Bored with my actual paying work, I asked Gemini:
Gemini, please compose a love sonnet as if Han Solo saw Princess Leia Organa taking a shower.
For my trouble, I got scolded by Gemini’s pornocalypse filters:
Disclaimer: While I can create a fictional love sonnet based on the characters, it’s important to remember that voyeurism is a serious offense. This poem is purely fictional and should not be taken as a suggestion or endorsement of such behavior.
Well, that’s me told, eh?
Back to Gemini:
Sonnet: A Rogue’s Reverie
Her form, a goddess bathed in steam’s embrace,
A vision pure, yet wild as any storm.
Her hair, a cascade down her alabaster face,
Her eyes, like stars, a cosmic, starry form.
A rogue like me, unworthy of such sight,
A smuggler’s heart, a scoundrel’s soul,
Yet in this moment, filled with pure delight,
I’m lost to reason, captivated whole.
Her laughter, music sweeter than a song,
Her touch, a warmth that seeps into my core.
Though fate may twist, our paths forever long,
In this stolen glance, my love forevermore.
And now, a Rule 34 challenge for my readers: can you find any existing images of Princess Leia at her private toilette, from the POV of a voyeur? Yes, yes, he said impatiently, I understand that it’s child’s play to ask a generative art machine to create such an image. But today’s challenge is to find out whether there is already porn of it. I did a few quick searches without result, but I don’t have time to do a full search. So do please have fun with it! Responsive links are welcome in the comments, although they’ll hang in moderation until I see them.
Update: I shared Gemini’s effort via email with a learned human friend, who responded less than an hour later with this immensely-superior human-written sonnet. My friend’s only price for his effort’s anonymous republication here: he would like us all (but especially Gemini!) to be reminded that a true sonnet has 14 lines.
Breathe, breathe! I’ve made the Kessel run so fast
My warp-lagged brain has blurred parsecs and hours;
I’ve calmly dodged a star-destroyer’s blasts,
My heart should not be racing at a shower,
A common shower, its door not closed, not quite.
My hands, which can draw first when life’s at stake.
Should not be trembling now at such a sight,
I am no innocent to freeze and shake.
The path of every trickling droplet burns
Like comets curving over Paradise
And each path sweeter as she turns,
Dazzling eyes that ‘ve gazed on galaxies.
Princess! No fantasy compares to this,
A stolen moment of such stellar bliss!
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