tell me about drawtectives. what is this little show.
oooooh my god oh my god. they are my guys. so.
drawtectives itself is a youtube series created by julia lepetit on Drawfee. it's an rpg mystery show– s1 is a murder mystery, s2 is just a mystery– that doubles as an art challenges show. she draws all of the backgrounds and npcs and most of the assets (the 'cutscenes', you could call them) and then the team gets together, knowing absolutely nothing besides what julia's asked them to prepare, and does some funky improv to create a very funky storyline.
there are 3 players and one dm; the pcs are rosé, york, and grendan/grenda/grandma/gma, and the Big NPCs are Jancy True (s1/s2) and Eugene Finch (s2) and they're, in their own words, a found family, so. beloved. their backup plan if all their jobs fail is to move out east and open a bookstore. jancy and eugene have fully accepted their titles as mom/ancestral ghost and son despite meeting each other likely once before the drawtectives dragged them together. overall though if i had to summarize, it's a bunch of friends getting together, making a bunch of puns, appreciating julia's art, and laughing together. the vibes are 10/10 so loving. in writing the transcripts i've written (Karina laughs) (Nathan laughs) (All laugh) So Many Times it's just fun.
so there's three pcs. first one we meet is gyorik 'york' rogdul, who's a half-orc come to the city to learn about his mother's culture. he is the character we have by far the most lore for– if I compiled all the lore I had about the Northern Tribes and Wild Trains, I think the document would be multiple pages. he's also illiterate, which was an interesting decision for the english major of the group to make (in other words, York Will Not Be Illiterate For Season Three bc Y'all Cannot Read) and morally gray if you think about it too hard (he killed his own brother) but yknow he's hot so it's okay. they're all hot any crimes committed are okay. he's also aroace (confirmed by the player, which is!! vibes!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TELLING ME @axolotllee!)
rosé is the Human Rogue and the youngest of the party; her main trait in s1 was Millennial and she Dealt with that. she, in contrast with York, has so little lore we are scraping the barrel. she was a thief, then left everything about that life behind and changed her name to rosé when she went to work for jancy. she lied on her resumé. she knows how to sew; she's sewn Pockets of Holding on most of her clothing. she bonded with a stray cat that lived outside her last apartment. she's three credits short of graduating college. she's, in addition to being a drawtective, jancy's intern, and cried when jancy got her a cupcake. she won't tell her best friends when her birthday is or where she goes to school or what her last name is. that's all we know about her and i love her and she could probably kill someone as she has multiple knives on her person and does not use them. she's bright and funny and can be pretty dark but really does find the humor in it which is. wonderful.
so grendan highforge starts out as The Snobby Rich Boy which. already love the trope something Always Happens To Them if they're a pc. then through s1 they make an offhand comment about a character (faucon, whose name is pronounced 'falco') and how if her name was pronounced that way it'd be grenda. faucon asks how they feel about it. they are caught very off-guard by that and then ask to be called it for the next hour or so. then the next witness calls him gma, and then grandma, and then. yeah she realizes she's genderfluid. and he uses any pronouns and has a full beard and also wears a romper and loves dogs and the player is the Most Experienced TTRPG-er so through maybe using resources a bittt grandma is the most observant character of all of them. he's also a dog walker and a lightweight and does canonically have druidic magic though that was Not Touched On Much and showed up to their first day on the job slightly stoned (they did stop doing that though.) she carries around a box to make the height difference (york is 7'. grendan is 4'. rosé is 6'. you can see the formatting issue) slightly less difficult. she doesn't know how rhinos reproduce but has had a fascination with them since a police chief said one might've committed a crime. i think they could kill someone by talking too much but they don't actually have the strength or dex to do Jack Shit.
and jancy true is the head pi (a great many of the characters are puns and i love it so much) and is there to make sure things get done and clues don't get missed. she has a cochlear implant and uses a cane and solved s1 just by Reading The Paper and hearsay. she solved about half of s2 before Someone Stopped Her. she says hello children to the drawtectives and it is such a fond thing. eugene is. a guy who i love. julia started the show thinking he would be some mysterious character to join them and then made the wonderful improv decision– avoiding having to do npc-npc conversation– of saying 'yeah eugene is spinning a camera on its stand' and rosé just says so gleefully. 'guys. i think he's stupid.' and he became their son. his character is a lot of The Plot of s2 so i don't want to get into it too much but. jancy and eugene my beloved.
they're just. such a family. to quote nathan (grenda's Player) from the s2 talkback: "That's one of my favorite things about this show, is we came in with these vague ideas for characters, and just playing them with each other, they became friends and became better people as a result of knowing each other and solving mysteries. ... Like, we all kind of independently made our characters people that either were distant from their families or, you know, just had tenuous connections to other stuff, and so these are, like, the realest connections they have in their lives."
and then karina (rosé) about 10 seconds later: "Yeah, we love a found family where they bond over just being the worst."
god. them. they're chaotic and loud and feel very real to me. they have excitement and are pretty bad at social cues but they love each other and want to die together because they would hate too much to be separated. i could articulate this better but it's one in the morning and they mean a great deal to me.
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summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc
a labor of love
(also on ao3!)
August, 1970
“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”
Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.
“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.
She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”
“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.
Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”
“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”
Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so.
August, 1976
Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.
It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.
It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—
“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.
James always had a way of doing that.
“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.
Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.
Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.
The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling.
“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.
“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”
With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.
Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape.
“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.
“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“
“I’ve never even tried them.”
“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.
He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.
He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.
“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
And he didn’t.
As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family.
August, 1995
“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.
“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.
“…huh?”
“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.
“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?
“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.
“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“
“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.
“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.
Harry blinked. What—?
“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“
“Why?”
“—because they’re so versatile—“
“Right, of course, how silly of me.”
“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.
Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.
“There. What next?”
Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”
And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.
“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”
and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”
Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”
Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it.
“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”
Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”
Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.
“You’ve got to—“
August, 2017
“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”
Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.
“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.
“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.
“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”
Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”
Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”
She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.
“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”
“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame
“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.
“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”
Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.
“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.
Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.
Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything.
“And now, the absolute final step?”
“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.
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