darkSpyro

I've posted this to dA, FF.net and SpyroForum, so why not here?

The Cynder 100 is one hundred short stories, each one hundred words or less long, all about everyone's favorite dark dragoness, Cynder. These are written in the order of the prompt list I have. This is not a story with one hundred chapters, so don't expect the stories to follow any sort of chronological order. They take place between Cynder's hatching and the end of TEN. Please, no requests for certain things in the series; I've already got my one hundred words and ideas I want to use for them.

If you want to read all the stories, they are archived here.

Without further ado, here's the first story (I'll be posting the other thirty-nine I have finished at the moment over the next few days so I don't over load anyone). Fair warning, these stories run the gamut from sweet and fluffy to very dark.

#1. Beginnings

She felt the change from peace to chaos while inside her dusky black shell. The world shook violently around her and, soon after the quakes began, she forced her way out of what had suddenly become a prison.

Seeing the first few lines wending over the egg's pebbled surface, the Ape King picked her up and watched closely. Her first lesson was that Gual was not often patient.

One milky green eye watched the ape's massive fingers descend from the hole she'd pierced in her fragile shelter. Gaul cracked the egg open himself, pulling the screeching, wriggling hatchling forcfully into the world.

Snarling, she sank her toothless beak into his thick finger. He howled and tried to shake her off but she knew already how life was to be and maintained her grip, digging her soft infant talons into his skin for a better hold. He grabbed her damp wings between thumb and finger and ripped her off, a hunk of foul ape-flesh clenched in her jaws. She shrieked with pain and fury.

"Wretch," the Ape King growled. "Count yourself fortunate to be under my Master's favor." He dropped the little black dragon into the clumsy hands of an underling and turned away. "See to it that the little beast is fed, cared for, and unharmed. Our Master wants it to live."

Hissing, she flared her tiny wings at Gaul's retreating back.

#2 Middles

Gaul did not often smile and Cynder was not often afraid. The iron collar chafed painfully at her neck and she struggled to stay in the air, pumping her little wings to keep the heavy chains from dragging her down.

"Are you prepared to meet you master, little Cynder?" Gaul sneered, lifting her chin with one grimy finger.

"Does it mater?" she growled and tried to bite him.

The Ape King grinned. Hidden behind the fire in her eyes he could see the faintest spark of fear.

3. Endings

Dying hurt.

The power of the little dragon's fury was both familiar and foreign, holding her pinned in the air as it ripped through her body. Cynder snarled and shrieked, but she was helpless against the onslaught. She felt herself slipping away, drifting toward the open portal, the Well of Souls itself. From within, she heard her master's rage and agony and...triumph? Yes.

She was gone before the fury laid her body gently to rest on the floating earth.

4. Insides

Cynder doesn't have an element as far as any of the Guardians are aware. To be honest, no one really wants to do the tests. For now, she trains with the skills she has and it is enough.

Ignitus watches her attack the dummy with a critical eye. She has good form, makes excellent use of her wing and tail blades. When the mannequin splits open with a crack, showering her with ephemeral leaves and bits of magic, Cynder's giggles echo through the training arena.

5. Outsides

Nights at the Temple are warm, but I feel cold inside. Even through stone walls I can feel the moons coming closer to one another. The mountain is calling my name.

I know what this means and it fills me with a mix of dread and twisted hope.

These people have been nothing but kind to me. I don't want to hurt them...again. I have to go.

Quietly, I slip through the Temple doors and into the dark.

Still I have commented on them before, but the are coming along well

Thanks, ES.

These are going great, Razz! I'm just gonna stick to reading them here. FF.net and DeviantART screw around with my CPU too much.

Works for me! Apologies for all the repeats you'll have to read for the next nine or so days, though. Speaking of which, I guess I ought to post the next batch while I'm here.

6. Hours

The ceremony takes hours. Gaul himself wields the hammer.

At first, two apes hold her down. When she doesn't so much as flinch at the scalding metal's touch, they let her up. This is a grand honor and she will not despoil it by crying out or struggling.

Hot metal seeps down into her bones, making her blood burn. Every hammer blow makes her innards shudder. Cynder bites her tongue, silent, tasting blood.

When it's done, she stands proud before the assembled apes, blistered wings spread wide, tail lashing, new blades glittering in the sun.

7. Days

"...and we shall have our revenge!"

The shouts and hooting don't help her confusion. Not so long ago, Cynder would be with them, crouched beside Gaul's throne, roaring with the crowd. Now she huddles in chains beside a lowly commander, frightened without knowing why.

She makes a decision then. When the Dark Master returns, she will join him...unless Spyro comes. If he makes it, she will stand by him. Her heart tells her this is right and, for once, she listens.

8. Weeks

"Oof! Tag, you're it!"

"Ouch!"

"Oh, no! Did I hurt you again?"

"Unn... It's not bad. Don't worry, Cynder. See? No blood this time."

"I'm really sorry, Spyro..."

"It's okay. You're getting better at not using your claws. And you'd better run before I catch you!"

"Eep! No fair!"

9. Months

"Brooding again, are we, Gaul?"

"Be quiet."

Cynder chuckled. "I'm not your petrified little student anymore, Ape King. Hmm. I know that look. You're jealous."

Gaul snorted. The black she-dragon extended a wing, indicating distant islands overshadowed by a smoky haze.

"In a few short months I have done what you could not in centuries. Poor Gaul. I'm sure our master will find some use for you. Eventually."

She patted his back with her wing and sauntered away before he could bite.

10. Years

Cynder performed her first execution when she was very young. She never knew what the soldier's crime had been, only that he was brought before her to be dispatched with Gaul's blessing. Confused and afraid, she did the crowd's bidding and slit his throat with her infant talons. When the body vanished, she pulled the few gems that were left into herself without thinking.

The audience dispersed while she was quietly sick. Gaul put a gentle hand on her shoulders.

"Well done. Our master is pleased with you."

11. Red

Her warriors in Tall Plains are turning red. This fascinates Cynder. All her life, the apes came in shades of splotchy gray and greenish yellow. Had their faces not been the same bone white she was so familiar with, Cynder thinks she could have mistaken them for a lost troupe.

Watching Asca drill his soldiers, his once-dusty hide now shot through with brilliant crimson, Cynder wonders what other colors her adoptive people come in and how they change. She resolves to ask Gaul the next time they meet.

12. Orange

Spyro and Cynder sit side by side, watching Ignitus light candles with the same glum expression on both faces. Seeing her look from the corner of his eye, Spyro pats her with a wing.

"I know how you feel," he says.

"Not really. Your fire was your own."

"Was..."

They look away, sheepish and feeling bad.

"Enough of this!" Cynder says, nosing Spyro in the side. "Let's go to the training room. Maybe we can at least get your fire going again."

"I don't know..."

Sparx snorts. "Anything's better than hanging around here doing nothing all day."

13. Yellow

"So, now you're not speaking to me?"

"Nope."

"Great trick, Cynder! How'd you get him to ignore you?"

"Hey, whose side are you on?"

"No one's. You're my brother and she's my friend. She didn't mean anything. It was a joke."

"Some joke..."

"I'm really sorry, Sparx. I promise I'll never do it again. I wasn't going to eat you..."

"Could've fooled me."

"Lighten up, Sparx!"

"With psycho she-dragon hanging around? Ha! You're kidding, right?"

"No, but she was."

"Whatever. You two do what you want. I'm not staying here if she's going to be around."

14. Green

She wakes late at night with Gaul's fur in her mouth. It tastes like dust.

The Ape King is as safe to rest by as anything else. Looking for a more comfortable spot, Cynder peers into his face. She sees herself reflected in the facets of his dragon-gem eye. She can't pull on it as she does with other gems. It's too much a part of him.

He looks so old in his sleep, face lined with pain that doesn't show when he's awake. Not for the first time, she feels sorry for him and curls up under his chin.

15. Blue

His breathing is fast and shallow, the magic siphoning off him dancing over his skin in red arcs. It's lovely, almost like home.

"You deserve this, ice Guardian," Cynder says with glee, pacing around him. "Your friend, the yellow one, said some very incriminating things."

She's lying, of course. It's fun to goad these males, unravel them before leaving them to die in the elements. Really, what else is there to do for fun in this backwater jungle?

A tear rolls down Cyril's cheek and she can't help but smile.

Okay, I'm tired of taking my time. I'm posting all the rest of the fics (mostly because I know at least one of you is reading).

16. Purple

The first time she saw the purple dragon, she was overwhelmed by the desire to rip him apart. That, of course, was her Master's instinct, goading her to destroy any rivals he might have.

Upon their second meeting, she was in as much control as she ever was and decided to be merciful. He was, after all, kin of a sort.

Their last meeting, she'd had enough of him. She'd given him every chance and he'd decided to follow her anyway. Well, now he would pay the price.

How was she to know he would kill her?

17. Brown

Commander Duskear cowered before the black dragoness.

"I don't care what excuses you have!" Cynder snarled, bladed tail lashing. "I want him found! The fire Guardian is the last piece. Earth and Sky help you if I see you again and you haven't found him!"

Her tail slammed down in front of his face, sheering a few hairs off his beard. Duskear cringed as Cynder turned on him.

"What are you still doing here?!" she roared. "Get out of my sight and find him!"

She kicked a clod of mud into his face as she took to the air.

18. Black

The pirates weren't much for superstition, but some fears never ebb (a spark of pride welled up in her at the realization of the source). They treated her with a respect she knew intimately, the sort borne of terror. All they wanted from her was a good fight and, surely, something with such accursed colors, the demon herself, would deliver such.

When the Dreadwing grabbed her, Cynder heard, faintly over the chaos, a terrified voice howling: "I told you she was bad luck! Skabb's killed us all with that black devil!"

19. White

"Gaul, are you a ghost?"

"Hmph. Who told you that?"

"No one. I was just wondering. You don't smell like everyone else and you don't smell like anything alive."

"Very astute of you, whelpling. Tell me, could a ghost do this?"

"Ouch!"

"Don't. I'll knock the rest of your baby teeth out."

"Hrrmph. Anyway, how should I know? I haven't met any ghosts. You taste like dirt, by the way."

"Ask me again in a year or two, if you still care. Maybe I'll tell you the truth, if our Master hasn't already."

20. Colorless

The first time she fell in the river, Spyro couldn't help but laugh. Sparx laughed so hard he fell out of the air.

"I'm wet!" Cynder howled, startled and outraged.

"Don't you...haven't you ever seen water before?" Spyro managed between stifled giggles.

"Of course I have! It's just not so...invisible. Does it glow at night?"

"Ew, no! Unless you want to count the moon reflecting off it."

"Hmm... Interesting." She sniffed the water around her ankles then stuck her tongue in it. "It tastes pretty good."

21. Friends

"So, Spyro? What's a friend?"

"Huh?"

"You said last night you'd tell me what a friend is."

"Oh. Well, um... A friend is...someone you have things in common with. You share similar goals..."

"Like an underling?"

"Not really. You can't boss friends around."

"So more like a war lord?"

"No, they can't boss you, either. Or at least they shouldn't. Um...a friend is someone you have fun with!"

"Fun?"

"Oh, boy. It's going to be a long day..."

22. Enemies

Gatherings around the Pool of Visions often lead to good conversation.

"Heathens and temple destroyers."

But not always.

"They're little more than uncouth barbarians, really. Uneducated hoodlums..."

"Hardly worth our efforts to kill them."

"Stop it!" Cynder yells, tail lashing. "Gaul used to say the same things about you. Sometimes, I think he was right."

She stalks away, leaving the Guardians in ashamed silence.

23. Lovers

"Cynder, what are you doing out here? It's dangerous."

Oh, no. No, no, no! Leaving is hard enough without him showing up to try and stop me. Even if I hoped he would.

The conversation is brief. He is naive, doesn't know what it's like in the world, or within me.

"I don't want you to go."

Of course not. He had to say it.

"Don't make this any harder than it is, Spyro."

I turn from him and run. I don't look back and he doesn't follow. I want to cry, but I don't. It's best this way.

24. Family

"So, your parents are dragonflies?"

"Yeah...ow! That hurts!"

"It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd stop squirming. And that makes Sparx your... brother? That's kind of weird."

"No weirder than growing up with apes. Ow, ow! Stop it!"

"Point. Hold still! You've got a tick the size of a frog weed behind your ear and I can't get at it with you flailing around."

"Um, Cynder? Dragons don't really pick bugs off each other. You knew that, right?"

"Really? Huh. I don't see why we wouldn't. They tangle up the fur something fierce and make you sick if you don't..."

25. Strangers

Something was different in the apes that day, as if they expected victory.

Ignitus saw her first, a dark shadow against the mid day sun.

"By the Ancestors..." he murmured, heart sinking.

"What is...?" Zephin began, then she understood. "I'll take care of this."

"No!" Ignitus cried, too late.

The wind dragon launched herself into the air to meet darkness. Ignitus couldn't look away. He shuddered with every blow the young Guardian took and cried out at her death scream. When she struck the ground, Zephin was already dead.

"Retreat!" he roared.

Around the remaining Guardians, apes howled in triumph.

26. Teammates

Cynder sat on Gaul's shoulder, little claws digging into bloodless, gnarled flesh. The sky was dotted with colors, the enemy flying over her future army. They resolved themselves into distinct, winged shapes and dove toward the apes massed on the ground.

"Is that them?"

"Yes."

"They are so few..."

Gaul grinned, then pointed skyward. "Watch the white one. When it is time, she is the one you must kill."

"And the others?"

"Only four need live. The Guardians of ice, electricity, earth, and fire are needed by our master. The rest can die."

She nodded and observed carefully.

27. Parents

I recognize the fresco on the temple wall, or at least the style. It depicts dragons, a large group of little ones and two big ones. Terrador approaches from behind, the earth bending with his steps.

"What are they doing?" I ask.

"Teaching, care taking... They are guarding over and training the little ones."

"Hmm. Why?"

His whole countenance sags, just a little. "It is...what good parents do for their children."

Parents... I look at the fresco again and see the clear signs of ape-carved stone and remember he who was a parent to me. I almost miss him.

28. Children

Gaul rarely feels pity, but seeing her in the throes of sickness pains him. Cynder is more infantile now than ever she was as a hatchling.

Her head, heavy as both of his swords, rests across his lap. Every breath is so hot it steams in the mountain air.

"Gaul?" her voice is meek and slurred.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone."

"No one knows. They think you've gone mad."

She smiles, eyes closed. He thinks she's too young to be darkness touched. The fever might kill her. Long ago, it nearly did the same to him.

29. Birth

Coming back from death is like waking from fragmented dreams. She feels wind over her limp wings, claws holding her up. Ground approaches and she has just enough strength to curl. Still, a baby tooth cracks free when she tumbles to a painful stop.

Darkness, aching, the world swaying around her, a warm heart beating. She's being carried.

Time passes with no sense of how much. She flicks in and out of awareness, from brief sensations to dark nothing.

The first thing Cynder sees when she finally comes to herself is something purple out the corner of her eye.

30. Death

"What's happening down there?"

The words are more for Sparx. Cynder has a terrible sense that she already knows. For the dragonfly's sake, she resolves not to show any fear, no matter what.

Spyro leaps from the cracked stone, wreathed in darkness, eyes empty of all that he once was. There is fury in his posture, darkness swirling about his wings. It's worse than she thought and she takes an involuntary step back, eyes wide. Her heart skips a beat.

"Oh, no..."

31. Sunrise

With no one around to speak with, Cynder had begun talking to herself.

"No, I'm not going," she muttered to the pre-dawn mists. "I don't care how badly I want to go, I won't."

In her dreams, the mountain had been calling. Every night it was more persistent. She wanted to go to that voice, to that dreaded, beloved place. But...

"I won't go."

Will power alone wasn't enough, she knew. If left to her own devices, she would walk right to the fortress door. Determined, Cynder marched toward the familiar stench of grog and moldy canine fur.

32. Sunset

"Get away from me! Help!"

On reflection, it was a silly thing to say. She didn't know why it came to her. Dangling from the Dreadwing's claws, flying into the setting sun, Cynder snorted at her own foolishness. Who was supposed to come to her aid? No one ever had before. Spyro? He was probably dead (she cut off that thought).

"Hey, loosen your grip!" Her wings were growing numb.

The Dreadwing gave her a nasty squeeze and continued on. Well, she'd gotten herself out of worse and she had time to think up her plans.

33. Too Much

"Get off me, you worthless louts!"

Tall Plains is far too warm to be buried under a pile of hot, smelly apes. Cynder doesn't mind this odd quirk of theirs, sleeping in huddled groups, in Concurrent Skies where the nights are chilly, but it's far too tropical in the jungle for such nonsense.

Snorting, she resettles herself apart from the apes and they drag themselves back into their disheveled pile.

Dawn finds her curled protectively around them, peacefully dreaming.

34. Not Enough

Red blossoming on white. Blood, thick and salty, in her mouth. A dying breath screamed into her ear and she was laughing....

"No! NO!"

Cynder's whimpering cries echoing off the temple walls woke her. She shook, pressed against Ignitus' chest, protected in his arms. Pressed close beside her, Spyro's eyes were wide, his face stricken.

"Hush, hush," Ignitus crooned. "It's all right..."

"It's not!" Cynder howled. "I killed her! She died and I was laughing!"

She buried her head against his heart, sobbing. The other Guardians watched in silence. Spyro pressed closer.

"Hush, now. Hush..."

35. Sixth Sense

"See anything, Spyro?"

The sky is clear, stars burning bright. Peaceful.

"No. But I have a bad feeling..."

If he thinks he's got a bad feeling... She doesn't want to say anything at first. She knows what's coming next, and it isn't going to leap out of the sky toward them. Her master will arrive soon, it is inevitable. She doesn't want to say anything, and yet....

"Me, too."

It's all the warning she can bring herself to give him. For now.

36. Smell

The third crystal would be ready soon. While she waited for the last of the earth Guardian's powers to be drained, Cynder was idly patrolling the edge of Boyisitbig.

Odd...it appeared a few of her minions were missing from their assigned posts. Shirking their duties, no doubt. When this was over, she intended to do something....permanent about that rebellious Conductor.

She landed in the ash, digging her claws into the soil, sniffing. Ape, Manweersmall, burning earth....dragon. And it wasn't Terrador.

With a snarl, Cynder dove into the nearest lava pool. This was too urgent to take a leisurely flight.

***

37. Sound

Volteer talks in his sleep. Cynder, curled against his neck, tries not to giggle. He's been nothing but kind to her since she came to the Temple. Even before the Temple, he was kind.

A memory surfaces. He wouldn't be quiet; it made her so very angry. Eventually, he screamed himself hoarse, then into unconsciousness. She remembers laughing into that sweet stillness.

Cynder shivers. She tries not to think about it. He was the first to forgive her and he did so without a moment's hesitation. Eventually, Volteer's babbling lulls her to sleep, a smile on her face.

***

38. Touch

"Line me up with his staff!"

She doesn't notice the faint twinge of regret as she prepares to execute her plan. Moments ago, just before someone purple followed by a spark of light drifted down from the open ceiling, she had no plans at all.

Now there is hope for the world. For her.

Cynder charges, wings pumping. She isn't fast enough. She'd never been. Gaul snatches her out of the air, crushing her in one hand. His master's voice speaks.

"This isn't over."

There's still hope. She knows that much before one last flight carries her into darkness.

***

39. Taste

"Puh! Ptah! Eugh!"

Gaul was laughing almost harder than she'd ever seen him laugh before. "I told you."

"That's awful!" she clawed at her tongue, trying to scrape off wiry gray fur.

The tiny bite mark on Gaul's arm hardly bled. He tasted like ancient dust and rot a thousand years gone. There was nothing warm or alive about his blood and his flesh was musty and dry.

"What are you?" she managed between gagging.

A shadow passed over his face, then he leered at her and bowed. "A servant of our Dark Master. Just like you."

So...is anyone reading these? Anyone at all? Anyone? Bueller?

***

40. Sight

The huts and shabby fortresses her army built are crumbling, burning amid the snow. Cynder is unconcerned. She has what she needs in her claws, a crystal glowing red inside, tingling with electric power. The apes can freeze (she will have more) and the Guardian can die (he's useless now). Everything is going to plan.

She smiles, each beat of her unnatural wings shooting fire through her body, and continues toward the sun, eager to be warm again and to serve her master.

***

41. Shapes

Half circle. Two triangles. A tear between the eyes.

"Repulsive," Gaul muttered, gently running a finger down the hatchling's nose.

It chirped in its sleep. Gaul had the little wretch cradled in the crook of one arm. It was a mistake, leaving the beast with an underling; he wanted it to live, after all. Thus, he'd decided it would be his duty to raise it.

How long had it been since he'd held an infant? Gaul snorted and tried not to remember his long-dead offspring.

The hatchling stirred. Probably hungry. What was he supposed to feed it, anyway?

u love to talk I have no problem with that I just don't want to read it BCUZ i'm lazy

I'm not talking here. These are all pieces of a fanfic about Cynder.

I have read these on deviantart, and they are coming along well!

Wow they are coming on really well! I love reading them.

Yay, readers! Thanks, guys. There should be two or three new ones by Monday (I'd love to make it to fifty by then, but I'm not going to stress out over it).

Aint it gonna take longer once you reach 50? or is this gonna get fresh new ideas when TDH comes out?

My goal is to finish the whole thing before TDH comes out. Given that I started in late February/early March, I don't think it'll take me that long to finish the whole thing. I'm quite a bit more creative than some people assume.

AWESOME!!! I LOVE it! You should become a famous author and illustrator, making up your own books, Razz....

Thank you, DragonGyrl. I'm working on it, slowly... I just do more fan work because people feed me for it.

Got a bunch of new ones. Two of them were done last week, the rest I did this morning at work (it was quiet today ).

***

42. Triangle

Flick. Flick.

Spyro knows Cynder is stalking him. One doesn't spend so much time being hunted by killers without learning a few things. His tail twitches, luring her. He does his best to pretend he's not expecting a strike from behind.

She hits him from the side and he howls with shock, pinned. A warm nose presses against his neck.

"Tag," Cynder breathes, then leaps away. "You're it!"

Spyro charges after, heart pounding, pretending she didn't just scare him half to death.

"You are so gonna get it, Cynder!" he laughs.

***

43. Square

"This is perfect!"

"For what? A picnic? You didn't even bring food."

"Don't have to. It's under rocks like this one. ...Erf! See?"

"That's disgusting!"

"Mmph. No s'not. Ulp. Just because it's not flying doesn't mean it's not tasty. I've seen you eat aphids before."

"Yeah, well...that's different."

"Hey Sparx, Cynder. What are you doing?"

"Having a snack. Here, try some!"

"Hmmm.... Crunchy."

"You sicken me, both of you. ...Can I have one? Just to taste?"

***

44. Circle

She knew he was on the ship long before their fight. Having spent most of her life learning to pick up subtle information, it wasn't hard to find out. He, however, had no idea she was on board.

Her heart twinged a little to see the look of shock and horror on his face when the iron gate was raised, but she kept her gaze steady. The dragonfly screamed something she couldn't hear. She approached, wings fanned, steps slow and menacing, circling him tightly.

"Just like old times, eh Spyro?"

***

45. Moon

"So...what do dragons think the moons are?" Cynder asked, staring at the sky.

Terrador shrugged his wings. "Rocks."

"Rocks?" she wrinkled her nose. "How can you stand not having anyone watch over you?"

"The Ancestors watch over us."

"But...how?"

"They leave gifts behind and, I suppose, they are in the elements that guide us."

"Mmf." She put her head down on Terrador's massive paw, confused and disquieted. "I think I like the Earth Mother's eyes on me better. It makes more sense."

Terrador chuckled. "Perhaps one day you will understand."

"Does Spyro?"

Another soft, rumbling laugh. "No."

***

46. Star

"Break the chain, Gaul."

"Are you certain?"

Her eyes smoldered, clear and bright. "Are you?"

Shoving aside faint regret, Gaul twisted the last chain holding Cynder to the earth. It gave way with a shriek. A wicked smile curved up her long face and she leaned close to him.

"Hate me all you like. The hatchling you doted over is dead."

Laughing, not quite sane, she threw herself into the night sky. She was sleek and beautiful, full of grace, devoid of her hatchling clumsiness. He did hate her.

***

47. Heart

Cynder paces the hidden ledge, watching Spyro confront the Ape King. Gaul's words echo in her mind.

'I'm sure he'll take you back. If not, you will have the honor of being the first to perish by his hand.'

The choice is before her: serve darkness or die. She paces fast, thinking faster. The power was nice, the command over armies, the fear she inspired, but...

"...a shame that she should be the one to destroy you!"

That's her cue. She leaps toward Spyro, claws partially tucked in. She'd rather die than go back.

They are really awesome the last bunch. Great work!

I specifically liked some of the ones when she's at the Dragon Temple, like number 45.

Those are fun ones to write, since we really never see her at the Temple in the games.

True, very true. I think you do a good job with it, regardless.