Work-in-Progress meme-thing

[lyricality]

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how
non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Pick out the title that most intrigues you, or appeals to you, or whatever,
and I'll post a snippet!Err. Limiting this to Transformers, I think, since I haven't so much as started a fic in another fandom in...a long, long time. o_Oa Anyway, I

Comments

[lyricality]

And some Cliffjumper/Mirage.
VoicesCarry.odt:

“I plan no punishment. For either one of you.” Optimus Prime kept his voice low, measured, but firm enough that Cliffjumper thought he would bend and break under the horrible weight of that restrained disappointment. “But I cannot endure such suspicions. Not when our numbers are so few, and our situation so desperate. If nothing else... You must learn to give your fellow soldiers the benefit of the doubt.” Prime laced his fingers together and regarded Cliffjumper with a steady gaze of such solemnity that Cliffjumper felt a distant ache in his spark; he lowered his optics and stared determinedly at the surface of Prime's desk. “Cliffjumper.”

He couldn't bring himself to lift his head. The unfairness of the situation galled him, and he curled his hands into straining fists. As ever before, Mirage had disobeyed orders, gone off on his own, and done something arrogantly, rashly stupid. Last time, he had returned a hero, with the Nemesis grounded and Megatron's plans a failure, but amid the congratulations of his comrades, Cliffjumper had never quite forgotten that if Mirage had only informed the rest of them of his plan, Prime would never have tried following the ship alone. He would never have taken Sideswipe's jet pack, and he would never have crashed back down to earth. Now Mirage had gone haring off again, and this time he had earned a cerebro shell in the processor for his trouble. Cliffjumper's fists tightened until sparks snapped across the wiring of his palms. “Yes,” he muttered.

“Am I understood?” The undercurrent of sympathy in Prime's voice was worse than any outright anger.

Forcing himself to raise his optics, Cliffjumper saluted with bittersweet obedience. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you are dismissed.”