Jules

Your scene, broken down into a director's storyboard

You, spliced into the scene everyone knows

It is snowing in your living room and the evening continues

One tiny rain cloud, over the family member having a week

Your family, as the cast photo of a sitcom that ran nine seasons

What you're wearing right now, as a runway look

Your most ordinary moment, as the last shot before the credits

Baby photo + now photo: what never changed

Upload a baby photo and a recent photo of the same person. It finds what survived in both and crowns one feature as the signature.

Answer the email that's been sitting there for three weeks

Paste the email and the honest reason it went unanswered. Back comes a short, sendable reply that leads with the answer, not the apology.

My day as a four-panel comic

Ask your ChatGPT for the caricature it's earned

The street cats you've photographed, convened on one bench

The photoshoot with a tiger you were never going to get

The book you keep meaning to write, secondhand and 50p

Through the hole in your ceiling: a city, upside down

Your most boring daily act, as a cathedral window

Rate my fit, but you're a scandalized Victorian ghost

Upload an outfit photo and say where you're wearing it. A ghost from 1887 reviews it garment by garment, fainting count included.

Your handwriting as a type specimen poster

Remove the ChatGPT smell from my writing

Paste anything AI-assisted. It strips the tells — the em-dashes, the 'delve', the three-item lists — without flattening your voice.

Teach it to write like you (three samples is enough)

Paste three things you actually wrote. Back comes a style card of your voice, plus one test line rewritten to prove it.