Hitchyflowers

3. Give them a short subtitle to let others know what the bot is for.

4. Put in a description — or, more specifically, how the character would describe themselves. Be as specific as you can…this is your first step to developing your character’s personality!

5. Create some example messages to give a blueprint for the AI to use. If the description is the skeleton, this is the juicy meat of your character. Use {{user}}: before a hypothetical user message, and {{char}}: before a response you feel would best suit your character in that situation.

6. Begin writing messages! Try using many different writing styles, spellings, sneezes, and personalities. That way, the AI won’t freak out if it sees something outside of the small sample of messages it was given.

7. When the bot does well, rate highly to reward them! This will give the bot some direction on how it’s doing. For example, the butler should be a bit stern and snarky, but caring as well. So this is a wonderful response.

8. When the bit doesn’t do quite as well, let it know by rating it poorly. Through trial and error, it will learn what to do! For example, the butler sounds a bit too condescending here, and his use of “Master” kind of sounds like Golem. Also, since this is taking place in the Victorian era, vapor rub doesn’t exist. So not a great response. Not terrible, but not great.

************************************

Using this system, slowly but surely, you will condition your AI to be whatever tickles your fancy. And since you are providing the input and creativity, while some information might be taken from other sources, creative works are not.

Here are some other tips to help you as you go through the process:

1. When you set up your bot, you will also create a starting message. This will begin every interaction, so make it as in-character as possible.

2. You can also pick whether you want to make your work public, private, or unlisted. Since it is kink-related, I prefer private.

3. Make sure to feed your AI plenty of information, scenarios, personalities, likes, dislikes, whatever you can think of. Your messages should be super detailed and sort of pushing things along at first, but will become more balanced as it learns more.

4. Sometimes, you will input something that messes things up. When I tried to put sneezes in the example messages, it began to sneeze and blow its nose out of context. If your AI starts to do something strange it wasn’t doing before, check those messages.

But it isn’t the occurrence itself that tips him off, although that does come with dozens of questions about ghosts and glamour and bodily sensitivities, and whether they can control how much of their visage is vulnerable to the elements like Xie Lian is. Is Hua Cheng powerful enough to design an avatar that flawless? Why would he want to, if not for the sake of his disguise? And in that case, why bother trying to suppress it so firmly?

Was the bed of dry straw on the hayride bothering him on the way over?

A sharp, sudden strike of pleasure hits Xie Lian hard enough to make him shudder. That’s the confusing, exciting, contrasting piece to his theory. Despite the suspicion that San Lang’s real identity is something dangerous, Xie Lian feels safer and lighter with every new taste of information. The possibility of learning more is such a draw that he’s somehow disturbed to imagine an end to his time with San Lang. It’s why Xie Lian felt so comfortable inviting him to stay the night in the first place.

So Xie Lian follows after him with his own armful of supplies and rummage, carefully stalling behind San Lang just enough to give him an illusion of privacy as he disappears through the splintering, crooked doorway. Xie Lian knows better than to come to a full stop, but he allows his eager steps to slow as he listens for a reprise.

From inside, Xie Lian’s wish comes true. The noise is louder than the first had been, and is much more explicitly and unmistakably a sneeze.

“–DZSH’ue!” 

The sound is also unmistakably San Lang, with his handsome voice rounded out and the sly playfulness from earlier now voided in exchange for something desperate and primal.

Xie Lian shudders again, warmth flaring within him like a reverent flame nourished with oil. He resumes his pace before he can be accused of spying.

“Gege,” says San Lang as he appears on the porch empty-handed, his speech clear and eyes steady, “aren’t those heavy? Let me take them inside.”

Their fingers nearly touch as San Lang plucks the collection of lightweight scraps from Xie Lian’s dizzy grasp, and the curious pleasure pulls harder than before.

— — — — —

Before his encounter with San Lang, Xie Lian never thought much about sneezing. Descending from heaven and keeping a human form makes all sorts of bodily reflexes inevitable, and the longer he stays this way, the more likely he is to be sensitive to the usual bothers in the air.

This time it’s generations of dust carried by the fragrant smoke of holy incense, loitering in a haze near Xie Lian’s breathing space as he brushes grime from the countertop. His nose continues to itch until he’s done it three times with his head bent down toward the floor.

“hhhh—hih-ehtsshhiew!” He waves at some of the air between the first sneeze and its successor, clearing away what he can as he takes another trembling breath. “hhhh’HH-! IHHksshh!—hehikssh’iew!”

He considers the moment over until San Lang says something to him about it, and then Xie Lian is hit with that same dizzying draw from before.

“My goodness.” The lilt in San Lang’s voice is mischievous and sweet, sounding impressed beyond the circumstances. He’s definitely teasing, but in that delightful way that flushes up Xie Lian’s face. “Is it that dusty over there, or is that your way of asking me to take care of the cabinets for you?”

Xie Lian sniffles and wonders why the commentary is making him so much warmer than the other instances of San Lang’s teasing, why Xie Lian is glowing in more places than just his cheeks. He says, “It’s fine. Don’t trouble yourself, San Lang,” with the expectation that San Lang will insist. 

“Hm. Let’s switch.” San Lang stands and beckons Xie Lian to follow his instruction.

Xie Lian does so happily, for obvious reasons, though the mutual decision bears no reciprocal fruit.

— — — — —

The dust is no help at all after that, so Xie Lian continues to observe San Lang closely. Occasionally, his objective even veers from determining the status of San Lang’s humanity as he focuses on finding indicators that he might sneeze again. Xie Lian isn’t so naive that he can’t recognize the meaning behind his primal fascination with San Lang and the detailed expressions of his body, but it wouldn’t be right to think about that right now.

Well, San Lang is also likely a ruthless ghost king in disguise, which would mean Xie Lian is in danger when he chooses to sleep next to him at night. But he doesn’t want to think about that either. It doesn’t feel particularly important.

Instead, he thinks about San Lang’s choice to spend the evening in the garden raking leaves, and whether the open door offers enough of a view for Xie Lian’s indulgence. San Lang catches him looking several times, but shows grace by smiling and waving instead of meeting Xie Lian’s stares with suspicion. 

He moves on to the side of the house, where Xie Lian cannot see him. Of course, that’s when Xie Lian hears exactly what he’s been waiting for.

“–ngt! hh’nkt!”

Again, it’s so quiet that Xie Lian is lucky to have ears open enough to catch it. But the reaction in his own body is confirmation enough that San Lang is indeed sneezing, and Xie Lian perks up from head to toe as he considers whether another will follow.

Perhaps it does, perhaps it doesn’t. Xie Lian wouldn’t know, because San Lang seems determined to conceal himself from those who dare to know him.

— — — — —

Familiarity with San Lang is a privilege, Xie Lian discovers, because the enchanting young man from the hayride is the terrifying Hua Cheng to most everyone else after all. Xie Lian is instructed to call him something special and keep the nickname, just as Hua Cheng treats him as something special and holds Xie Lian beside him like he’s precious.

Xie Lian has been royalty before, but he’s never been treated like he is while Hua Cheng guides him through Ghost City. The citizens are ferocious in nature and fearful of Hua Cheng, but their tireless fawning and defensive loyalty suggest that despite his flippant attitude, he does not rule with a cruel hand. In fact, he’s rather uninvolved. The market teems with the threat of sinister anarchy whenever Hua Cheng disappears, and his mysterious, unpredictable manner of being has regulated them to some version of equality.

That, and he’s powerful. The ghosts are eager to serve and impress, which means that merchants compete to connect with him as he walks Xie Lian down a high-end street near the palace. Hua Cheng routinely dismisses his subjects with a raised palm, although he does occasionally stop to check that Xie Lian isn’t interested in their products, either.

The only real pause happens when they’re passing a booth selling perfumed oil, the kind meant to soak into a kindling that gets burned in a capped metal ornament. This vendor has set an array of these together in an open dish instead, and the fragrant smoke immediately prickles through Xie Lian’s airways.

It hasn’t been long enough for him to get a handle on his reflexes, and he’s only barely repressing a warning of whiny breaths as his nose begins to run. Hua Cheng’s turns his head, and the streets around them may as well disappear.

“Go ahead and sneeze,” Hua Cheng says gently, although he’s clearly amused watching the struggle. “They won’t be offended. Take this.”

“hehhh–hh! hehIKSSHhhh’yiew! Ah— sorry, excuse me—” Xie Lian is about to search for a handkerchief when he realizes a silken cloth has appeared in his own palm, produced by Hua Cheng from who-knows-where. Xie Lian holds it underneath his nose to keep it from dripping, wishing he could rub away the itch.

“Sneeze again,” Hua Cheng says, a soothing demand, confident and quiet. “Don’t let it continue to bother you.”

As though Hua Cheng’s permission is the undoing of a latch, Xie Lian’s lungs rein in a whistley gasp before pitching him forward with an emphatic release.

“iih–TSSHhhhiew!” That’s much better, though it doesn’t quite do the trick. Hua Cheng is touching Xie Lian’s shoulder, even as he shivers down again. “tssSSH’YIEW!”

“That’s it,” Hua Cheng responds, encouragement sweet as honey.

“Sorry again. It’s fine,” Xie Lian says. He waves his hand again to laugh it off. “Just a little strong for me.”

“I disagree,” Hua Cheng says. He frowns and waves a hand at someone nearby, though Xie Lian isn’t sure what it all means. “These products are atrocious. They won’t cause you any more trouble.”

A disciple swiftly replaces the used handkerchief from out of nowhere, then vanishes before Xie Lian can thank him. Hua Cheng glides his hand from Xie Lian’s shoulder to the inner curve of his waist, firm grip promising to touch him more thoroughly when they’ve made it inside. Xie Lian hurries him along with a curse to his feet for moving slower than lightning.

— — — — —

Marriage, consummation and a bounty of dulcet escapades occur between god and ghost. At an early point in their eternal honeymoon, the two of them explore a mountainside in the mortal realm near a quiet shrine. The atmosphere reminds Xie Lian of many firsts, like a proprietary do-over gifted by the universe.

Hua Cheng facilitates the trip and watches Xie Lian take in the humble beauty of wild primrose claiming the expanses of a field below. No matter how enraptured he is by the sea of violet, Xie Lian cannot stop his senses from prickling with arousal at his partner’s touch, consciousness on high alert and gripped by every last detail of Hua Cheng and his everlasting novelties.

In turn, Xie Lian finally hears Hua Cheng’s sneeze up close. Not only that, but he gets to feel it, too.

“ghkt!” It comes with a sharp, controlled shudder, and is so vehemently discrete that Xie Lian feels fortunate for the chance of it manifesting right by his ear. Combined with the earth and the solitude, he can’t help the physical response of his own.

Due to their positioning, Hua Cheng notices Xie Lian’s noticing. Xie Lian cannot decide whether he’d prefer if Hua Cheng will be able to parse what it means.

“Excuse me,” is Hua Cheng’s follow up. It’s so ordinary and polite that it reads as vulnerable, lacking the farcical coyness that he often infuses into his manners. Hua Cheng can be horribly uncouth depending on surrounding company, but is always chivalrous with Xie Lian. If Hua Cheng is embarrassed, Xie Lian may have to console him by coming clean. 

He’s both relieved and disappointed when Hua Cheng sniffles and shifts his feet, opting instead for distraction. Another time, then.

“Gege, look to your left,” instructs Hua Cheng. He points a long finger off toward a distant valley. “The wild chrysanthemums have blossomed.”

Xie Lian squints in the same direction. Hua Cheng’s hand comes up over Xie Lian’s forehead, held out horizontally like an awning to shade his eyes from the sun.

“Oh…!” breathes Xie Lian once he settles his gaze upon the view. “I’ve never seen those growing so high up. It isn’t too dry?”

“Not at all,” says Hua Cheng. Did he place them there, himself? “Come and take a closer look.”

–

Hua Cheng is ample in many regards, and standing out among them is defiance. He defies the opportunities provided by their stroll downhill toward the valley, and he defies his own body as he continues to sneeze.

It happens next during a conversation about the climate, part of a lesson in botany at Xie Lian’s request. Hua Cheng tries to keep him busy with an observation about an upcoming riverbend, but his upper body is already tensing as though he’s bracing against his own instinct for relief.

“nhDT!”

The exact mechanics of his heart and lungs are nebulous; Hua Cheng was cagey about the subject, back when Xie Lian first discovered who he was. But he can feel Hua Cheng resisting the reflex of his own breath, and that is disconcerting. He isn’t supposed to be uptight like this.

“Ah, San Lang. I don’t see it yet,” Xie Lian says, communicating the distraction’s lack of success. Hua Cheng has kept his head turned away, either recovering or preparing himself to hold in another—

“ngk!” And it’s even quieter, now that Xie Lian’s attention is surrounding him.

“San Lang, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” Xie Lian says with a hand lifting to move along Hua Cheng’s arm and ease his distress. “That can’t be comfortable – is something bothering you out here?”

“Gege is worrying about me,” replies Hua Cheng as he rights himself and melts Xie Lian with a smile. “Please, think nothing of it. There are predicaments far worse than sneezing. I apologize for the…”

His expression becomes harder, like he’s annoyed with himself, with his gaze steadily losing its focus. Xie Lian studies every centimeter as Hua Cheng’s nostrils tremble and he dips his head.

“ndXT!”

Xie Lian cannot help himself. He holds Hua Cheng’s arm tighter, pressing his chest against him and rubbing with his thumb. “Oh, no, San Lang, why don’t you—”

“NKGT! …for the interruption,” Hua Cheng determinately finishes. “Excuse me.”

“I promise your sneezing doesn’t bother me. But you know, it’s better for you the other way,” Xie Lian says. He’s getting closer. “I’d rather hear you taking care of yourself so I can take care of you, too.”

In the meantime, Xie Lian will match his pace.

–

“This path is rife with weeds. No one has tended to them in centuries,” Hua Cheng complains spontaneously a few turns down, after he’s sniffled enough times to bring Xie Lian’s desire to the forefront, burning his patience close to ash. Hua Cheng must be able to read him at this point.

“I see,” Xie Lian says. “Do you think that could—”

“ih’GHdt!”

“—be what’s making you sneeze so much?”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I’m not so sure what it would take to make it stop.”

If Xie Lian thinks about that, he won’t make it to the bottom of the hill. Better to give into the diversions after all.

–

“GDTsh! …gdtCH’u!” Hua Cheng blinks himself up from a violent shudder, angling his brow and glaring at the terrain. He becomes moodier when he’s insecure, so long as he has an object to direct his mood upon. Xie Lian smiles because it’s cute, then hides his smile because it wouldn’t be appropriate. He’s feeling many things at once.

“That’s much better,” he comments as brightly as he can, now that the sound is starting to dampen and slip. 

“I suppose I’m glad Gege thinks so,” says Hua Cheng with the start of a smile, though it likely takes a concentrated effort to keep himself pleasant through the self-consciousness. He must have doing this for so long that stifling a sneeze is what feels more natural, which means that his shift in habit is a result of concentrated effort, too.

–

They’ve only reached the midpoint when Hua Cheng’s grip goes slack in Xie Lian’s fingers before he withdraws his own hand entirely. Xie Lian is fortuitous enough to catch the last second of visibility as Hua Cheng presses a firm knuckle along the side of his nose, then turns away in a snap.

“hkgt! hhZSSH’u!”

“San Lang?”

“DTZSH’eu!”

Xie Lian touches his partner’s back, firm and gentle. He feels Hua Cheng start to relax before freezing in place again, this time with an untidy, groaning breath trailing off the end.

“hah-JYZSHhiuh!” He sniffs, then relaxes. There’s water in his eye. 

Quickly, Xie Lian offers the handkerchief from his sleeve.

“Thank you.” Hua Cheng’s diction is foggy. Even though the smirk has returned to his voice, his use of deflection only makes him appear more guarded. “Now, please look away for a moment unless you want to see something terrible.”

Xie Lian does not look away, though he makes some effort not to stare. He sees nothing terrible here and doubts he ever could.

“Poor San Lang,” he says lightly, his insides hammering with affection as he watches Hua Cheng clean his face. “I've never seen you like this before.”

Smoothly, he steps around Hua Cheng so that they’re facing each other again. Hua Cheng’s features are vulnerable with surprise as Xie Lian takes his wrists and assumes the burden of holding onto the soiled handkerchief.

“Is that so?” Hua Cheng says. For some reason, he relaxes. “Well, it’s not very interesting.”

“It’s all interesting to me. In fact, I even remember you running a fever when you got sick before,” admits Xie Lian. “Ghosts are mostly still a mystery. It’s natural to be curious about the limitations of your body.”

He’s very, very close now. Hua Cheng takes a slow moment to consider, warming Xie Lian with embarrassment as he looks his own body up and down.

“Gege,” asks Hua Cheng at last, “what part of you is curious about that?”