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[personal profile] 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 [personal profile] tweague, for beta'ing and listening to me complain about doing this to myself for weeks, and [personal profile] 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

-

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