For the record, I would never knowingly use or share AI generated art in anything I post, so if you ever catch me doing so, it was an accident, and I'd like you to let me know so I can delete it.

thought autocomplete would take me to outlook dot com not realising id forgotten the T before i pressed enter. However was very much pleased at what it took me to instead. I think I don't want to see my emails now. I think I will stay with the oul.

I feel sorry for children because they never had the experience of playing games or watching things for free. It's why I think a lot of them don't hate ads as much as people older then them do, they just accepted them as a necessary part of their reality and deal with it because the ads have always been there for them.

When I was 14 and started using wattpad it was still a shitty little fanficiton app and everything on that app was free. E v e r y t h i n g.

You only needed an account and you could download countless books and read them offline whenever you wanted. You could write offline and publish and edit whatever and whenever you wanted. There were no ads, no premium no money involved what so ever. It was the reason why I used it, I used to download (well save to my library) 200 fanfics before my summer vacation because I knew I wouldn't have internet and I wanted to entertain myself, I wrote 7 books and published them for fun because I could write and save while offline and then publish them later if I wanted.

When I opened wattpad after a few years I was first met with "upgrade to premium to download and read unlimited books" and then I was met with an ad in between chapters. I didn't continue I deleted my account and haven't even wanted to download it again.

What capitalism and consumerism did in the last few years has had an affect on everything in such a way that cannot be explained unless you've seen the before. Because now you have these platforms crying and begging you not to use an ad blocker, but that means nothing to me because I know they can function without ads, because I've seen and experienced it. Which is why I do not understand people who pay for these things, but if I grew up in an environment where all of these things were already this obsessed with getting money maybe I wouldn't complain either.

Tldr. children do not have spaces anymore where they're not bombarded with ads and it's sad because they were born into this.

Concept: cursed blade rehabilitation center. Destroying a sentient weapon is expensive and highly unethical, so adventurers bring them to the center where highly trained staff can care for them and eventually find them forever homes. It turns out most cursed weapons are products of trauma and are not strictly evil themselves. Some blades turn out to be fiercely protective companions. Others don't even want to be weapons at all, finding joy in simple work like blacksmithing or farming. Most blades just need to be loved.

A pack of bandits descend upon a seemingly undefended town. But the blacksmith's hammer, the farmer's scythe, the woodsman's axe, they have not forgotten what they once were, and they *will* defend the town that they have come to love.

This would be a great short story for someone to write methinks.

@ashesagain

Mill Valley was untouched by the sweeping waves of bandit issues that cropped up across the kingdom when the latest cycle passed. It was a town named for its work, out of the way and oft forgotten by all but the quiet clerks and pages who kept track of the kingdoms larger resource movements. Even then, Mill Valley existed as a single line, listed next to some weights and currencies on those scribes' pages. No peace lasts forever, though, and when a roving group of bandits came upon the town, the plan was drawn up for breaking said peace. They would descend an hour after nightfall, light the grain silos on fire, and as the groggy townsfolk gathered to save their harvest the bandits would rob their empty houses blind.

The crew of five thieves split up, eager to effect their scheme. The first, a swiftfooted former courier, reached his silo and eagerly began to light his torch. A rustle distracted him from his arson, but before he could turn he found himself lost in the dark. Had there been any onlookers, they would have seen the farmer's scythe cleave the man in twain, then suck up the two halves into it's blade.

The second brigand had begun to light their silo when a blade, which spent its time over the hearth at the local inn, descended upon them and separated their arm from their arson.

The third brigand at the final silo waited, staring into the night nervously for his fellows to start their fires. The local mason's hammer didnt even leave the woman's grasp, silently urging her body onwards as the third bandit was knocked unconscious by a deft blow, his last thoughts of confusion as he heard snoring.

The fourth and fifth bandits, in position on the roof of the inn, waited in silence. After an hour of quiet, with no fires to be seen, the impatient looters set about a more traditional heist. A heist which lasted all of three minutes, when the chef's knife found the backs of both the would-be thieves.

In the quiet of the night, someone might have seen the movement of blades in the night, yet no bodies to bear them. In the morning, the people of Mill Valley would rise, hone their tools, and get to work.

A worker whose tools are cared for will care for them in turn, after all.

A worker whose tools

are cared for will care for them

in turn, after all.

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

I deman you to do it ?

ive SEEN quiet toilets. i KNOW we have the technology.

are you perhaps a bat

We gotta stop aiming for unique and interesting baby names we gotta start naming every single infant straight-shot middle-of-the-road ass popular common unisex names like Alex and Sam. By the end of 2031 I wanna see 100% of kindergarten children named either Alex or Sam and you know what, let’s make ‘em all Smiths and Johnsons, too. In an age of digital tracking give your baby the gift of total functional anonymity within the panopticon