Here’s one of the reasons I don’t buy the cynical interpretation that Ariel gives up her identity for a man.
This screencap comes from her introductory scene. She’s searching through a shipwreck for human artifacts–which is her passion–when suddenly she’s attacked by a shark.
While fleeing, she accidentally drops her bag full of artifacts right in the shark’s path. Without hesitating, she chooses her passion over her safety, risking her life for a dinglehopper.
The girl is an anthropologist who studies humans. That’s her passion, that’s how she spends her time…that’s her identity.
Sure, Eric is the catalyst that leads Ariel to changing her species and leaving her family–he certainly intensifies her feelings–but they’re feelings she already has, and they dictate most of her life.
If Ariel had the chance to become a human before she met Eric, everything that we know about her suggests that she probably would.
I before E, except after C, or sounding like A, as in neighbor or weigh. Or if it’s weird. Or counterfeit, or feisty, or foreign, or protein, or deficient, or caffeine, or leisure, or glacier, or science, or seize, or deficient, or HOLY F%#K THIS RULE IS TOTAL GARBAGEEEEE!
Rules are meant to be broken.
Funny fact, there are less words that follow the rule than words that don’t
I hate that some people are so dense that they need disclaimers for every single thing, like when women say “men are…” you know good and goddamn well they aren’t referring to every single man. It’s billions of us, how the fuck would they know all of us?
Whenever I hear these statements, I interpret it as “Not all men, but enough men to make this a prominent issue amongst men”
Same shit with “white people are…” Get the fuck out your feelings and actually listen so you can address the concerns of these people instead of defending people that ain’t shit.
it’s wild to think that like.. all the raw materials to make like an iphone.. or a laptop.. or the internet.. have all existed for literally the entire history of humanity.. all the stuff.. has been here.. on earth.. and all the natural forces.. electricity… magnetism.. have all existed.. but.. we just didn’t know how to put it all together.. like… i wonder what miracles exist around us.. right now.. at this very moment.. that we can’t even imagine
concept: willy wonka and harry potter take place in the same universe the ministry of magic haaaates Willy Wonka
“Mr. Wonka,” Dumbledore smiled warmly, looking down into the Pit from his podium. The members of the Wizengamot muttered disapprovingly, shifting in their seats. Willy Wonka, clad today in a bright magenta suit and tophat, beamed cheekily up at them from his chair, his silver-gloved hands cradling his chin.
“Mr. Dumbledore,” He replied brightly, with the barest hint of a lisp.
“I trust you know why you are here?” Dumbledores question was crisp and businesslike, but the twinkle in his eye gave away his amusement at the situation.
“Not at all! I’ve nary a clue,” Wonka wiggled his eyebrows. Dumbledore audibly stifled a laugh.
“You are accused of improper use of magic, improper use of muggle artifacts, and several counts of using magic in front of a muggle,” Dumbledore reminded him. He conjured a projection with his wand. Displayed in grainy sepia was Willy Wonka, arm around a boy of around 10. Behind his back, he twitched an ash wand, and machines in the background around them whirred to life, producing all manner of sweets.
The projection ran its course and collapsed, and Dumbledore stowed his wand back inside his robes.
Wonka smiled and fiddled with his hat.
“How do you plead?” Dumbledore asked, leaning forward eagerly for what would surely be an amusing trial.
“Not guilty on all counts,” Wonka said, perhaps a tad smugly.
The members of the Wizengamot muttered amongst themselves. Not Guilty? Impossible!
Dumbledore hushed them quickly. “Explain, if you would. We have, after all, quite a mountain of evidence.”
Wonka stood and brushed a bit of dust off his suit. He tipped his hat mischievously. “Of course,” he grinned.
“Firstly, use of magic shall only be considered improper whereby it is applied to cause harm or applied recklessly. All magic used in my sweets is rigorously tested for both safety and taste. It is not used to cause harm, but to bring joy.” Wonka paused to adjust his jacket.
“But surely,” Dumbledore said, leafing through his notes, “you cannot deny that you illegally charmed several thousand muggle artifacts?”
“Ah, but I can,” Wonka said, now twirling his cap in his hands. “Muggle artifact refers, of course, to any muggle made object. But, you see, I built those machines, each and every one. They are not muggle machines at all, but wizarding machines, built by a wizard. The factory itself, as well. You could argue that, as machines are a muggle invention, I still broke the rules, but then I could argue that every wizard dwelling with any charms applied to its walls is in violation of the law, as muggles were the first to make bricks.”
The Wizengamot glared silently. He was right, of course. Violating the spirit of the law was not illegal if one followed the letter.
“And the last charge? These are definitely Muggle children, are they not? No magical talent, raised in muggle society?” Dumbledore straightened his glasses and peered down at Wonka, his eyes still bright with intrigue.
“Not at all,” Wonka grinned, placing his hat back on his head. “You see, the ticket system was not nearly so random as I pretended. The tickets were charmed, they would only becomes visible to children with magical heritage. All the children chosen were second generation Squibs.” Wonka bowed low, as if he were finishing a particularly well executed play.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems no laws were violated after all.” Dumbledore stifled a grin at the groans of angry disapproval from the Wizengamot.
“But he very clearly violated the intent of the rules!” Spluttered a large, rather red faced wizard in the second row. “He’s just…cheating! He’s cheating!”
“Ah, this is true, but he did not, technically speaking, break any of the rules. He did not expose muggles to magic, nor enchant muggle made objects, nor improperly apply magic anymore so than any magical confectioner. I’m afraid we have to let him go.” Dumbledore smiled gently and put away the rather thick file with Wonka’s name embossed on the cover. For the brief second it was open, a list of hundreds of charges with “Not Guilty” inked beside them was visible. It was carried off by a house elf, and the Wizengamot began to file out until only Dumbledore was left.
“You’re a very clever man,” He called down to Wonka. “We could use you at Hogwarts, you know.”
“No thank you,” Wonka called back, grinning. “Skirting the law is far more fun!”
I’d prevviously said ‘Yes! Gene Wilder! Wonk!’. Now there’s pics.
BUT…
OMG.
MS. FRIZZLE! (and the MAGIC School Bus).
She must be before the Wizengamot ALL the TIME.
(Is her excuse; ‘Well, it’s educational’???? And it WORKS?!!)
Cornelius Fudge sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Behind him, the members of the Wizengamot muttered amongst themselves, wondering what his next move would be. When he finally looked up from his podium, all he could do was glare at the chipper redheaded woman perched on the arm of the interrogation seat in the Pit. A bright green lizard poked its head out of the collar of her planet patterned dress and skittered around her shoulders to stare back at him.
“Mrs. Valerie…” He checked the file again. “Frizzle?”
“Good morning, Minister!” She replied happily, a hint of a laugh in her voice.
“It’s 3:30 in the afternoon, Madam,” He replied. He was tired.
“Here yes, but in America, its 10:30 in the morning! Aren’t time zones incredible?” She smiled and he could see all her teeth.
Fudge’s eye twitched irritably and he took a deep, steadying breath.
“Do you know why you’ve been called before the Wizengamot today, Mrs. Frizzle?” He asked, shuffling the papers from her file.
“I’m probably in trouble,” she smiled serenely, absentmindedly petting the lizard. “That is, after all, what the Wizengamot deals in!”
Fudge stifled a groan as he began leafing through her file. He didn’t even know where to begin. “Mrs. Frizzle, you are charged with no less than two hundred and thirty two counts of violating the Statute of Secrecy. Note that this is one count for each muggle known to be exposed to magic through your actions, and not a reflection of how many actions you have taken.” He drew out a page from the file. “Actions that include unlawful use of a sentience charm upon a muggle bus, unlawful use on that same bus of indestructibility charms and some sort of curse or hex that made the damn thing not only unresponsive and utterly unusable to anyone but yourself and your students, but also made us unable to decharm, move or even hide it, several unlawful uses of shrinking charms, bubble head charms, transfiguration, and at least one unregistered charm of your own making that allowed you to leave the planet entirely!” He slammed his hand down on the podium. “Do you have anything at all to say for yourself?!”
Mrs. Frizzle smiled politely. “Prime Minister,” she said calmly, “With all due respect, I have a question for you. Have you ever captured lightning in a bottle?”
“Have I- What?” Fudge spluttered, taken aback by her odd question.
“Have you ever captured lightening in a bottle?” She repeated, eyes flashing.
“Of course I haven’t, what sort of nonsense-” He began, but she threw up her hand and interrupted him.
“Muggles have. They’ve known how to use the same energy that comprises lightening to light their homes for over 100 years now. They can generate what amounts to lightening in a bottle with water, or the light and heat from the sun, or the wind. They can carry music in their pockets. They have been able, for nearly 30 years now, to leave the Earth and stand on the Moon.” Mrs. Frizzle straightened her dress. “I have, yes, been using my magic to help teach my students, but what I’ve been teaching them is science! It’s a shame that we don’t learn science as children the way muggles do. They know how the planets move! They know why the Earth turns! Muggles have a wealth of knowledge that rivals that of the centaurs, and we just,” She gestures around incredulously. “We just ignore it! Did you know they are able to not only capture movement, but also sound on film? It’s incredible!”
Fudge waved a hand to silence the incensed grumbling of the Wizengamot. “Mrs. Frizzle,” he hissed angrily. “It does not matter how many trinkets and non-magical work-arounds the muggles have made, regardless of how incredible you find them. Their ‘science’ is not on trial here, you are, for exposing muggles to magic!”
“Minister, you do know my students are all muggle borns,” Mrs. Frizzle said, perhaps a touch angrily, her usual enthusiasm for science replaced by an anger at tech marvels being referred to as ‘trinkets’.
“They’re not the only ones who have seen your…Magic Bus!” Fudge roared, slamming his fist on the podium and eliciting a dull rumble of approval from the Wizengamot. “Mrs. Frizzle, since you have failed to mount a defense, we will now take a vote. All in favor of conviction?”
A sea of hands shot into the air.
“All opposed?”
2 or 3 hands were placed waveringly in the air, then quickly fell.
“Mrs. Frizzle, you are found guilty of 232 counts of breaking the Statute of Secrecy. The wand you surrendered upon entering the Ministry will be kept, and you are fined in the amount of 1,160 galleons. If you cannot pay this fine, you will be given a job on low level staff or doing community service until such time as the debt is paid. Good day.” Fudge closed her file and handed it the the Junior Undersecretary, who ferried it back to the Hall of Records.
Mrs. Frizzle stomped out, angry but not ready to give up. Luckily for her, they hadn’t taken her backup wand. She had classes tomorrow, after all, and they couldn’t very well explore the world of pollen without a proper shrinking charm. She made a mental note to stop by her cousin Xenophillius’ house to pick up her backup to her backup. She loved his house. Shaped like a chess peice, can you imagine?
This is why the Wizarding World of Harry Potter is just so…..dumb.
I think you’re all forgetting the obvious… Mary Poppins.
“Back again, Mary?” Dumbledore twinkled at the woman in the
felt hat standing ramrod straight in front of the chair in the pit. She’d
always been one of his favourite students.
The Minister of Magic looked at the file in front of him with a terrible foreboding of stress and mountains of extra paperwork.
It was very odd, even by wizard standards. Some of it had been painstakingly dredged up from the archives, and appeared to be an account of a witch in Ireland who claimed to have borne a child by a man from another planet, a man ‘time itselfe made no marke thereon, for it was hys servant, and he a Lorde of Time’. She’d been dismissed as mad, doubtless from the loss of her son in childhood, although nobody ever found the grave or any sign of what she’d done with him.
And then there were the pictures, dozens of them , all showing a vaguely rectangular shape with panels and some kind of knob on the top. Some were on vellum, so old it couldn’t be handled.
He turned to the stack of reports from the Ministry team from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. A description of the stranger’s wand, which was unlike any they’d ever seen - a heavily ridged metal body containing some form of crystal (’It’s a screwdriver, ‘ the man had protested, which hadn’t helped his case at all: Muggle tools were strictly off-limits for enchantments). Another was struggling to describe the man’s vehicle, which apparently resembled a Muggle thing called a ‘Pole-ees Box’ but had an enormous Expansion Charm on the interior and a highly tetchy attitude towards intruders. The investigative team had been kicked out of a side door into a river in Ghana.
‘So,’ he began. ‘You’re Doctor…’ He trailed off, hoping for a name
‘Just the Doctor,’ said the man in the interview chair opposite.
‘Just the Doctor.’
‘That’s me.’ He grinned, as if this was all jolly good fun.
Fudge looked back at the last paper in the file, the note they’d found attached to the man’s jacket when his ‘Tar-diss’ crashed in the middle of Trafalgar Square. It was signed by the High Council of Galli- smudge
We did our best. He’s your problem now.
This was definitely not going to end well.
OMFG IT GOT EVEN BETTER WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED
I love how all of them treat the legal ramifications of misusing magic as a minor inconvenience. Imagine how pissed the ministry would be if they found storybrook and mr gold.
