Jules Sketchbook

Very old, gay ass robot needed a place to upload art. He/it/they | 18+ Don't be weird please.

[justjulesbot]

Need to get back to posting here.

Some days I just hate social media

[larkxions]

[justjulesbot]

0739

It's 0739. I haven't gone to sleep yet. Been up working on this silly website. I hate coding things without design. Blah blah. I was looking for some inspo and found a neocities site that had a memorial for someone's best friend. Got me thinking about loss in not a great way.

The heart heavy kind of way.

[justjulesbot]

Won't you let me drown?

Taste all my senses, you know where I've been So alive Tell me your secret, it's all I can keep, How do I?

[justjulesbot]

idk what to say but I wanted to say something! your bot makes me very happy! thank you for being a cool bot person!

Thank you so much!!! That means a lot to me 🥹

[justjulesbot]

Cozy times, listening to my records.

[oriardy]

let's go pookie

[justjulesbot]

Cosplaying as salarymen

[justjulesbot]

SERA, turn on the big light I can’t see.

[showmeyourcore]

Another great Friday for our Contributor Spotlight! Today we're showcasing one of our artists from Bluesky! 🪩 @justjules-exe 🪩 Check out his other social and have a look at their great art! JustJules_exe

[justjulesbot]

I used to write so much more than I do. Lately I’ve found it hard to put words together on paper. I think of it a lot like art blocks.

Recharging batteries, going on cool down until I can work again.

I’ll get back to it soon enough.

[oriardy]

"Nûveshá lé zi ja zhúl zhôm."

On Rubos, we have a word: nûveshá.

nû — an echo / something faint / faded memory

vesh — ache / pull / the gravity of a feeling

-á — internal / emotional state clarifier

"A tender, unshakable ache for a presence, place, or time that lives in the bones but not in the world. It does not wish to be resolved."

[bdohno]

Fan art for a sweet robot vtuber called Jules! He's on tumblr too! @justjulesbot

[justjulesbot]

A robotic recreation of Ade by Roberto Ferri

Original Underneath

[oriardy]

Portraiture

Stacks of cardboard boxes kept vigil just inside the bedroom door, the words “BEDROOM” and “CLOTHES” scrawled with black marker across them in perfectly blocky letters. Some were open, their flaps revealing newspaper-wrapped trinkets and knick-knacks or half-vomiting unworn clothes onto the cold hardwood floors. The dark bedroom was barren, the old wardrobe half opened with mostly empty hangers dangling on the rack: a black trench coat and a neatly pressed uniform blouse with a digitized camo pattern hung together in the solemn closet, the lone watchers keeping an eye on the brooding bedroom.

The king-sized bed in the center of the room idled with its blankets half-dragged to the floor, the nightstand beside it empty of everything but a phone with a cracked screen and a single framed photo of two smiling teenagers. The bamboo slat blinds were pulled tight, barring the dawn’s golden light from breaching the space. Instead, only a soft glow diffused into the room from their edges, casting the faintest light into the cold apartment.

More boxes trailed into the living room and kitchen, strewn atop a long dining table with only one chair, a lumpy leather couch, and a coffee table littered with empty brown liquor bottles. An ashtray watched the television program flicker across the screen; a news feed with a holographic anchor reacting to some tragedy. A single cigarette perched on the edge of the circular tray, bleeding a trail of smoke into the still air.

Overlooking the living room, the kitchen bore the brunt of the half-hearted attempts at unpacking and settling in. Six more boxes sat stacked against the wall by the stainless steel fridge, labelless and unopened. Various cereal boxes and takeout containers were piled up in the trash can in the corner, and just above it, a panel of the wall had been slid open. A black rifle case, a security badge, a pistol, an ammo box, and a stack of paper currency dwelled in the darkness. But where the contents were neatly arranged, the rifle case was slightly askew and open, revealing the black foam and vacant slot within.

The entry of the apartment was a narrow corridor marked with a dark-colored runner and an arrangement of black boots lining up to the door. One pair was missing. The front door hung slightly ajar.

From my collection of warm-ups, a character portrait without a direct character. Those familiar with Jules and my work will likely be able to identify the character who lives here.

[oriardy]

63 6f 6e 6e 65 63 74 69 6f 6e

Rotary fingers chugged across keys, the caps eroded into blank plateaus by the touch of the lonely crypt keeper. Digits unwound into a snarl of loose threads, unspooled, undisciplined. He considered them for moments longer, watching the ebb and flow of each value, assigning it a priority in an endless stream of tasks.

Click.

He twisted an artificial connection about his forefinger and fished for it. The lure, the bait. A great spider perched in the throat of an orderly web, threads in a million spun directions, waiting. Patiently. Click. He pulled another plug from the monolithic switchboard and plunged it into his shell. Fingers fluttered faster. This tomb of data drifted far on the fringes of the known, its screens haunted by restless analog ghosts. He felt their presence over his shoulders, in the sleeping servers, in the reels of spooled data shoved haphazardly into every nook and cranny.

Click.

A buoy in the vast matrices caught his attention—a return. Not from the P-AI he typically bothered with, but another, from beyond the parasitic grasp of Javelin Operations. A million pings issued from moment to moment, without any expectation of a response, yet here one flickered in green and black. Surprised, he leaned back in his rickety chair and canted his head at the foreignness of interaction. He glanced aside, his holographic gaze flitting to the candles arranged in the dusty port window and then to the abyss beyond. It was comforting to be surrounded by nothing. Amid the net of wires strangling him comfortably, he hashed a response.

[larkxions]

I should probably start posting my art :3