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Weekly Blake's 7 Ficlet Challenge
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25th-Apr-2016 01:21 am - This Weeks Topic: St George's Day
Simon's dragon
This week anything to do with St George - dragons - "Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'"
Wherever your muse leads!
15th-Apr-2016 12:36 pm - This Week's Topic: Blake
dw - oswin
I think it's fair to say that this week there's only one possible choice of topic, isn't there? And so, in tribute to Gareth Thomas, your challenge for this week is:


As ever, interpret the prompt in any way you wish. All fanworks are welcome and all previous prompts are open for grabs.
8th-Apr-2016 12:53 pm - This Week's Topic: Proverbs
b7 - Avon
Your topic for this week is:


It's up to you how you interpret the prompt, but you can find some lists of proverbs (English) here, or here or here. (Though there's no need to limit yourself to English language proverbs, of course. Any proverb you wish to use is fine).

Don't forget that all fanworks are welcome and if this week's prompt isn't inspiring you, you can always use any of our past prompts at any time. Have fun!
5th-Apr-2016 08:14 pm - Reality
Started ages ago for the "Reality" prompt, finished after listening to Big Finish's "Secrets". Turned out more Vila-centric than I'd intended. It happens ;)

Fic...Collapse )

The mission had been straightforward, Nothing like Bucol 2 One lock, one set of codes to steal, Dayna to watch his back while he got on with it. A milk run Tarrant had called it, and although Vila had protested about just the two of them being sent, it had been as easy as predicted. Now headed back to Xenon, he'd been dozing, more bored than tired - but now sat bolt upright at an unexpected sound. He wasn't so far asleep as to not be awake to anything that might be a danger on board after all.


It was only when the sound stopped he realised it was her and had in fact been the sound of attempted stifling of sobs. Instantly he regretted shouting out. If he hadn't, he could have pretended he hadn't noticed, could have looked away or coughed or... anything really.

"Um," he said, in the absence of any other ideas.

Dayna had turned her back on him and was wiping her face, her back rigid.

"Are you alright?" Vila ventured.

Clearly not of course but it was what you said wasn't it? What you wanted other people to say too. Left an opening for "Yes fine" if you didn't want to talk or "No, because" if you did. Dayna didn't respond with either. Vila hesitated for a long moment before circling round to see her face.

"My watch, I think?" he offered as another reach out for normality. Shout at Vila for dozing, situation normal...

Still no response. Perhaps he should let it drop. Except they were stuck together at least until they got back to base so maybe he ought to keep trying. After all there was an obvious comment not yet made.

"I was sorry about Justin."

Dayna lowered her hands from her eyes and Vila fully expected to be told to push off and possibly helped on his way in that with a shove or a threat. Instead, Dayna let out another half stifled cry.

"It was my fault."

Vila frowned. Not just sympathetic but genuinely puzzled.

"How d'you work that out?"

Dayna shook her head.

"It was."

Cautiously and rather ineffectually Vila patted her shoulder.

"No... Look, it's normal to wonder that, but there wasn't anything you could have done. The Federation--"

"I led them to him," she cut him off.

"Eh? You mean they tracked you? But--"

"No. I don't mean they tracked me. I led them there." Her voice harded and slowed. "I led Servalan there."

Vila realise he was staring and obviously recognising his confusion, Dayna went on, her voice cold and unnaturally calm after the tears.

"I told her where to find him and I let the troopers in."

Vila's gaze flicked involuntarily to the doors, but there was of course nowhere to go on the ship. Still he itched to edge away. If this was not survivor's guilt if Dayna had really betrayed her old friend then why tell him unless she meant for him to be next? But then why the tears, unless - of course - unless she'd been forced against her will, goodness knew the Federation were more than capable. But when?

"You were captured down on the planet?" he guessed aloud, now hoping that was the case, it was better after all than the alternative. "They... made you tell them?"

He found himself searching her face for some trace of remembered pain. They had ways that left no marks of course, and he knew them from more than rumour, but still he looked for something, some clue, anything that would tell him he wasn't aboard a ship alone with a Federation agent.
Servalan killed her father he reminded himself. Dayna wouldn't help her. Not willingly. It can only be coercion.

Dayna shook her head.

"I hated him. I told them, because I hated him."

Not coercion then.


The thought was unwelcome, he was in real trouble if it was true. But there hadn't been time had there? She hadn't been alone on the planet all that long. It takes longer than that doesn't it?

Didn't it?

He remembered days, maybe weeks, a succession of impersonal, viciously calm torturers dressed as doctors, lights like knives, endless time, while they made him not him.

It couldn't be done so fast. To wring the truth out of someone yes, but to make them believe the untruth? Surely not.

Even so he couldn't resist the urge to step back, away. Dayna was still speaking and the flat, cold monotone was like a laserprobe jammed straight into memories he wished he didn't have, cutting away all the comfortable, protective fuzziness which time had layered over them.

"Dayna, come on..." He heard his voice shaking, raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Don't talk like that. He was your friend. You told us that. Your tutor. Your father knew him."

"I know that." She stared at him, eyes red, tears standing on her cheeks. "I know that now. I think I know it, but how can I know for certain when I know that what I thought I knew - what I felt! - can be changed? Changed and changed back. How can I believe what I remember when--"

Transfixed by understanding even of this almost incoherent speech, Vila cut in, "--when you remember remembering something different."

It was Dayna's turn to startle, step back. "Yes. How do you--"

Vila shook his head, the movement so quick it was more of a flinch. However little Dayna wanted to discuss what had happened, he wanted to think about it even less.

"It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago." He had to remind himself of that because it didn't always seem so, and right now it could have been an hour ago. Light that hurt, that seared shame and hatred at what he was, straight into his own mind.

"There was a machine," For a moment he barely realised it was Dayna not himself speaking and then he snapped out of it. He'd had practise after all.

"Don't," he said, then again as his voice steadied. "Don't. It doen't help to go over it. Here's what helps. Listen."

Dayna stared at him bleakly. Why would she? Who ever listened to him?

No. Don't. Vila corrected himself this time. She was listening. Keenly, anxious to hear anything that would help, leaning towards him even. That nagging loathing spite wasn't real, was a memory, and a false one at that.

"Listen," he said again. "What you do is you check. You check that, for the stuff you remember, that all the bits fit. See, they mess things up when they - do that to you - they change things, add stuff, delete it but they don't always fill in around the edges. So you can tell by the gaps, if you think."

Dayna frowned, listening but not understanding.

"You said you remember hating him?"

Dayna's face turned bleak again. "Yes."


She hesitated and Vila left long moments go by then jumped on it. "See? Why did you -er - like him?"

"I loved him." She glared at him, as though challenging him to dispute it. He waved a hand instead.

"Right, right, but why?"

This time there was no hesitation. "Even when he was telling me stuff I didn't know anything about he treated me as though I had a brain. He listened, didn't hide things even when it was terrible things happening out in the rest of the Federation. He could have made a fortune betraying us and it never even seemed to cross his mind. I liked how caught up in talking about the science he'd get even when I wasn't interested in whatever the particular subject was at the time. He--"

"See? Too much detail to make up. Especially in the time they had."

Dayna nodded slowly. "Yes, you're right, I see." She gave him a slightly forced smile. "Thank you."

He shrugged, mustered a return smile. "Not a problem." He wanted to say more, to warn her it wasn't an instant fix, that it would still hurt she'd still second guess herself, wonder why she hadn't been able to spot the lie and the inconsistencies at the time, berate her own weakness.
But she wouldn't thank him for that and unlike the gap spotting, knowing wouldn't help.

He sighed.

"So is it my watch then?"

Dayna sat down. "No, it's fine. Go back to sleep."

Vila returned to one of the flight couches and turned on his side. His breathing was soon slow and steady, his eyes shut. He had more practise at that that Dayna too. He knew he looked asleep.

In the dark behind his eyelids he went over the details.

The Federation cared loyally for all its citizens and stealing from it was shameful ingratitude. But he remembered the small things, the ration card stamped 'unavailable', his mother taking in their clothes at the waists so they still looked halfway respectable, the myriad colours of the bruise on his arm where the guard had beaten him out of the line when the food queue had closed early and he'd let out a shout of protest, the Alpha who'd laughed and thrown him a tenth-credit piece when he'd snatched up the food wrapper he'd dropped and every world they'd visited where the same pattern had been repeated.

He was an ignorant, ungrateful stupid Delta who deserved no better. But a thief, if they were any good, paid attention to details and he remembered the details of every supposedly clever security system he'd bypassed, every suposedly superior Alpha who never ever saw him as he walked off with their credits, every tiny triumph over the system, every time he managed to startle the rest of the crew into being even the tinest bit impressed.

He remembered the details and he knew what was real.
1st-Apr-2016 07:33 pm(no subject)
Dayna with a bow
Title: Hunting
Rating: G
Prompt: Bunnies
Word Count: 893
Summary: Dayna is getting used to her new life on the Liberator but some things still amaze her ...
Link: Here
26th-Mar-2016 09:04 pm - Topic Post: Bunnies!
Simon's dragon
As the other two prompters seem to be hors de combat at the moment I hope they can excuse my stepping in.

This week the prompt is Bunnies, real, imaginary, plot bunnies or white rabbits!

The choice as ever is yours in any medium you wish.
21st-Mar-2016 07:43 pm - Prompt: Magic
Gwen and Isolde
Title: A Kind of Magic
Rating: PG
Word Count: 907
Summary: It's early days and Blake isn't really sure about his new crewmate ... but Vila certainly isn't useless.
Link: Here
Simon's dragon
This week the topic is Magic.

Again you may interpret this how you wish in any way you desire.
26th-Feb-2016 09:29 pm - This Week's Topic: Hurt/Comfort
b7 - Vila
Your prompt for this week is:


Feel free to interpret that as you will (crossovers, crossing over something, whatever you can think of) & remember that all fanworks are welcome! If this week's prompt doesn't inspire you, you can always grab any of our previous prompts. Have fun
13th-Feb-2016 12:37 am - This weeks topic: Romance
Simon's dragon
This week's topic is, not surprisingly, Romance. Here's a link to the Oxford dictionary.


So you can use the word in the expected sense, or have fun interpreting it any way the definition inspires you.
22nd-Jan-2016 05:42 pm - This Week's Topic: Villains
b7 - servalan
Your topic for this week is:


Feel free to interpret the prompt any way you choose, and don't forget that all fanworks are welcome. Have fun!
12th-Jan-2016 09:50 pm - Prompt : Resolution
Back before the Federation, back even before the shaky attempts at whole planet government that had preceded it, people had celebrated the start of each new year. Blake couldn't remember quite when they'd done this, or how they decided when was the "start" of a single orbit of the sun, and he had a feeling that in any case not every culture on the planet had agreed.

Some choose the point at which the axial tilt of the planet meant the shortest or longest period of daylight or the closest to equal. Some chose a particular occasion when the moon was unobscured by the planet's shadow, or the position of a particular arrangement of stars held to be significant. Some were more arbitrary, choosing a day important in whatever religion was currently being practised, or one simply selected for convenience or historical significance to the government of the day.

The traditions varied as much as the date, special food or drink or gifts were exchanged, visits made, fires and lights lit, bells rung, pyrotechnics launched. Some people made promises to themselves for the year ahead, wishes and goals. However it was marked, it was a new start, an expression of hope for change for the better.

None of these met with Federation approval and the change of digits in the date became a day no different to any other. It could not be otherwise without loss of control.

Citizens living in the domed cities had no business with the changing season or the night sky. Religion had no place, the Federation wanted nothing that attracted a loyalty or community apart from that of the state. Historical dates might encourage people to think of what was different before the Federation or what might come after when what was wanted was acceptance of the here and now. Food and intoxicants might encourage people to question the daily rations, gathering in family groups might raise questions about those that were absent as a result of real or suspected disloyalty, gathering in noisy crowds might foster a dangerous sense of strength. Excitement and awe at visually appealing light displays served no useful purpose and used money more effectively spent elsewhere. Citizens should on no account form the impression that their own aims and goals were more important than the party line and hope was the last thing that should be encouraged.

Change, in short, was marked as little as possible.

"Resolutions" the promises had been called. Something you were resolved to change.

Blake marked the new date and made his resolution.

There would be change.
1st-Jan-2016 03:55 pm - Topic Post: Resolution
Simon's dragon
It is a New Year and so the Topic post this week is Resolution. Whether our crew making them, breaking them or just demonstrating it. The choice as ever is yours, to interpret as you see fit.
19th-Dec-2015 10:08 pm - This week's topic: rebellion
cally simpsons-style
There can only be one: the force awakens OK, the rebel alliance! Let's hear it for the rebellion, and let's even give them some successes!
12th-Dec-2015 10:37 am - This Week's Topic: Crossovers
b7 - servalan
Whoops, sorry I'm a little late! For this week's topic, here's a hardy perennial that we haven't had in a while:


Feel free to interpret that as you will (crossovers, crossing over something, whatever you can think of) & remember that all fanworks are welcome! If this week's prompt doesn't inspire you, you can always grab any of our previous prompts. Have fun!
4th-Dec-2015 09:29 pm - Topic Post: The Price Of Freedom
Simon's dragon
The Topic this week is The Price Of Freedom. Again it is up to you to interpret as you see fit.
13th-Nov-2015 01:00 pm - This Week's Topic: Night
b7 - Vila
Forgive me, I'm just two weeks late with a prompt here... Anyway, your topic for this week is:


Feel free to interpret the prompt in any way you choose! Do remember that all fanworks are welcome and if this prompt doesn't inspire you, all previous prompts are still up for grabs. Have fun!
24th-Oct-2015 01:28 am - Hope
Couldn't have resisted the temptation to translate my old fic originally written in Russian.

23rd-Oct-2015 09:37 pm - Topic Post: Dragons
Simon's dragon
Inspired by my icon, the topic this week is Dragons. Whether literal or not in any way shape or form. A Blake's 7 version of Dragon's Den, Someone acting like a Dragon or our heroes coping with the scaly toothed beasties. As ever the only limit is your imagination, in whatever way or shape you want.
18th-Oct-2015 08:29 pm - This week's topic: Hope
How about something very un-Blake's 7 - hope.
b7 - servalan
You may have noticed that I love writing devices like random generators, so here's another for your topic for this week:

Unconventional Courtship Generator

The link is here, and Blake's 7 is already one of the fandom options (although you can still customise your own list if you would like a different set of characters) and produce summaries like these and try and fic them (though you're welcome to de-romanticise them all you like)! Good luck!

Random nonsense under hereCollapse )
(I'm sorry?)
3rd-Oct-2015 03:50 pm - This Week's Topic: Autumn
Simon's dragon
Yes, I know in the Antipodes the seasons are opposite but as Britain is into Autumn, this week the topic is Autumn, or Fall if you are American.

Again to interpret how you wish in any way you wish.

Again all past prompts are also open.

Have fun!
25th-Sep-2015 06:44 pm - This week's topic
servalan simpsons-style
This week's topic is alternate realities - put the B7 characters in another universe. Feel free to be as cracky as you like!
dw - oswin
I used this once before, but my much loved original disappeared off the net this year. However, someone made an equally excellent replacement, so your challenge for this week is:

Genremixer Prompt Generator

You can find it here. Simply type your characters in the box, select your settings and it will generate combinations of characters and tropes for you to play with! Pick one and come up with something for this week's challenge! Have fun!

(Don't forget that all fanworks are welcome - even if this one probably is a little more writing orientated! - and that all previous prompts are open for grabs at any time.)
11th-Sep-2015 12:00 am - The zizannie - Children's stories.
Title: The Zizannie.
Prompt: Children's stories.
Word count: 695.

Set during the attack on the communications centre in 'Seek - Locate - Destroy'.

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10th-Sep-2015 08:04 pm - Poppy Day
Not really a children's story, more an essay. 200 words.

Poppy Day
by Halvor Segura, Class 3

Today is Poppy Day. I put a credit in the box and buyed bought a poppy on the way to school and the lady pinned it to my tunic. It is really clever how they make them with rolled up red paper and little black stick things inside and one green leaf just like you see in a book. They are happy and bright and make people smile. My mummy puts one behind her ear at dinner time and makes daddy bite it off her.

While I was playing with mine in the street, a vetran vetarin old soldier came up to me and aksed if I new why its a poppy. I said no and he said they are red like blood with a hart of darkness then he lent over and put his face close to mine and laughed. I was scared but then I laughed too because he had a funny patch on one eye like a pirate.

He was wrong though. Poppies stand for Opium which is for the soldiers and other peeple who want to forget somthing bad.

Poppies are for forgetting.

Poppy Day is when we honour our Mutiods.
5th-Sep-2015 12:51 am - Topic Post: Children's Stories
Simon's dragon
This week the topic is Children's Stories.

What stories would our heroes have read or been read to as children? Or how the Rebellion could be told via a children's story, or the stories made up about our heroes that could well be fairy stories. After all Servalan makes a great wicked queen, Blake a knight or prince, Avon a magician? The choice is as ever yours in whatever way you want to interpret the prompt.
30th-Aug-2015 02:52 pm - This week's topic: Home
boyz on the lib
This week's topic is home. What were the crew's childhood homes like, or the homes of those who still have them, what do people consider a home, what do they long for?
24th-Aug-2015 01:07 am - Poem of Power
One shatters it in bits to mend a wall;

Had she broken his heart? It was probable, he conceded, though if so, his grieving was not conventional. There was no sobbing into a pillow, no mooning over a picture, no contemplation of the tokens she'd given him, only to smash them in rage. The laser probe and the microfilms on Star systems were, anyway, far too useful to throw away. He did, briefly, toy with the idea of ripping her picture into tiny pieces but then decided to keep it to remind him of something he'd always known but had hoped was untrue. Read more...Collapse )
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