gattycat

I think this is my final Whumptober offering, in that it's just a huge and terrible pile of angst with no redeeming features.

This fic exists because I reread The Boy Biggles as an adult and went ‘holy shit! Biggles’s poor dad’. Never have I seen a man more stressed about his son who will casually jump on a crocodile or throw sticks at a leopard, all while dying of recurrent malaria. This was supposed to be about 500 brief words exploring that reaction, but instead here is approx. 14k of what at times is essentially original fiction, sorry!

It scratches no part of my brain, touches no part of my id, and yet I was entirely compelled to spend too much time researching and writing this.

Thanks are owed to tweague, for beta'ing and listening to me complain about doing this to myself for weeks, and black_bentley for reading and convincing me it was worth sharing.

Go to your God like a soldier
Word count: c.14k
Rating: G
Characters: Biggles, Biggles's father, Biggles's mother, Charles Bigglesworth, Dickpa, Brigadier General Bigglesworth, a few scattered OC.
Relationships: Biggles & Biggles's father
Summary: He sometimes thinks he has stolen a child from death, and death is working its way back to him each day.

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"Besides, if I stay here I shall probably die of fever. Every time I have an attack it gets worse."

- The Boy Biggles, W.E. Johns

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Just 14k of Biggles's dad apologia that absolutely no one asked for.

Right, totally missed that I had something in the drafts for this prompt, so here you go, I fling you something unfinished, part of a longer, unposted fic, for all the fans of messed up Algy/vS

Algy/vS 467 words
Some messed up role play because it's easier to have weird sex with someone you hate than consider what's going on with your own emotions.


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Inspired by tweague posting her old Long Bar fic, I dug out the Biggles/Wilks Long Bar fic I wrote approx 14 years ago and tidied it up. I've never posted this anywhere, or frankly posted anything this explicit before, so I'm going drop this and run away and hide in a bin.

Title: Game, Set, Match
Pairing: Biggles/Wilks
Word count: 4,852
Rating: M (E?)
Summary: The thing was, Biggles really liked Wilks. He did. He thought of jokes no one else would, and always said them out loud. He cheated at cards in a very predictable way; he was proud, relentlessly so; and he always seemed to know exactly what Biggles was thinking and how to make him think something completely different. They fought, most of the time, about anything and everything they could think of – but somehow, Biggles realised, as he tipped the remaining slug of whisky into his mouth and swallowed, they had become firm friends.

Which made this all the more awkward.

A non whumptopber fic appears! This is something I've been working on for tweague in the general mission of 'Erich should have nice things (and nice boyfriends)'. Very self indulgent a little confusing, please see continuity note on ao3. I always need more Algy/Erich and more ot3 content so here you go!!

Title: Polyphony
Pairings: Biggles/Algy, Biggles/Erich, Algy/Erich, Biggles/Algy/Erich
Words: 8610 (3/4 chapters complete)
Summary:

The dinner reservation was for seven, but by seven forty-five, even Biggles has to accept von Stalhein is not showing up. Algy has drunk three glasses of wine, which is always a bad idea with Biggles, because now he is noticeably drunk and Biggles is not, and he is less able to modulate his own disquiet.

'Do you know if he’s gone anywhere much since setting up here?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t think a restaurant would be too much to ask but perhaps we should have gone to eat limp sandwiches in a bus station instead.'

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hello gang, i emerge from the long grass with an offering. this is a fic i am writing at glacial pace for tweague as christmas presents, so with three chapters in the bank i cannot believe ive been working on this so long and likely will be for a while yet. hideous.

it's some good time nonsense set in Japan after the events of Buries a Hatchet, as the gang make their way back from rescuing Our Boy, erich von stahlin, and raymond just has a little tiny micro baby job for them to do. obviously this is super chill and no one has any complicated emotions about it. many opportunities for interesting scenery, food and only one futon.

requested by Tweague because i used to live in japan so am easily tempted into research holes and nostalgia binges. please forgive any and all inaccuracies, im only one girl with access to god's own google.

Title: How many moons of joy and sorrow
Length: 3579/? words
Summary: James stands at the window of the izakaya, observing the street through the wooden window slats; there is a slice of tarmac iridescent with oil and a forest of red lanterns in either direction. It is night and the rainy season lies heavy across Tokyo. A pall of rain pulls its robe across the narrow streets of old minka, the spiderweb of train lines skirting the new concrete and glass office blocks and shopping malls, and here and there, the ashy scrubland still untended since the fire bombs fell. He had not flown those raids: it had been the Americans. But he had seen Dresden burn. He had seen Hamburg from the convex window of a bomber slinking past cloud cover. He knows what it is to destroy.