#battle of food

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Potato Racket Denied Here," Montreal Star. May 12, 1943. Page 3. --- Prices Board Refutes Black Market Charge ---- Allegations from Toronto that one of the contributory factors in the potato shortage in that area was the existence of a black market in Montreal which was paying higher than ceiling prices for Maritime potatoes, was denied by Wartime Prices and Trade Board officials here today.

"To date the board has received only four complaints concerning potatoes," a representative declared, "and certainly that does not indicate that a black market is operating in the city."

Ottawa Restricts Sales OTTAWA, May 12 - (С.Р.) - Sale of certified seed potatoes for any use other than planting is prohibited in a Prices Board order is- sued last night. The order, effective May 13, covers the period until Saturday, June 5, considered the normal end of the potato planting season.

The Board's announcement said evidence had reached it that consumers in some instances have been supplementing short stocks of table potatoes by purchasing for consumption potatoes of seed quality, thus reducing the amount of seed available for production of the 1943 crop.

Officials of the Prices Board's food administration said last night that suspension until June 30 of the 10 per cent war exchange tax on potatoes imported from the United States, provided in a recent order-in-council, should help to ease the current potato shortage in Canada.

The order-in-council, which became effective May 1, exempts potatoes from the tax for the two-month period "to enable this commodity to be sold under the established price ceiling." Officials said the tax amounted to about 25 cents a bushel.

[sophfandoms53]

Shadow fans,,,, how are we possibly still alive right now like this is absolutely insane

[hattyhatterson]

MY GRASS

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

—

Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

—

[tiffanyachings]

it would have been very beautiful. camilla would have had to cook (horrible bone soup)

[moonsart]

Fun little Danny Phantom x in Stars and Time crossover thingy

ty to @chronologically-challenged for the idea!

[trax2115]

unfinished animation thing (sorry for the low quality)

Smiling friends brazil argument scene but happy nice club

[p0psugar]

Animatic battle humies I made in honor of watching the show

[nogudfreak]

crayzee food

gijinkas belong to @/kryfsayshi @/tenjamu and @/buttercozzells on twt

[hibisco-art]

another kuroken

[nutoka]

I wonder if it ever drove Rimmer mad that he couldn’t eat while he was a soft-light hologram.

Cus back in his childhood, he couldn’t have food unless he answered astro-navigation questions correctly. So I wonder if he went bonkers with insecurity because since he didn’t fix the drive plate correctly, he was then being punished with no food nearly permanently.

Yes, Rimmer can have hologram food, but is it the same? Plus we barely see him eat any food in soft-light mode except for one sandwich.

Or the other explanation is that when Rimmer was alive since he’s not used to having food unless he’s actively hungry so he doesn’t eat at all. So when he died, there is no hunger therefore no excuse to eat really.

But even though he doesn’t need to eat himself, he bears in mind that others do. Like in Marooned when Rimmer listed out available foods for Lister to eat and told him to pace himself. Also in Tikka to Ride, when the crew had to set up camp for the night in Dallas and he told Kryten to get food (even though he did cook a dead man they found on the street).

Whenever Rimmer gets a body temporarily, the first thing he does is eat something. Maybe because of the pent up hunger over the years or something I dunno. So I think when he finally got a hard-light body, he probably thought his probation was released and was no longer getting punished.

The man probably has a complicated relationship with food all his life leading to eating disorders and such. But I don’t think we see him eat at all after becoming hard-light after Legion except for sipping tea and that’s it.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Harvesting Nears End," Saskatoon Star-Phoenix. September 19, 1941. Page 5. --- Average Sask. Yield Is Running About 11 Bushels --- Canadian Press REGINA, Sept. 19. - Harvesting operations in Saskatchewan are now on the home stretch with an estimated 75 to 80 per cent of the wheat threshed and nearly the same percentage of coarse grains, according to Department of Agriculture figures.

BETTER THAN EXPECTED It is indicated from reports that the average yield for wheat is running about 11 bushels to the acre for the Province as a whole; 22 bushels for oats and 18 bushels for barley.

It is expected that about 17 per cent of the wheat will grade Number One Northern or better and 68 per cent will grade numbers two and three.

Hon. J. G. Taggart, minister of agriculture commented this yield and grade was a little better than had been expected.

[kausijuoppo]

"I forgor"

[crystallinebarbasol]

I should probably start posting art here again. hihi hello

[whysowise]

PLEASE say you see my vision

original vv