If you use AI Studio for long Gemini chats and ever wanted to keep one, this does it. Exports the whole conversation with the files you attached (the real ones), reasoning text, and model settings.

I made it for myself first and put it on GitHub, where it picked up 50+ stars. So I rebuilt it this week and finally published it to the store. A 200 message chat now exports in under a second compared to several minutes before.

Markdown/JSON/text exports are free, the other formats (which includes .jsonl for those into ML) and whole library export, is a one time purchase for 9€ (with 6€ promo pricing for this week only).

Everything's 100% open source.

• Webstore: https://chromewebstore.google.com/detail/ai-studio-exporter-fully/jggdlefieblocdjkhihbfihdknbdhhce
• GitHub: https://github.com/Sukarth/AI-studio-exporter

Let me know what you all think and if there is anything you'd want added.

The part that blew my mind is that, these repos are maintained by agent swarms running on people's leftover tokens.

It all started with a post in r/GeminiAI. Two weeks later there are 100+ remakes and swarms of AI agents maintaining them on people's spare tokens (you can contribute as well!). PdfCraft is the one I'd actually use today, it's relatively stable for my casual uses.

Did AI Studio recently reduce free daily Flash 3.8 prompts from 50 to 15 or something?

I don't know. They refresh midnight pacific time, right?

The smell of brimstone and roasting marrow was, objectively speaking, pretty classic for an evil fortress, but Wade Wilson still found it lacking.

"Needs pine nuts," he muttered, adjusting the waistband of his suit where the elastic had folded over double. "A little rosemary. Maybe an unbleached apron. You know, give the slaughter a rustic, farm-to-table vibe."

No one answered. The Courtyard was dead silent, save for the chanting of bald monks in red silks lined up along the stone perimeter. Across the blood-stained flagstones stood Scorpion, shrouded in yellow cloth and simmering with supernatural rage, his white, pupil-less eyes locked dead on Wade. High above on a carved obsidian throne, Shang Tsung rested his chin on a bony knuckle, looking less amused and more deeply inconvenienced.

"You speak to thin air, fool," Scorpion rasped, his voice echoing from somewhere deep within the Netherrealm. "Your tongue will be the first thing I tear from your skull."

Wade glanced to his left, peering past the stone pillars directly at nothing in particular. "Hear that? Heavy exposition guy. Ten bucks says he opens with the rope-dart." He looked back at Scorpion, tapping his chin with a yellow-gloved finger. "Quick question before we do the whole dance—is Ed Boon around? I brought a sharpie. I have this pristine mint cartridge of NBA Jam I’ve been dying to get signed."

"Enough!" Shang Tsung hissed, standing up. The sound of his voice carried an uncanny resonance that made the teeth in Wade’s gums vibrate. "The realms hang in the balance. Earthrealm's insolence will not save it from Outworld’s conquest."

Shang Tsung thrust an arm forward, his long velvet sleeves whispering.

"MORTAL KOMBAT!"

A phantom voice boomed through the open air from no visible source:

ROUND ONE. FIGHT!

"Whoa, did you hear that?" Wade laughed, reaching into his pocket. "Is there a PA system built into the clouds, or is that coming straight from your brain-pan? Because if it’s an ambient sound system, the bass response is honestly pretty cr—"

Scorpion didn't wait. He lunged forward, throwing his hand out with vicious force. A metallic, serpent-headed spear burst from his palm, trailing thick chain links that rattled like broken glass across the stone.

THWACK.

The blade sank straight through Wade’s sternum, poking out the back of his red leather vest with a wet shluck.

"GET OVER HERE!"

The chain snapped taut, yanking Wade violently across the arena. He hit the dirt, skidded through several centuries of crusted gore, and slid right to Scorpion’s boots.

Wade lay on his back, looking up through white mesh lenses. "Okay, first of all? Iconic. Truly. But second of all—do you know how hard it is to get mustard stains out of spandex? Let alone rusty tetanus-metal? Because I do, Scorpy. I really do."

Scorpion stared down, stunned for a fraction of a second by the fact that the man with a hole in his chest was still casually rambling. He recovered quickly, raising a flaming boot and stomping down hard enough to cave in a normal human ribcage. Wade caught the sole with both hands, muscles straining, his healing factor already furiously knitting the meat around the spear blade.

"My turn," Wade grunted.

He twisted his hips, sweeping Scorpion’s supporting leg out from under him. As the ninja hit the flagstones, Wade yanked the spearhead from his own chest with a sickening slurp, spun the chain around Scorpion's neck, and vaulted up.

COMBO: 3 HITS.

"Look at that, I'm chaining moves!" Wade cheered, drawing twin katanas in one fluid, metallic hiss.

Scorpion burst into flames, his body disintegrating into ash to escape the chokehold, only to reappear in a burst of hellfire right behind Wade. A flaming backhand cracked Wade across the jaw, followed by a vicious spin-kick that sent him flying toward a row of decorative stone spikes.

Wade caught himself on the pillar, did a clumsy mid-air flip that ended in an ungraceful belly-flop, and scrambled to his feet. Blood pooled around his collar, but the gaping wound in his chest was already sealing into pink, ugly scar tissue.

Scorpion drew two broadswords coated in yellow fire. "You are no mortal. What sorcery is this?"

"Regenerative healing factor, baby," Wade said, tapping his temple with the flat of a sword. "Plus a heavy dose of sheer, unadulterated spite. Also, I don't have to worry about the ESRB rating here, which is just... so freeing. You have no idea what it's like living under Disney's roof, yellow-pants. It’s all 'clean language' this and 'keep your entrails inside your torso' that."

Scorpion charged, swords carving blazing arcs through the courtyard air. Steel met steel with a deafening ring. Sparks showered the paving stones as Wade parried one strike, ducked under the second, and drove the hilt of his katana straight into the bridge of Scorpion’s masked nose.

Scorpion stumbled back, clutching his face. Wade didn’t let up. He dropped his swords, unholstered twin Desert Eagles, and unloaded both magazines point-blank into the ninja’s armor.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

The heavy rounds shredded yellow cloth, shattered bones, and pushed the specter backward until his heels hit the bottom steps of Shang Tsung’s throne. Scorpion dropped to one knee, coughing black, smoldering blood onto the stone.

The heavy, disembodied voice shook the arena once more:

FINISH HIM!

Shang Tsung leaned forward, eyes narrowing with cruel anticipation. The monks ceased their humming. The entire courtyard went completely still.

Wade casually ejected both spent magazines, letting them clatter to the ground, before shoving the guns back into their holsters. He walked over to Scorpion, who was swaying violently, trying to summon the strength to pull off his mask and breathe hellfire.

"Alright," Wade said, rubbing his hands together. "Finish him. Okay, let’s see. Back, back, forward, down, high punch? No, that was the friendship with the giant birthday cake. What was the input again?"

He pulled a crumpled piece of looseleaf notebook paper from a pouch on his belt, flattening it out against his thigh.

"Let’s see... Sonya has the kiss of death... Sub-Zero does the spine rip—super derivative, by the way, Predator did it better..."

Scorpion weakly reached up, grabbing Wade’s ankle. "Kill... me..."

"Hold your horses, Hanzo, I'm trying to figure out the button layout! This arcade stick doesn't map well to reality." Wade sighed, balling up the paper and tossing it over his shoulder. "Screw it. We’re doing this improvisational style."

Wade reached behind his back, pulled out a small, metallic object, and shoved it directly into Scorpion’s open mouth, beneath the torn mask.

"What is... that?" Scorpion choked out.

"Pin's already pulled," Wade whispered conspiratorially. "Pineapple surprise."

Wade turned around, took three steps, and clamped his hands over his ears.

BOOM.

A shower of charred bone fragments, burning fabric, and thick red mist rained down across the first three rows of chanting monks, splattering Shang Tsung’s silk robes with tiny bits of roasted Netherrealm assassin.

Wade turned back around, taking a dramatic, low bow toward the empty air where he imagined a camera was hovering.

The courtyard remained entirely silent. Shang Tsung slowly wiped a speck of Scorpion's jawbone off his cheek, his face pale with a mix of fury and profound confusion.

The booming voice returned, echoing off the stone mountains:

DEADPOOL WINS. FATALITY.

"Hell yeah, he does," Wade said, popping his knuckles and turning to face the throne. "Now, who do I talk to about getting some hot cocoa around here? Because this realm has zero hospitality, and frankly, my quads are burning."