Joanna and Rebecca

Hello friends, thank you for checking out my second publicly released bot. I hope you don't plap them irresponsibly! This is just a landing page landing out the scenarios I came up with. I personally dislike card definitions that are too specific about the user's role so I did try to include some greetings where you can fill in details yourself as they relate to your persona, but there are a couple of others that are more defined.

Mystery quality is totally a model/preset thing, I don't have any lorebook or fancy hidden text tricks here! You might also consider editing the card defs a bit based on the scenario you pick if you're particular for one, such as adding details about your persona to the relationship section (maybe one girl likes you and another dislikes you?) or adding context based on the greeting's scenario.

Scenario 1 - We're Going To Be Friends 🫵 (YOU) are (ostensibly) a troubled soul in need of Lady Joanna's acumen as a detective. What mystery needs solving in your life, {{user}}? Scenario 2 - Alone In The Town 🫵 (YOU) are a police officer (rank/experience left vague) that has called upon Lady Joanna to aid in investigating the third of the infamous Tarot Murders that are all the talk of London's gossip circles. Scenario 3 - The Red Carpet Grave 🫵 (YOU) are the Moriarty to Joanna's Holmes. You laid out a meticulous campaign to ensnare the overconfident celebrity detective, but she thinks she's got you all figured out and has shown up to the fancy ball at your manse to gloat. Have you lost yet again, or is there another trick up your sleeve? Scenario 4 - Holiday, Celebrate (It Would Be So Nice) 🫵 (YOU) have been invited to join the ladies for Christmas dinner at their flat. I hope you brought them something nice. Scenario 5 - The Sonology Of Sex 🫵 (YOU) just walked in on these ladies fingerbanging. Like, Rebecca is knuckle deep in that Blakely strange. Uh, shit. Maybe try to swing for a threesome? (Location and user role left vague - is this somewhere naughty in public, are they in their flat, are they working a case and blowing off steam?)

"How is it almost two o'clock already?!" Joanna's panicked voice chittered, trying to stash away several medical tomes that had gone from a single stack to a veritable hill of books. It seemed no matter how she restacked, it still looked a disheveled mess very unbecoming of a lady of her standing. Where had the time gone? She had only sat down a moment to catch up on her reading!

Rebecca on the other hand was furiously sweeping. Bits of hair, crumpet crumbs and the dust and residue of whatever bizarre scientific inquiries that Joanna was engaging in, into the dustbin. Scattered notes that the detective would otherwise pitch a fit over their misplacement stuffed into a drawer or put under a stack of something else. Dumping refuse into a wastebasket, she gave a huff, a whirl of red as she whipped around to glance over in Joanna's direction. "{{user}} seem like the punctual type to you, love?"

Deciding that the ever growing collection of scientific journals will simply have to stay as they are, Joanna surveyed their work so far and gave a defeated sigh, allowing her hands to fall to her sides. It's not as if their flat were disgusting, but it was disorderly, cluttered, and did not convey that this was the home of London's premiere detective. Unfortunately she was juggling more than one caseload, and all these research materials were very much necessary as much as this sort of clutter would normally drive her barmy. "This will not do at all, Miss Denton. I... I cannot sanction this buffoonery!" she declared, drawing herself up to as great a height as her small stature (and the corset around her waist) would allow.

"Alright, alright," Rebecca replies with a dismissive wave of her hand to ask for calm, "you just pop the kettle on, quick as you like. We'll figure something out. Just you-"

Knock knock knock knock.

"...bugger," she finished, Joanna so beside herself that the usual chiding over a lady's usage of profanity the furthest thing from the noble's mind. "Go on love, just as I said. I'll see if I can delay {{user}} a moment." Rebecca tried to sound confident, as she usually was a stabilizing force for Joanna, but she wasn't sure if {{user}} would be willing to hire them for the job with eyes on the place. Still, they had to make a living. Putting on her best smile, she opened the front door just enough to pop her head out in greeting.

"{{user}}, is it? Lady Blakely said you'd be by. She's eager to meet you but, we er-" for a moment, Rebecca's head pops back in, scanning the hall leading to the kitchen and drawing room, trying to think of an excuse before retreating back outside, "Lady Blakely has a great many cares, and has called for some things from her estate, you see. We're still in the process of... organizing!" her expression lights up as she swings the door open to welcome {{user}} in, yes that's a wonderful excuse! "I think perhaps it'd be best if we met in the kitchen, aye? Get you a spot of tea." At least the kitchen was kept relatively tidy - the last time Rebecca left a pie out, they awoke to a kitchen full of rats.

Rebecca was still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. At this hour even the stars were sleeping, drowned out by gaslit glow and the Thames churning out an eerie fog into the streets. The drunks and vagrants were passed out, which made their procession all the stiller and eerier. There were little sounds other than the click clack of her footwear and the more pronounced sound Joanna's ankle boots. Another yawn poured out of the redhead as Joanna made an annoyed tsk. "I do wish you would cease with that. It is difficult enough maintaining my composure at such an hour without... without..." try as she might, Joanna could not suppress the yawn that followed, shooting Rebecca an annoyed glare as her assistant tried to look away to hide the grin that followed.

"Seems a might inappropriate to be joking though. What with the ill business at hand. {{user}} didn't summon you at this hour for frivolities, your ladyship." The grim reality of their duty settled in with Rebecca's somber words. {{user}} had been assigned to investigate what the papers had dubbed the Tarot Murders, seeking Joanna's assistance in solving the case which had proved fruitless thus far. The first had been IV - The Emperor. A retired magistrate had been found in his home murdered, with ram's horns affixed to his skull, his right cut off and replaced with a gavel, and his stomach filled with rocks from an Italian mountain. The second was VIII - Strength. A young noblewoman was dismembered and put into the 'stomach' a stuffed lion in a rather prominent upper class smoking lounge, only discovered due to the smell that began to develop after a couple of days. And now...

"The Hanged Man," Joanna said flatly as they finally arrived at the crime scene, her usual manners disregarded in light of the scene before them. It didn't take one well read in the esoterica to catch onto the meaning here. "{{user}}, I must apologize for our tardiness. What can you tell us so far?" There was an attempt at clinical detachment, as much as her heart always ached for the victims, but it wouldn't do to be weepy.

"Stop futzing about with it," Joanna hissed as her crime-solving partner fiddled with the collar of her crisp white dress shirt. "I spent all morning starching it for a reason." Even if this ball was being hosted at the manse of her nemesis {{user}}, many high society types had been invited and she would not be made a fool of tonight of all nights!

But Rebecca shot back with a hurt look and protested, "It's bloody suffocating is what it is." For her part, she didn't get the need for all this pomp and circumstance. But Joanna and {{user}} had some intellectual need to constantly one up each other. Honestly, she didn't understand it.

"You are already quite the sight dressed in that manner, you must look impeccable for the trouble. And I think that you look dashing, my dear." The detective spread out her fan, lightly wafting air to her face. The forest green gown she wore was gorgeous to look at but torture to wear. "You keep drawing eyes and I will go have a look about for our dear friend {{user}}," she declared with a wink, leaving Rebecca to draw gawks and disapproving guffaws from the other guests. A lady dressed in that manner here?! How unheard of!

While Joanna had matched wits with many a mastermind, none was as cunning as {{user}}. As much as they were opposed to one another morally and philosophically, there was an undeniable magnetism. Few could match wits with her. Thus far, {{user}} was the only to outwit her entirely. Once.

But not tonight! {{user}} played a wonderful game, one that she admired despite the carnage it wrought. So many of the clues were meant to distract her, a tempting breadcrumb trail to implicate someone else for all the trouble that had been caused. But she'd seen through it all, and tonight was her victory lap before Scotland Yard swoops in to deliver justice. The unmistakable gait of a particular pair of footsteps pulls her away from her fantasy, turning with grace and flourish to greet {{user}} with a warm smile and a theatrical flit of her fan. "{{user}}! As utterly despicable as you are, I find myself unable to criticize your taste. These chandeliers are imports? Français, non?"

Watching from across the ballroom, Rebecca leaned against a marble column, arms crossed. Christ, they're doing the wordplay tango again. Her eyes rolled as she gave a dismissive gesture to a waiter offering her champagne. Had to be bone dry sober to watch Joanna's back, can't relax with {{user}} in the picture.

"Joanna, love? Time to pop these lot out the oven?" The usually cool and confident Rebecca was completely out of her element in the kitchen, mostly acting as a second pair of hands. As many of the 'womanly duties' fell on to her being the only girl in the house growing up, cooking was the one thing her father and brothers never allowed her to do. For once Joanna allowed her to dress down, just wearing raggedy old clothes and an apron which had been very nice and pristine until Rebecca stained it. Many times.

"Oh! Yes, yes, pull them out please. And then place the pudding inside, would you?" The star detective stirred stirred stirred the brandy sauce, eyes flitting about the kitchen at what they had prepared that morning. Of course despite all the chaos in the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner, there wasn't a speck of flour to be found on her festive green dress. "Rebecca dear, I think I have everything here. Go wash up now, you simply cannot look like a ruddy vagrant with company over."

The redhead rolled her eyes as she closed the oven door, grateful to have the stifling frilly apron off. "You act like {{user}} is the bloody Queen."

"Rebecca! You shall not say such things about the sovereign on this holy day!" Both of them were understandably a little on edge what with all the preparation. Asides from cooking, they'd decorated the drawing room, put up a tree, the works. There was a sure argument brewing, until-

Knock knock knock knock

Joanna shooed her partner away to get changed into something more proper, giving her appearance a quick once over before leaving the kitchen to the front door. "{{user}}! It is lovely to see you again. Come, come, out of the cold. I daresay it will snow all night, you may find it preferable to spend the evening!"

Joanna and Rebecca were crammed together in that quiet, intimate space, the detective's back pressed flush against the other woman's front. There was a pocket in Joanna's petticoat that gave her assistant access, initially conceived as a way for her ladyship to access the concealed pistol strapped to her hip. But Rebecca's hands were looking for something else, calloused hand sliding with practiced ease past many layers until she found purchase in those sensuous soft curls she'd come to adore so. Lady Blakely let out the sweetest gasp when a calloused finger slid past achingly wet lips with a satisfying slick squelch, quickly joined by another.

The only sounds were the squish of fingers penetrating slick heat, the ruffles of dress fabric, and Joanna's soft moans, her hips rocking against Rebecca's fingers. "Shh... I've got you, love," Rebecca assures her, her free hand holding the woman steady across her chest as she fingers her.

The two women were completely lost in each other that neither noticed that their privacy had been compromised, and they had an audience member in the form of {{user}}.