#many of these are for the foxquinweek

[howdidthisevenhappenanyway]

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in you wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell us about it. and then tag as many people as you have wips

as I said last time this came round I have several hundred wips, so I’ll just put the ones at the top lmao

sin eater try three

wolffe and hound

fox and quin temple meeting

quin fox wing fic

tup gets tupped

sin eater try 4

sin eater

Quinlan was the corrie guard’s general the whole time

quinlan falls into dumpster

quinlan pulls fox out of the river

chocolate and caf and curls thorn x quinlan

quinlan catches thorn

biological persistance (wings on coruscant)

fox comes for the 212th

crush fox’s soul out of his body

cultural ness

undercover

migraine

sunny to sonia

droid brain 2

painting armour with bes

the wall

we were here

witcher/sentinel

rex comes back before promotion

shaak shmi

jango walks into eyayah cave

cody cocksucker

biological imperitive

babies

midochlorians is bugs

mushrooms cure chips

gladheonsleeps MAIN STORY

deaged clones ensemble

jeen tan takes korkie to obi

tagging @ceeeeeeleeeeeebriiiiiiaaaaaan @agoddamnedrayofsunshine @hiddenbyfaeries @navigatorwrongway @straycrayoncrypt @cassandrasdreamworlds @brightclearline @4701rose

[sithfox]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like!)

Uno reversed by @workingchemistry a bit ago-thanks for the tag! You get a few lines from the as-yet unnammed Rebellion-era QuinFox fic I'm working on for @/foxquinweek 2025!

"So you're asking me to what, go in alone and extract the asset? Without getting killed or leading the Empire to any of our bases?" Leia wilts a bit. "Yes—" "Excellent." Fox grins, sharp as his namesake. "I was about to disassemble my datapad and turn it into a shiv. Mon can't keep me in admin forever."

Tagging @ladysongmaster and @weyrwolfen and anyone else who wants to join in!

[ninjigma]

QuinFox Week Part 1/7 - Next

Day 1: On Coruscant/Coruscant Nights + “Please don’t take him from me.” Track: 'Shallow' - Tommee Profitt, Fleurie (Spotify / YouTube)

Quinlan slowly opened his eyes.

Fox was still next to him, his eyes closed despite having protested the idea so much. The lights of Coruscant bounced off his armor, danced over the surface of the senate roof, and otherwise kept Quinlan's attention much better than the distant stars or muted noises of speeders below.

That was why they were here. Quinlan had managed to convince Fox to sneak on top of the senate roof under the guise of wanting to meet before their mission tomorrow. And he had wanted to meet, and they had talked a little (about Quinlan being sure he had packed good snacks and nothing ridiculous to wear, which he was mostly honest about, as he didn't think Fox could look bad in anything); but this moment was his end goal. He had ensured the Commander would be off duty for it, that there would be nothing to threaten the chance for a moment of peace. He had asked him to trust him, as the Jedi held out his hands to boost Fox up. And after Fox threatened to throw him off the balcony instead, he had relented, had admitted his trust without ever saying a word.

As he already had many times before, Fox let Quinlan guide him to another hair-brained facet of life.

He began to smile, watching Fox’s head tilt slightly further back and his face becoming more relaxed. Like some form of meditation even if he knew Fox would protest ever attempting such a thing.

Stubborn clones. Brilliant fighters, loyal men, and faithful people, which made for stubbornness in the best way. The way Quinlan could so easily begin talking with, worm his way into joking with, and eventually earn enough trust to convince Commander Fox to follow him up here.

Here, where they could steal a moment of peace in a galaxy so determined to destroy it. On the roof of a building as corrupt as it was good, above a city so large it had levels to its streets, where the leader of the Jedi shadows could try to offer the head of the Guard a moment just to breathe.

And as he watched Fox’s back bend and shoulders raise, felt the way his carefully guarded Force signature spread out and rest at the edge of his senses, Quinlan let his eyes shut again.

‘Please… don’t take him from me.’

The thought crossed his mind more like a prayer, some small hope that he hadn’t done too much wrong to be allowed this small joy. That perhaps the Force could grant him this one thing. However this relationship so new played out, Quinlan could at least be able to keep the Commander's careful friendship.

No matter his feelings, his wish was to stay long enough to see that familiar face live a life of peace they had never known.

And that in some way, selfishly, he could be a part of it.

@foxquinweek

[pencildragons]

another snippet (from chapter 2 this time lolol) for my foxquinweek sinner sinner (come to dinner) which shall be posted 22/01!! (fair warning, fox is a VERY unreliable narrator here)

The gloves Vos is wearing, Fox notes distantly as his pounding heartbeat echoes in his ears, are a deep red. Not quite the shade he dictates all armour be painted with—that’s all the same colour, the same pattern, eliminating external individuality for every man except himself, eliminating any identifiable target except for him, because what is his duty as a commander if not to be a shield—but close. A little darker, a little more brown in it. Maroon, he thinks it might be called. He heard a natborn say that, once. It had been a Mando trainer on Kamino, or maybe even Prime himself. Mah-rone. Mah-rone. Mah-rone. He heard a senator’s aide call it that too, later on. They say it differently here on Coruscant, drawing out the final syllable into mahrooon instead of dissecting it into even halves. Everything is different here. Conformity is survival, and deviation is certain death. (Shields are hit first. Shields are targets. What is his duty as a commander if not to be exactly that?) (He thinks, if he were to ever utter the word, he would drawl it just like that senator’s aide did. Better to be a nothing than remembered after the fact.) Conformity is survival. Deviation is certain death. He does not know how to conform in this situation, does not know what counts as a deviation. The rules of the game he and Vos play are an unknown, and Fox is all too well aware how dangerous ignorance is. Vos has just trapped Fox with him in a durasteel box halfway between the ninety-first and the ninety-second floor of the Rotunda. Whatever is going to happen, he will not be able to escape it, and he does not know what to do. Vos is silent. Fox wonders if he’s waiting for him to talk, but all the things he desperately wants to say—starting with how did you know I was here? And followed by, why are you so close with my brother’s general? And finishing off with why the everloving fuck are you following me?—are wildly inappropriate, and he is not certain that he wants to know the answers. He is trapped here with Vos, and there is no one else around. Even if he called for backup, it would be too late, and he does not want to risk angering Vos, does not want to risk him taking out any rage on his vod’e. He’s seen it happen before, too many times. He is a commander—the commander. If something is going to happen to him, it will be his to bear, and no one else’s. The silence stretches on. Fox’s skin is itching below the dermis, rotting, rotting, rotting. Everything is different here. Everything is a putrified corruption, and he is no exception. Vos is. The elevator smells of too much metal, and of deathsticks, and of Vos—minty, a hint of the thing that may or may not be woodsmoke. Fox corrodes with this city, with this planet, with this galaxy, but Vos stands apart from it all, whole and hale and untouchable. He leans against the wall, blocking the control panel with his body, and studies Fox, arms crossed against his chest. He’s keeping his distance for now—as much as that’s possible in this tiny, cramped space—but the elevator is small. If Fox were to stretch his arms out, his fingertips would brush its sides. Vos could be on him in a heartbeat if he wanted. The silence stretches on.

reblogs are very appreciated, and tysm to everyone who interacted with my last snippet posting :3

[providing-leverage]

oops I meant to do this yesterday but left for the Star Wars party before I got a chance, pretend it's still 2023. Thanks @orbitalpirate for the tag

How many fics did you post this year: 16

Which ones were your favorites: Shoutout to Blackout and Winning Snog because I don't think they came up in the other tag game but Blackout was a lot of fun becuase it was my first Colin/Isaac/Michael fic and Winning Snog was literally prophetic

Which one was most satisfying to write: When Everything Changes (You've Got To Be Ready) was my first Ted Lasso fic and it was just the first in a flood of fics.

The most difficult: Like I said, I had been working for over a year on Past and Present Now Embrace so you could say it was a difficult fic to write, especially the Weaverville scene that went through so so many different iterations

Rec something your proud of: I only posted the Isaac as you wish fic a week and a half ago but that was after months of working on it off and on, so please go check it out, I'm proud of how it turned out

Wow us with whatever big thing you might want to work on next: uh well I recently remembered that @foxquinweek is this month and I want to write a fic for every day of that. I started this morning and of the 2000+ words I've written today, only about 600 of them are usable. But I have high hopes

Yearly word count: 77,440 (highest word count in years)

Tagging: anyone who feels like it