Have Me As A Guest On Your Podcast. Im Not An Expert In Anything. I Dont Work In An Interesting Industry.

THE GREAT ASS-SMACKING WAR

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (fluff)

having an ass slapping contest with best friend caleb

wc: 1.4k

The lock of the bathroom in your shared apartment clicked and your body reacted immediately, paddling down the hall to get your nail polish remover from what Caleb had decided to turn into his personal spa for a solid hour.

As you entered, you had to waddle all the hot steam away from your face with one hand, maintaining a hold on an apple juice-box with the other.

Caleb stood by the sink, wrapping a towel around his hips, water dripping from his bangs onto his wide chest as he did so. He jolted slightly at your sudden presence slipping behind him but paid you no further attention - used to you mingling in his business and him in yours.

You rummaged through the cabinet until you pocketed the bottle and began to make your way back out of the bathroom, chewing on the straw, but then-

You paused.

There he was.

Caleb was bent over, reaching for something under the sink, towel sagging so dangerously low that the temptation got the better of you. Without even processing it, you jabbed a freezing cold finger straight down his partially exposed ass crack. 

The reaction was instant.

Caleb let out a squirrel yelp of such high pitch that no man his size should be capable of. His whole body jerked as if you tazed him, spine snapping back and arching as the towel slipped from his fingers and fell with a soft thud.

“Wha- PIPS- WHA- OH MY GOD!” he shrieked, face flushed, hands flailing around as he fumbled for anything to cover himself up.

You stood there unmoved, watching the 6'2" wall of muscle panic like a Victorian lady who just flashed an ankle on the street.

And just when he managed to clutch the towel with both hands, crouching away from you to preserve at least some of his dignity, you raised one hand-

SMACK.

The slap echoed.

He froze. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Dignity? What dignity. Shattered… Completely.

…

…

He stared at you like you had just smacked his soul instead of his naked ass.

You raised the juice to your lips, still not breaking eye contact with him in the utter silence.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

“Ah~,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Whore.”

And you escaped the room at the speed of light.

“KISS MY ASS!”

“Gladly!” you screamed back at him from the hall.

“Freak!”

“Certified!”

On that beautiful blooming spring day, Thursday the 7th of March, 'The Great Ass-Smacking War' began.

Somehow, it became a truth universally acknowledged, that landing a bare-cheeked one counted double but also that the battlefield was restricted solely to the premises of the apartment complex; the elevator, stairwells, garage, rooftop, lobby, and other semi-public areas, all included.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 2: The Rooftop. He led me here. Lured me out under false pretense of stargazing and a truce. I believed him. “He wouldn't,” I thought. He did. “For yesterday,” he hissed at me. I have a red imprint now. A crow made eye contact with me. It knew…

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 16: The Elevator. I hit the button. She hit me. A clean strike. I fear we have entered a point of no return.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 51: The Stairwell. I took the stairs to avoid him. He was already there, waiting for me. Mid-step. It was a full palm one - sent me back up three steps and made me see a spirit. I can still hear his demonic cackle.

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 183: The Lobby. I managed to retreat before retaliation. Civilians were alerted. A toddler next to her screamed too. One passerby asked, “Sir, that’s your girlfriend?” To which I replied, “Not anymore.” Victory: Absolute.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 243: The Garbage Chute. His hands were full - a defenceless state. He moaned. “Biodegradable,” I said. * The garbage man high-fived me.

It’s been a long day at uni and you just stumbled into the apartment, heavy bags dropping to the floor, back hurting, stomach grumbling, you name it.

But the apartment… dead silent. It was unusual for Caleb to not be blasting music in the kitchen, let alone not calling out to you the moment you came back - taking your jacket and bags from you like the housewife he prided himself to be. 

“Caleb?” you called out, hanging up the keys.

No response.

You took off your shoes and placed them on their spot right next to Caleb’s. He had to be in the apartment - all of his pairs were in place, not a single one missing.

“Gege?”

…

“Clownboy?”

…

“Cilantro?”

You furrowed your brows, cringing at whatever the fuck just left your own lips.

Your coat slid down your shoulders and as you freed yourself from it, it brushed right below your ass, sending a shiver down your bare legs.

It all clicked.

Your mini skirt. Caleb had pestered you about how short it was just this morning and you were in the lead after scoring in the garbage chute.

“Oh fuck off, Caleb!” you yelled out, backing into a wall, ass flush against the cool surface like it was a question of life and death. “This isn’t fucking funny! I’m tired, alright?!”

Silence.

You started shuffling sideways along the hallway, eyes darting all over the place. Every doorway was a potential trap - he could be anywhere.

“I swear to god, if you jump me, I’m shoving your Millennium Falcon down the toilet!”

A floorboard creaked behind you.

You whipped around.

Nothing there. 

Another creak but closer. Then behind you. That dickhead was playing with you, applying pressure all over the floors with his evol.

If you could just get to the bathroom... Lock yourself in there and take a warm shower. Relax a little. Change into some comfy sweats...

You kept dragging your ass along the walls. Almost there. The bathroom’s door knob came within reach surprisingly easily. It was now just across the hall. What was he playing at? Maybe he was napping this whole time? Could you have miscounted the shoes?

And just as you peeled away from the wall, reaching for the door, it flew open.

You screamed.

Caleb burst out like a line-backer. He tackled you - one thick arm snaked around your waist, yanking you off the floor, the whole world turning upside down. There was no escaping his grasp now. Your legs wiggled in the air and your head hung by his knees, hair dragging across the floor.

That left one thing exposed - the entirety of your ass, right there, right next to his smug face.

“BEHOLD!” he howled, “THE GODS OF WAR HAVE CHOSEN ME AS THEIR CHAMPION TODAY!”

You shrieked, “CALEB! NO- LET ME GO, YOU ABSOLUTE MENA-"

SMACK.

You gasped.

“You chose this path for yourself!” he hissed, eyes wild. “Right here, in this sanctuary!”

SMACK.

“I WILL SHIT IN YOUR PROTEIN POWDER!”

SMACK.

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS!” he screamed back, dodging your wild kicks, “I’M ENDING IT! HERE AND NOW!”

SMACK-SMACK.

You kicked and flailed and cursed, but it was too late; the scales had tipped.

A final thunder-smack echoed through the hall.

You gasped. Mouth agape. Eyes bloodshot, brimming with tears. That wasn’t just a slap. That was centuries of ass-smacking tradition coursing through his palm.

Caleb dropped you like a sack of potatoes onto the floor, breathing heavily, triumphant grin etched into his red face, while you lay there. Betrayed. Violated. Spiritually wrecked and left in complete ruins.

You rolled onto your back with a groan.

Then, still gasping for air, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an apple juice box. Looking down at you sprawled on the floor, he caught the straw between his lips.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

He sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know what this tastes like?”

You twitched on the floor.

“Tastes like justice.”

He crouched down next to you, poking your cheek like a toddler checking if a cockroach is dead.

“You good?”

“My ancestors were watching this shitshow.”

He patted your head. "Bet they're still clapping."

And just as he rose to leave, you summoned the last speck of strength you had left in your broken soul, dragging your phone out.

You opened the contacts list.

“Okay,” you huffed, propping yourself up with one shaking arm, pressing the phone to your ear. “You think this is over?”

Beeeeepppp

He turned, mid-strut. “Uh, yeah?”

Beeeeepppp

Beeeeepppp- “Yes, kitten~?”

You smirked. “Let’s see how you do against three and a bird.”

tag list for my beloved: @cordidy, @midiplier

Imagine being a person who experience the world differently and never being believed by anyone and now, that very person experienced shit called executive dysfunction like ah yes, by the grace of the universe this life of mine has blessed me with another enormous humongous jajargous fuck truck that I have to handle all on my own in this weak body which has torn and shreds into nothing but a pile of old dangly swiggly rotting skin

and I AM MORE ANGRY PISSY POOPY because I can TRULY UNDERSTAND that no one would believe me. because executive dysfunction sounds like a huge lie. Like if someone were to tell me that they can't do anything because their brain says ' no ' that it tells me to just ' wait ' .. I would grab the largest harpoon and stick it to their butthole like skewers so they can have a more believable reason that they can truly do no shit

whaAT IS THIS CURSE

Short Story Plot: How to Use Ideas and Structure to Plot a Short Story

Do you want to write a short story, but are unsure about how to develop a short story plot?

Short stories rarely require extensive plotting. They’re short, after all. But a bit of an outline, just to get the basic idea down, can help you craft a strong plot.

Plotting your short stories will give you an end story goal and will help you avoid getting stuck in the middle, or accidentally creating plot holes. You’ll have fewer unfinished stories if you learn to do a little planning before you start writing.

And in this article, you can learn how to take your short story’s primary conflict, and build a plot around it.

Definition of Plot and Structure

I see the terms “plot” and “structure” thrown around interchangeably quite a bit, so I’d like to correct that before we move on.

Plot is a series of events that make up your story.

Structure is the overall layout of your story.

Plot is (most likely) unique to your story, but there are a handful of basic structures that are universal and used over and over again. (We’ll get into the basic three act structure in a later post.) Structure is the bones and plot is what fills it out.

You can learn more about plot and structure in this article, or the different story types here.

The Strength of a Short Story Idea

When I first started out writing short stories, I had no idea where I was going with any of them. Absolutely none. I see this time and time again with newer writers. I think it’s because we’re conditioned to think any kind of art is only driven by that infamous and often elusive muse rather than hard work. I felt the same way.

And then I started getting more stories under my belt. Some I finished. Some I didn’t.

You know what the difference was? The stories I finished, I plotted before I wrote.

Now I know a lot of writers loathe plotting or outlining stories—of any length, but especially short stories. They have various reasons for this dislike, but the most common one I hear is planning or outlining takes all the “magic” out of writing. “Creative writing is about being creative!”

I won’t get into the idea that writing is actually a job here—it is. That’s not what this article is about.

Instead, I’m going to propose a different reason for planning a short story with one important question: Is your idea even a story?

Planning out your story, even if it’s short, can give you an answer to this question. It will determine whether or not your central character can work towards achieving a goal (and simultaneously the plot moves towards a climax), or if your idea ends there—at the idea.

Writer’s tip: If you’re feeling stuck on coming up with an idea that could withstand a story’s length, try looking at the types of plots discussed in this article.

Is It a Story or Just a Story Idea?

Don’t panic. I don’t plan extensively. But what I’ve found was absolutely no planning whatsoever more often than not leads to wasted time. Nobody has time to waste.

If I don’t plot at all, I’ll get maybe a third of the way through the story and get stuck. I’ll have no idea where it was going, and without that goal in mind, I’ll flounder. I might tinker around with the idea a little longer, but most of the time I’ll end up abandoning the story.

A few weeks ago, I had the infamous muse visit me. I grabbed my notebook and started writing. It was great writing. The prose was good, the main character was crazy interesting, ditto for the secondary character, and I’d set up a mystery that made you want to turn the page. The problem was I had no idea what the mystery was. I had set up and no payoff. This story idea fizzled out at the start of the second act.

Now, to be clear, I do indulge my muse every once in a while. It does feel good to be taken over by an idea, even if you don’t know where it’s going. It’s all very “artisty.”

But the fact is I’ve sold one story that I finished without plotting it beforehand. One. Out of dozens I’ve started. That one took me about a week to write and it was torture for me, for my characters, and, I’m sure, for the backspace on my keyboard. Everything about the story reads as forced. It’s uninspired. And you know what?

That’s the one my muse started me on! Inspiration is supposed to be the point of the muse, right? But a muse can only get you started; it can’t keep you going.

Your muse won’t finish a story for you.

When your muse starts poking at you and you don’t know if your idea is a story, ask yourself a couple of questions:

Am I going to remember this idea tomorrow? Yes, it’s nice to be taken over by inspiration. Feel free to indulge that every so often. But also be prepared to have an unfinished story on your hands. You don’t necessarily have to wait until tomorrow to write the thing (especially when we’re talking about shorts), but you do need to know if your enthusiasm is going to wan a few minutes down the road when your muse decides to go take a nap, leaving you with nothing but frustration. (That story I mentioned a moment ago? I haven’t completely forgotten about it, but it does not sit at the top of my mind.)

Do I have a “What if?” question and an answer to that question? If you’re thinking about beautiful sentences where nothing is happening, that’s probably not a story. If you can’t think of an end goal for your character, that’s probably not a story. See the next section for more on “What if?” and the answer. (The story I didn’t finish did not have a goal in mind.)

Do you have a character? This one seems like a no-brainer, but you’d be surprised how often I used to start “stories” and just ramble on with purple prose. No people, no action, no story.

If the answer to all these questions is “yes,” then you most likely have a finishable story. If it’s “no” tell your muse to go back to its hole until it can come up with something better.

If you must, explore the idea a little more and see if you can’t plot a little something. (Do not write yet!)

Enter the “What if?” question.

What If? How Asking This Question Can Plot a Short Story

In the last post, I told you my favorite way to think of a short story idea is the “What If?” question. This question can help you think about various ways to put your central character into a conflict, like: What if X happened? It’s your own mind giving itself creative writing prompts.

Let’s expand on that method a bit. Notice it’s a question. And questions often have answers, do they not? Knowing the answer to your “What If?” question is the most basic outline of a story.

Let’s start with a basic question.

Q: What if someone knocked on my door?

A: I’d probably ignore it.

That’s it. That’s the story. It’s kind of crappy, right?

Notice that answer is my immediate reaction to the knock. It’s not something that happens down the road. That’s part of what makes this scenario NOT a story.

The other issue here is there is no conflict. I don’t answer the door, the person goes away, and I’m left to my own devices. There are no consequences for my decisions, so nothing happens—and nobody reading about this incident cares.

Without conflict, there are no stakes in a story. No conflict equals no story.

What Makes a Good Conflict?

Remember conflict can come in many forms and doesn’t have to be a shoot ’em up kind of situation. Internal conflict can also make a short story. But there MUST be conflict.

So, on multiple levels, this question and answer session is a loser.

Now, let’s say I don’t answer the door. (I’m a millennial. I’d rather not talk to people if I can help it, so this really is the most likely thing to happen.) The person assumes I’m not home. But wait! They’re a burglar. They now try to break into my house. The “What If?’ question has now changed to “What if someone tried to break into my house while I was home?”

See how the central character has to do something now? Even if they don’t, there will be consequences.

Because the story idea establishes stakes, I know I’ve got something. How do I know? There are myriad possibilities here. I could call the cops. I could run out and confront them myself. I could freeze and run upstairs and hide. I could sic my dog on them. I could wait for them to get inside and invite them to join me in having a cup of tea.

Whatever I choose to do, there will be a cause and effect trajectory of events. Which means more stakes, and more opportunities that force my protagonist to face their conflict. They have to make decisions, which will lead to a whole slew of other “What If?” questions:

What if they get in before the cops get here?

What if they break a window?

What if my dog was outside and they hurt him?

What if a neighbor sees them and comes running over?

What if they “break in” but it’s really just my sister needing in my house for something?

What if I’m hiding under the bed and they find me?

What if they hate tea?

What if … and the list goes on.

These are all more interesting scenarios than just ignoring the door and the person going away. But we’re still looking for the answer to the initial “What If?” question. The answer solves the question and puts it to bed. It doesn’t lead to other questions.

Don’t Forget to Answer Your What If Questions

A short story only has one to three scenes normally, so your answer needs to come in a short span of time. It can’t come years down the road. Any span of time longer than a few hours, maybe a day or two, is probably too long.

Q: What if someone tried to break into my house while I was home?

A: I would call the cops, but also grab my bat and be ready to use it.

But wait. That still doesn’t answer the question, not in a final way. There’s still an open ending there, still questions. (Did I use the bat? What happened if I did?) Let’s try again.

A: I would decide not to use my bat and would talk to them until the police got there.

That’s better. With this scenario, I can think of a couple of things that would happen after the police got there, but at that point the situation is over. I’ve done it. I’ve defeated the burglar. Anything afterwards is a conclusion to the story.

The best part is, I’ve actually done it in a way that means change for me as a central character. I didn’t want to talk to anyone to begin with, which is what led to the whole situation. But I have to overcome that aversion by talking to someone in order to solve the problem.

Short Story Structure

We’ve got two important elements of the story narrowed down now: the “What If?” question and its ultimate answer.

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you might have come across the many posts we have about plot structure. In a story you need six things:

Exposition (Background and setup.)

Inciting Incident (A major event happens to your character.)

Rising Action (or progressive complications, a sequence of events where things get worse.)

Crisis (Ah, what is your character going to do?)

Climax (Showdown based on what your character decided to do.)

Denouement (Finish it up.)

Need a refresher on these plot elements? Dive further into story structure here.

A short story is often only one to three scenes. That means this structure, these six elements, stretch over the entire story to form the framework. (The scenario I’ve presented would most likely be a one-scene story.) Notice I’m talking about framework here. These six elements are your story structure.

So what do we have here after all this thinking about questions and answers?

The “What If?” question is your Inciting Incident.

The ultimate answer is your Climax.

Boom. Two elements down. And these two elements happen to be the bulk of what your readers will remember from your story.

We’ve planned a story, believe it or not. And it didn’t even hurt that much.

But wait! There’s more. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself.)

In the process of coming up with these two elements, we’ve inadvertently come up with a couple of others.

Choosing not to use the bat and talking to the burglar instead? That’s the Crisis. All those streams of “What if?” questions? Those are progressive complications.

Whoops. We’ve outlined basically the whole thing, haven’t we? I sort of tricked you there. Sorry, not sorry.

Plotting Doesn’t Hurt—Too Much

Plotting a short story doesn’t have to be a meticulous thing that requires hours of work and a running spreadsheet. It also doesn’t have to take the magic out of writing.

Your plan for your short story can be a simple, loose outline. (By the way, outlines can change if you think of something better! They’re not set in stone.) Really, you just need two elements to get to writing a short story:

A “What If?” question (identifies the Inciting Incident)

The answer (shows the Climax)

And then you’re ready to write!

In future articles, we’ll dive more into writing structure and the essentials and plot elements of a short story. For now, use this “shortcut” to plan out a few short stories of your own! Have fun with it!

Source

anyone call zafira's name in the tone of shakira shakira?

Dragon Knight by Jian Li

@we-are-knight

I just learned a thing called self inserted character, and turns out that is what I have been doing almost whenever I'm obsessed with a story and I am so excited that that is a thing and it means I have a way to work on it holy crap, and that this little imagination of mine is okay, like I'm allowed to do that. aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh

Writing romance between characters

A lot of readers like romance, don't they? From romance books to romantic subplots in a fantasy/sci-fi/thriller, we have some sort of romance in the books we read (though not all of them). A lot of times though, we feel the romance is forced and can be extremely unpleasant to watch. Let's discuss some tips about how to write romance properly.

Tension, tension, tension

Tension is key to any romance, whether it be enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, rivals-to-lovers etc. Some examples are longing gazes, hands brushing each other, wistful gazes, hugs that last a little too long and more! Without tension, the romance just feels will be flat and boring and the readers won't be engaged in it. Please note that for the tension part, the things I listed can be platonic as well! What I mean to say is their reactions, such as them realizing they've caught feelings and now acting differently with each other, wistful gazes at someone they know they can't romance etc. All these actions I've listed in the post can happen platonically, especially for queerplatonic friends etc.

2. Give intimacy

Intimacy is not inherently sexual. It can also be emotional, and when portrayed in books properly, it can be marvellous to watch. Intimacy means being vulnerable with another person, being able to show them baring out their souls to one another, showing that they trust one another. Because if two people can't be intimate or vulnerable with each other, then no, we can't expect them to be in a romantic relationship.

3. Make them great individually

If the characters themselves aren't compelling characters, then we can't expect them to be any better in a romance. If one (or both) of the characters is flat and boring and the very embodiment of meh, then they're also going to be very "meh" in their relationship. Make the character engaging and exciting to watch, whether they're a villain or a hero. To gain some tips on how to write characters properly, check out my post on character writing!

TIP!

I have read this somewhere and I feel it's a really good tip! Use the no-kiss rule. Imagine the couple/ship you're writing. Write them but make sure that they don't kiss. Objectively, can you tell they have feelings for each other? If no, then do better or scrap it. If characters need to kiss to tell that they're in love, then they're not in love. Period.

Okay so I’m tired and bitchy and I’ve had a rough morning, and because of that I’m probably about to drop an unpopular opinion here, but I really dont care.

Narcissist is starting to become the new sociopath/psychopath/psycho, and I am really, really concerned with where this is heading.

It’s the exact same thing I’ve been seeing for years with my own diagnosis. You say you’re a sociopath, and immediately you’re now an asshole. I’ve had people actually ask me if I have ever hurt someone/wanted to hurt someone because I’m a sociopath, and I’ve had to explain over and over again that no, that’s not what that means, it just means empathy is not something that I can experience like everyone else. I can still be compassionate, I can still be a kind person, I can have no desire to hurt anyone ever, but I still get treated like a ticking time bomb. Even though my disorder actually helps me in a job that saves lives (I work in tissue donation, so not feeling empathy makes handling donor tissue from a 15 year old a lot easier), I still get asked by people at that same job about my “secret dark side” and if I ever did/do things like torture animals.

The same thing is happening to narcissists. You say you’re a narcissist, and now suddenly you’re an abuser. You want to paint someone as a bad person? Call them a narcissist, then everyone will understand how mean and evil they are. I am so sick and tired of seeing tiktoks, tweets, and Tumblr posts going on and on about how horrible narcissists are and how much people hate them. As if narcissists aren’t people! As if narcissists aren’t people experiencing a personality disorder! Y'all are all about “neurodivergent/mental illness solidarity uwu” until you bring in the “undesirable” mental illnesses and personality disorders, and then suddenly it’s “All x people are mean and evil and abusive blah blah blah they can’t get better/better themselves blah blah blah here’s how to argue with them except I’m not going to actually talk about that I’m actually going to just say how horrible they are and how they’re bad people blah blah blah” and it’s like shut up! Shut the fuck up! Those are people! Those are real people with real feelings and you’re just out here saying they’re inherently bad, and for what? For likes? For clout? Do you have any idea how hard it is to come to terms with a diagnosis like that when your view on it is so incredibly skewed, when you think you’re being assigned the Bad Person Disease™️ after you’ve tried so hard to be a kind person and uplift those around you? And now you’re left thinking it was all for nothing, because now you can never be a good person no matter how hard you try because you have Bad Person Disease? Do you have literally any idea how damaging that is, and how much that hurts? But hey, ableism isn’t ableism when it’s against the “bad” people, right?

Anyway, if you’re a sociopath, psychopath, narcissist, have bpd, are bipolar in the “wrong” way, are schizophrenic or psychotic, are the “wrong” type of autistic, or anything else, I see you and you’re doing amazing. Your diagnosis doesn’t dictate who you are and, even though some things are harder for us than they are for others, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.

When I was younger and more abled, I was so fucking on board with the fantasy genre’s subversion of traditional femininity. We weren’t just fainting maidens locked up in towers; we could do anything men could do, be as strong or as physical or as violent. I got into western martial arts and learned to fight with a rapier, fell in love with the longsword.

But since I’ve gotten too disabled to fight anymore, I… find myself coming back to that maiden in a tower. It’s that funny thing, where subverting femininity is powerful for the people who have always been forced into it… but for the people who have always been excluded, the powerful thing can be embracing it.

As I’m disabled, as I say to groups of friends, “I can’t walk that far,” as I’m in too much pain to keep partying, I find myself worrying: I’m boring, too quiet, too stationary, irrelevant. The message sent to the disabled is: You’re out of the narrative, you’re secondary, you’re a burden.

The remarkable thing about the maiden in her tower is not her immobility; it’s common for disabled people to be abandoned, set adrift, waiting at bus stops or watching out the windows, forgotten in institutions or stranded in our houses. The remarkable thing is that she’s like a beacon, turning her tower into a lighthouse; people want to come to her, she’s important, she inspires through her appearance and words and craftwork.  In medieval romances she gives gifts, write letters, sends messengers, and summons lovers; she plays chess, commissions ballads, composes music, commands knights. She is her household’s moral centre in a castle under siege. She is a castle unto herself, and the integrity of her body matters.

That can be so revolutionary to those of us stuck in our towers who fall prey to thinking: Nobody would want to visit; nobody would want to listen; nobody would want to stay.