Your OC Makes Dinner

     Being back in the heart of politics made the ex-prince sick to his stomach. This manor was lavish and elegant, with so many unnecessary things used purely to flaunt the lord's wealth and status. He wondered what these people were like behind closed doors, what true feelings and intentions hid behind those saccharine smiles. He wasn't alone in thinking this, as he'd been given the mission to get one of the upper class that would come by today, though he was sure their motive was more self-gain-driven than for justice.
     Even when he was still considered royalty En rarely went to events like these. He was inexperienced, and felt even more so now. Although he was dressed fine enough to blend in, he couldn't help but feel all the judging eyes on him. It strengthened his anxiety, almost enough to overtake his cold indifference. Almost.
     The staff came to serve appetizers to appease the guests as they waited for dinner. En looked at the maid that approached him, curiously looking at her ears before the dish she gave him. He noticed she never once spoke or uttered a sound to anyone while here, was that because she was like him, or were things far stricter here? Nevertheless, he changed his attention to the sandwich. A good presentation, and it looked tasty. He took a bite. The vegetables made it crunchy, yet them combined with the sauce gave it a strong, nice flavor. He didn't speak or make any motion of his approval, but his continuing to eat the sandwich was enough of a statement.

     His jacket replaced by an apron and sleeves rolled up, En stood in the small kitchen on his apartment, steam rising in the air as he cooked several dishes. He wasn't much of a cook, having learned only when he was exiled and needed to fend for himself. Nowadays he cooked occasionally, but found buying already made food, whether fast food or from a convenience store, far easier, which is why he was annoyed slightly by the circumstances now.
     A few minutes later and with a silent click of irritation, he was done. On the counter were crab legs and meatballs made for the small bird and cat he took care of, and besides those was a bowl of pasta primavera.
     "It was either this or a tuna fish sandwich from the store," he signed with a threatening look in his eyes. "So don't complain."

     He warily eyed Caelestis picking up the bowl. Loathe as he was to admit it, there was still a part of him that was just ever so insecure about his abilities, although unlike his old self he was much more willing to lash out with rage upon being belittled.
     The reaction he got was a flirtatious comment. Well, at least it wasn't criticism. Still, he repressed the urge to roll his eyes. Seeing the smitten expression gradually turn into an incredulous and joyful one, En took that as his answer and turned around to start cleaning the dishes. If he had to guess, the lemon might've been tasted. He used that lemon the celestial was so damn persistent about giving him. Why was that, anyway? A large love for them? Had he ever had an onion...?
     Hearing the offer to cook, En glanced over his shoulder and signed enough to be visible, "If you want to. Focus on your healing first."

Caelestis was all but literally beaming at this point. The sort of almost irritatingly happy smile that he knew wouldn't be likely to exactly improve En's mood, but couldn't help anyway. Well, perhaps he could, actually, but simply didn't quite want to. In a manner, it was only making up for the ex-prince's own cold demeanor, albeit nearly two-fold. Enthusiastically, he made his way over to the counter, and avoiding the other food, picked up his serving of the pasta. Oh, what a concept it was, to even consider a single complaint when he was rather instead quite happily on cloud nine, the troubling 'dream' from before already pushed away to the darkest corners of his mind.

Sitting back down at the table, he took the first bite, and looked back up to where En stood. "Oh, we might as well be a married couple by now, don't you think?" He most definitely didn't. To think Caelestis had just acknowledged how utterly pointless the flirtations were barely a few minutes ago, and yet here he was already. Instead of teasing even more, eagerly digging his grave all the while, he looked back down to the food and continued eating. Contrary to any potential concerns En had somewhat indirectly expressed, it was quite good, actually. The pasta was simple, but not over or undercooked. In addition to the added healthiness, the vegetables created a satisfying texture, and the Parmesan a pleasant flavor. And was that—his chewing paused—a hint of lemon?! Caelestis swallowed, and looked towards En with a silent look of appreciation and astonishment. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but that made the realisation no less touching, and he felt a sudden urge to even tear up a bit. It was just lemon, please.

After that point, the bowl was empty within seconds, and Caelestis somehow withheld the urge to hug and kiss En repeatedly, although he had a feeling the thoughts still were expressed fairly clearly through his expression. At the same time, it became difficult to ignore just how many favors the ex-prince had done for him this past day or so. Even just not attempting to kill him any longer felt a favor enough of its own, but everything else had been far more in addition. "Perhaps I'll stay and cook something tomorrow for you to eat," he said as more of a statement than an offer, turning to En after washing and putting away the bowl. "It's important to eat healthily, after all." Largely as thanks, but considering En's earlier claims of not cooking often, and the unlikelihood that he would be someone to dine out at high class restaurants every day, it was actually a genuine concern as well.

Cooking was never something Caelestis would find much genuine enjoyment in, but it was difficult to deny how easy it was to continue once getting going. A simmering pot full of lentils, and another of rice on the side, he continued with the tadka in the meantime. Near the end came a dash of lemon juice—thankfully, so that the dish would be saved from any urges to go overboard with anything else—and several minutes later, he set down a plate of rice and dal before his companion. It wasn't anything especially fancy at all, but he had actually given it relative effort for once, and hoped to prepare something that would be both satisfactory and healthy.

😭😭😭

Wraith knows nothing about cooking xD

NP - I am so sorry, Wraith doesn't know how to cook, it's not so much he made dinner, but....he caught it xD

Wraith jumped up onto a platform, two dead hares grasped firmly in his hands. Once he had settled, he handed one of the hares to the person next to him before tucking into his own meal. His companion had said that they were hungry and Wraith, who was hungry himself, went off to get some food. He was part way through eating his meal when he felt someone staring at him. He turned back to his companion who was given him a look, whether it was curiosity or disgust he couldn't quite tell. "What?" He asked before looking at the untouched hare in their hands. "Something wrong with your food?" He asked confused.

Everett merely blinked at the panther shifter when he asked the question. "You could've at least cooked it first." Really, they weren't bothered by this, but there wasn't anything in the world that could convince them to eat raw meat as a casual dish. "Thanks anyways, though I'm not exactly one for eating things raw," they continued, punctuated with a shrug of their shoulders. "I guess I'll save it for later."

The librarian was never a good cook—they'd label themself as "decent enough"—but they appreciated the practice. After a good few minutes of the noise of water boiling and dishes clattering, the other was presented with a simple meal of chicken and rice, and a teapot. Setting the meal on the table, Everett would pour the tea into two separate cups, setting one aside for her guest and one for herself. "It's not much, but I've made some barley tea as well." If there's one thing Everett was good at when it came to cooking, it was tea. "Bon appetit," Everett nodded, before taking a sip of her tea.

(ayyy Lobcorp fc!!) 

//claim

Razz clumsily accepts the tea, careful not to spill it as he takes a sip. mulling over the taste for a moment before enthusiastically taking on the meal the mysterious character had prepared him. 

"wowsers, this is great! i haven't had actual food in an eternity, you really know your way around a plate!" he beams, showering them with praise over what most would consider mediocre, plain cooking. luckily a man from the age of preserving everything in Gelatin has pretty low standards when it comes to food. The tea was genuinely good though, anybody with a brain would agree on that. atleast!

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"This was my wifes recipe... i-uh, heh, i'm not exactly masterchef but it should be edible.............i hope"  he remarks awkwardly with a nervous chuckle as he puts down a plate of old-school plain meatloaf, slightly overcooked to the point it was a little charred, served with a side of mashed potatoes and green beans. 

{ claim }

Oralie accept the plate, twirling her fork in her hands, waiting for her host to sit. She frowned slightly, realizing she probably should have mentioned she was a vegetarian, but she didn't want to be rude, so she simply stabbed the green beans with her fork, eating them one by one, taking a moment to remember other creatures cooking was very, very different from elves, in several ways. She set her fork down, noting the way her host watched, like he might be nervous. She shrugged. 

"I mean, I've tasted way worse. The medieval age was culinary nightmare" Oralie remarked, pushing her long braid back, and stirring the warm mashed potatoes with her spoon, not sure if they would be good to eat, due to the unfortunate state of the meatloaf, but she ate a few bites, for the sake of her host, and looked up. 

"I'm a vegetarian so.. you might wanna take this back" She said, pushing her plate a little farther back from her place at the table.

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Oralie hesitantly accept the guest into her silver palace of a home, and she couldn't help but think what they might think of the elves culture, though she pushed that thought to the back of her mind and lead the way into the kitchen, showing her guest the dining room, and the going the island, where she had a half prepared salad, made with some her favorite fruits and vegetables, and she hoped it would be enough. She wasn't exactly know for her cooking. She threw the rest of the chopped up cucumber, a favorite human food of hers, and mixed it up, then taking frozen bread rolls out of her fridge, and putting them in the oven.

When they were done she brought both items into her dining room, and placed each in the center of her round table, nodding nervously to her strange guest.

"Er.. I hope your fine with vegetarian dishes? It's all I have.." Oralie said, and quickly sat down with her guest.

While he was mainly travelling to do politics Oralie had been someone he wanted to meet. She just seemed... interesting, from everything he had heard about her. Which, to be fair, was not a lot; she seemed to be somewhat of an enigma. 

"Thank you for allowing me into your home." the prince said, not overly cheerful but still friendly, in his own way. When she went to cook something he blinked in surprise. Actually Valerion would not have expected her to offer dinner, just a tea or even water would have been more than okay. After all, his visit was rather spontaneous... but maybe he had interrupted her at making her own dinner. Now he felt a bit rude, if that was the case. "I hope I am not interrupting anything?" he asked to get that out of the way. 

When she served the salad with the bread rolls he sat down near her - far enough for respectful distance but close enough to not be miles away. "Oh, vegetarian is great, I don't eat anything else either." the prince explained, maybe even a bit relieved that he did not have to eat meat, because declining it would have been rude, of course. 

While they ate in silence, since he was taught to stay quiet during dinner, at least if it was somewhat formal, he did actually quite enjoy the meal. Of course it was a salad and there were probably few things one could do terribly wrong but it was good nonetheless and he was grateful she had even prepared something. "Thank you for that, it was really good." he finally said. 

"Now, may I ask you a little bit about this place? I read about it but it seems the history here is younger than any book."

It was late at night, most of the palace fast asleep. Apart from the prince and his company, of course. He may have forgotten to do anything besides working again, so it was time to cook something. Luckily the kitchen staff was long gone so they had the place to themselves, without anyone trying to do everything for Valerion. It was almost a bit sad that he did not get to do it a lot but he actually did enjoy cooking and fixing himself a small meal late at night had almost become routine. 

Looking around the kitchen he found some useful ingredients, though he was still indecisive about what exactly he wanted to cook. Maybe taking a walk first would have been a good idea. However, in the end he managed to whip something up that should be edible, at least it smelled good. If one liked pasta, that was. With a bit of asparagus and tomatoes, olive oil and the slightest hint of garlic without it being overpowering or too much. "I hope it's alright..." he sighed, will handing over a plate.

Shepherd hesitated for a moment, eyeing the plate with a hint of suspicion. He didn't quite trust the food in front of him, as tasty as it looked. Perhaps it was just his nerves getting to him. He hadn't exactly been an invited guest, after all. Yet his failed attempt at sneaking around for a heist had earned him a plate of food instead of an immediate beheading or something of that nature. He figured that he had just been lucky, that Valerion had no clue of his initial intentions. The two had a friendly enough energy between them. Still, the notion ebbed at the corners of his mind. What if he had been served a nice dash of poison to take him out?

His stomach, however, spoke for him. With slight reluctance, he took a bite... and was pleasantly surprised. "Huh. You're a pretty great cook, especially for a pampered prince. This is some great stuff. A bit, uh... on the bland side, for my tastes, but y'know. I mean, who am I to talk? I go out of my way to eat the spiciest stuff I can find, haha."

Shepherd made a point to finish the entire plate, the thought of poison now far from his mind. He licked his lips with a pleased sigh. "Thanks for the meal. It was awful sweet of ya to go out of your way and cook like this. Not to mention lettin' me stay for so long. You're a lot kinder than you appear, y'know? I got a more, uh... Standoffish vibe from ya at first, haha."

Shepherd grinned down at the ingredients laid out in front of him. An array of lamb, peppers, onions, and vast quantities of different spices all sat at his disposal. Alongside that, he had a plethora of wooden skewers at the ready. He had prepared for quite a show as to entertain his guest, and he was determined to create a delightful meal in the process.

"Now then, guess I oughta get to work, huh? Enough showin' off my culinary arsenal, haha. See, this is a little recipe from back home that I fell in love with. I hope I can help you do the same even if my methods are a bit... unorthodox," he explained.

Without another moment's hesitation, he began preparing the kebabs in a whirl. He cut and stacked the ingredients in as flashy of a manner as he could, using generous amounts of spices. In fact, perhaps he was using a bit too much. He was used to a large kick, after all. After preparing a handful of the kebabs, he grasped the ends of the skewers between his fingers. He balanced three in each hand, then let loose a burst of his fiery breath to act as a cooking flame. He was certainly putting on a show, one that was far from necessary.

Eventually, the flames died down into a wispy smoke. The kebabs remained, thoroughly cooked (if not a bit charred in places.) Shepherd grinned proudly, setting three down on a plate. "Ta-da! Hope ya enjoy 'em! I think the charring and smokiness gives 'em a great flavor, don't you?"

     Frederick sat with his arms crossed as he watched Shephard intensely not because of his flashy cooking (which was admittedly impressive) but because he looked familiar. That height, enough to be taller than even himself, and that outfit... Criminal? He couldn't think of a name, though, much less any warrants for arrests that featured that face. What was it, then...?
     More wisps of flames fired out, and the detective leaned back slightly, though showed little emotion in reaction. Did that come from his mouth? Was that sanitary? Nevertheless, the kebabs were set down before him. They looked good, smelled good too. Frederick was quiet for a moment, then picked one up to take a bite. Very hot to the touch, but he did appreciate the smoky flavors and...
     The detective coughed and quickly covered his mouth. There were far too many spices, it was erupting his mouth into flames! He coughed a few more times before managing to calm down, taking a deep breath and drinking water. "It's fine," he decided.

     Frederick was quiet the entire time he cooked. He offered no conversation, and his expression didn't seem inviting enough for it. Fortunately, his dish was cooked fairly quickly.
     Walking over to you, he set down a plate of salmon, rice, and steamed vegetables.
     "It's good for you," he muttered. 

Gasoline tapped his foot observing the rice. The dude was use to fried chicken and twinkies so he definitely wasn't use to this. He picked up the untinsel and tried it " pretty good " however Gasolines face said " amazing! " 

Gasoline continued to eat avoiding eye contact. " damn, you'll probably say no but you should like... totally cook for one of my school baseball games! " doubt filled Gasolines face, he ate preparing for rejection 

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Gasoline walked over with the plate of perfectly cooked, golden brown chicken nuggets " yeah, I know its not much but to hell with it. Atleast they taste better than most things here "

   Justus didn't respond when the plate clattered against the table, looking at the male's void expression as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wasn't upset despite his face pertaining to otherwise, but more appalled. Surprised? It was one of the most basic things a person could think of, but it wasn't something he was going to complain about. It was simple and provided great taste that he was prepared to move towards it and eat it. A smirk cracked between his lips and he got up to prepare himself a small platter of ketchup, chuckling to himself. "Simple is good, my guy. Don't worry about it. I'm not one to complain." His thoughts relaxed, returning to the table to pick up a single nugget. The breading crumbled in between his fingers and he made sure to swipe as much ketchup on his nugget as he could before taking a bite.

   "Delicious, my friend," He complimented, leaning back in his chair as he chewed, his ankle hooking over his other knee and giving a thumbs up to his chef. "Perfectly cooked and juicy. You should expand your library though, I bet you could make some great stuff." He couldn't help but be kind with his words. Why shame someone who just was doing the basics for him?

   Justus didn't cook. He wanted to, only knowing the basics such as boiling spaghetti noodles or perfecting his ramen, but he wasn't the most amazing chef in the world. He was perfectly capable of causing food to explode, overheat, undercook or cause more damage to himself than actually cooking the food. Staring at the stove, which was off, he thought long and hard about what he was going to make for this person he was just about to meet. He wasn't prepared for who they were or how they'd react. Sort of like a blind date, but a blind...dinner friendship? What even made sense to him anymore? Suddenly his hands were moving about as his brain bustled, returning to the simplest thing he could make that blew his mind even by his standards.

   "Sandwich." An egg sandwich to be exact. Toasted for three minutes and the eggs scrambled, though to his dismay this resulted in most of the particles not landing on the bread and more on the plate, stove or floor. Mayonnaise on the bottom and mustard near the top with the eggs cushioned between them. His favorite addition? Hot sauce. "I like it with a bit of hot sauce, but they don't have to put it on." He muttered to himself, placing the plate on the table. Hopefully, they'd like it. Or appreciate his efforts.

Choco was silent as she sat at the table and lifted the egg sandwich. She sniffed at it, glancing up at Justus. "Sort of boring," they said. Their eyes caught the hot sauce bottle. Choco did enjoy spice, but not with an egg sandwich, so they declined to add it to their meal. She chomped down on the food, her canine jaws making quick work of it. "Thank you," they said, with no indication on whether or not she even enjoyed it. 

Choco was quite good at cooking, considering they'd been the one to feed their younger sibling whenever their mother wasn't home. She loved her mom, but she had grown up rather quickly due to her not being around as much as most other mothers.

Nevertheless, the brown dog had a meal to make. They decided on a classic, one that was always easy to make on saturday mornings for Gumdrop and pups friends, the day after the young puppy had a sleepover. She used to have to look at a recepie, but she'd gotten pretty skilled at making it from memory by now. Mix. mix, mix. Pour. Flip. A stack of pancakes.

Without thinking about it, they topped it with the whipped cream and chocolate chips their little sibling always asked for. Hope they don't mind me adding that for them, she thought as she placed the plate on the table.

     Nikolai had to admit, he was skeptical about Choco's ability to cook. It wasn't that he was concerned about a dog cooking, she seemed to be handling that well, it was the fur. Would it get into the food? Surely it would, it seemed almost inevitable! He sank slightly in his chair. Maybe he should consider declining?
     Then the plate was set down and Nikolai saw a stack of pancakes with chocolate chips and whipped cream. He quirked an eyebrow. It looked pretty good, and his stomach was aching to take a bite. Well... what's the harm?
     A quick bite, and a moment of contemplation. "Mmm, not bad," he noted, tossing Choco a lazy grin. "Not bad at all, dearie. Why not have some yourself?"

     Nikolai seemed to stare sleepily at you for a moment until, finally, his eyes widened. "Oh, that's right! You were expecting dinner, weren't you?" Even with that realization of what he was supposed to do, he slinked back onto the couch and distractedly turned back to the TV. "Must I really do that, darling? My favorite movie just came on." It was halfway over.
     After a moment, he sighed. "Very well. I'm rather in the mood for pizza anyway. What toppings do you want, dearie? You don't mind waiting half an hour for it to arrive, hmm?"

A movie was playing, but his glare was firmly settled on Nikolai, the very picture of an angry house cat two seconds away from knocking over a glass in protest. What was the point of coming all the way here, only to be ignored? He was about to lean over and tug harshly on the man’s sleeve in a soundless ‘Pay attention to me!’ when those green eyes finally—and belatedly!—turned to him.
Nikolai’s suggestion didn’t do much to improve his mood, but he still sighed and nodded nonetheless. As a spirit, he didn’t need to eat, but a pizza would do as an offering.
…And at least he had his attention now.

Bad omens might not be able to eat, but he still liked seeing others enjoy their food—as long as they were like you. Last time you had mentioned that you were craving a good home cooked meal, so he had used his downtime to forage through the recipe books of various grandmothers in order to find something that you might like. It would be pathetic to admit to going through so much effort, so he hoped the food was good enough to distract from any questions of where he had learned how to make it.
After setting down the plate of lasagna, he took his own seat opposite of you, his chin resting in his hands as he waited eagerly for your reaction.