steve and billy teaching in the same school!! there's these teachers in my school and they work right across the hall from each other. they're always yelling into each others classrooms.
she teaches english lit 101 and he teaches gov 102
"Harrington!"
Some of the kids snickered quietly when Mr. Harrington jumped at the shout from across the hall.
He stared blankly at the last word he had written on the board, the black Expo mark wiggles from where he had jumped at the yell of his name.
He turned around, sighing exaggeratedly at Mr. Hargrove standing in the doorway.
"Kids, excuse my coworker here." He crossed his arms around his chest. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, you can Mr. H."
Steve rolled his eyes as his husband swaggered into his classroom, leading a line of ninth graders with him.
It's not the first time Billy's interrupted his class with a question about some inane bullshit that launched Steve into an over-excited rant for the rest of class.
Steve's tenth and eleventh graders were already closing their textbooks, knowing their teacher was just about to be insanely distracted for the rest of class.
"The birds n' I are reading The Crucible."
Fuck.
Steve's pretty sure Billy's kids pay him to bring them across the hall for these impromptu lectures.
"Witch hunts. I get it."
"Yeah, you know. Anyway, I'm giving some context to the publishing of the book. The Red Scare in the United States, well, the second Red Scare, as well as the rise of McCarthyism coincided with the publishing of the play."
Goddammit.
Steve's fucking master's thesis was on all about McCarthyism (more specifically, how the second Red Scare was directly linked to the Lavender Scare.) He cited the stupid play in his research.
Billy knows that. They were already engaged by the time Steve began his master's program.
Fuck this guy, for real.
Steve quietly closed his power point presentation on interest groups in America.
"Fine. Mr. Hargrove's class, find a seat. My class, your packet is still due Friday. I'll post the slides after class." He glared at Billy.
Billy grinned right back, his tongue poking out in that frustrating way it has since high school.
"1950s United States. What do you know?"
A few hands went up.
Even Billy raised his stupid hand. Steve ignored him.
-
"Which brings us to the end of the decade. With the early 1960s, we have the reformation in the Catholic Church, known as Vatican ll-"
The bell cut him off mid-sentence, and there was a mad scramble as the students all tried to pack up as quickly as possible, before Steve could keep going.
"My class," he nearly shouted over the scraping of chairs against linoleum. "Your packets are still due Friday! I don't care that Mr. Hargrove interrupted our time."
"And birds! The rubric is posted on the class page! I want outlines handed in on Tuesday."
The classroom door closed behind the final kid.
"You're a dick."
Billy laughed.
"Nah, you just teach that shit so much better than I do."
Steve rolled his eyes. He sat behind his desk, yanking over a stack of twelfth grade research assignments to begin grading. Billy perched on the other side of his desk.
"Y'know, you could just ask me to come in and lecture. You don't have to interrupt my own class."
"Yeah, but it's fun to wind you up and watch you go. And I think the birds like it when they see that you're passionate about something. Why do you think I always start with The Joy Luck Club?"
"Because you have mommy issues."
"No. Because Ying-ying's story makes me sob like a bitch, and the birds get to realize that I'm a real-life human."
Steve scrubbed his face with his hands, collecting himself before facing his dumbass husband again.
"Wait, you said they had an essay due. What's the essay?"
"Oh, comparing the Salem Witch Trials and the goings on of the U.S. government in the mid 1950s. You know."
"So, you created an assignment, knowing that I would infodump all that shit to your kids?"
"Yes."
"I want a divorce."
Billy laughed, leaning over Steve's desk to kiss his forehead.
"No, you don't."
"No, I don't. I love you. But also you suck."
The bell sounded to indicate the end of passing period.
Billy got off the desk, stretching with a groan.
"Would you be mad if I brought my senior class in?"
Steve glared at him in the doorway.
"What's the assignment?"
"They're presenting on the parallels between 1984 and the current political climate."
Goddammit.
"Bring 'em in."
148 notes
·
View notes
Sam realised at the tender age of 10 that his brother would do ANYTHING Sam asked him to if Sam asked in a certain way. That's why he started being a bit more mindful about asking and using the puppy eyes. He realised that he was a danger to Dean at the age of 10 and tried to stop pouting in that way that always got him his way.
How he found out Dean would do pretty much anything for Sam?
One time Sam asked (in that puppy eyes, cute pouting, baby voice of his) Dean to catch a bird for him. Because he wanted a bird.
Then he got to watch a 14 year old Dean climb a tall tree and try to catch a bird. And when the bird noticed Dean and flew off? Well, Dean jumped after it. And what do you know? He fell to the ground and broke his arm BUT he had grabbed the bird in mid air and was holding it tightly even if his arm was broken.
Sam decided he should stow the puppy eyes before his brother went and jumped off a cliff for him.
92 notes
·
View notes
Elvira in her car, lovingly referred to as the Macabre Mobile, is a 1959 T-Bird hard top which was purchased for $2,500, then went through over $7,000 in alterations by George Barris & his team to make it look how it does in the film… barbed wire mirror, skull cap stick shift, chain link steering wheel and snow leopard interior. Cassandra Peterson owns the vehicle to this day & still uses it to attend Elvira events.
In 2016, for the History Channel show Counting Cars, Danny Koker and his team transformed the interior and exterior of the black 1959 Thunderbird Macabre Mobile. They added the leopard print upholstery and the coffin trunk along with a new paint job.
The car is on display in Danny Koker's car collection in Las Vegas.
109 notes
·
View notes