Dé Céadaoin: Cultural Differences

[ahavaelwilhouse.livejournal.com]

Good Morning, beloved ones!

It's Wednesday (I can't believe I've made it this far!), and it's time for a new theme: Cultural differences. Let's explore!

It's nice to feed the beloved codemonkeys proper prompts, like these.

Star Trek: TOS, Kirk/Spock, cultural differences between a human and a Vulcan.

Supernatural, Dean/Cas or Sam/Gabe, human vs angel

For crossovers:

Harry Potter/Star Trek, Spock/McGonagall, an old witch and an even older Vulcan.

*feeds bananas to codemonkeys*

(theme=cultural differences)

Comments

[ahavaelwilhouse.livejournal.com]

Star Trek: TOS, Kirk/Spock, cutural differences between a human an a Vulcan

[ahavaelwilhouse.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Cas or Sam/Gabe, human vs. angel

[ahavaelwilhouse.livejournal.com]

Star Trek: TOS/Harry Potter, Spock/McGonogall, an old witch and an even older Vulcan.

Fill: A Vulcan, a doctor, a captain, and a Witch walk into a bar ... wait, that's not right

[ginny305.livejournal.com]

I'm sure this isn't quite what you had in mind, but it does have Spock and McGonagall in it.

~*~


Spock frowned when the large clock started chiming. He was late; he hated when he was not prompt. Still, he was only a few minute past the hour when he rang the doorbell to the familiar house. The door opened automatically, letting him into the dark room.

“You’re late.”

Spock frowned almost imperceptibly. “I was discussing first contact protocols with Admiral Archer,” he said stiffly.

His accuser snorted. “You’d better go apologize to her.”

Spock tilted his head, acknowledging the point. “She is in the kitchen?” His only answer was a nod. He walked the short distance until he stood in the kitchen doorway. He noted that, even after twenty years, she still had not shed the dark robes – or tartan hat – of her past.

“Minerva.”

“There you are.” Her tone, as always, was sharp and to the point. He could hear the unspoken reprimand about his tardiness. “That tray is ready. Take it into the other room, please. Leonard is waiting for his tea.”

“Of course,” Spock agreed. He noted that her hair had more gray in it and there seemed to be a few more wrinkles near her eyes, but she didn’t appear to be slowing down. He was … relieved … to see that. He was fond of the witch that had fallen through time.

By the time McCoy had poured tea into four of the cups, Minerva had entered, carrying the last tray.

“Can you do something about the lights?” McCoy asked, standing to take the tray from her. He gave her a quick wink and, as always, Spock was uncertain if he was happy the gruff doctor and stern witch had bonded or annoyed by it. In the end, he ultimately decided that both reactions were too emotional.

She took the thin, unassuming piece of wood from where it was tucked in her sleeve and flicked it. A split second later, the candles flared to life, illuminating the room.

“Fascinating.”

Minerva didn’t answer, but Spock could see that she was pleased by his reaction. They had spent hours together when she had first arrived all of those years before. They had been an interesting mix, this woman of illogical magical skill and the alien that was older than he looked.

The door slid open and their newest arrival fell through with a thump. “Geez, Min, did you need to send a Howler after me?” Kirk asked, rubbing at his ear where the magical note had taken hold and pulled.

“You were late, Mr. Kirk,” she pointed out, voice shrill with disapproval.

Brushing himself off, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You love me anyway,” he said confidently before reaching out and snagging a cookie.

“You,” she muttered, waving him toward a seat as she sat down herself.

Spock sat on the edge of the cushion closes to McCoy, leaning forward, as they settled into an easy conversation. If he was being truthful, and a Vulcan always told the truth, there was no one he would rather share his friendship with Minerva with than the two men there with him.

The Vulcan, the Captain, the Doctor, and the Witch … fascinating, indeed.

End.

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

DCU, Dick/Kory, Things that are somewhat strange and uncomfortable for Tamaranians that are perfectly natural for humans.

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

Hunger Games, Katniss &/or Peeta, Refugees from the Capitol come to 12. It's an adjustment period for all.

[blue-sunflowers.livejournal.com]

To everyone's surprise, it was Katniss and Peeta who welcomed them first. Peeta had taken the lead, of course, but Katniss was right beside him. Peeta had reached out, arm outstretched for a handshake. Katniss, linked in his other arm, greeted them kindly. Even Haymitch had grudgingly said hello.

The gesture flummoxed the others at first, but it broke the ice. The new arrivals weren't treated as pariahs anymore. The integration meant it didn't take long for the others to understand why the Victors had done it. Most of the Capitol citizens were like children, never learning the hardships of the Districts. Some of them had suffered as well. It seemed not everyone in the Capitol had been favored as the Districts had been led to believe.

Plus, these people were trying.

It was a small gesture, but if Victors could move on, so could the rest of them.

[tigriswolf]

3rd Rock from the Sun, Tommy, even after he joins the army, he never does get the hang of saluting like a human

Proper Tribute, PG, 3rd Rock from the Sun, Tommy, saluting like a human

[nonky.livejournal.com]

Whole prompt: 3rd Rock from the Sun, Tommy, even after he joins the army, he never does get the hang of saluting like a human

It was just so plain, evocative of nothing more than having hinged joints. Tommy could not get used to the U.S. Army salute, even after years of practice. It was the second lesson of boot camp, right after standing at attention. It was the mocking exercise every recruit had to repeat a thousand times - until his arm truly felt it's own weight like a redwood growing out of his shoulder. It was something done almost in his sleep, almost without choice.

If his drill sergeant told him to salute squirrels and gophers, he'd do it. If his drill sergeant told him to salute every note of Hail to the Chief individually, he would do it.

It's crazy, though, all the pomp and ceremony of everything about Army life, except the extremely basic salute. They didn't even have different ones for branches of the military. There were slight variations, but nothing to distinguish for the civilians watching. Tommy showed his fellow recruits his real salute one day, and they had laughed for hours. One even did it behind drill sergeant's back, setting off snickers.

It pained him, it really did. Tommy finally had a haircut that never mussed, even if he used it to stick a million balloons to the wall. He could finally salute in his human body with no problem except the inevitable slap mark on his forehead. Back home, that was a sign of a soldier's investment in his service. On Earth, it meant you were an idiot.

Dick, Harry and Sally were proud of him, though. He had found his purpose in his human life. Now Tommy just had to keep climbing the ranks until he was in a position high enough to suggest a redesign of their dumb salute.

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, it takes Castiel some time to realize Dean doesn't like it when he reveals Dean's deepest thoughts, even if they're just to Sam

[tigriswolf]

Highlander, Methos/Duncan, "When you live long enough, you don't even think about changing cultures anymore. Keeping up with the differences is easy as breathing."

[tigriswolf]

Disney's The Jungle Book, Mowgli, he spends most of his time thinking about returning to the forest; the man village is strange

[tigriswolf]

Glee, Kurt/author's choice (Puck, Karofsky, or Sam), they travel to author's choice and walk down the street holding hands. No one even gives them a dirty look when they kiss without hiding.

[rattyjol.livejournal.com]

BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (+or/ John), sometimes it's like he comes from a whole different culture, one where politeness is discarded in favor of, well, anything else, really.

[rattyjol.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, Elfangor(/Loren), culture shock

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

SG1, Daniel, he'd finally gotten the hang of living on Abydos

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack (/&any), he doesn't understand the need to label.

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Cas, why learning human interaction from porn is not really a good thing, no matter WHAT Gabriel said.

Italian Stallions and Hot Buns, PG-13, Supernatural, Cas, learning from porn . . .

[nonky.livejournal.com]

Whole prompt: Supernatural, Cas, why learning human interaction from porn is not really a good thing, no matter WHAT Gabriel said.
Minor warning for smutty cliches from porn.



Castiel put out Jimmy's hand in the expectation of a handshake, knocking the knuckles on the pane of clear plastic separating this 'sandwich artist' from her customers. She blinked wildly for a moment, heart speeding up from the bored drone of her servicing the other people.

"We're not supposed to," she said, lifting up flimsy plastic gloves ill-fitted to her hands. "Health code."

Humans had many rules, many guidelines and strictures to protect their bodies. Castiel thought it was all a little sad. Once upon a time he would have given comfort by way of God's love. He would have said the Earthly protection of hollow rules was re-enforced by the holy protection of every human being.

Dean would call that the panty line, or perhaps the party line. Humans mumbled quite often, Dean more than most. It was almost as if half the things he said weren't meant to be heard and understood. He had been working on his conversational English, but even the entertainers seemed to have little use for speech.

"Very well, child," Castiel said mildly, folding his hands in front of himself. He nodded attentively as she listed options for his submarine sandwich - not named for any real connection to the merchant navy, Sam had told him helpfully.

It was the end of the lunch rush when he'd arrived, a note with sandwich ingredients listed in neat columns to differentiate Sam's choices from his brother's. He would have flown, but Dean was insisting on a low profile. The elder Winchester was onto a hunch that he couldn't put into words; some threat even the angels were blind to.

"I will have extra cheese, bacon and mayonnaise on the meatball sub," he said clearly, "And low-fat barbecue sauce on the chicken."

She piled the greasy additions on Dean's lunch, almost wincing at the excess. Castiel would have to discuss the food pyramid with his charges. He might get Bobby Singer on speaker phone and see if multiple expressions of disgust would save Dean's arteries.

"Would you like your buns toasted," the young woman asked, her mouth turning up into a friendly smile.

Castiel paused, his eyes rolling off to the side as he did the no-look look Dean had tutored him in. She was rather pretty, trim and young, with kind eyes. Her skin was a lovely shade of light brown, gleaming with health. Her hands were quick and she took his pause to wash them in a sink nearby. As she turned her back, he saw her 'buns' were perky.

"I did not realize this establishment also offered that," he stalled. "It is good of you to ask."

Her smile was a little empty, as was most emotion shown by her ilk. Castiel did not fault the poor child. The physical needs of a human body were daunting without addressing even the basic ambitions of contentment and love.

[saavikam77.livejournal.com]

Any Superman 'verse, Clark Kent, There are days when Kryptonian culture feels completely alien to him, and he doesn't have a clue where he fits in anymore.

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, Hawaii vs Jersey

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Blood Ties, Henry(+/Mike), how times have changed

[lmx-v3point3.livejournal.com]

Doctor Who, Nine, "Lots of places have a North!" - He isn't sure where the accent came from either, but people *react* to it

[lmx-v3point3.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, It's like he doesn't know how to act in any normal social situation

no fic but

[arnica.livejournal.com]

I don't have the time at the moment, but if this bad boy is still unfilled by 5, I call dibs cause this is perfect

[lmx-v3point3.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Echo, She's not sure how much of what she's lived through really represents the world out there

[lmx-v3point3.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Neal, After the life he's lived, supermax was a terrifying culture shock. Coming out of prison wasn't much easier

Fill

[afiawri.livejournal.com]

Mozzie speaks often of not wanting to be bogged down by rules, of 9 to 5, of being forced by the man to do this or do that, to be free like a man should.

Neal just wanted to be the best at what he did.

He could maneuver financially like a fish in water, but everyone wanted degrees upon degrees that were more trouble and money than they were worth.

He could paint, but making at as painter took quite the stroke of luck as well as talent.

Freedom came pre-packaged with being a criminal and he never really gave it much thought.

Turns out, you need luck when you're a criminal. And Neal's had run out.

He's told when and what to eat, when to sleep, when to exercise.

At first he thinks his body can't take it. He eats lightly throughout the day, not meals all at once. He starves and stuffs himself and stuffs himself and repeats the whole thing every day, sometimes throwing up for good measure.

He can't fall asleep when they tell him to and he can't stay asleep. Part of that is the noise: it's never quiet. He has a constant, buzzing headache because he never has true peace. And part of it is Neal cat naps. He doesn't sleep a straight eight hours.

"You'll get used to it," one of his fellow inmates says in the exercise yard. He smells. Body odor. It tickles Neal's nose and turns his stomach. He can keep his hands clenched at his side, but he can't keep himself from sneezing. Four times. On him.

The man shifts his large, tattooed arm and Neal's heart jumps up and his pulse surges through his throat, but the guy is just patting him on the back.

And that fear is what Neal hates the most. He's small, he's handsome. He's fresh, tender meat.

But he does, in fact, get used to it. He gets used to it all.

He gets used to the eating and sleeping schedules and his nose dulls to the scents and his ears to the sounds. And he charms the inmates like any mark and the fear fades.

And he gets un-used to the smell of perfume and the colors of the world and the variety of people who've never been to prison.

He emerges and it's like his mind was stuck in first gear, but now it's straining to catch up with the pace of things. Hundreds and hundreds of people on the street, strong perfumes, people honking, yelling to each other, yelling at each other, people weaving past on skateboards. He can't take it all in and he has no shut off.

And a woman walks by with a strong perfume and he chokes on the taste of chemicals.

And when he falls asleep at night, it's so quiet every breath takes up the whole room twice over.

And no one tells him it's okay. No one out here is that blunt or maybe - as he'd hoped - no one sees it.

This time, he'd welcome hearing it.

[lmx-v3point3.livejournal.com]

Angel, Lindsey, Using all of his charm and deference against the cultural differences to get what he needs in Nepal

[garnet-words.livejournal.com]

Being Human (US), Rebecca & any, orientation

Sucked and Sucker, PG-13, Being Human (US), Rebecca/Marcus/Bishop, orientation

[nonky.livejournal.com]

Bishop had a guy named Marcus bring some clothes for her, dark and sparkly things that made her look slim and kind of naked despite covering everything. Rebecca was willing to admit she was feeling more vulnerable than brave; naked in a new way she couldn't work through. The clothes were pretty similar to what she'd worn on her date with Aidan, so maybe this was kindness?

She looked at Bishop's haunting smile for a long moment, trying to decide. He said Aidan's name very fondly. He wasn't old enough to be his father, but there was something close to it in his tone. The building was a maze and she felt unsteady on her feet. Running wouldn't get her very far. She didn't want to be alone in a place that smelled like formaldehyde and furniture polish.

Once she was dressed, Marcus handed something to Bishop, who held it out to her. It was a stethoscope, something so familiar she'd had one slung around her neck every day for years. It looked alien in his hands. He bounced it in his palm as if to insist, and she didn't feel like it was a choice. Aidan wasn't there. She felt sick and weak.

"Listen to your heart," Bishop said. "I don't want you to be afraid, but you need to know yourself."

She did know herself. She knew Rebecca Flynt, nurse, only child from a single mother, smart mouth and enough of a bossy bitch to win a date with the hot but distant Aidan. It was simple getting the right ends of the stethoscope placed in ears and under shirt. It was very complicated to realize there was absolutely no vital sign to be found.

"I - This isn't right," she said tearfully. "It's broken, or -" Her fingers dug at her throat and a memory drove into her sharply; pain and terror. "I'm just cold or something, and this is broken!"

Rebecca threw down the stethoscope. She scrubbed at her arms, fighting the urge to sob. Bishop nodded, his smile never shifting to anything human. She desperately wanted some kind of real feeling from him. Marcus picked up the medical instrument and stuck it in his pocket.

"We'll help you," he said, very solemnly. He looked sad for her, and she appreciated that at least.

"Please sit, Rebecca," Bishop took her arm and steered her into the chair. He sat down next to her and Marcus lingered behind him, as if he was waiting to be dismissed or given an order.

"Wh-where's Aidan? I want to talk to him!"

"He left you," the blond man said calmly, sadly. "After your date, he went inside with you, and he lost control of himself. He hurt you. Do you remember that?"

Her hand went up to cover her throat, smooth skin calling her memories lies. "I don't know."

[garnet-words.livejournal.com]

Being Human (US), Aidan, adjusting to each new decade

Dressed for the Moment, PG, Being Human (US), Aidan, adjusting to each new decade

[nonky.livejournal.com]

The hair was the hardest. For a long time it was all about filthy, stinking wigs. People who couldn't afford wigs could try to pin and tie their hair into the preferred style, but for the most part they were stuck with whatever they had grown. Curly hair would remain curly, dark would stay dark, and people had to hope someone famous and beautiful shared their genes. Dyes and styling products had only really been around a few decades in a form that was portable and didn't sear the scalp.

Aidan had rejected fake hair, but he couldn't deny how annoying it was trying to dress his hair in some stupid way he didn't like. Bishop insisted they blend in, otherwise Aidan's hair would have always been short and allowed to fall naturally. He ran his fingers through it with some gel, and it spiked lightly in varying directions.

The next problem was adapting to changing clothing. It was almost a relief to live through a change from tight and fussy to loose-legged practicality. It was less pleasing to have to revert back to tight pants and buttoned shirts.

The fifties were probably his favourite because jeans were acceptable but not worn by everyone from grandmas to toddlers. Aidan was used to judging himself by his clothes, didn't know what to do with seeing a fourteen year old girl dressed pretty much the same as he was.

Between the ambiguous clothes and hair, he had accidentally hit on a guy more than once during the sixties. Luckily, it was that kind of time. He'd been through a lot of fashion eras, and none of them were remotely beloved in his mind.

He had a soft spot for technology, found it fairly easy to pick up. It helped that Bishop wanted everyone in the family to stay in touch. He funded things like computers, phones, and sent the newer vampires out like tutors to convert all the hold-outs. Firearms hadn't changed that much, nor had society as a whole.

They hid well. They made themselves an invisible microcosm of the world, lost but easily found inside Bishop's little black book. It was the perfect way to observe all the nuances of humanity. Aidan had more spare time than most to watch, and more yearning than most to really be the sheep whose clothing he'd been borrowing.

The outer changes were slow and gradual, but how he felt inside had become a squalling ache of dishonestly. Change came inevitably, and he hoped one day Bishop would see that about their separation.