Hello everyone!

Thank you to tothelibrary and Taium the Fire Paladin for adding this collection to their favorite's list!

Responses to Reviews

Unregistereduser: Thank you soo much! You are so sweet, your review made my week 3 And thank you for your suggestions. Honestly, I ship Ravioli too (who wouldn't, they're adorable), but I'm poorly uninspired at the moment. This is a short one-shot that I wrote a while back that's kinda Ravioli so I hope you like it. But I'll try and whip up some of your other suggestions! Thanks again :)

Thanks for everyone's support so far. I'm terribly sorry for my lack of/horrible writing. I'm so passionate about these games, especially right now, but I have such a terrible writer's block. Worst combination ever.

I hope you enjoy regardless. :)

cucco soup for the soul

A purple clad man sits in the center of the room with his worn-out bag slouching beside him, strings loosened, rupees spilling out. He holds a silver rupee between two fingers and brings it up to his face to inspect its legitimacy with utmost dedication.

"Hmm," he hums to himself. "I dunno bud, what do you think?" He says this even though his only customer has never let him down, even though his only customer is a man chosen by the gods, because he really doesn't have anything better to do. Heck, if it weren't for Link slipping in once and a while, Ravio might've gone insane waiting for someone to stop that crazy clown back in Lorule. Well, yes, technically he should be the one to stop him but still…

The doorknob squeaks as it turns and Ravio immediately jumps up, drops his hood, and kicks his bag – very carefully – so that it's hidden beneath the table. When the wooden door swings open, Link shuffles into the house as though a weight is carried on his shoulders.

"Welcome home, Mr. Hero!" Ravio greets excitedly; who wouldn't be excited for more profit? But Link simply sniffles and rubs his nose against his sleeve before slouching down against a wall. "Hero?!" Ravio gasps, and Sheerow swoops in from his side to hop around the blond in a panic.

Link simply waves away his rehearsed you can't die just yet speech with a grunt, but this doesn't do much for the hooded man's racing heartbeat. "What did you do this time? You look horrible!"

Gee, thanks, Link thinks. But it kind of hurts to talk right now and he really just wants to close his eyes for a few seconds; he'll feel better afterwards. "'S okay," he answers in a raspy voice, "need sleep."

"Don't be silly!" Ravio yells suddenly and Link recoils until his head smacks against the wall. Well that certainly doesn't help the headache that's been banging around in his head since Dharkstare blasted him with those ice crystals. Ravio jumps up and circles the tables until he reaches the small kitchen in the corner, and begins pilfering through the cupboards. Sheerow picks up anything his friend requests, chirping at his side.

With the ease of a professional chef, Ravio slices through carrots, cucco, and celery and plops them into a large pot with exaggerated flips. It takes an effort to keep his eyes open, but Link's sourly curious about whatever Ravio's cooking up over in his kitchen, and stays awake long enough to hear the purple clad man's humming as he stirs the pot.

He doesn't wake up again until Ravio's sitting right up in front of him, holding a ladle up to his mouth. "Try this," he orders sternly and Link yelps once his fuzzy vision settles on the large eyes of the rabbit cowl. Somehow, the hero realizes, he's ended up on his bed, tucked in with a blanket up to his neck – he's sure the bird resting on the headboard's got something to do with it; he's much stronger than one would initially think.

But really, Link's more concerned with the hot soup that's being forced down his throat, and he swallows quickly even though it smarts. "'S good," Link mumbles through a stinging tongue and nods with his neck bent a little funny. He wipes his mouth with his finger. "What is it?"

Ravio waits a moment for Link to realize his stupid question before answering, "Cuccoo soup." The ladle scoops another spoonful before he holds it up again. "You should know one of my many special qualities is cooking. You won't find better soup than this in two worlds, no siree."

"You don't need to-"

"Hush, hero," he orders as he sticks the spoon into his mouth again. "Now how'd you get sick? You know you're supposed to be taking better care of yourself out there! I don't want to hear about you keeling over before you save those sages," he catches himself, "or whatever it is that you're doing."

"I'm fine," he murmurs. "Just need sleep and I'll be okay."

"You need my soup. Then you'll sleep."

Link really doesn't mind, the soup tastes pretty good actually, but he kind of just wants to go and save the sage he know is waiting for him up in that mountain. He knows what it's like to be a painting – it's not a good feeling if you're wondering – but he could at least get out of it. He wants the same for his friends.

"Look at it this way, how much help can you be if you can barely keep your eyes open? How about if you're dead?" He shakes his head sternly and Sheerow pips in agreement. "Now shut up and eat this so I can go back to tending my shop."