Oh geez, this is a fic I have literally sweated and bled on, even though I just wrote one chapter. I know I'm not one someone you may think of as a Transfan, but I've decided to join the transformers fandom to keep my self busy during the summer. After seeing Transformers 4, I made a few humanized designs, and I got inspired to write this. I may or may not continue it, depending on how many people really do want it to continue and how un-lazy I am to continue doing more transformers research. No, I do not own transformers, if so, why would I be doing fanfictions? Hasbro owns the robots and the ponies. I own the human designs, save Bumblebee. His human design is created by Aeruko on Deviantart, minus the goggles I plopped on him and the change of patterns on his hoodie. That also goes to Ironhide, who was created by 90ryuya on Deviantart.

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Ah, the prestigious school of Transformer's Boarding Academy for Boys. A school created for high school aged boys, dedicated to building our future for tomorrow by educating their students with high quality teachers and mentors and guaranteed safe environments-

"BOOM!"

"WHEELJACK?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?!"

"UM, I DID NOT JUST BLOW AN EXTREMELY LARGE FLOUR BOMB UP!"

"WHEELJACK!"

"YIPE!"

Okay, that should be enough of the formalities.

Transformer's Boarding Academy for Boys is regarded as Cybertron County's oldest school, as many people are able to trace its history to 1800s. It was regarded as a typical boarding school with all boys.

Please take great notice of my use of 'WAS'.

Nowadays, ever since the blooming rivalry of the brothers Optimus and Megatron, the school has been split into two factions. Most normal people regard it as a school completely destroyed by the prank/brotherly war. If one person happened to be friends with a person on the opposing side, he and his friend were regarded as traitors. So in one sentence, it was chaos everyday. Stink bombs, flour bombs, paintballs, stapler attacks. They had it all in this school. It was Decepticons against Autobots, brother against brother, silver against blue-red, tacos against nachos-

(If one must know, everything one brother enjoyed, became evil in the eyes of the other brother's affiliation. In this case, while Megatron enjoyed tacos, Optimus preferred nachos.)

And in the bitter end, one brother would be humiliated and nothing, and each brother promised to himself that that brother would not be him.

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

An ordinary school day. Kids and teachers woke up, realized it was Monday and they had to go back to hell. And at that instant, everyone would start bitching about their cruel lives as students/teachers. After twelve minutes, seemingly accepting their fates, they would carry on and drag themselves to hell, only to repeat the process again next Monday.

...

...

...

Not everybody does it, keep that in mind before anyone decides to file their accusations. But one pupil was peacefully sleeping away, trying to grasp the last remains of the sleeping hours in the morning by slumbering some more in the small flat he resided in. And that pupil was Optimus. A well built 18 year old with eye burning blue hair, with the hair in the lower half of the right side of his head shaved off. Almost never seen without his unique flame print jacket, he is respectfully called 'Optimus Prime' by his comrades. Nearly everyone that has encountered him would describe him as a strong, honest, and virtuous person with well intentions.

"GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP BEFORE I KICK IT OUT OF THIS APARTMENT, YOU TWIT!"

Nearly everyone. Remember that.

Optimus gritted his teeth as he peeled his body from his bed. Megatron. His oh-so-sweet and caring sibling.

It was a mystery to most people that knew them why two brothers that hated each other so much would still live together. Physical and verbal fights would occur everyday, with at least two pieces of furniture broken. Why go through all of this? The answer laid in their limited funds. Both brothers had jobs, but even that wasn't enough to move out to their own living space.

"WELL? ARE YOU UP, ASSHAT?"

Ah, the joys of living with your brother, whom you hated with the passion of several hundred burning stars.

Optimus rubbed at his temples, regretting not winning the lottery so he didn't have to live with this son of a bitch for the umpteenth time this week. (He silently apologized to his parents, wherever and whoever they where/were.) He rubbed the leftovers of sleep out of his eyes, yawning monotonously. Climbing out of his bed, he sleepily walked to the bathroom to strip off his sleep wear, black t-shirt marked with the Autbot symbol and red boxers.

(For all you fan girls out there, if you want to know, Optimus has a MEAN six pack.)

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

In the first floor, a delicious scent wafted lazily, the smell growing stronger as one came closer to the kitchen. Inside the kitchen, you could see numerous cooking tools with bottles of many different oils and jars of both exotic and everyday spices. At the center was a tall adolescent, dressed in a white under shirt with a gray denim jacket over it. To show off his surroundings, a white apron stained with oil hugged around his front. The faded words on apron read, "MEGATRON: THE BEST DAMN COOK IN THE WORLD". Besides the description on the apron, more details could be added to describe this almost grown teen besides 'Best damn cook in the world.' For example, he is an equally well built 18 year old when compared to his brother, with a shock of silver locks. Dubbed 'Lord Megatron' by his followers, he is characterized by his obsession with getting what he wants and his brutally direct personality. He is well known for ignoring glaring flaws in his plans, they appear to help him with what he desires. His teachers say he is an intelligent student, but his vicious personality and his habit of blindly going after his goals is a terrible influence.

The aroma of meat drifted in waves as Megatron shifted the frying ground beef around on the frying pan. Despite cruelty being associated with his identity, he WAS the better cook out of the two brothers. (Megatron himself even heard Optimus admit to a comrade that this was one of the few benefits of living with him.)

He heard footsteps behind him, announcing his beloved brother had arrived. Optimus took a seat at the worn kitchen table and quickly lowered his head down to the surface, making a thump. Even though he went to an especially strict school that did NOT tolerate tardiness, Optimus never did mornings terribly well. And Megatron never let him forget it.

"I see you have dragged your ass out of your bed and into the kitchen. But please, refrain from dozing off on MY kitchen table." He snidely remarked with a smirk as he poured another bottle of oil into the simmering meat. He turned to look at Optimus to make the smirk more effective.

Optimus scowled as he forced his eyes to meet with Megatron's. "Do I have to go through this again? You know I'm not one for mornings, and I was attacked by cold water in the shower." He paused at this moment to glare at Megatron, who was smugly crossing his arms across his chest. "Which I have a strong suspicion that you were the one responsible."

Megatron turned back to stove and replied in a mocking tone, "Just fulfilling my brotherly duties, Optimus."

Optimus groaned and dropped his head back on to the table. "At least tell me what you're making."

"Tacos!"

" ...Go fuck yourself."

"Gladly."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Somewhere on the second floor of the Academy's accommodations, Bumblebee was curled up in sleep underneath his black and yellow blanket. Well noted for being younger than most other students due to skipping a grade, and for being rather small, but his possession of a bottomless well of luck and determination more than makes up for his size.

Unfortunately, nobody is without distinguishing flaws. Hyper, teenager-y, innocent, energetic, prideful, and can be the most frustrating kid you've ever met. Included, but not limited to.

"SHIT!"

Bumblebee woke up with a jolt as the loud scream rippled through the military school's barracks. The top of his head slammed into the bunk bed above him. He winced at his now throbbing head, gently massaging at the pulsing area.

He frowned as his roommate Wasp ran around in a blur, searching frantically for who knows what. Probably one of his poison darts gone awry again. His other roommate, Cliffjumper, was looking at Wasp like he wanted to stab him with the mechanical pencil he held in his hands. Frankly, Bumblebee wouldn't mind it right now if he did.

"Ugh... I though we went over this, Wasp... No poison dart training in the fucking morning. You've already hit me five times, and Cliffjumper three times." Bumblebee griped, muffled by his pillow as he plopped back into his bed. He pulled the warm blanket over his head. Damn it, why did his bed have to be the most comfortable in the morning?

Wasp stopped in his frenzied search to glower at the short bot. "For your information, mudflap, it wasn't poison dart training, it was my weaponry homework. It's GONE!"

This got both Cliffjumper's and Bumblebee's attention.

"Weaponry homework? Don't you have Sentinel Minor?" Cliffjumper asked, trying to prevent a grin from breaking out.

Wasp groaned loudly in distress. "YES!"

Bumblebee attempted to not laugh at Wasp's misfortune, but failed. Terribly. "Dude. You are FUCKED." he guffawed.

Wasp put his head into his hands as he slumped into a chair. "I know, I know!"

Bumblebee came out of his lower bunk bed as Cliffjumper looked at Wasp leerily. "Wouldn't he let you off a bit? I mean, you are his favorite." He asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"That's the problem!" He moaned. "He's always pressuring me! I mean, being his favorite is cool and all, but he's always claiming that I will fail at life if I even miss ONE. FUCKING. CLASS. Aahhhhhh!"

Cliffjumper rolled his eyes as the ever dramatic Wasp continued his search for his homework.

"You know, there are other places to wreck besides our room. Like, weren't you hanging out Ironhide in the cafeteria? I saw you with a a green folder beside your lunch tray." Bumblebee remarked as he mussed his bright yellow hair around.

Wasp quickly stopped digging through drawers and was about to run out of the door, but was stopped by Cliffjumper.

"If you're going out, at least wear something more than your pajama pants." He looked down at Wasp's choice of sleepwear. "Nice stripes by the way."

Wasp's face flushed as he realized his apparent shirtless-ness. Hastily pulling on a dark colored shirt, he promptly darted out of the room.

Bumblebee yawned as he walked over to Cliffjumper's side to observe Wasp running down the hallways in a frenzy.

"...You never actually saw his homework in the cafeteria, right?" Cliffjumper asked, his friend beaming a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Yup."

"Nice."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Enter Ratchet, the peaceful minded, socially awkward, and highly intelligent student, also school medic assistant. Distinctive by his dislike of violence, he wishes for the school to be united once more, but believes Optimus is the best chance for peace in the school. Some students claim he acts like an old man who doesn't know when to shut the mouth flap. To those people, Ratchet responds with his buzz saw (ONLY used for medical purposes, of course) and wrench in their faces.

Ratchet rubbed his eyes sluggishly as he refocused his eyes on the mauled medical tool... Or what ever it was. He glared at the mess, the entire reason for his suffering. It actually was. Someone had broke it the day before, and being the medic assistant, the task was dumped on him. And he had been up all night attempting to restore the damn thing. The many pleasures of being the youngest in the staff.

"Uh, hey there Ratchet!" A familiar sounding voice reached his ears. He turned his head to the voice, which belonged to the tiny Jazz. He nervously waved as another student, Ironhide, rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Erm, hello there, Jazz and Ironhide. I'm a bit busy right now, but what may I owe the pleasure of your visit today?" He greeted them as he wiped off some stray sweat dripping down his forehead.

Ironhide opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Jazz, who was nervously twiddling his fingers.

"Wow, you look terrible. Did you stay awake all night? Cause it looks like you did." The small student blurted, changing the subject. Ironhide nodded in agreement, possessing a shred of somewhat concern on his expression.

"Well... Yes." Ratchet admitted, before yawning. "I'm fine, really. But please, can you tell me, what is your business in the clinic?

Jazz looked around with anxiety as Ironhide scoffed. The labcoat-wearing blonde immediately understood their body language.

"Oh no... Did Ironhide injure another Decepticon?" He groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jazz looked down to his feet and nodded reluctantly while Ironhide scornfully brushed it off.

"Haven't we gone over this?" Ratchet took off his glasses to face palm himself. "I know we're practically in a war with them, but is there really a need to jump anyone whose a Decepticon?"

"Yes." Ironhide said simply, with a shadow of a smirk of his face. "I knocked him out after he called me Sir Surly and stuck his tongue at me five times in a row. The body's in Jazz's car."

"Ironhide!" Jazz turned to frown disapprovingly at the elder male. "Don't call it a body! People will get suspicious! And why did we have to use my car again?"

"Because my dad banned me from using my car for three months after I accidentally destroyed my neighbors' backyard with it. And in my defense, they had it coming." Ironhide shrugged, no remorse obvious on his face.

Ratchet slammed his forehead down on the table, causing the tools on the table to shake violently while a nasty mark on his forehead appeared as he raised himself up again to face the two males.

"I'm patch him up and and say he fell down the stairs, depending on who he is and how bad is his injuries are. Bring him to me."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Okay, so in my demented mind, people can choose to stay at the school's living quarters, like Bumblebee, or they can live in their own houses, like Optimus and Megatron. I know I probably downed the aggressive factor in the Transformers' universe A LOT. But there's only so much violence you can do with high school aged kids. And it probably doesn't make much sense why Optimus and Megatron live together. But seriously, money issues. Bee hasn't lost his voice yet, but if people want this to continue, I'll write the scene later in the fic. Be warned, there might be numerous high school-ified versions of actual events in transformers canon if people want this to continue. I'm really not sure which universe to follow. DAMN YOU HASBRO FOR MAKING SO MANY ALTERNATE UNIVERSES. I like the movies best, but they're basically just KILL ALL THE CHARACTERS. *shrugs* Again, my main problem writing this is which plot to follow. I'm doing my research, but there's just so many versions, G1, animated, Transformers prime, movies, etc.

And yes, my headcanon is that Megatron is actually pretty great at cooking. What? He needs another skill besides combat.

If you want to see their humanized designs, I have uploaded a picture of them on my Deviantart. I didn't digital edit it because my coloring is terrible, so I'm sorry that the quality is crappy. I use the same username on my for deviantart.