Your OC Makes Dinner

Ajax ate the pasta, not even making a face or commenting on how spicy it was, perhaps he can't taste spicy-ness? 

Ajax handed the plate of steak to his guest- Cutting through it, it looks undercooked...But hey, at least it's beef and not something..Else.

Thames gave an awkward smile. On the dish, a mass which appeared to be pulsating and some variety of meat laid. He wondered if it was something they had brought in or something in his cook’s wares they’ve wrestled with. With the two’s eyes on him, he stood up, bringing gloved hands together, “It was certainly my pleasure to provide hospitality for the time being. It’s a shame you have to be leaving.”          
The man lead them to the threshold of his estate and Jax turned, opening his mouth to say something. Thames cut him off.
“I wish you luck on your road. Unfortunately, it is custom for my staff to inspect any dish for traces of poison,” Thames lied with another awkward smile. “You know, my companions Varran and Ernest always warn me about accepting food from others!“ He laughed in an attempt to mask his disgust. Thames wasn’t rude.
Ushering Jax and his companion out, he closed the door and pressed his back against it. Glancing at the dish in the other room, he wondered if his beetles would appreciate it more than him. Though, he wouldn’t want the poor things to possibly become ill because of it. No matter how hardy they were. 

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“Here you are!”, Thames pushed a plate of small cakes to the one sitting down. “Hot out of the oven!”    
On the dish was a few cakes. They seemed to be layered with frosting between each one accompanied with jam. The top had the same frosting with berries to finish it off. It looked innocent enough, nothing much out of the ordinary. For a high class gentleman at the very least.
But much like a high class gentleman, word of Thames never really cooking came forth. It was recalled that Thames only watched his cook prepare his meals and the suspicious loud noises and scrambling around that was heard in the kitchens just before Thames popped his head out. 

     Ace winced with every CLANK and BANG he heard. Was everything... CRASH!! Okay, it's time to go help.
     He had set down his napkin and got up just as Thames had popped out, and with some great-looking dishes, too! The barista blinked then sank back into his seat, looking at the three cakes in intrigue. "Nice presentation," he nodded, impressed. He grabbed a fork and sliced into one of them, admiring the layers of icing and jam before popping it into his mouth. Immediately, his eyes widened.
     "This is delicious!" he praised. "You made this? Wow! It puts my cakes to shame! Could I get your recipe?" He took another bite, tilting his head lightly. "This jam... Apricot? No, fig? It's not as sweet, either-- That's a good thing! How did you manage to balance the flavors like this?" He stared at Thames expectantly, waiting for an answer right then and there.

     "I'm really only used to making baked goods and the occasional sandwiches for my cafes, but I've been wanting to branch out," Ace smiled as he motioned to his panini maker. "Like it? I got it as a gift. I've never made a panini, so I hope you don't mind being a guinea pig."
     Just as he finished talking, the machine dinged. He perked, "Oh, it's ready! Let's see how it turned out." Smiling brightly, he opened it, only for that same smile to swing upside-down. "Uh..." He feebly put it onto a plate then set it besides you. It was an average panini, but with burnt edges. "Sorry, I guess I'm not used to the speed," he frowned while fixing you a latte. "I can make you another one if you want?"

Anhrefn sniffed the air and smiled. Paninis were a personal favorite but one she didn't make often, given the need of a press. She accepted the sandwich from Ace with a word of thanks, waited for him to sit down with his, and took a bite. Aside from the over-crisp edges, it was yummy! "This one is just fine," she replied reassuringly. And she was sincere; she almost preferred imperfect food; it reminded her of home. However, she graciously declined the latte. She didn't need any more energy than she already had.

~~

"Come and get some!" Anh hollered out into the living room where you, DH, and others are seated. You all file into the dining room, where the small blue draconic girl has laid a fabulous spread. "OK," she began once you all were seated. "We've got Corn Chowder, which may be a little odd fair warning - I can never get a clear recipe from my family from it." She sighed and chuckled, giving the soup vat a stir. 

"There's also Roast chicken and winter veggies if chowder isn't your speed," Anhrefn continued, looking at a serving platter with delicious smells coming from it.

"And to drink we have Sparking cider from the bottle," she finished, seating herself. "Dig in!"

Salvador’s eyes went big as Anhrefn mentioned the roasted chicken. Chicken! The thief shoved his plate of Corn Cowder aside and grabbed a plate with roasted chicken.
“Thanks,” he said. Not even addressing his rude plate shoving behaviour. Salvador pressed his fork and knife in the meat and started to cut it. He took a bite. Salvador paused, as he carefully mauled the chicken over. The meat, soft-boiled and slowly melting on his tongue, was unlike anything he ever had before.
“This is wonderwfuwl,” he told Anhrefn. He eyed the draconic girl, almost superstitious. “How did you get the meat?” he told her. His brows lowered. Salvador slowly took another bite. “Why do you want to share something so good… With me?” The thief kept his eye contact while almost in slowmotion taking his next bite.

–

“Enjoy.” With that, Salvador placed a plate before you. On it lay some cooked beans and stale white bread made of rye. The bread was buttered. On top of the slice lay three slices of darkened meat.“It’s point tuna,” Salvador explained. Before sitting down across of you. He had a similar plate and he directly started to spoon his beans. “Point tuna taste like regulate. But a bit more, dry. Especially the tendons,” he gestured at his bread. There was no water to drown the dry taste out. No comfort. Only tuna. “It is cheap meat. Keeps you healthy.” Salvador took a bite out of his white-rye bread, then eyed you intensely. “Eat.” 

--

_{"It's certainly food" made me laugh so hard SDLJKSDF V}

Tyche eats and it's with the deadest expression possible. She'll eat anything - has eaten everything - and this affront to all things good in the world is likely far from the worst thing she's ever eaten. 

That doesn't make it good. Doesn't make it taste like ash in her mouth, really, what did he use to cook it? Even her own experiments with pyrokinesis haven't yielded anything this.. strange, this mangled. Still, she eats like a lady, slices off a piece and places it in her mouth and chews with a demandably good neutral expression. When she opens her mouth after swallowing, though..

"Force, what did you do to it?" 

Much less neutral. 

What she places in front of you, in contrast, is.. not blackened, at least. It's a surprise, considering that it's blue, but the fluffy discs actually look pretty good, drizzled with honey and topped with a pat of butter. Steam still rises off of them, fresh off the griddle, and the pancakes retain a lovely, perfectly round shape. But.. they're blue. Not unnaturally so, either - no dye is used, simply..

She holds up a bottle. Transparisteel, the blue liquid inside sloshing back and forth, slightly frothy and smelling equally as sweet, if one were to sniff it. "Bantha milk," She says, flashing a fanged smile, those delicately pointed canines tipped in silver. "Adds a lovely flavor to food. They used to only have it on the outer rim, but we order it special since it's so great for frying and baking. I know it's simple, but it'll be good!" The plate is shoved a bit insistently towards you with telekinesis, a bit forcefully, maybe. Her enthusiasm is.. intense. 

Edit: I got ninja'd but I got this just give me an extra minute xD

The plate of pancakes in front of him weren't vile, but they were strange enough to make him uneasy. Harold liked to think of himself as open-minded, but when it came to the unnatural forces of the world, he preferred to avoid them. When such forces were unavoidable, and presently offering him a meal, he doesn't see an immediate reason not to oblige. After all, they didn't look poisonous, or at least he couldn't think of a reason she'd be trying to poison him. If they were, in fact, poisonous he hoped he wouldn't have time to regret his decision before he died. A quick death was always preferrable in his book, and this wasn't the worst last meal he could think of.

"It certainly is....unique?" He replies, failing to match her enthusiasm as he reaches for his utensils. "I've never heard of it, but I'm curious to find out." Curious was another word for concerned, but he takes a fork-full of the stack anyway and bravely swallows it down. He has to admit they're a bit too sweet for his tastes, but after the second bite he's simply euphoric to be alive. Unless of course, it was a delayed poison and he'd find himself doubling over hours from now, but that was a problem for later.

Harold eyes the god's creation skeptically, like he's waiting for it to spring back to life and crawl off his plate. Perhaps he wishes it would, noting the divine beings insistence that he eat whatever it was. Politeness was in his nature, but so was self preservation, and right now he was weighing his options to see which death would be preferred. He could decline the meal and face execution for the offense, or he could suffer the fate of food poisoning and lose his will to live even if he survived. He decides that the former option was worth whatever consequence, as long as he didn't have to eat that pile of rotting ashes. 

"Mateus," he acknowledges the other, hoping that will give him some favor, "I appreciate the effort, but this is rather backwards, don't you agree? You should let me cook for you and save this meal for yourself." Cautiously, he rises from the table and moves towards the kitchen's cabinets. Within them, he finds enough kitchen staples to make something at least edible for the both of them. While he wasn't sure his attempted flattery was enough to dismiss his refusal to eat, he hoped the god would at least let him prepare a better last meal before killing him.

Harold was the type who cooked out of necessity, not to prepare lavish meals or to impress houseguests. The sort of dishes he made for himself were often criticized as being too plain, but at least he was competent enough to feed himself. That being said, the fact that he never bought butter wasn't doing his cooking any favors. He didn't shop much at all, come to think of it, aside from the fish market where he often picked up herring after work. Herring was plain, even he could admit that, but it was simple and hard to ruin. That's why it was his go-to meal for, well, every occassion actually. 

"I hope this is alright," he mutters, mostly to himself, leaving the kitchen with several warm plates to bring to the table. In addition to the platter of grilled herring, he also presents a variety of stewed vegetables and potatoes. All of which could use more salt, or butter, but he's shy to admit he doesn't have much of either. He sits down across from the other and tries not to take their reaction to heart. Above all else, this was a favor for a hungry neighbor, and not an evaluation of his culinary talents. 

"If you need anything else, just say. I don't usually have guests," he admits, not sadly, but as a confession of inexperience. He hopes that if the other did need anything they'd have the heart to mention it rather than stifle their needs for the sake of politeness.

She loved visiting places, and she loved it when the people cooked as well! In reality, her parents were out of town for a family emergency, and they didn't want their daughter to be down for the week, so they asked Harold if he could watch over her. She was quite hungry after playing with her friends all day, and was ready for a good meal! She could smell the herring from the dining room, and drooled a bit. At first, she ate quickly, getting all the hunger urges out. Afterwards, she began eating slower.

"Hmmm...It doesn't taste as good as Moms, but that's okay!" She smiled, trying to compliment Harold for his plain meal. She didn't eat any of the vegetables, however, other than some of the potatoes. They were just too bland for her to enjoy.

A standard rule when cooking is to never let a child cook alone. Despite this, Mitzy was in the kitchen, making god knows what. She was trying her best, but if you were to look into the kitchen, it looked as if a tornado hit the place. Nevertheless, she came out with her meal: Dino Chicken Nuggets and Cupcakes. The Dino Nuggets were indeed cooked, and had ketchup all over them. She followed the rules on the packaging, but they still have a slight burnt to them, which is why the ketchup is there. As for the cupcakes, some of them were obviously spilling from the tray, as she made too much batter. They at least smelled good though, but the icing job could be better.

"Haha! I hope you enjoy it!" She beamed, proud of her meal, regardless of it's flaws.

"D'aww, this is cute! Thank you" Juloy smiled, even with the flaws he still seem to enjoy the pure decication the child put into the making of this meal. It may not seem like much to others, but it reminded him of when he was younger, and definitely is endearing. He then eat it, and actually, he likes the burnt part of the nugget as well as the sloppy, sweet dessert presented along with it. Admittedly, it's not too different than how he'd make this meal himself. But nontheless he genuinely liked it. "You did a great job! Keep it up, hehe"

Juloy hums as he prepare you a meal, his signature roasted steak. The sizzling sounds of the meat on the cooking pan, along with the nice aroma emitting from it, gave of an impression of a top class restaurant food. But of course, there is obviously a secret to it.  He then serve the medium rare steak to you, decorated in fine celeries and some delicious berries piled about

"Alright, this is it! Enjoy~" He chuckled and smile, sitting on the other end of the table as he pushes the plate toward you. "It's dragon wing steak! I know it doesn't sound appetizing at best, but you should really try out my recipe!"

     Allegro looked at the clay pot with amusement. "You made this?" he questioned, admiring the craftsmanship. What a fascinating and independent culture. Could they build something just from looking at it once?
     He watched Vyrik pour the vegetables in the pot and slice the meet. Despite resembling the versions he was familiar with, he noted the regional differences. The more Vyrik put into the pot, the better it smelled. Allegro smiled lightly at the comment. "Please, don't worry. I've had many types of dishes from all kinds, though I'm eager for this one."
     It took a lot in him not to eat the food immediately after being served. He took a minute for it to cool down then took a bite, closing his eyes and focusing on the flavors. "It was magnificently prepared," he breathed. "You were right, this deer has much more flavor than any meat I've had before."

     "I'll admit, I've never cooked before," Allegro said with a carefree smile despite the splashes of ingredients all over his apron, "but I believe I've watched enough of the chefs to be able to mimic them well. Please." He set down a plate before you of... it barely resembled pork and seemed to have... cinnamon sprinkled on it? There were uneven apple slices besides it and boiled spinach.
     "It's roasted pig."

Voss warily eyed the dish in front of him, trying to keep himself from letting his bewilderment and mild disgust from showing. How anyone could mutilate pork this badly was beyond him, and the cinnamon on top only added to his confusion, forcing him to question if the dead man in front of him was even aware of complimentary tastes. At least the side dishes appeared to be more palatable, though even at a glance he could tell that the spinach was a little overboiled thanks to its slightly slimy texture.

Hesitantly, he cut into the meat, wincing at the slightly undercooked insides. He subtly tried to scrape some of the cinnamon off of the top, though it was quickly proven to be a fruitless endeavor due to the way the spice stubbornly clung to the rough exterior. Steeling himself, he stabbed his fork into the newly separated piece and brought it to his lips, cautiously taking it onto his tongue. Admittedly, it wasn't the worst thing he's had- that would go to Kat's atrocious attempt at making a casserole-, but the dryness, amount of cinnamon, and leathery texture was still unpleasant, and he had to take a moment to contemplate spitting it out onto the napkin resting on the table before swallowing the offending lump of meat. Quickly, he drowned out the taste with a forkful of the boiled spinach, cringing at the overwhelming bitterness but finding it more welcome than what had previously graced his tastebuds.

As he finished the small bowl of boiled spinach and popped an apple slice into his mouth, he finally spoke. "It was a... good effort, at least for someone who's only ever watched others cook," he said, clearly forcing himself to keep his review tactful, "but I think it'd be best for everyone's wellbeing if you stuck with side dishes, or at least tried to follow a recipe." He stole another apple slice for himself before leaving his seat and carefully pushing the chair back into its original position. He made to leave, but paused for a second to leave some parting words with the ex-prince.

"Seriously though, don't invite me over for a meal again. I'm not going to risk getting food poisoning from your cooking more than once if I can help it."

Voss bustled around the cramped kitchen, grabbing ingredients and utensils from the cabinets and fridge as he needed them. Although he usually preferred to at least try and set things out beforehand, the unexpected company forced him to gather the necessary items as he went along. The counter was slowly being covered in a variety of powders as he haphazardly measured out flour, baking powder, and sugar, though he didn't show any outward reaction towards the accumulating mess beyond a swift wipe of his hands against his pants that left a smudge of white against the dark fabric.

At one point he opened a cupboard and pulled out a few plums and nectarines before laying them out on a wooden cutting board retrieved from the sink's drying rack. After pitting each of them, he slowly cut them into neat slices, setting them aside into separate piles as each fruit was chopped up in a uniform fashion. Afterwards, he took out a baking tray from a lower cabinet and lined it with wax paper before retrieving the dough from the fridge, where it had previously been stored to chill, and began rolling it out to cover the surface. Once deemed good enough, he carefully layered the slices onto the dough, with the two fruits being arranged in an alternating pattern. A quick sprinkling of graham cracker crumbs later, and the dish was placed in the oven to bake.

As the man started to wipe down the counters with a rag that had seen better days, he broke the silence that had followed him as he worked.

"I may not be able to cook a five star meal or some sort of legendary delicacy like other folks here can, but that doesn't mean I don't know my way around a kitchen, even if mine leaves a little to be desired." As if the room itself decided to retaliate in response to his disparaging comment, he found himself hissing soon after the words left his lips as his hip painfully caught on the corner of an open cabinet. He murmured a curse under his breath and kicked the offending door shut before continuing.

"I know you came here for dinner, but I'm a little low on the supplies needed for a proper meal at the moment, so you'll just have to make do with my Mutti's Zwetschgenkuchen this time around," he admitted with a hint of a smile. "Not that I think you'll be complaining much when it's finished."

The silence returned as Voss continued his cleaning, with the sole disrupters being the sound of running water and the occasional clinking as he washed the used dishes. When the microwave's timer rang out, he quickly abandoned his post and pulled on a pair of oven mitts that he fished out from a nearby drawer. Upon opening the oven, a rich fruity aroma wafted throughout the apartment, and after a bit of scrutiny, the cake was pulled out, revealing a golden brown crust and slightly darkened fruits, the combination giving the dish a distinctly homely appearance. After a brief cooling period and the addition of a light layer of powdered sugar on top, he cut into the treat and laid a slice out on a plate with a fork, sliding the portion over to his guest with a satisfied grin.

"well hot damn-" 

Veritas had to admit, he was impressed. Not many folks he knew could whip something up with little to no prep. Hell even he had to keep his shelves stocked for whatever time inspiration struck him. Which was often and without warning, he shuddered in remembrance of the time he punched a hole in the cupboard door when he didn't have bread crumbs. Either way that wasn't the focus. 

He didn't use any utensils, rather broke a bit of the cake off from the piece he was given and plopped it in his mouth. With a single bite, he already loved the cake quickly getting back to work scarfing down the rest with no hesitation or manners involved

"MAN HOLY SHIT! Ya ever think bout selling this stuff as a side gig, it's amazin"

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The mercenary stirred the onions around the searing meat, with the small amount of butter he had been saving for a special occasion. Sauteing the onions with the meat he had so graciously caught this morning from the swamp around his shack. Alligator or Crocodile. For all his know-how bout the surrounding area, he couldn't discern either for the life of him. Fucking species looking the same but being in different biomes. As he continued to stir he called out

"gimme another ten an we can eat this out on the porch eh?" 

As he spoke Veritas grabbed hold of salt from a small bowl by the gas stove oven he was using. Sprinkling just enough to bring out the 2 ingredient's flavor. He had made this dish enough times to know too much salt would have you hurling more than any mosquito sickness. That was a lie, but he needed some way to past the time while cooking, so he said dumb stuff like that was fun as h- FUCK he spaced out for a moment and had to pull the gator meat and onions from the flames.

Thanking what little luck he had left he grabbed hold of 2 long kabab sticks. Impaling both onion and gator on the two so that he and his guest could have some food. As they were finished he walked out, handing a kabab to his guest "Here ya go, gator kabab. aka It ain't Much But We Swamp Folk Love It" a giggle escaping his lips