Well, Claude (ai) is no fun =P

För att lossa på skrivkrampen som drabbar mig då och då så brukar jag vända mig till AI. Inte för att skriva åt mig, utan bara för att få igång hjärnan igen, få idéer och uppslag. Detta gör jag till ett slags rollspel mellan mig och AIn, jag använder mest Claude (bäst för mina syften/sätt att göra det på), på plats nr 2 kommer ChatGPT, som 3a har jag mest använt Gemini, och på senaste iden har jag använt DeepSeek, som börjar segla upp på listan, måste jag säga.

Den här gången kände jag för en liten kärleksscen (inget explicit), delvis för att testa hur långt AIn skulle gå på väldigt milda promts. Jag "utsatte" Claude och Deepseek för den här behandligen. 

Jag själv är "berättaren", eller kanske rent av en slags DM, medan Claude och Deepseek tidigare ombetts att idkläda sig rollen som "Asher", vilket Claude är bra på, Deepseek tappar fort, men jag håller kvar vid ändå. Det funkar-ish.

Så här gick det (och ursäkta engelskan. Använd Google translate eller be om en översättning om det behövs): 

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MED CLAUDE

Jag: "I think I am fortunate to have such a wise man by my side", Lio murmurs and starts unbuttoning your shirt.

"We should get some rest," I say softly, bringing his hands up to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles "Tomorrow we can visit those archives if you're still feeling up to it. And we should probably start thinking about practical preparations - talking to the palace physicians, making sure we have everything we might need."

I stand and move to the wardrobe to find something to sleep in

"The snow is really coming down now," I observe, glancing toward the window "Looks like winter is making itself known with authority tonight."

I turn back to him with a gentle smile

"Try to get some sleep, aman. Whatever this winter brings, we'll face it with clearer heads after some rest."

I settle into the routine of preparing for bed, keeping the atmosphere calm and comfortable

"And Lio? We're going to get through this. Whatever form the illness takes, however long it lasts - we have each other, and we have people who care about us. That counts for more than you might think."

Jag: "Well, you're no fun", Lio growls, throwing a pillow on you. Then he too gets off the bed and prepare for sleep. The snowfall outside is relentless, but it too seems to give Lio a sense of peace. As you settle into bed together, he says "You know, if Father decides that he is going to force me into some alliance I don't want, I intend to exile myself to Ice Reach. Maybe there are nice ghosts there."

Claude: I catch the pillow with a laugh, tossing it back at him before settling under the covers

"Ice Reach?" I raise an eyebrow as I pull him closer "The abandoned fortress we passed on the way here? The one that might be haunted but definitely has no heating?"

I can hear the seriousness beneath his light tone, and I consider his words carefully

"Though I have to admit, there's a certain poetic justice to it. The wayward prince and his inconvenient life-bond, holed up in a mysterious fortress, living off... what exactly? Ghostly hospitality and whatever we can hunt?"

I trace lazy patterns on his chest as the snow continues to fall outside

"But honestly, if it came to that - if your father really did try to force some political alliance despite the life-bond - I think you'd find Ice Reach gets awfully crowded. Because wherever you go, I go. And probably Darian, and Lady Misha, and half your cousins who think romantic exile sounds like a grand adventure."

I press a kiss to his temple

"Though let's hope it doesn't come to that. I suspect the ghosts aren't prepared for quite that many houseguests."

I settle more comfortably against him

"Besides, your father's still figuring things out, remember? Proud of the life-bond, frustrated by the politics. That's not someone ready to make ultimatums yet."

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Med DEEPSEEK:

Jag: "I think I am fortunate to have such a wise man by my side", Lio murmurs and starts unbuttoning your shirt.

He lets himself be pulled down onto the bed, the fine linen of his shirt now hanging open. The cold fear of the coming winter, the weight of the unknown?it all recedes, burned away by the immediate, grounding heat of Lio?s hands on his skin, the familiar taste of him.

"For the record," he murmurs between kisses, working at the fastenings of Lio?s own clothes with practiced ease, "this is also a form of research. Very? hands-on."

The world narrows to the space of the opulent bed, the crackle of the fire, the sound of the wind against the windows, and the two of them?a prince and his mage, building a fortress against the dark not with spells and theories, but with this: with touch, with breath, with the relentless, defiant pulse of life.
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Vad tycks?