Your OC Makes Dinner

Theo grinned as he looked over the plate, licking his lips and inhaling the scent deeply before glancing up, "You really made this just for me? Sure you don't want any for yourself?"

He picked up his fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to savor it and chewing thoroughly before taking another, then another, and another. His plate was emptied all too quickly, and he chuckled, sliding it back across the table, "Got any more? That was really good, seriously. It's been a while since I had a good meal like that. I'm not much of a cook myself, you know. I'm pretty impressed, honestly, I didn't take you to be the cooking type, either." 

Setting down his fork, he thought for a minute, fishing an apple out of his large pocket and shining it on his shirt before taking a bite, "Only thing that'd make this better is some apple pie for dessert. Maybe I could make some. We could play cards while we wait for it to cook. What do you think, you up for a game?"

------

Theo proudly served up a plate of apple crisp, placing it on the table with a grin and picking up the ice cream scoop to top it off with. "Don't be shy, you'll like it, I promise. Nothing's better than an apple-related dessert, except having said apple-related dessert for dinner. Trust me. I might not be a great cook, but I know apples, and I make this sort of thing pretty often, so I've worked out all the issues and I double-checked the labels to make sure I didn't mix up the sugar and salt this time. I could barely keep from drooling while smelling this cook in the oven. It's pretty much irresistible. Oh, but be careful not to burn yourself, alright? Blow on it first." He advised with a light laugh. 

The burning smell clung heavily to the air, wrinkling Muriel's nose. She frowned when the spilled broth soaked the table but continued to watch in silence as Juno fiddled with the ramen's presentation. Muriel pulled out a chair and sat dreadfully, lips still turned, at the table.

"You know," she said at last, "I know a way to make this dinner even better." Muriel quickly stood up and made her way to the kitchen, running her fingers along a few dark, unlabelled jars. Her attention would linger on one for longer than a moment, pulling it out and investigating its contents from the outside, and then she would put it back. Finally, Muriel removed a container that swirled with blood red liquid. She brought it back to the table and scooped a hefty serving of crimson vegetables into the bowl of soup. 

"Pickled radishes. Can't ever go wrong!" 

Muriel took an overly-enthusiastic bite. The tartness of the brine mixed with the overwhelming bitterness of the burnt noodles sent a shiver down her spine. "Well, maybe pickled radishes can't fix everything."

-

"Thank you for setting the table," Muriel said, smiling. The walls of the kitchen were barely visible behind racks of spices, pickle jars, pots and pans, and now an apron that she hung with a heavy sigh. She moved gracefully to grab the large ceramic dish that was steaming on the counter. The rich cream from the meal wafted from the kitchen towards the dining table. When she set the dish down, it was easy to peer inside and see thick rice scattered with dark, hearty mushrooms and herbs.

"I haven't made risotto in a long time," Muriel admitted, wiping her brow, "but I think it turned out just fine. Here's a spoon; help yourself, and I'll grab something to drink. You like mead, right?"

     "Oh. Sure, no problem," Alcott grunted as he finished setting the plates down on the table. It was the least he could do. When's the last time someone had cooked dinner for him...? Not even his kids did that-- He wasn't even sure if they could cook anything besides instant ramen.
     He had to admit, though, he was pretty wary about Muriel. He'd never met a sentient goat that could walk, much less cook, though she seemed nice, and this place seemed like a testament to her skills, so he felt there was no harm in trying a dish out. There was a nice smell wafting in the area, and soon the dish followed.
     Alcott was practically drooling. What a beautiful display, and it smelled so damn good, his stomach was practically howling. "This looks amazing," he managed to vocalize, looking up only when a drink was mentioned. "Huh? Oh, yeah, that'll work. Thanks." As she left to get the drink, he took some risotto onto his plate. It was still steaming hot, but he couldn't wait. He shoved a spoonful into his mouth, wincing at the initial heat, oh but did the flavor make up for it. When his mouth wasn't being burned alive, he could taste such wonderful flavors and textures. He'd need this recipe.
     The drink came, and it only added to it. "I've never had anything like this. You made this yourself?" He shook his head with a smile. "I'm impressed as hell. This is probably the best dinner I've had in... ever!"

     Alcott set down a plate of ribs and steaks on the table, he tossed you a smirk. "Thanks for coming by for dinner. Honestly, I'll take whatever excuse I can get to light up the grill. I like to think I make the best steaks in the country, but I'll let you be the judge of that." He set down bowls of sides: asparagus, mashed potatoes, fries, steamed veggies.
     "Help yourself while I go get my kids," he said before disappearing back into the house.

Ribs and steaks. Odette sat at the bench, her hands folded politely in her lap, her expression stony. The other woman standing behind her seemed more grateful. She patiently looked at the meat with those blue eyes of hers, knowing well what to expect once Alcott was out of earshot.

"Pride makes food taste better," said Odette, "But, I'll be holding you to a high standard."

..Or, Nerine would be. As soon as the door closed behind Alcott, Odette nudged her plate towards her retainer, who then cut into the meat with the dagger strapped to her side. Amazing use for such a weapon aside, Nerine left behind a quarter of the steak on Odette's plate, as well as nabbed the ribs. The Yene woman was content with so little, carefully feeling around the table until she reached the bowls. She scooped spoonfuls of asparagus and steamed vegetables, and placed them back onto her plate. It was only then that she started to eat. [While using her spoon to cut into her remaining section of the steak because she was a horrible person.]

"It tastes fine. He did fine." Odette muttered to Nerine, who just... stood there, meats in her hands. Only when the former took the first bite did she start wolfing down her massive chunk of steak. Of course, only using her wretched hands and mouth, because she neglected to get a plate, and apparently didn't have the motivation to get one. Still, as her partner silently ate like a demonic being, Odette carried on speaking. "I do despise how it smells, however. Have you ever noticed that about barbecued meat?"

Blood, body odor, and smoke. The concept of meat alone was disturbing in of itself. She supposed it was just nature, and she enjoyed chicken now and then, anyway, but... Who ever thought to kill and cut up an animal?

"Never really cared to think that much about it." said Nerine, "Meat's meat."

Odette gingerly prodded at the last bite of her steak with her spoon, then decided to move on to the vegetables. She was sure Alcott and his children would eat most of what was on the table, and she could appear not as much of a dickhead if she finished the rest of her spicy cow carcass later. She couldn't help but scowl, however, when she heard the smacking of lips. The smell of meat slathered on and sticking to one's hands. Her face paled. She turned slightly towards Nerine.

"Please get a plate."

Odette absolutely did not cook any of this.

The servant who placed the bowls before both her and her guest scampered off back to the kitchen. It was soup, the bowls barely filled. Pieces of chicken floated near the top with carrots and herbs, dumplings just under them, drowned in broth.

It seemed that Odette wasn't as interested in the meal, however, leaning back in her chair and away from her own bowl. "You may have mine, if yours is not filling." she told them, "I'm rarely hungry enough for dinner."

Dr. Sova was never one for dinner parties. They were stuffy, boring things; nights that did nothing but make the solitude of her room seem all the more enticing when compared to dull conversation. She has no clue how she landed herself here - especially not when there's more important things to attend to - yet, here she is, sitting before Odette and floundering underneath the same insufferable niceties of a conversation as she surely is. 

"What a lovely home you have," she says, her voice smooth. "I don't think I've ever been in a house as grand as this."

She wasn't lying, but frankly, there wasn't much else to say. Conversation is as interesting as dirt to her, and she's never been any good at it, either. Her work demands nothing but action, words losing themselves in the mix. But she puts some halfhearted attempt in that little comment, even if it truly means little to her. Instead, her gaze slides up towards the soldier lurking behind Odette - the one that had been watching her every move as soon as she stepped foot in the house. She raises a brow at the dagger strapped to her side and thanks herself for not moving her mask sooner; seeing the soldier's armor and weaponry did little to quell her apprehension for the whole occasion. 

A servant pulls her out of her thoughts as they place a bowl before her. She thanks him under her breath and takes the time to remove her mask. Her owlish eyes survey the broth as she stirs it with her hand, watching islands of chicken and carrots bob in circles. Quietly, she takes a sip. 

Well... it doesn't taste half bad. Ludmila offers a gentle smile. "Very nice. Thank you, miss, for the hospitality and meal. Both go much appreciated."

A compliment from Ludmila - and a genuine one at that, too. It must be Odette's lucky day.

Ludmila sets the plate down in front of her guest, watching as she stands to see any sort of reaction from them. Cooking and baking were never an area of expertise for the doctor; in fact, she considered it beneath her to worry about, as her apprentice often did the cooking for the both of them since he enjoyed it so much. Still, if she were to have guests, it wouldn't kill her to do something nice for once and dig up an old recipe to make. The dish itself isn't all too impressive; it's a flaky layered cake doused with powdered sugar, but the warm scent of honey is enough to make Ludmila's house feel much more welcoming than it really is. "It's medovik," she explains. "Honey cake."

Her dogs pace the table, impatiently whining at the prospect of treats. Demetrius, the larger of the two, stands planted at Ludmila's side, though he does nothing but stare her guest down. Sacha, however, inches closer and closer to the guest until his nose is firmly pressed against them. He has mastered the art of puppy-dog eyes.

"Eat. I did not make this for it to go cold. And don't let Sacha have any; he's had enough treats for today."

Wednesday didn't quite know how they had ended up at Ludmilla's table. The whole event was quite a blur, especially for how quickly their mind could flit from topic to topic. Regardless of the story, there they were: seated cross-legged with a little, home-cooked delicacy presented to them.

Wednesday's eyes sparkled in wonder as they stared at the plate in front of them. They licked their lips and grinned, studying every layer of the little cake. They were typically more fond of sour treats, but they could definitely do with the pure sweetness of honey. Especially in the form of a warm, layered cake! They picked up their fork, grinning in anticipation.

"Well, thank you. You're too sweet for making this for lil' ol' me, haha. Perhaps I could say you're... sweet as medovik?" they giggled to themself. "At least, I think that'd be a good statement. I've never tried this kinda thing before, maybe it ain't actually as sweet as I think, heheh."

They inched the fork toward the cake—only to jump suddenly when they felt Sacha's nose against them. They glanced down, petting him with their free hand, and took a bite. 

It only took them a few seconds more before the medovik was entirely devoured.

"Whoo, that was delish! What would it take for me to get ya to make this for me all the time, eh?"

Wednesday set down a paper plate on their rickety table. It wasn't often that they'd get guests, and they were going to make sure this went well. Or, well, at least as well as a meeting with a walking biohazard could go.

They sat down across from their guest, grinning at the meal they had prepared. They had tried their hand at steak tartare—mainly because their stove had broken down a week ago. It looked surprisingly appetizing for a pile of raw meat and egg yolk! They had taken especially good care with mixing in all the right spices to make it as nice as they could. In a small dish on the side was a serving of tiny green candies.

"Haha, sorry it's a bit... unconventional? I'm not exactly experienced as a chef, y'know. Though I do know my measurements really well! And I tried real hard with this! I mean, if I know one thing, it's raw meat. That's the only way I eat my meat, I swear. I just burn it otherwise, y'know? And, uh... sorry for the lack of a side too, haha. Again, no stove. But hey, I gave ya Pop Rocks! That's... that's basically just as good, right?"

They stared at their guest expectantly, biting their lip in anticipation for the response they would receive on their "cooking."

Desmond didn't really care why or how he was suddenly having dinner with Wednesday, but he didn't mind their company, since he secretly thought their style was pretty cool.
He definitely didn't really care what the food was either, because as long as something looks edible. He'll eat it. Unless it's chocolate.

His arms were folded and his leg was crossed over his other as he leisurely leaned back in the chair. "I mean... gonna be honest. This is better than anything I could make for myself. Imagine getting steak cooked for ya randomly, for free? The fuck, why wouldn't you be grateful? So yeah, thanks I guess... I forgot to have dinner anyway."

He leaned back before his eyes caught the sight of the "side". His eyes immediately lit up like an excited little kid when he saw the pop rocks. "Steak is already fuckin' great, but this stuff? This stuff is the shit, you get me!" He picked up the bowl of pop rocks and downed the entire thing without blinking.

"Huh? Dinner?"

Desmond blinked, not really turning his head towards his guest, as he was transfixed on the low-budget horror movie he currently had going on his TV. It's bad. The CGI is awful, so you don't pay much attention to it.  "Easy."

He picked up his phone lazily and dialed a number, before you hear him start to speak to the other end of the line and ignore you almost entirely. He doesn't even ask what you might've preferred for delivery.

"Hey, can I get 2 large pizzas?... yes, it's me, the usual is good... thanks." The conversation was short as he hung up. "Aaand done..." He finished bluntly. "Best I can do for ya. I don't have time to learn to cook aside from simple stuff..." His eyes momentarily flicked to the ground. "If you want something else, I have a lot of shit around that requires no preparation, so help yourself..."

15 minutes later, the two of you receive 2 pizzas as Desmond requested, but... They're both pineapple pizzas. Yup. LARGE pineapple pizzas, to which Desmond picks off the pineapples from the top with his fingers and just.... eats them... Like That... before leaving a few slices on and actually biting into the slice of cheese and tomato sauce and bread 2 minutes later. "Oh, and if you're one of those people that fuckin' hates this stuff, get outta my house now and never come back,"  He says through a mouthful. "Unless you like this stuff, which would be sexy of you. Wanna be allies? My temporary alliance is worth sharing to any absolute fucking units that likes the clearly superior pizza. DUH."
 

"No prob, bro" A wide goofy smile drawed on Keatons face

 Keaton lifted a big pizza slice and munched it with gusto. sour, sweet, salty, sabory and sighlty spicy, it was the perfect combination of all flavor kinds. Maybe because that people dont likes pineapple pizza, their taste buds get too overstimulated to appreciate its complexity. 

They both spent the rest of the night talking about skating injuries and night life weird experiences, all while budget horror movies played on the background, sprinkling the convo with stock screams and mediocre names

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Keaton slammed the fridge door with his foot, his arms full of an assortment of random ingredients: pickles, mayo, grapes, chicken breast, bread, dry pasta, garlic, instant juice and many other more. It was late on evening and his visitor would be on the way for dinner.

"Ugh dammit! What kind of dish would I make with this" he reached for a nearby recipe book and flicked through its pages, nothing seemes easy or at leas familiar to him until: "Hey! lasagna! That's it." He remembered his dad whisking the large pot of tomato sauce on sundays, the hot smell of oregano and a bit of burnt fron the bottom of the pot.

He heated the store brought tomato paste and added spoonfuls of oregano, he lost the count at 3 as he kept reading the instructions. 

White sauce was next, tossed flour, milk and a while nutmeg into another pot whisking vigorously as the mixture didn't thickened even when added extra flour so, and leaved like that for a while. 

Checking back instructions he realized he didnt put the lasagna pasta to boil, "well isnt it going to the oven anyways" he thought as he placed them on the pie plater, alternatively pouring hot sauce and the now extra thick white sauce, topping it with shredded mozzarella cheese and one basil leaf he forgot add to the bottom.

30 or so minutes later he took the lasagna out the oven and placed it on the counter.

 "w-well the intention is what counts right, at least its edible" He tilted his head, the lasagna appearance leaved much to be desired. Maybe Keaton's guest will not know about Italian food and will assume it must be like this. Just to be sure he brought in the fine plates

He'd eat the lasagna with one singular hand, chewing on it with a quizzical expression. He even proceeded to feed it to his chest mouth, which seemed to eat it more haphazardly. "ACCEPTABLE." The cryptid was amused with the taste, clearly unaware that this wasn't a typical lasagna.

With a loud splat, the creature would have left a rather sizeable raw steak, presumably from some large farm animal, then he'd proceed to cook it by a campfire, somehow managing to cook it to a seemingly well-done fashion. "IS THIS ALRIGHT? HUMAN FOOD IS STRANGE." He didn't have a way to cut it, so he hoped the person below would be able to tolerate this...bones and all!

MagicaeDraco It's been awhile, so I hope the ping is okay!

Avilius had a really bad feeling about what he was about to be served, but he sat still anyway. He wasn't one to show fear or hesitate, no matter the situation. How bad could the food even be, anyway? If this was about to be his last meal, so be it; at least in the afterlife, he could say he got killed by a vicious monster with teeth on it's chest. No elaboration required, of course- no one had to know that he kicked it by a campfire sitting on a bright pink blanket. Avilius died fighting.

He quietly watched as the bizarre slab of meat spun around on top of the fire. Where the hell did he even find that, Avilius thought, eyes fixated on his future dinner. He wasn't about to question Asugoa. The cryptid seemed a bit too excited about cooking for him. Suddenly, after a loud crash, the snake's meal was before him. The "steak" was well-done, and it didn't have a single hair, feather or fin on it. Overall, it was technically edible. Asugoa asked Avilius if his dinner was alright.

"Yes, it's fine," Avilius replied, "I'm sure this animal found the fire rather cosy. Or like a portal to hell." Asugoa didn't react to the joke at all. Avilius assumed he simply didn't understand sarcasm, and began poking at his slab of meat. It was cooked on the inside too, but there were also a ton of bones. Almost like the poor animal's torso was ripped off and tossed into the flames. Luckily for Asugoa, Avilius was one sick fucker.

"Ohh, it has some character too. Points for presentation," Avilius said dryly. "Since I don't have utensils, I'll have to eat this the old fashioned way. Grandpa Avilius showed me this one."

Gripping the steak with both hands, Avilius shoved the entire thing in his mouth and began swallowing it whole. It wasn't long until it was in his stomach. There was an indescribable look on Asugoa's face, but Avilius assumed that he was happy that he was able to enjoy his strange meal. Avilius had to admit, it was a solid 7/10.

"See, you didn't have to make human food because I'm a goddamn snake."

---

Avilius put a place-mat in front of his guest and poured some water into their glass. The dinning room was only illuminated by the fireplace and smelled strongly of Avilius's pets. 

"I hope the atmosphere isn't objectionable. Ignore my little friends and they won't eat you... heheh," Avilius joked, putting down a plate.

It was a very simple meal. Just a slab of fish with butter on top and a few chunks of rabbit on the side. It seemed... very raw, like something he would feed his pets.
 

Ayumi sat on the place-mat, looking around the room. She stayed silence, giving a slight glare at Avilius's joke, Ayumi didn't find it funny. Poking the food gently, Ayumi grimaced when blood oozed out. It was raw, that much was obvious.
  "Thanks. It looks.... great."
 Usually, she'd be delighted at fish. But, looking down at the plate in front her, her stomach began to curl on itself. Ayumi didn't like raw fish, much preferring cooked. This would be a challenge.

Humming to herself, Ayumi took the teriyaki chicken off the grill. Her pet macaw, Darling, sat perched on her shoulder as she cooked.
  "It should be done in a moment, apologies."
 Glancing back, Ayumi paused, "If you want to eat in the living room we can, you don't have to eat on the mat."
Without another word, Ayumi grabbed two plates as she filled them with the chicken, setting a small bowl of rice with chopsticks for a side.

     Calista  looked at the teriyaki and smiled. She smelled it. “Wow this smells delicious! I can’t wait to try it.” She took the food and made her way into the living room. Calista took her first bite and grinned. “Mm it’s so saucy! I love it.” She continued to eat but made sure not to make a mess.

_________
“Idk about you but I’m starving” Calista’s stomach growled. “Oh don’t worry I’m not going to suck your blood. I’ll probably snack on someone else.” She looks at you. “Do you want any food? I can make you some.” She makes her way to the kitchen. “Have you ever tried forest dragon meat? It’s super delicious! I have some leftover I can warm up for you.” She got the leftovers out and warmed them up. Then she placed it on a tv tray. “Enjoy!”

The man looked at the dragon meat, pulling out one of his rocks. Pressing it to cause a soft "What" to come from it. but he did not refuse the meal, tearing off a slim piece with his dirty fingers and placing it into one of his mask's eye holes. in a few moments where his head jerked and the meat vanished he got the meat into his mouth chewing and swallowing. Giving a "so so" motion 

-------------------

The mercenary looked at the person who had asked him for a meal, with a shake of his head he beckoned them. Reaching into his pockets and pulled out a small piece of what looked like candy. When eaten it tastes like blueberries. Shrugging he pulled out his pockets to show he lacked anymore food or money

They eat the candy, underwhelmed by the taste. They swish it in their mouth for a while before deciding to just munch it and swallow it. They’re still hungry.

———

Bitsy rubbed their hands together  mischievously. What abomination could they cook up? They look to make sure no one’s watching and begin cooking up their concoction. They start with just some basic pasta, the little bow tie kind. They begin to add things like hot Tabasco, jalapeños, ghost peppers, paprika, anything and everything spicy. They dish it up and hand it to the poor fellow. They smile and watch.