingle with the mist before following. "Careful, don't slip," he said. "After all… we all croak in the dark."

"Maybe you should just hop to it!" Greg scolded, waving him over.

Kerrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrrok

"Shh! I think I hear the frog... over there!" Greg froze.

Wirt's eyes followed Greg's pointing finger to the edge of the graveyard. A rickety fence in the distance barely kept overgrown grass from spilling out of the railroad enclosure beyond.

They approached the thin chain-linked gate, the likes of which might be found in a backyard and easily jumped. The only thing that signified danger was the fact that on the other side there was a steep incline crowded with bramble and thorns—unkempt in faith they'd do what the half-hearted gate could not. 

And yet, if one looked hard enough, there were some clear paths up the slope writhing between the bushes—perfectly good for reaching the top should the desire burn deeply enough in their heart.

Greg was already putting one foot in front of the other, as Wirt slowly slung his own legs over.

Kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrok

The frog's cries were desperate now, seeming to say "Catch me! Hurry! What's taking so long?"

The scratchy ascent would have been a hard enough wrestling match without a cape, but somehow Wirt made it through. Greg reached the top first with burrs stuck to his overalls, and was skipping back and forth over the rails.

"Hey, I've never got to walk on a train track before," he said, putting his hands on his hips and doing a twirl.

Wirt had never been on one either. Unfortunately it was getting really dark now, so it was hard to appreciate the fine details of craftsmanship. Under moonlight, the most that could be observed were the two steel rails stretching like sinews, the sleepers spaced with precision, and if he squinted, a few fish bolts coming loose.

A dark speck appeared in the distance.

When Wirt looked back on the incident years later, he could never remember the train making a sound until it was right in front of them.

"Trains are dangerous," adults always said. "Even if you think they're far away, they can appear in the blink of an eye. Even if you're not standing close to them, the pressure can suck you under. You'll instantly be killed."

Well, after that night, Wirt could safely say which of these things were and weren't true. The train took its time coming—too much time, if he was honest. He and Greg sat indian-style on the track watching it calmly for a minute, not fully convinced the shape really was a train because of how slow it was going.

There was no sound for a long time, and when the lights and rushing noise finally grew, there was plenty of time to dive away. No, it was only because Wirt's cape got caught on one of the fish bolts that he was jerked back into the wood chips.

Even then, nobody got sucked under. In fact, Wirt rolled the opposite way when he finally tore himself free.

And Greg… Well…

"GREG!"

CRRRRAAAAAASH-CLAAANG-TCHOOOM-SHRREEEEEEEECH-KLUNK-KLUNK-RUMBLE-RATTLE-CLACKA-CLACKA-CLACKA-VOOOOOM-KRASHHH-CHUGGA-CHUGGA-THRUMMMM-WOOOOOOOO-SPLAANG!

Coldness punched Wirt in the chest. 

A force pressed hard from every side, so his limbs were too heavy to move. He was yanked downward through blackness as his hands grasped empty water.

Wirt had fallen into the river after his brother. Now both of them were dying.

Greg. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not while he was babysitting. "GREEEEEEEEG!"

CLACKA-CLACKA-OOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Coldness. 

Blackness. 

Sinking. 

Fog enveloped everything.

~*~

The moment Wirt’s shoes hit the mud, he felt the ground give way beneath him. His arms shot out, grasping for anything to hold. 

The frog's croaking grew deafening, as if every amphibian in the pond had joined into a chant. 

"Wirt! It’s deeper than I thought!"

Wirt tried to speak, but his words were swallowed by water. Then the current stopped abruptly, and pushed him the other direction in a way that seemed conscious and purposeful for a river.

“Wirt, hold on!” 

Fingers brushed his arm as the frogs sang louder. Wirt clasped Greg's hand as his younger brother pulled him up. Wirt coughed and blinked the water from his eyes.

They were in a brown pond. The algae had torn into a jagged circle where they'd surfaced. Though it was still dark, the chill had died, being replaced with warmer air, as if it were late summer instead of mid fall.

Wirt shook himself off, and the water slid from his clothes easily, more like slime than liquid.

"A…are you okay…?" He stared at Greg, who was smiling and dancing knee-deep in the mud.

"Yeah! That was fun! I got my bullfrog, see?" He held the biggest, fattest frog Wirt had ever seen over his head, and stuffed it under his teapot.

Kerrok, it said sorrowfully, making Wirt's heart twinge a bit.

At first he wasn't sure why something about his brother looked off. Then he realized the implausibility of the teapot still being on his head after being swept downstream.

"Huh? Hey, did you realize—How do we still have our hats?" Wirt took his own from his head and held it out to examine. It hadn't been nearly so stable in the graveyard.

A sound cut through the air—a man's voice chanting:

O, we took a left when the map said right,

Now we're driftin' off where day is night.

The sign said "Destination," but I reckon it lied,

We're here in the void, where the stars've died.

There was a heavy crunch, like footsteps on brittle leaves. Wirt’s breath caught, and he turned to see a figure moving through the fog, a tall shape in a dark coat, carrying something long and heavy.

The compass points north, or was it west?

We might've failed, but we did our best.

We lost the plot when we took a fall,

Now it seems we're nowhere at all.

“Hello!” Greg called, waving. “Do you know the way back to the railroad we were trespassing on?”

"Shut up!" hissed Wirt, certain Greg was going to get them arrested.

The figure stopped. Wirt could see him more clearly now—a man, tall and broad, with a weathered face and eyes sunken deeply into their sockets. He carried an axe, the blade dark and stained. Most likely a Halloween costume, but wasn't it a little dangerous to be using a real axe if that was the case?

When the man raised a lantern to light his pale face, a chill returned to the air, but not due to the temperature. Wirt grabbed Greg’s shoulder and pulled him back.

The man’s bloodshot eyes settled on them, and his voice was a low rumble. “You two are lost.”

Wirt swallowed. “Yeah... We fell into the river, and now we’re... Well, we don’t know where we are. What city is this?"

The man just stared. Then he let out a dry laugh. “You two are more lost than you realize," he said. "Both are a bit young to be dead, I would think."

Wirt didn't know what to say to this, so he said nothing. He didn't know who this man was, but decided to wait for him to go away.

Greg, unfortunately, was too dumb to be shy. "Hey, are you gonna kill us with that axe? You look like a bad guy. Are you wearing a costume?"

"Greg!" Wirt kicked his ankle.

But the man didn't look offended. His expression was blank. Too blank. For a moment, it looked like he was broken.

"It's out of my hands to decide who lives and dies," he said finally. "Such are the whims of fate."

"Wirt, do you think that man has any candy for us?" Greg said loudly, as if the man wasn't standing right there. "Hey!" he turned and yelled. "TRICK OR TREAT!"

The man shook his head slowly. "There are no treats for you out here, boy. And I suggest you keep your voice down if you don't want to attract the beast." His eyes fell upon Wirt. "You should keep an eye on your brother. Goodnight to you." He turned to continue on his way. As he trudged off, Wirt saw a bundle of wood strapped to his back.

 AW-ROOH! AWWWW-ROOOOH!

Wirt and Greg both splashed backward at a howl that sounded all too near.

"It's the beast!" yelled Wirt. "We have to get out of here! Come on!"

He and Greg dashed out of the water. There was a slurping sound as Wirt's shoe was pulled off by quicksand. He didn't stop, keeping his pace the same as Greg's. Greg was at the age of being too heavy to carry, but slow enough that the best you could do was watch his back and pray he went fast enough.

"Quick! Over here!" said a voice.

Wirt and Greg turned through a grove to see a big broken-down house with a waterwheel looming before them. Hopefully inside would be safe. Safer, at least, then outside with a beast, at the bottom of a river, in the middle of a train track, or any of the other places they'd been that night.

One shots?

I was thinking maybe instead of making every single thing into a long overwhelming polished novel with multiple drafts (even though I will still always work on those too) maybe I should put some shorter fanfictions as posts here. Like the kind of stuff I just spend a day on, and then I might even have some time to make sketches to go with them. Is that the kind of thing anyone here would be interested in?

Example: I might post the first chapter of an Over the Garden Wall novelization I started in my style with a picture of it.

Excerpt 2:

Something tall and green swayed under the beating sun. If one looked closely, they might have thought it was a preying mantis or circus performer. Some might have even said it looked like a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole stuffed in greasy green alligator skin.

The truth was that it was an old man who was a particular shade of green standing over a sprout. The only other color he wore was in the form of an extremely fluffy pink scarf. It was a good thing he didn't need food anymore, and when he slept, just sat down on the tree stump behind him. Each morning, he would stand up before the sun, so that when it rose, its light would be filtered through him.

The old man could be observed following this routine for exactly eight months, a young boy bringing him supplies every so often. 

There were moments when the old man feared they were losing the battle. A week of cloudy skies meant no sunlight at all, and the young sprout drooped as if in despair. "Patience," the boy would say, reminding Once-ler of the very lesson he was still learning. "Patience, and we’ll get there."

When a sudden frost threatened to kill the sapling, Once-ler and the boy worked through the night, covering it with their own bodies and whatever scraps they could find. "We’re so close now," the boy whispered, teeth chattering. "It can’t all be for nothing."

The routine of watering the seed with butterfly milk every four hours, even through the night, began to wear on Once-ler’s frail body. His old bones creaked and his muscles burned. But he didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop. Each drop of milk was like a promise—a promise to the Lorax, to himself, and to the valley he’d betrayed.

Things continued this way until the sprout grew into a sapling of three feet. Then the job was complete. Although it wouldn't be a full grown Truffula for at least a hundred years, it was at least likely to survive till then. And if it didn't… Well, a hundred other sprouts had a fighting chance.

Crackling lights filled the sky, akin to a firework show or the northern lights. If one squinted they could see an orange speck growing bigger and bigger in their midst.

Once-ler turned his eyes up, and smiled.

Their presence was subtle at first—a rustle in the underbrush, a distant hum, the flutter of wings in the fading light. Then an array of creatures emerged from the fog, their steps dissolving the smog as they went. 

Birds of vibrant plumage like orange peacocks soared overhead, leaving blue streaks in the gray. Sunlight poured through their trails, anointing the earth in gold where snails crawled on their bellies and toads walked on their hind legs. A butterfly with spots like a cow alighted Once-ler's shoulder, and the old man smiled.

Where ancient trees had once stood tall, the barren landscape was suddenly filled again with life. Colorful rabbits and squirrels scurried through the underbrush, while elk roamed the open field. A reddish bear the size of a child's toy wrapped its arm around Once-ler's leg and purred as the humming-fish sang in a soothing choir.

It would take a long time, longer than Once-ler would live, until the valley was fully back to the way it had once been. But it would be someday. The boy who looked like Once-ler would be able to appreciate it soon enough. He had never asked what his name was…

A throat cleared itself behind him. Once-ler turned around to look at the Lorax whose feet hung over the UNLESS stones where he was seated.

"Thank you for restoring the light. Where once was dark, now all is bright. While time rolled on, seeds were sown. A whisper of hope is being grown. Thank you, my friend, for starting anew. Truth be told, I missed you too."

GUYS, IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE WHO READ THIS, LEFT KUDOS, COMMENTS, BOOKMARKS, ETC!!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THE GREAT LORAX REWRITE IS FINALLY COMPLETE!

Excerpt:

He spent his days staring at the tally marks he'd scratched into the walls. They sprawled unevenly, some deep gouges, others mere scratches. He counted them again and again, fingers tracing the jagged lines, as he mumbled under his breath. "One... two... three... four..." His voice faltered and he started over. "One… two… thr—no, wait." He could only pray his count remained slightly accurate as the years went by.

Once he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of green in the broken shard of metal that hung from the wall. He whipped his head around, only to see his own reflection glaring back at him. But it wasn’t him—it was that other him. The green, twisted version, eyes hollow and black like two bottomless pits. 

"What do you want?" he whispered. "Why won’t you just leave me alone?" The reflection only smiled, a slow, creeping grin before crawling slowly away.

At night, the walls breathed. That’s what it sounded like to Once-ler—a long, wheezing inhale, a brittle exhale. The wind rushed through the gaps with ghostly arms that reached for him. He woke up, shivering, convinced he heard humming-fish singing just outside. 

"Hush! Quiet, they’re back!" he whispered to himself. Pressing his ear to the walls, the cold metal bit into his skin. All he heard was the wind. He slumped back down, knees pulled to his chest. "They were here," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "I know they were here…"

Desperate for routine, every morning, Once-ler reached for the rope he’d rigged to a bucket. It wasn’t for food or water—those needs had faded—he pulled it up just to see if the world had sent him something, anything. Most days, it came up empty, swinging in the breeze like a useless pendulum. Once or twice, he found a few broken pieces of old advertisements. He kept them, not because they were useful, but because they were better than nothing.

The gloves fused to his hands were another enemy he could never beat. They itched and burned, the skin underneath painful and raw. He scratched at the seams until his fingers bled, trying to tear them off. However, the fabric wouldn’t budge. "Get it off, get it off!" he screamed. He tore at his flesh until exhaustion took him.

The days twisted and knotted together into an indecipherable net, ensnaring him. Once-ler sat in his corner, and all he could think was, "Willingly. I chose all of it willingly." 

He wondered if the Lerkim would be his tomb. Or if, by some cruel twist of fate, he’d live forever within its rusted walls, alone with the ghosts of choices that could never be unmade.

The only other thing left to do was the thing he did most of all: Contemplate the meaning of the stones. "Unless." Unless what? he wondered.

Unless he changed his ways?

Unless he somehow escaped?

Unless he said he was sorry?

Unless the humming-fish had been trying to warn him?

Unless the Truffula trees were still out there, watching?

Unless the wind has been whispering the answer all along?

Unless his reflection knew the truth and he didn’t?

Unless the rain spoke a language he couldn't hear?

Unless the Lorax never left and was invisible?

Unless everything that was happening was a dream?

"Unless," Once-ler whispered again, as his brain overheated with puzzlement. "Unless... I was never meant to understand."

(Read the rest on ao3).

--------

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS DONE! For over I a decade I would see people complain about this movie and how it could be better. I would see posts about how people were going to rewrite it, but they never really did beyond summaries. Now I've finally finished this, so my life is complete. This is the longest fanfiction that I took the most seriously finishing. Thank you for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. that I didn't know if it would get.

Me and my coauthor on this account are hoping to create more rewrites after this. Currently, we're almost done with the first draft of a rewrite of Disney's Wish. We're aiming to start releasing it around Christmas, depending on how things go.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS STORY! Please let me know if you have any feedback about how you liked this rewrite. We'll take it into account for how we handle rewrites in the future.

GUYS, IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE WHO READ THIS, LEFT KUDOS, COMMENTS, BOOKMARKS, ETC!!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THE GREAT LORAX REWRITE IS FINALLY COMPLETE!

Excerpt:

He spent his days staring at the tally marks he'd scratched into the walls. They sprawled unevenly, some deep gouges, others mere scratches. He counted them again and again, fingers tracing the jagged lines, as he mumbled under his breath. "One... two... three... four..." His voice faltered and he started over. "One… two… thr—no, wait." He could only pray his count remained slightly accurate as the years went by.

Once he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of green in the broken shard of metal that hung from the wall. He whipped his head around, only to see his own reflection glaring back at him. But it wasn’t him—it was that other him. The green, twisted version, eyes hollow and black like two bottomless pits. 

"What do you want?" he whispered. "Why won’t you just leave me alone?" The reflection only smiled, a slow, creeping grin before crawling slowly away.

At night, the walls breathed. That’s what it sounded like to Once-ler—a long, wheezing inhale, a brittle exhale. The wind rushed through the gaps with ghostly arms that reached for him. He woke up, shivering, convinced he heard humming-fish singing just outside. 

"Hush! Quiet, they’re back!" he whispered to himself. Pressing his ear to the walls, the cold metal bit into his skin. All he heard was the wind. He slumped back down, knees pulled to his chest. "They were here," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "I know they were here…"

Desperate for routine, every morning, Once-ler reached for the rope he’d rigged to a bucket. It wasn’t for food or water—those needs had faded—he pulled it up just to see if the world had sent him something, anything. Most days, it came up empty, swinging in the breeze like a useless pendulum. Once or twice, he found a few broken pieces of old advertisements. He kept them, not because they were useful, but because they were better than nothing.

The gloves fused to his hands were another enemy he could never beat. They itched and burned, the skin underneath painful and raw. He scratched at the seams until his fingers bled, trying to tear them off. However, the fabric wouldn’t budge. "Get it off, get it off!" he screamed. He tore at his flesh until exhaustion took him.

The days twisted and knotted together into an indecipherable net, ensnaring him. Once-ler sat in his corner, and all he could think was, "Willingly. I chose all of it willingly." 

He wondered if the Lerkim would be his tomb. Or if, by some cruel twist of fate, he’d live forever within its rusted walls, alone with the ghosts of choices that could never be unmade.

The only other thing left to do was the thing he did most of all: Contemplate the meaning of the stones. "Unless." Unless what? he wondered.

Unless he changed his ways?

Unless he somehow escaped?

Unless he said he was sorry?

Unless the humming-fish had been trying to warn him?

Unless the Truffula trees were still out there, watching?

Unless the wind has been whispering the answer all along?

Unless his reflection knew the truth and he didn’t?

Unless the rain spoke a language he couldn't hear?

Unless the Lorax never left and was invisible?

Unless everything that was happening was a dream?

"Unless," Once-ler whispered again, as his brain overheated with puzzlement. "Unless... I was never meant to understand."

(Read the rest on ao3).

--------

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS DONE! For over I a decade I would see people complain about this movie and how it could be better. I would see posts about how people were going to rewrite it, but they never really did beyond summaries. Now I've finally finished this, so my life is complete. This is the longest fanfiction that I took the most seriously finishing. Thank you for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. that I didn't know if it would get.

Me and my coauthor on this account are hoping to create more rewrites after this. Currently, we're almost done with the first draft of a rewrite of Disney's Wish. We're aiming to start releasing it around Christmas, depending on how things go.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS STORY! Please let me know if you have any feedback about how you liked this rewrite. We'll take it into account for how we handle rewrites in the future.

GUYS, IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE WHO READ THIS, LEFT KUDOS, COMMENTS, BOOKMARKS, ETC!!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THE GREAT LORAX REWRITE IS FINALLY COMPLETE!

Excerpt:

He spent his days staring at the tally marks he'd scratched into the walls. They sprawled unevenly, some deep gouges, others mere scratches. He counted them again and again, fingers tracing the jagged lines, as he mumbled under his breath. "One... two... three... four..." His voice faltered and he started over. "One… two… thr—no, wait." He could only pray his count remained slightly accurate as the years went by.

Once he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of green in the broken shard of metal that hung from the wall. He whipped his head around, only to see his own reflection glaring back at him. But it wasn’t him—it was that other him. The green, twisted version, eyes hollow and black like two bottomless pits. 

"What do you want?" he whispered. "Why won’t you just leave me alone?" The reflection only smiled, a slow, creeping grin before crawling slowly away.

At night, the walls breathed. That’s what it sounded like to Once-ler—a long, wheezing inhale, a brittle exhale. The wind rushed through the gaps with ghostly arms that reached for him. He woke up, shivering, convinced he heard humming-fish singing just outside. 

"Hush! Quiet, they’re back!" he whispered to himself. Pressing his ear to the walls, the cold metal bit into his skin. All he heard was the wind. He slumped back down, knees pulled to his chest. "They were here," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "I know they were here…"

Desperate for routine, every morning, Once-ler reached for the rope he’d rigged to a bucket. It wasn’t for food or water—those needs had faded—he pulled it up just to see if the world had sent him something, anything. Most days, it came up empty, swinging in the breeze like a useless pendulum. Once or twice, he found a few broken pieces of old advertisements. He kept them, not because they were useful, but because they were better than nothing.

The gloves fused to his hands were another enemy he could never beat. They itched and burned, the skin underneath painful and raw. He scratched at the seams until his fingers bled, trying to tear them off. However, the fabric wouldn’t budge. "Get it off, get it off!" he screamed. He tore at his flesh until exhaustion took him.

The days twisted and knotted together into an indecipherable net, ensnaring him. Once-ler sat in his corner, and all he could think was, "Willingly. I chose all of it willingly." 

He wondered if the Lerkim would be his tomb. Or if, by some cruel twist of fate, he’d live forever within its rusted walls, alone with the ghosts of choices that could never be unmade.

The only other thing left to do was the thing he did most of all: Contemplate the meaning of the stones. "Unless." Unless what? he wondered.

Unless he changed his ways?

Unless he somehow escaped?

Unless he said he was sorry?

Unless the humming-fish had been trying to warn him?

Unless the Truffula trees were still out there, watching?

Unless the wind has been whispering the answer all along?

Unless his reflection knew the truth and he didn’t?

Unless the rain spoke a language he couldn't hear?

Unless the Lorax never left and was invisible?

Unless everything that was happening was a dream?

"Unless," Once-ler whispered again, as his brain overheated with puzzlement. "Unless... I was never meant to understand."

(Read the rest on ao3).

--------

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS DONE! For over I a decade I would see people complain about this movie and how it could be better. I would see posts about how people were going to rewrite it, but they never really did beyond summaries. Now I've finally finished this, so my life is complete. This is the longest fanfiction that I took the most seriously finishing. Thank you for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. that I didn't know if it would get.

Me and my coauthor on this account are hoping to create more rewrites after this. Currently, we're almost done with the first draft of a rewrite of Disney's Wish. We're aiming to start releasing it around Christmas, depending on how things go.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS STORY! Please let me know if you have any feedback about how you liked this rewrite. We'll take it into account for how we handle rewrites in the future.

Chapter 15 is up

GUYS, THERE'S ONLY ONE CHAPTER AFTER THIS! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S COME SO FAR!

Excerpt (here I attempted to insert more logic into why the seed was never planted earlier and the Lorax didn't help or create more):

A thunderous crack interrupted his thoughts. It was louder than bulldozers, like when the factory had collapsed, but more formidable and extraordinary, a sound Once-ler could never forget, that he heard every night in his dreams.

He peeked between the boards, and, sure enough, the sky had the telltale purple hue and spiraling clouds that signaled the Lorax coming back to earth.

Brown mossy paws landed weightlessly upon the UNLESS stones, and a yellow mustache under glittering black eyes turned up to look at Once-ler.

“HELLO IN THERE!” the Lorax hollered. “Still taking care? Haven't said goodbye? You’ve yet to die?"

Once-ler didn't know what to say at first, but after spluttering for a few moments, settled on: "Well, FINALLY! Where were you this whole time? Let me out so we can plant more trees already! We need to get a head start straightening out this mess, it's gonna take a loooong time to fix!"

The Lorax held up his hands. "Calm down, I can only create one seed every hundred years. And they can only be planted under certain circumstances, I fear. Seeds (and trees, for that matter) ain't cheap consumerist stuff. Unlike Thneeds, creating living things at will is tough."

He walked up to the Lerkim, and did something Once-ler couldn't see to the lock. Perhaps he had created a cheap consumerist key, but, in any case, a clink told him the chain had finally fallen away.

Once-ler slammed his full weight against the door and tumbled out.

"Sorry it took so long, but do you know what went wrong?" said the Lorax, waiting for him to straighten himself as much as he could—Once-ler's crooked spine had been bent too many times to ever go back to normal. "I can only stay in the valley as long as the animals or trees that I protect are in it. Right now a swomee-swan is passing through for a minute."

"Right, well, anyway, we need to plant this!" Once-ler held up the seed he'd protected in the Lerkim for ten years.

The Lorax sighed. "The time still isn't right, that’s why I put up such a fight," he said. "My point, if you’d heard my pleas—is that Truffula Trees don’t sprout with ease. The good news is," he said to Once-ler's dejected expression, "that if you get one to grow, then soon you’ll see—a bloom of others follows naturally; it's like one's the mother, that hundreds of babies spring around. Plus they can clean up the air, the water, and ground—planting Truffula Trees is the first step to restore and  bring this place back to how it was before."

"Okay. So… When can we plant it?"

"We?" asked the Lorax. "There’s nothing I can do. I can't stay here, so it's up to you. And you're gonna be too old to plant it yourself in forty-eight years. When the time comes, you’re gonna need help out here. You're gonna need to give the seed to someone else. Explain what to do and pray that they’ll help. Tell them the story and the instructions I’ll leave on the stones… I have to go, I feel something slipping away in my bones. The swomee-swan is trying to get out of here fast. Goodbye, if you don’t succeed, these words might be our last."

"Wait—"

But the Lorax was positioned on the UNLESS stones, his hand pinching his fur. "Your job now is to spread the word about the seed. Until you find someone willing to do the deed. It's time to live up to your name and not keep making the same mistake. Actions have consequences, so stay awake. At a certain point you can't take your choices back. Only encourage others to stay on a better track. Just remember," he said, "Unless someone cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!!!!! I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!

Because the original had a lot of plot holes and wasn't satisfying.

What to expect:

1. Actually tells the Once-ler's whole story from beginning to end (no Ted)

2. Gives Once-ler more agency and develops his motives beyond "my family made me do it."

3. Includes "You're all going to jail!" scene

4. Animals die/the stakes are raised

5. Logical explanations for why they couldn't just plant more trees or use a ladder, why Once-ler didn't just plant the seed himself, etc.

6. The Lorax is actually significant

7. Characters like Once-ler's dad, Norma, and O'Hare are woven in, but don't steal the spotlight. (Example: Norma isn't an annoying girlfriend who steals the role of the Lorax).

8. NO ANNOYING OCS, MARY SUES, OR STUPID ROMANCES!!!!!!!!!! Just a straightforward, comprehensive narrative of what the movie should've been like.

This entire novel is complete and has been through multiple drafts. If you follow it, you can be sure that it does have an ending and the author knows where it's going with foreshadowing and extra plot twists. Chapters will be released each week.

Lorax Rewrite (one chapter left!)

Please leave a comment if you can and let me know how you feel about this rewrite now that it's about to end. It's one of the first fanfictions I worked really hard on finishing, so I'd really appreciate knowing what people think! Thank you so much if you've made it this far. I'm so happy I finally finished it (and am posting the last chapter next week), because for longest time I'd see people say they were going to rewrite this movie and never doing it. But now it exists! And it fixes and includes all the main things people always talked about for over a decade. I hope I've done some service to the world by getting it out.

Chapter 15 is up

GUYS, THERE'S ONLY ONE CHAPTER AFTER THIS! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S COME SO FAR!

Excerpt (here I attempted to insert more logic into why the seed was never planted earlier and the Lorax didn't help or create more):

A thunderous crack interrupted his thoughts. It was louder than bulldozers, like when the factory had collapsed, but more formidable and extraordinary, a sound Once-ler could never forget, that he heard every night in his dreams.

He peeked between the boards, and, sure enough, the sky had the telltale purple hue and spiraling clouds that signaled the Lorax coming back to earth.

Brown mossy paws landed weightlessly upon the UNLESS stones, and a yellow mustache under glittering black eyes turned up to look at Once-ler.

“HELLO IN THERE!” the Lorax hollered. “Still taking care? Haven't said goodbye? You’ve yet to die?"

Once-ler didn't know what to say at first, but after spluttering for a few moments, settled on: "Well, FINALLY! Where were you this whole time? Let me out so we can plant more trees already! We need to get a head start straightening out this mess, it's gonna take a loooong time to fix!"

The Lorax held up his hands. "Calm down, I can only create one seed every hundred years. And they can only be planted under certain circumstances, I fear. Seeds (and trees, for that matter) ain't cheap consumerist stuff. Unlike Thneeds, creating living things at will is tough."

He walked up to the Lerkim, and did something Once-ler couldn't see to the lock. Perhaps he had created a cheap consumerist key, but, in any case, a clink told him the chain had finally fallen away.

Once-ler slammed his full weight against the door and tumbled out.

"Sorry it took so long, but do you know what went wrong?" said the Lorax, waiting for him to straighten himself as much as he could—Once-ler's crooked spine had been bent too many times to ever go back to normal. "I can only stay in the valley as long as the animals or trees that I protect are in it. Right now a swomee-swan is passing through for a minute."

"Right, well, anyway, we need to plant this!" Once-ler held up the seed he'd protected in the Lerkim for ten years.

The Lorax sighed. "The time still isn't right, that’s why I put up such a fight," he said. "My point, if you’d heard my pleas—is that Truffula Trees don’t sprout with ease. The good news is," he said to Once-ler's dejected expression, "that if you get one to grow, then soon you’ll see—a bloom of others follows naturally; it's like one's the mother, that hundreds of babies spring around. Plus they can clean up the air, the water, and ground—planting Truffula Trees is the first step to restore and  bring this place back to how it was before."

"Okay. So… When can we plant it?"

"We?" asked the Lorax. "There’s nothing I can do. I can't stay here, so it's up to you. And you're gonna be too old to plant it yourself in forty-eight years. When the time comes, you’re gonna need help out here. You're gonna need to give the seed to someone else. Explain what to do and pray that they’ll help. Tell them the story and the instructions I’ll leave on the stones… I have to go, I feel something slipping away in my bones. The swomee-swan is trying to get out of here fast. Goodbye, if you don’t succeed, these words might be our last."

"Wait—"

But the Lorax was positioned on the UNLESS stones, his hand pinching his fur. "Your job now is to spread the word about the seed. Until you find someone willing to do the deed. It's time to live up to your name and not keep making the same mistake. Actions have consequences, so stay awake. At a certain point you can't take your choices back. Only encourage others to stay on a better track. Just remember," he said, "Unless someone cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

The problem is when it never stops being fun, and I don't want to do anything else

I love getting to the point that a story is finished and I just keep adding to it, like it's a sketch that I can keep rendering. It's hard to "show instead of tell" every single thing when you have limited time to write a fun fanfiction, but you can easily get sucked into refining it and expanding on things more and more. I don't know how much time I should spend on them if they're just for fun, but it is addicting. Really addicting.

Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to  be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower.  And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky. 

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity. 

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have. 

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded. 

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

I love getting to the point that a story is finished and I just keep adding to it, like it's a sketch that I can keep rendering. It's hard to "show instead of tell" every single thing when you have limited time to write a fun fanfiction, but you can easily get sucked into refining it and expanding on things more and more. I don't know how much time I should spend on them if they're just for fun, but it is addicting. Really addicting.

Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to  be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower.  And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky. 

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity. 

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have. 

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded. 

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to  be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower.  And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky. 

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity. 

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have. 

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded. 

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to  be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower.  And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky. 

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity. 

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have. 

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded. 

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

Do you ever feel like life would be easier if you weren't a creative person who was always inspired to do things you're not supposed to be doing?