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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months

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Growing Pains

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

This time, two stubborn rebels enter the kitchen! With Epel chasing the greatness of growing up, he gets ensnared in a scheme that Leona responsible is responsible for. Gordon’s definitely got his work cut out for him!! Can he truly connect with this strong-minded duo?

Why does Leona’s chef jacket look like it’s straining to keep his chest contained in like every fan art I see 😭 I'm happy that Epel gets to take Master Chef at the same time as his Magift Club Captain... He gets to hang out with his cool senpai one last time before I smush him into Epelsauce for pointing out L*ona's charm 🤡 (P.S. I totally believe that GR is a role model L*ona could benefit from…)

Imagine this…

Raising a saucer to his lips, Epel sipped, allowing a mildly sweet flavor to flatten across the tongue. Warmed on a low flame, the milk concoction was warm, but still thick and creamy. Nothin' beats full fat milk fresh off the farm, he noted, licking his lips.

Epel let out an excited whoop as he slammed his saucer down. "Hoo-WHEE! That's sum good stuff!!"

A groan sounded from another counter.

"Oi, frosh. Keep it down over there," Leona groused. He fiddled with his hair, sweeping back loose strands that hung free from his ponytail. The rest of his mane--and his lion ears--were uncomfortably crammed under a chef's hat.

"O-Oh, sorry!" Epel hurriedly apologized, giving a brief bow to his club captain. When he straightened again, he couldn't avoid taking note of his upperclassman's strong build.

Though the duo were in similar uniforms, Leona wore his very differently than Epel. He slouched slightly, yet the warm yellow of his jacket fit him like a glove, easily conforming to the shape of his muscled body. By comparison, Epel was smaller and far less shapely. A twinge of sadness pulled in his chest.

Standing the two side-by-side, they were like lion and kitten. One regal and confident, the other meek and weak.

Epel furiously shook his head. He smacked both of his cheeks to wake himself up. Chin up, Epel! Take this chance to learn how you can be more like Leona-senpai...!

He glanced over at the various bowls littering Leona’s workstation.

I wonder what he’s making…? It must be something cool.

The beastman hovered over them, glancing over the contents of each bowl lackadaisically. Plump blueberries, granulated sugar, extract that smelled strongly of vanilla, gelatin powder. And, of course, the star of the show: milk.

Leona grimaced, lifting the white liquid up. Milk sloshed lazily around in its bowl, lapping against his thumb. He took a cursory sniff, but didn’t look impressed.

As Leona was returning the milk back to its place, Epel jumped. "U-Um...!!"

"What, you got something to say?" Leona raised a brow. "Then spit it out."

"Well..." Epel nervously twiddled his thumbs. “That’s heavy cream... It’s rich-tasting and has high fat content, so it’s good for creamy dishes. With the sugar and the fruit, are you making a dessert of some kind? Maybe a milk pudding or something…”

“Hmmmm.”

A slow and catty glint rose to Leona’s eyes. He leaned forward, scrutinizing the humble farmer boy.

“So you’ve got a real knack for this kind of thing.”

“Eh, I guess so? I’m used to helping my family and neighbors back in Harveston with produce quality control. It comes naturally to me.”

“Great. Take care of this for me then.” Leona plunked down the bowl of blueberries in his junior’s hands. Epel blinked—but before he could protest, Leona continued. “You’ve got a real talent. It’d be a waste for you not to show it off to the Chef.”

“I don’t know…” Epel casted a curious look at their mentor, who had been observing them from a quiet corner of the kitchen. Gordon returned the gaze, as if sensing trouble afoot.

“Besides, I’m counting on you too,” Leona added, a hand on Epel’s shoulder.

His heart leapt in anticipation. “You are?!”

“Yeah. Even with my nose, I just don’t have the chops for this line of work. Must be my delicate princely constitution. That’s why I’m putting my faith in you.” Leona suddenly frowned. “Was I wrong to?”

“N-No, Leona-senpai!!” Epel hurriedly insisted. “You can definitely leave it to me! I’ll make sure the ingredients we use are the best we have!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The lion’s smile was sly. "Okay, knock yourself out. I’m going to be taking a nap. Don’t bother me until you’ve checked everything in the pantry over… twice.”

“Aye-aye, captain!!”

With that, Leona sauntered off with a casual, self-assured swagger. Gordon was wiping his hands off on a clean dish rag when he passed. They silently met each other’s eyes, Leona passing along a triumphant smirk.

The head chef automatically got a bad feeling.

Kingscholar must have said something to him. Right, I’ll get to the bottom of this.

While Leona had pulled out a chair and hunkered down in it, Gordon made his way over to Epel. He was now eagerly inspecting a pile of sugar, seemingly picking through individual granules by sifting them around with a finger.

"What are you doing over here, my darling?" Gordon asked, his tone kept friendly—a voice he reserved for children, not arrogant adults.

“Chef!” Epel proudly saluted. “I’m making sure the ingredients are good to go!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, but why’s he sittin’ this one out?” Gordon jabbed an accusatory thumb in Leona’s direction. (He resembled a grumpy street cat.)

“I’m doing Leona-senpai’s share too!”

“You don’t think he should be responsible for looking over his own ingredients?” Gordon huffed. Or suspect that he’s blowing smoke up your ass?

“But really trusts me to do this for him.” Epel laid a hand on his chest. His expression was positively glowing, his cheeks appled. “He has confidence in my abilities!! And I trust him to guide me. Leona-senpai has never steered me wrong before!”

Gordon instantly recognized the emotion: pure admiration.

“… You look up to him, don’t you?”

“Yup!! He’s the man I wanna be! Smart, cool, brave, tall, muscly…! I’ve been chugging tons of milk in my free time to make sure I’m getting all the vitamins and minerals I need to catch up to him.”

Is that why I saw him trying to shotgun an entire gallon of milk straight from the jug?! Gordon rubbed at his aching temples.

There was a soft grunt that grounded him again.

“… But it’s not enough to just be physically strong," Epel mumbled. "I can’t just drink milk and call it a day. It’s also important to have a strong spirit too, cuz the heart's also a muscle!"

The first year offered a hopeful grin, a hand set on his bicep. “Leona-senpai has that sort of strength. If I want to be able to stand on the same level as him, I have to give it my all when it comes to training!”

A strong body and spirit…

Yet when he looked at Leona, what Gordon saw first was a broken man forsaking his future. A shell of a person. Was he able to be salvaged? To lead?

Gordon reconsidered. His perspective and Epel’s—whose judgment was clouded? Or was neither quite the full truth?

“… Thanks for that. I’m going to speak with him now. You keep up what you’re doing. Best of luck, love.”

The response he received was bright and resolute.

“Yes, Chef!”

“I bet you must think you’re bloody brilliant.”

The accusation was as stiff as cream whipped into peaks. It cut cleanly—but not quite though Leona’s wit.

He snorted, hardly budging from his recline. “The kid's good at assessing the quality of food. Why keep him back from reaching his full potential?”

“So are you. I know a food critic when I see one,” Gordon said sharply. “And don’t give me that ‘I can’t do it’ bull crap. I thought we were over this already.”

Leona’s laughter was like the roiling thunder of an approaching storm. “I work smarter, not harder, herbivore. Are you sure you’re an instructor? It sounds to me like you have some learning to do on your students.”

"I know plenty—and I know you're better than this." Gordon gestured at him.

"Afraid not," Leona purred, the sarcasm coming off of his words in lazy waves.

Rotten to the core. Spoiled from the start. Shattered, unable to be reassembled. A rebel of the savanna, impossible to tame. All the things people whispered about him behind his back and to his face.

His hand instinctively snaked to the scar that threaded his left eye. "... It's just as the rumors say, teach."

Ugly truths. Evil, harm, destruction—that's all he would ever amount to, all that he was capable of.

There’s no hope left for me. No light of another day. No tomorrows.

Leona turned away, forcing an end to the conversation. He had nothing more to say, and didn't expect anything more out of the chef either.

Then came the hands upon his shoulders, the grip like a vice. Gordon grabbed him, thrusting his face close to Leona’s.

"Don't you talk like that,” the chef hissed with a deathly quiet, “not in my kitchen.”

“Yeah? If you’re so pissed, then banish me from your kingdom,” Leona taunted. His breath was hot with anger, but he bore no claws.

Always the outcast, never the king.

“Not in your life.” Gordon released him, a slight shove back into the seat the third year occupied.

“You’ve already made your judgment of me. Why hold back on acting on it?”

With a slight glare, the chef folded his arms and stared down at him. “For one, you’re deliberately being a jackass to get out of the coursework. For another…”

Gordon nodded towards Epel’s station. “… there’s him.”

“Epel? You might as well dedicate your manpower to him. He’ll need it, the little tyke.”

“He thinks you’re someone to aspire to. But here you are, acting like you’re not.” Gordon narrowed his eyes. “You know what I think? I think the least you could do is respect the kid’s efforts by pitching in—and have some respect for yourself while you’re at it. The kid’s looking up to you. You can try to look up to yourself too, or his hopes are for nothing.”

“He chose to follow me. That decision—and its consequences—are on him.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” Gordon growled. “It’s not just him. Your entire dorm—”

“It’s different,” Leona snapped back. “We’re not the same. They’ve got futures ahead of them. They can afford to be hopelessly blinded by its light.”

Unlike me.

The silence that followed was stifling and thick. It was a reduction left too long on the stove, boiled down to concentrated, palpable self-hatred.

Gordon’s mouth was a tight line. Not a frown, not a glower. Just a neutral line.

"... You remind me of myself when I was younger. Full of vinegar and piss," he grunted at last. Gordon slapped a palm against his knee. "Used to dream of being a footballer. Then had an injury so bad it crushed those dreams before I could recognize it.

"I didn't start taking the culinary arts seriously until 19. You're 20 now, Kingscholar. If there was a chance for an arrogant little lug head like me, then there's a chance for you too. It's not too late."

"Then you're an old fool," Leona spat. To try all your life at something, only to be kicked down every time. "No sob story will ever change what we are."

Gordon faced Epel, his back to Leona. "... I've had a lot of successes. I have that success because I've had failures. I've learned from them. Our scars don't have to define us. We can become better than that. Grow from them.”

"What? Am I meant to be won over by those paltry sentiments?"

"You think whatever you damn well like," Gordon retorted. "If you need me, I'll be helping Felmier. Otherwise, waste the rest of your class time for all I care."

Then he was gone.

Leona shifted in his seat. He regarded the chef with an eerie quiet—the same kind of quietness that pervaded a lion stalking its prey. Weighing the options, assessing what he was up against.

An herbivore. Just a simple-minded, stubborn herbivore. He had been talking out of his ass, trying to act as if he knew—as if he understood him.

Annoyance curdled into a blunt anger.

“Our scars don't have to define us.”

Damn it.

“We can become better than that. Grow from them.”

Damn it...!

Leona bared his teeth, his hands curled into fists.

Familiar frustration flooded him. Helplessness, despair. And a bit of a feeling he had long since renounced.

Hope.

“... Tch.” Leona raked a hand through his hair. “Light a fire under my tail, why don’t you?”

Epel was halfway through inspecting the blueberries when one was plucked straight out of the bowl. Leona tossed it into his mouth, spearing the berry on his canines. A sweet tartness flooded his taste buds.

"... It's fine for the panna cotta," he declared languidly.

Epel startled at his senior's sudden appearance. Beside the first year, Gordon held his breath.

"L-Leona-senpai?! But I thought you were going to rest...?"

"Yeah, well. I got tired of that. Figured I might as well find something else to do to pass the time." Leona cocked his head back, his grin self-assured. "... Got room for one more?"

"I'd be happy to welcome you." Gordon stepped back, allowing Leona to claim his rightful place at an open counter. "... Good to have you back with your head in the game, Kingscholar."

"Hmph. Don't get used to it." He picked up a tool laid out on the table—an ice-cream scooper—and twirled it between dextrous fingers. “I’m a precocious child, so I’ll need an instructor that can keep me engaged.”

“You’re acting cocky for someone who was refusing to play ball a while ago.” Gordon groaned. “… Fine then. You’re on. Just for that, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Excuse me, Chef!” The protest came from Epel, who had abandoned the blueberries. “Please go hard on me too!! I can handle it!!”

Leona snorted. “You sure about that, squirt? You never know how mean the big, scary teacher might be.”

“Yes! I want to work together with you, Leona-senpai! Then I can become as strong as you are.”

As strong as I am… Something in his chest sank. Was he truly?

Leona dispelled the doubt with a sigh. Aaah, how annoying. He’s looking at me with those big, sparkling eyes. Why are kids like this?

So fixated on the future and the people who would lead them to it.

He softened.

"... Yeah, sure. Let's just get this over with. The sooner, the better."

Gordon nodded approvingly.

Until the day where I can comfortably stand where you are… wait for me. I’ll meet you there.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Epel Felmier #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #something no one asked for #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #Gordon Ramsay #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Leona Kingscholar

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misosuper · 6 months

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Edits from Batgirl (2009):The Flood

#stephanie brown #batgirl #barbara gordon #oracle #LOVE me some characters with misplaced senses of guilt #(this is why I love comics)#(yes I'm catholic why do you ask)#dc #dc edit #into the soup #fun fact the last panel is HEARTWRENCHING but Steph's mouth looks so off in the original that I had to redraw it

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zer0point5ive · 5 months

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adam who knows the door is wide open, knows he could leave at any point, knows that lawrence wouldn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him and yet. and yet .. adam who looks at the fresh crimson stain on lawrence’s shirt collar, the red beneath his nails he hasn’t quite managed to scrub away yet and wonders if there’s any universe in which he’d run to the cops, to anyone. adam who knows there isn’t. lawrence wouldn’t stop him but adam wouldn’t run. adam who despises everything jigsaw stands for, tells lawrence as much, tells lawrence that he’s gonna be the first to dance on that bastards grave when he finally kicks it but who still stays with lawrence. despite it all. because he’s lawrence, because he’s adam’s. because they’re so inextricably intertwined that not having lawrence around now would kill him as surely as reaching inside and pulling out his own beating heart. he’s everywhere and he’s everything, living in the spaces between adam’s ribs and wrapped around his brain like a live wire. running would be suicide and besides, adam’s not gonna let him go, can’t. not now. adam who would absolve lawrence of just about anything as long as he’s by his side, as long as he keeps coming back, as long as he switches the light on when he gets home and cups adam’s face oh so gently in bloodstained hands

#lawrence who wishes he would. just a little #lawrence who looks at the smear of blood he leaves on adams cheekbone and asks why #adam who just shrugs and says ‘because’ which is simultaneously not enough & too much #youll never recover from that kind of devotion or whatever man who even cares. sound of me crying #thinking about codependent chainshipping in a way that feels like digging my own grave #i need to walk around for awhile #sorry adam being given a flashing neon sign that says exit here nd choosing to ignore it because lawrence isnt on the other side oh i am #Soo normal #its about being selfish in the most self destructive way possible #how can i make this about dog adam devoted to the point of no return #nevermind i already did apparently #chainshipping #adam faulkner stanheight #lawrence gordon #📹

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adrian-sheppy · 2 months

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longingly looks at you from afar do you have any spare freemercy doodles to share........

doodles for u :D

#im not the best at drawing scars and didnt really put any thought behind freemercys scar placement #(sans the top scars lol)#so if i ever draw them shirtless in the future the scars will probably look different #BUT they are covered in scars from all the self sacrificing he keeps doing #half life #gordonverse #freemanverse #gordon freemercy #gordon freecat #asks

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explodingstarlight · 1 year

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I wonder how the rise boys would react to 2012 Mikey's pizza concoctions...like the pizza shake lol

something tells me rise!Mikey isn't pleased

#sorry this took so long to answer i forgot it was lingering in there aahshsh #i've never drawn the 2012 boys before and it shows gang gang #but yeah no #i see other bros ranging from disinterested and slightly repulsed (donnie) to curious (raph) to excited to try it for the hell of it (leo)#plus bragging rights for getting it down ofc #mikey??? now mikey would take it as an affront to food itself (mr i-watch-gourmet-tv and look up to a gordon ramsey wannabe)#a hopeful grain of me says well maybe he would be willing to teach them how to cook properly #but the bigger eviler side says that mikey would go dr delicate touch on them and ban them from the kitchen entirely #he would adore ice cream kitty tho <3 #i say all of this with nothing but love and affection in my heart for both iterations #but god help me the 2012 turtles wouldn't be allowed within 10 feet of my kitchen #ask #rottmnt #tmnt #e stars scribblez #stars speaks #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise mikey #2012 mikey #phone doodles

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breadandblankets · 8 days

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here's something no one asked for: bats fallout 4 au

cass: made as an institute courser and the best of the best with a perfect clear record until she was ordered to execute a traitor and she bounced, she drifts for years anywhere and everywhere, eventually ending up in goodneighbor and through Coincidences into the office of one Barbara Gordon

babs: a doctor in goodneighbor specializing in human/machine interface and neurobiology, aka railroad agent oracle she and her partner Dinah run the memory den, part therapeutic establishment part front for synth liberation activities Babs helps deprogram synths and let them lead normal lives

Jason: he was taken into bruce's vault after his parents died, he was born human but turned into a ghoul thanks to a near death experience and a radiation bath, by the time we meet him, he's a drifter blown into goodneighbor hiring out his services as a merc, steadily moving in organized crime through some maneuvering

duke: a psyker (kinda like the forecaster if you played NV), he has the ability to see into the future if he concentrates, however it leaves him with huge migraines, his parents went missing after a raider attack and he joins the minutemen (honestly what is more MM than WAR) to try and find them

steph: both she and her mom are prewar ghouls (all of the cluemaster stuff still happens but he doesn't survive the bombs in jail), they used to live in diamond city until all the ghouls got kicked out, they lived in goodneighbor for a time, with steph working at the local clinic, run by leslie, eventually they both moved north to the slog (a settlement run by ghouls in an old swimming pool) when crystal wanted to get clean, steph works there as basically the town doctor

tim: (spoilers for a ten year old game but:) kinda like synth shaun he is a permanently stuck at the age of like ten, still a tech genius but like.... litol (did I say this just cause I thought it was funny.... yes)

alfred: a fuckin mr handy

bruce: vault dweller that imprinted on said mr handy like a duckling after his parents died

dick: you can literally keep his backstory intact and he makes perfect sense, haley circus is just from new vegas, after his parents murder he joined up with lyons pride and moved east with the brotherhood of steel, when the new elder rose to power after the lyons' death dick started to see the writing on the wall of fascism and jumped ship leaving that life behind, joining up with duke's new and improved MM to protect people from people he swore brotherhood to

damian: obv still bruce and talia's kid, talia is a pre war scientist and businesswoman, keeping herself and her half siblings alive and young as long as they keep their father and his weird artifact locked up. damian grows up in the closest thing to pre war luxury the post apocalypse has to offer. Eventually he wants to go out and see the world, meet his dad, write a guide to wasteland fauna. talia hires jason to guard him so he stops trying to rush down feral ghouls with a sword.

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sawg-the-saw-blog · 2 months

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had to fix something with my tickets tonight at @sawthemusical & the guy at the window straight up asked if we'd rather be in the front row! In the blood splash zone! FUCK YEAH!

we were then informed that the guy at the window was Cooper Jordan. thanks, Coop ✌🏽😎

#saw the musical #IT WAS SO GOOD #i was laughing so hard #also Gabrielle looked at me when she was singing sometimes and i got starstruck #also i was asked if i was an Adam truther #HE'S ALIVE #best night ever #and also the actor playing Gordon was committing to EVERYTHING so well #the sheer sensuality of it all... bisexual rights #also also also adam is so fucking funny #also also also also the breaking-american-accent-to-be-british affect that Gordon's actor did...#immaculate.#AND ADAM (who played adam) DID THE LEIGH WHANNEL WHINE SO PERFECTLY while making it his own #mine #fave #YIPPE #🪚 🤡 teehee hee hee! 🪚 hohoho #we didn't get any blood on us though 😔 i was really hoping for it #creator of saw the musical voice: ya wanna buy one of these lil squeaky pigs?#dude was pretty chill thanks man

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cactus-zombie · 1 month

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The Savior of the world and his two fucked up ghosts

Base by @miss-mossball

ALT versions under the cut

#half life 2 #half life #gordon freeman #adrian shephard #colette green #soldier poet king au #au #Didn't feel like drawing the mark V suit cause I HATE THAT HEV SUIT #so I didn't...#I also drew the mark IV from memory so it might not look correct #whatever *shrug*#feel free to ask about my au if you want

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bruhstation · 3 months

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He's such a magnificent bastard I am pushing him down the stairs.

The “L” hand pose good lord. no holding back…. no mercy….. the utter disrespect is insane. so cold. this picture encapsulates the core of Casa Tidmouth spencer

#asks #hkpika07 #for me #casa tidmouth #ttte spencer #up there with the ‘’funeral food so good I be forgetting who tf died’’#first only coming to the funerals for the food and now capitalizing off the deaths of his cousins #AND HIS EYES MY GOD ITS THE WHITE DEMON!!!!!#AHHHH AHHHHHHHH #gordon’s gonna beat his ass‼️‼️#scott’s just……. ‘’:(‘’#I just know lemberg and polly and the others mad as hell rn #Okay but real talk he looks 100x more of an asshole in your art style #like the way you draw him makes me wanna pull his ears even more #I WANNA WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF HIS FACE SO BADLY!!!! GRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!#THANK YOU FOR DRAWING HIM RED. I HAD A FEELING HES GONNA LOOK EVEN MORE HATER LIKE IN YOUR ART STYLE

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seashoreships · 6 months

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You should totally draw Doctor Lawrence Gordon from the famous movie “Saw, 2004”…. Pweeettyyy pweeeaaaaseeeee 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

i know who you are.

im feeling nice today though eat up bae

#saw #saw 2004 #saw fanart #lawrence gordon #i dont even know if this is the guy #i just looked him up on google #nerd #ugh #sawposting #yikesss #OUUUW #art #doodle #illustration #cartoon #blehhhhhh #ace asks

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

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From One Master to Another

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Gordon Ramsay isn't a classically trained pastry chef; he knows the savory, not the sweet. This time, the coursework involves instruction in desserts--and he'll find that he has just as much to learn as his students, Vil and Jack, do. I conducted a lot of research for this installment (reading articles on how to ice cakes + the science behind macarons, and, of course, watching videos where GR gets humbled and learns from fellow culinary masters). It provided me with a fresh perspective to write from~

Imagine this...

"... Jack."

"Yes, Vil-senpai?"

"What exactly am I looking at?"

Several countertops were covered in baking trays. Sugar circles sat upon waxy sheets, some collapsed and thinned out like wafers, others risen then caved in and cracked. It was an array of imperfections spanning the muted colors of the rainbow.

Jack clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable urge to itch the ears tucked under his hat, or to tear away the tangle of hair net containing his tail. His chef's jacket seemed to be straining to contain the entire bulk of him.

"Macarons," Jack reported.

Vil lifted a brow.

"... Er, at least they're supposed to be macarons," his underclassman awkwardly clarified.

Vil granted him a look of sympathy. "The poor things."

"W-Well, how did you do with your assignment?!" Jack stammered, eager to shift the subject. He glanced to Vil's table.

Lips pursed.

The model had gone with a light wash of makeup, simply a neutral brown gradient on his lids. His hair was arranged in a tight, tidy bun, flaxen bangs pinned back. Vil presented almost as flawless as a mirror's face—but certainly his cake didn't.

It was two layers tall (Jack had watched him saw and shape them earlier), stacked upon each other with a layer of buttercream sandwiched between them. The cake was starting to slope, as if in a desperate attempt to crawl to the exit. A coat of uneven chocolate frosting had hardened, forming odd peaks and lumps in a crust.

“That’s pretty rough.” Vil bristled at the words—sparse, yet biting. Jack continued. “How many cakes does this make, four?”

The question, unintentional needling.

“Seven,” Vil begrudgingly corrected him. Then, a small smirk formed. “And yourself? How many batches of macarons does this make?”

“Urk…!” Jack’s ears flattened, his bushy tail limp. “I guess we could both use more practice…”

“Jesus.”

The curse was spoken in a hissing whisper, emerging from neither from Vil nor Jack. It came from their teacher, an older man with weathered features—the result of wisdom and stress. He had been perched off to the side, observing his students’ skills in action, his frown seemingly ever extending as the mistakes piled up.

“Right then, maybe this isn’t working out,” Gordon Ramsay muttered, his eyes passing over a macaron graveyard and the crumbling cake mountains.

Not for lack of trying.

“Chef!” Jack immediately stood at attention. “We did our best to follow your instructions.”

“As you can see, the results were not particularly fruitful,” Vil chimed in. “We could do with additional instruction.”

Gordon startled, gaping at them. “Wait, you two want me to teach you more? You’re willing to listen?”

“Yessir!! Please guide us.”

“It’s as Jack says. We are here to learn and to enhance our culinary skillsets. We shouldn’t dawdle.” Vil narrowed his eyes. “Why do you act so surprised?”

“Can’t say this has happened very often.” Gordon stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The last time I had a pair of students this cooperative was months ago.”

“Just what exactly have the other Culinary Crucibles students put you through?” Vil angrily planted his hands on his hips. “Were Epel and Rook being disrespectful?"

Jack hesitated not wishing to speak ill of his Savanaclaw seniors. Still, it was easy for his mind to conjure the image of Ruggie swiping leftovers when no one was looking—“Free food is free food!”—and Leona yawning, mentally checked out of the situation.

"It's not hard to imagine," Jack confessed.

"They'll be getting an earful from me later!"

"Hmph, kids will be kids. I've dealt with cocky adults double their age or older acting like bigger babies. What's important is that they walked out of my kitchen better than when they first walked in."

Gordon leaned against a counter and folded his arms. Air escaped through his teeth. “Boys, I’ll be straight with you. Sweets, baking—it isn’t my specialty. I could try and teach you all bloody day and we'd still get nowhere."

“Are you serious?” Jack frowned. “So that means…”

"What I've already shown you is all I've picked up from experts back home. We've hit the ceiling."

“This can’t be!” Vil reeled, looking vaguely appalled. “If it’s come to this, then how will we possibly improve our craft?"

"I don't know."

I've never been in a kitchen where I haven't been in control.

"This is a fucking mess," Gordon groaned. I've failed my students.

“What’s with all the doom and gloom?”

Gordon bolted upright at the sudden voice.

A plump ghost manifested, suited up in a chef's jacket and hat. His face was as puffy as a marshmallows, and his belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly.

The head chef at Night Raven College.

"You fellas look like you've seen a ghost," he joked. "But never mind that. I noticed you’ve been standing around and being sad for a while now.”

“Right, that—” Gordon exchanged an anxious look with his students. He fumbled for an explanation, but didn’t have to.

“Oh my! Did you make these?” the ghost chef indicated the macarons and cakes. They were hard to miss. “Brave of you to start off with such finicky things. All in all, they’re not bad attempts."

"They're not?"

The ghost chuckled. “Of course not. How many times do you think a pastry chef muddles macarons or ices a cake incorrectly before it’s passable? It’s one part skill, one part practice, and one part learning as you go. Here, let me show you some tips and tricks I picked up myself.”

Vil, Jack—and even Gordon himself—watched in silent awe as the ghost chef went about his work.

Ingredients were effortlessly measured and sifter into a bowl (“Keeps it free of lumps!”), then whipped egg whites carefully folded into the batter. “You want stiff peaks for the whites, and minimum folding to get it incorporated!” Once the macarons were piped onto a sheet, the chef picked up the tray and slammed it down several times—“To scare off the air bubbles.”

The batch of macarons was slid into a waiting oven, and he started on his next task.

Into a stand mixer went several sticks of butter. The machine came to life, whipping the fats well.

“Traditional buttercream forms a crust over time,” the ghost chef explained. “That gets gritty and unpleasant! So here’s an alternate version that doesn’t crust. It’s less sweet, but still stable, easy to work with.“

He lifted a bottle and tipped its contents into the aerated butter. Transparent syrup fell in thick rivulets, and he grinned. Powdered sugar followed, visible only for seconds before it disappeared into the gathering frosting.

“The secret is light corn syrup. Using dissolved sugar instead of powdered makes the frosting smooth and stops it from hardening. Adds a fine luster to the frosting too!”

Using a spatula, he spooned the fresh buttercream into a piping bag and handed it off to Vil. “Scrape the stuff that’s on your cakes off and try again with this,” the ghost encouraged. “Should work like a dream!”

“Thank you,” Vil said, a little bewildered by the heft of the piping bag. “I will show you a beautiful dessert by yours truly.”

“Looking forward to it.”

DING!

The oven’s timer went off.

“That’s 13 minutes! Howl-kun, can you get the macarons?” called the ghost.

“Yes, Chef! I’m on it!” Jack, in a pair of heat-resistant mitts, marched to the oven and reached inside. He produced a tray of perfect pink domes, a cloud of ruffles—the macaron’s feet—at their bases. “Whoa.”

“A nice filling and they’ll be good to go. You’ve got it covered?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, good. Let us know if you need any help though, alright? That’s what your teachers are here for.”

Jack nodded, then retreated to his station. While the macarons cooled, he chopped white chocolate and tossed it into a pan with heavy cream. Moments later, they had melded into a rich ganache, sweetness hanging in a heavy cloud about it. One scoop was enough for a pair of shells, lightly pressed together.

Beside his junior, Vil was hard at work redoing a cake. His stand was set spinning, a bench scraper aligned to comb and smooth out the dollops of frosting he had painted along the sides. The cake was a blank white canvas, and Vil, the artist.

Sparks in their eyes, faces bright with the glow of determination.

“Incredible,” Gordon breathed, staring after the duo. He turned back to the head chef. “You made it look so easy.”

The ghost chef laughed and contentedly patted his stomach. “I’ve had my whole life and afterlife to master the skills!”

“No kidding. You saved my ass back there.”

And more importantly, he’s actually got the kids motivated again.

“You’re the one that’s helped us out a lot, Ramsay-kun. The kitchen is so short-staffed with so many students wanting to take the Culinary Crucibles elective this year. You took some of the instruction off of our hands. This is the very least I can do to return the favor.”

The head chef smiled. “Don’t forget, you can always call on us if you ever need help.”

“That right? Then I guess you wouldn’t mind helping me out with one more thing today.”

“Mm, what’s that?”

Gordon rolled up his sleeves, a newfound fire in his expression. “Please teach me too.”

“Huh?! You want me to teach you?”

“I’m as much of a student as they are—and I’d be honored to learn from a chef of your caliber.”

“Ramsay-kun…” The ghost teared up. “Oh, how could I refuse? I’d be happy to!! Go on now, get your own station set up and we can get started immediately.”

The creases in Gordon’s face lifted. His response, hearty and joyful.

“Yes, Chef!”

Vil glanced up from his cake. “… Are my eyes and ears deceiving me?”

“They aren’t.” Jack’s brows lifted. “I’m seeing and hearing it too.”

“It’s not so shocking,” Gordon grunted. “This is a school. We’re here to learn new skills and techniques—doesn’t matter if we’re student or teacher.“

“Fufufu,” Vil chuckled to himself. “Well, aren’t you humble?”

“Heh.” Jack found himself fighting to keep down a small smile. “I can respect that. Nothing wrong with a guy lookin’ to improve himself.”

“That makes three of us.”

We’re not that different at our very cores. Stubborn fools with dreams and aspirations of achieving something greater. For ourselves, for the ones around us.

The ghost chef clapped his doughy hands. “Isn’t this so exciting, class? We’re embarking on a culinary journey together! I hope you’re ready, because I sure am!”

They replied in unison, hearts united:

“Ready when you are, Chef!”

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