This blog is a semi-askblog, meaning this blog takes asks, but isn’t entirely reliant on it as I will be posting strips and sketchdumps as well.
The story follows Kuzey Adnan, a former British Army doctor, and Peter Ox, the world’s only consulting manlet detective on their adventures to solve crime around London, just because they can.
Notes- My first ever TRNSea au, where they were girls and TRNC had just moved to London and met Sea in a park. Yeah that one, from three years ago that I’d forgotten.
Kebire- TRNC
Pauline- Sealand
...
“Just be good for a few hours, and I promise I will pick you up as soon as I can.” A quick kiss of the forehead and he made to leave, but Kebire still clung to her baba. No, wait, why did he have to go? Why was he leaving her in the middle of nowhere in this strange country? Baba was the only thing that still made sense and she couldn’t lose him too, not after everything else they’d been through together and lost together. Where was he going?
“I have to go to work,” he urged, “please, you have to stay here.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whined, but it did little good. He kissed her forehead again before standing up.
The playground was empty, save for the pair of them, swings creaking in the gentle breeze.
“Hey, listen baby, my little Kebire,” he kept talking, voice flat, “you have to be good for baba today. Remember what I told you? Stay hidden, and if anyone asks, say your anne is getting you ice cream and will be back soon. Do not go with any strangers. Stay hidden. You have your lunch and your books so you should be okay until I get back.” He ruffled her ponytail under it’s little flowery scarf, smiling a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I have to go to work now, to build a future for us; I’ll be back in a few hours.” And with that, he made to take his leave. Although he told her to stay hidden, Kebire couldn’t help making her way to the climbing frame to watch him go, jogging across the park in the early morning light to get back to his car, the same old hunk of metal they’d literally stuffed everything they could fit in a whole whopping month ago in a similar early morning back home.
Kebire shivered. London was way colder than any part of Turkey she’d been to, and most parts of Europe for that matter, especially at six in the morning. Lucky baba had used the last of his money to buy her a nice coat, second hand, but comfy enough. Kebire smiled, rubbing the woolen sleeves with her fingers, the same soft stuffing lining the inside of the garment. Baba loved her so much, would do anything for her.
She couldn’t help worrying at the lack of money though. It was probably for the best that her baba had found a job, but that didn’t mean she had to like him going away like this, leaving her by herself all day.
It had been fine when it was just job interviews, and he could leave her in the hotel room for a few hours and she’d stay relatively amused with her own company. But now he was actually working- on a farm just outside the city of all things- she couldn’t be left by herself all day, trapped in the one room to be found by hotel staff and get baba in trouble. He explained nine year olds weren’t supposed to be left alone, but she didn’t quite understand that. She was a grown up girl, after all. And besides, after what she’d seen a day by herself sounded far less scary, even if that meant being away from baba for so long.
He’d promised he’d never leave her, but he also promised they’d live comfortably some day so it was one or the other right now. Besides, he’d be back. He said he would be, and baba’s word was everything to her.
So Kebire climbed down, crawled into one of the tunnels in the playground, and made herself comfortable. It wasn’t so bad, besides the cold, which made her grumble to herself as he rubbed her frozen, red fingers together and took out one of her many exercise books, filled with colourful maths problems to keep her amused. Baba had also packed her a classical novel and homemade lunch that would keep even a growing kid woken up at five in the morning going for the whole day. She would be fine. She preferred being alone anyway, especially at school where she couldn’t wait for lessons to end so she could sit by herself and read, or get started on her homework or sit with her maths teacher for extra lessons if baba was at work. She was better off without people, especially other children.
All she really needed was baba.
Kebire tried to ignore the niggling anxieties in her mind, telling her baba had left her for good. That he didn’t want her anymore because she was trouble. That he, like everyone else in her life, was gone now.
So she poured herself into her maths problems. She loved finding logical solutions to tasks, and these usually had a black and white way of being solved, no grey area to think about. Often, there was more than one way to get the problem nice and resolved, to make things all the more exciting, and she also loved having plenty of solutions at her disposal.
It made her feel powerful.
Not to mention, a knowledge of the insides and out of numbers- and everything they controlled- meant numerous ways to get money. She could do it, somehow. Okay, she had no idea what business actually meant, or what it was like to have one, only that businesspeople were rich and knew how to use numbers to their advantage. Sounded like the perfect job, really.
And then she and baba could live in a mansion and eat banquets every day and watch soaps on a flat-screen TV the size of a wall whilst staff followed behind cleaning everything up for them. Then again, baba would probably waste all his time telling them they weren’t doing their job correctly and doing said jobs for them. It was just how he was.
Kebire remained undisturbed for a large part of the day- the whole morning, in fact- due to the fact that most kids her age were actually in school, learning or daydreaming or wasting classmates’ time. She wondered when her baba would enroll her in a local school, since it had been so long since she’d gone. She wondered what the lessons would be like here, what the other children would be like, or would she have to hide in this tunnel every day?
“Oy!”
Kebire let out a shriek, trying to jump up to scramble away, but only succeeding in bashing her head off the top of the tunnel. Her teeth clamped down in her tongue and stars and spots covered her vision, not to mention the splitting headache not alleviated by clutching at her skull.
“What on earth?” she whined, forgetting her bruised head- and the lump developing under her hair- in order to gather up her pens and books. “Go away!” She didn’t bother looking at her assailant until she spoke up again.
“Hey, wait, where ya goin’? I just wanted to say hi!”
Kebire glanced over with a glare, quickly and without interest taking in the sight of a girl about her age with a bright, round face dotted with wheat-coloured freckles to match her messy twin plaits. Everything about the kid was scruffy, from the rips in her jorts to the mud on her plimsolls to her big beaming smile, showing off her train track braces.
“Fine. Hello. Now go away.”
The girl’s grin finally fell away, replaced with a juvenile pout.
“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be a meanie.”
Kebire looked her up and down, at the skinny arms poking out of her blue shirt, weighed down with sweatbands, homemade bracelets and rubber bands. The girl didn’t seem to be that bad a person, but baba told her no talking to strangers. When she repeated that to the girl, however, she just laughed.
“That means no grown up strangers! My brothers told me the same thing,” she waved a hand with a scoff.
“Where are your brothers?” asked Kebire, despite herself.
“Other side of the park,” replied the girl with a shrug, “playing rugby and being stupid. It’s hard being the youngest, huh?”
Kebire sighed. “I wouldn’t know.”
The girl looked away, biting her lip as she considered what to say. “I’m guessing no younger siblings either.” Kebire nodded. “Only child? Wow. That must be nice.”
“Are your brothers horrible?” She couldn’t help asking. This kid was annoying, but she was friendly, and really nice, and she hoped she wasn’t being picked on by these brothers.
“Nah,” the girl scoffed, “just loud and noisy. They like fighting too, but I can always beat them up easy!”
“Right.”
The girl smiled at her, light and warm. “Oh, I’m Pauline, by the way. Pauline Clarabelle Kirkland.”
“Kebire Adnan.” Kebire curled up, hugging her knees through her thick skirt and pulling at the wrinkles of her tights that pooled around her ankles.
“Nice to meet you, Kebire,” even the way she said Kebire’s beautiful name was loud and obnoxious, but, in a way, she liked it. “So, where are your parents?”
As she struggled to recall what baba had told her, Kebire’s mind slipped into a slight panic. “Erm, well, my- my anne, my mother, is getting me some ice cream. She- she’ll be back soon.”
“Oh,” well Pauline seemed to buy it, “okay. Could I play with you until then? There’s no one else here.”
“They’re probably at school,” Kebire explained flatly.
“Well why aren’t you?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Had a dentist appointment, din I?” she tapped her teeth, “getting these things tightened. My brothers said there was no point me going after that so we went to the park instead. They don’t go to school much anymore. And you?”
“Not in school yet,” Kebire hoped she wasn’t sweating as much as she felt like she was, “just moved here from Turkey.”
“Woah that’s so cool! ...Where’s Turkey?”
“Never mind,” despaired Kebire, “look, I’m doing long division. Want to help?”
Pauling wrinkled her nose and made a fart sound, much to the other’s horror. “Ew that sounds boring! Come on, let’s play pirates instead!”
…
“Your mum never did come back,” Pauline noted, concern dripping into her voice.
“I don’t have an anne,” Kebire admitted, “but my baba- my father- should be here soon.”
“You have a dad?” asked Pauline in interest, “what’s that like?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. It’s like having an anne but he’s big and loud and likes hugs. And he makes me food all the time, and loves cooking.”
“Did he make your lunch?” Pauline licked her lips at that; Kebire had been kind enough to share her packed lunch.
“Yes. He’s wonderful like that.”
“You’re nice too,” Pauline told her. And Kebire had to admit she thought Pauline was very nice as well. Too loud, and not her first choice of company, but even when she was dragging Kebire about in a boisterous manner, she’d had fun. Pauline just breathed life into whoever she was around, and it was wonderful.
But now the sun was beginning to set, and Pauline’s brothers called and waved to her from the other side of the field stretching before them. With some reluctance, she helped Kebire off of the climbing frame they’d been sat on for the past hour, Pauline hanging upside-down for the most of it.
“I guess this is it,” she mumbled, “unless you want to wait for your dad at our place. You can text him our address or something.”
“It’s fine, I don’t have a phone anyway,” Kebire shrugged. “I’ll be fine! Baba should be here any minute anyway, hell, you might even run into him on the way out.”
Pauline took a few steps towards the playground gate. “Well, if you say so… Look, it was nice meeting you, Kebire.”
“Likewise, Pauline.”
With a flick of her messy braids, Pauline was gone, off through the grass with the sunset on her back. Kebire, meanwhile, disappeared back into her tunnel to continue a now-lonely wait.
i am sorry for being such a little spamming shit but i'm pretty sure we could use some value me with goat milk tea
middle school stuff yo
also you’re not spamming these are so fun!!!
“Yes?” Kuzey glared at the boy in front of him, wishing he’d wipe that stupid grin off his face. Peter just smiled on.
“I have something to tell you,” he sang, giggling in a way that caused Kuzey’s frown to deepen.
“Well, go on then,” he sighed, hoping it wasn’t something embarrassing. They were in the middle of the school playground dammit. Kuzey wondered where Peter’s brothers were, and why he wasn’t annoying them instead. Well, the youngest two hadn’t started school yet, but the other three should be around somewhere. Then again, even when the younger ones were around, Peter still liked to ‘hang out’ with Kuzey, much to the other boy’s horror.
“I know we didn’t get off to the best start,” both boys cast their minds back to that time in nursery when they’d first met, and had a fight over the crayons, “but I like to think that, as we grew, our friendship did too.”
“And by that do you mean ‘we didn’t have as many punch-ups’?”
“Basically, yes,” Peter laughed, “but we had good times too!”
“I guess…”
“Which is why I’d like to take the opportunity to say I really, really like you.”
“That’s nice to know,” Kuzey gave a sarcastic thumbs-up.
“No, I mean, I think you’re the cutest boy ever,” Peter blushed, looking away, “and you’re adorable and have nice eyes and I like your hair. And your nose is cute too! I want to kiss it…”
“Is this a dare?” Kuzey looked at him wearily; he didn’t know what else to say.
“No!” Peter leaned in and kissed him lightly on the nose, “you really are the biggest cutie.”
i am a little shit so let's try to unbind me with goat milk tea
Well i’m a bigger shit so if you were expecting anything that wasn’t angsty then i have news for you
warning for blood
“Kuzey? Kuzey! Where are you?” Peter almost sobbed, running through corridor after corridor of the abandoned hotel. He had to be in here somewhere. This was where the kidnappers had told him to find the other man, now that Peter, and Kuzey’s family, had scraped together the money to pay his ransom. But where was he?
Peter knew Sadik and Stelios were waiting outside in a car, ready to rush Kuzey to hospital if need be, and he probably needed to, judging by the cries of agony and fear they’d heard on every homemade tape recording the kidnappers had sent to them. It made Peter furious to think about what they’d done to his fiancé, and how he’d been completely helpless to stop it.
He’d been out visiting his younger brothers when it happened. Whilst he’d sat his family down to tell them of his engagement, Kuzey had been beaten and dragged away from his own house. Peter still remembered coming home to find the place trashed with blood everywhere, and the note. The note that said he needed to raise £2000 or he’d never see his partner again. The note had told him to not involve the police either, and Peter had spent an hour lying on his sitting room floor weeping and shouting before he finally pulled himself together enough to phone Kuzey’s father and tell him what happened.
Sadik was the one who kept him, and Stelios, strong through it all. They’d not told anyone else, so all they had was each other, every time a note or grim voice recording was posted to them. The old Turkish man held the younger two’s hands as the listened to or read whatever the kidnappers had sent them. Peter knew Sadik must’ve been in just as bad a state as they were, but never showed it, apart from the occasional angry outburst. They’d raised the money though, left it where they’d been instructed to (a deserted car park) and waited for news of Kuzey’s whereabouts.
They’d said he was here. But what if they’d been lying? What if they’d killed him, purposefully or by accident, and Peter would have to search the whole place before finally accepting his beloved Kuzey wasn’t coming back?
No! Peter had to believe he was alive! They’d find him, get him all the help he needed, and when he’d recovered, the pair of them would get married and this would all be some terrible nightmare.
If Kuzey recovered, that is.
“Adnan?!” he called again, “where the hell are you?” There were five floors to this hotel; he could be here for some time.
Peter heard a whine so quiet and pitiful he almost missed it.
“Kuzey!” he cried, rushing towards the door where he’d heard that sound and kicking it. The old, rotten door fell apart from the strike and he rushed into the room, gagging at the dust and smell of blood. He found himself in a tiny room with a double bed, desk, and whatever else people expected to find in hotel rooms. He wasn’t paying attention to that, but to the man slumped against the wall opposite.
Kuzey was half-conscious, thin ropes binding him and tying him to the radiator, a scrap of cloth covering his mouth. His short hair was caked in blood and grease whilst bruises and welts covered his body. He was still wearing the jeans and hoodie Peter had last seen him in, but they were torn and filthy now.
“No!” he rushed over, falling to his knees and taking the other’s face in his hands, “I’m so sorry…”
Kuzey looked up at him, honey-coloured eyes dull, but filled with relief. Through his gag, Peter could see the other man’s smile. “I’m gonna get you out of here,” he told his fiancé, “then me, your brother and your dad are going to take you to hospital and they’re gonna help you there.”
Kuzey nodded weakly and Peter reached into his pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. Kuzey saw the gleam of the blade and gave a strangled noise, struggling against his ropes and trying to wriggle away, eyes full of fear. He didn’t honestly think Peter would…
Apparently yes.
“Hey wait, stop!” Peter cried, “I need to untie you!” he quickly cut away Kuzey’s gag and the wretched thing fell off, hitting the floor, ignored.
The young man took a deep breath, wincing in pain. “Get that thing away from me,” he hissed.
“I can’t,” Peter moved around behind him, causing Kuzey to shake in fear, “I can’t free you by hand.”
“Then… be quick,” Kuzey sighed, “I don’t want to be near another knife again…”
Peter gulped, trying to control his rage has he sawed at the ropes. Soon, the ones binding his arms to his torso fell away and he moved on to the ropes around Kuzey’s wrists. The bastards, Peter thought viciously as he looked at the scabs and stripped skin that was once Kuzey’s lower arms. Oh if he ever found out who had done this…
Once the young man was free, he slumped onto his side and Peter quickly put the knife away.
“Kuzey!” he cried again, pulling his bloody, beaten fiancé onto his lap, just cradling him whilst the other began to sob.
“They… tortured me,” he sobbed, clinging to Peter and soaking his shirt with blood and tears.
paint me, let's try and see if sealand can draw trnc properly
Peter refers to himself using third person no one can tell me otherwise
“Will you hurry up already,” Kuzey snapped, trying his best not to move his face, the face that Peter was currently trying to draw.
“Genius takes time!” the boy snapped back, scribbling away at the notepad resting on his knees. The pair were sitting on Kuzey’s bed, on a play-date their fathers had arranged in an effort for them to get along. It was too early to tell if it was working.
“Especially when there’s no genius to begin with.”
“Piss off! If Wy and Kugelmugel can do this, then so can I, the great Sealand!”
“You still struggle with shoe laces.”
“Not true!” cried Peter, “I just choose to wear Velcro! Now shut up and hold still, I’m nearly done…”
Kuzey breathed out sharply through his nostrils, but apart from that gave no response. Turkey could come in at any minute- the concept of knocking was still beyond that man- and he didn’t want his father to catch him fighting the other boy. He wondered briefly what would happen if he caught them kissing instead, but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. There was no way he wanted to kiss Peter. No way. Nope.
“Finished!” the Brit cried, jumping up and down excitedly, “I told you I could do it. Wanna see your portrait?”
“Sure,” Kuzey crawled over and sat beside Peter, who passed him the notebook.
If Kuzey so totally didn’t want to kiss Peter before, he certainly didn’t want to even touch the guy now. Peter was a piss-poor artist.
“What do you think?” Peter looked at him, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“It’s… fantastic,” Kuzey tried his best to smile at Peter, and his angry stick man with a red blob for a hat.
“You don’t like it?”
“No I do! I’m just in awe of how awesome it is.”
“See? I told you the great Sealand was an artist good enough to rival those of Wy and Kugelmugel! With these skills I could get the other countries to recognise-“
