allos-mal:

Mal was enjoying herself up until the point where Srikit made a counter assault.She was not expecting him to wiggle, squirm and eventually ended up pressing his foot against her face, it didn’t hurt but it certainly surprised her. The extra digits pressing against her face however freaked her out. Mal jolted back rubbing the spot where the toes touched, disgust fairly clear on her face. Scooting back to her original spot she decided to handle Srikits request first, she clicked way on her omnitool then shut if off. “Done. Should be here eventually, I am sure you can survive while it makes its way here.”

“Until then-” She smiled down at him but her eyes narrowed as her attention flicked down to his feet, both still in grabbing distance. There was no way she was going to let Srikit get away with what he did, not completely at least.  ”-we can talk about why you kicking me in the face was a bad idea.” Keeping in mind of the other foot Mal made a snatch at one, pulling it closer while trying to keep close to the couch cushions as much as possible. She dug her nails in to pinch him if he began to struggle too much, or indicated in the slightest he was going to kick her with his free foot.

The face Mal made after receiving a foot to the face was priceless, but Srikit was too distracted to enjoy it fully. While Mal was focused on her omni-tool, he let out a sigh of relief and began to relax, allowing his body to go limp on the couch. He really did feel heavier than usual. Even his eyelids felt heavy, and it was only now that he realized they blinked the wrong way. Of course he knew that was how human eyelids worked, but it came as a mild surprise to him that blinking with human eyes didn’t feel all that different from usual.

While blinking slowly at the ceiling, Srikit remembered the bag of chips tucked between his arm and torso. He was just beginning to chew his next chip (he had found out his mouth was too small to comfortably handle multiple chips at once) when his foot was grabbed. The noise of distress he made, caused by the nails digging into his skin, became significantly louder when he painfully bit down on his own cheek by accident. He repetitively kicked his free foot in Mal’s general direction, and this time his decision to kick wasn’t conscious, but a gut reaction; his need to make the pain stop was intense. Mal was responsible for only half of it, but that had no meaning to Srikit at the moment. “Stop, you—” he managed to say after recovering from the initial pain of biting his cheek.

(Source: srikit)

dimmelsodo:

“Of course not! I only wanted to avoid your breath.” Why was Srikit smiling now? Dimmel supposed it was better than his earlier grumpiness, and strangely, he found himself relaxing, too.

“I don’t see what humans and asari get so excited about,” he mused. That certainly hadn’t been deserving of multiple camera angles and orchestral cresendos. The thought reminded him of something else, a phrase he’d forgotten to examine before Srikit advanced on him.

“Did you say you’ve done this before? You said you hadn’t done it ‘properly’.” Normally he felt that someone’s past was their own business, and was unsurprised when someone added an unanticipated detail to his understanding of them. There were all kinds of people, of course, and he couldn’t guess everything about them or expect them to conform to the image he had. But Srikit’s admission surprised him; he felt that he knew Srikit to some degree by now, and he had pegged him as someone who lived for himself, uninterested in sex or romance (in spite of his fondness for pornography). The contradiction raised his curiosity.

Srikit simply hummed in response to the insult against his breath. He was aware his breath sometimes caused discomfort in others, but it wasn’t a habit of his to become bothered by people disapproving of his hygiene. Only when they demanded him to change his habits for their sake, did he have a problem. That was exactly what Dimmel had done just now, but Srikit had let it slide this time since Dimmel was also a victim of the greyfaces in the sense that he had to be kissed by someone he normally wouldn’t kiss.

Srikit shrugged. “Yeah, hell if I know. They make it sound like an amazing thing, but that was just… that.” Talking about and poking fun at bizzarre alien traditions was one of his favorite pastimes. However, Dimmel’s next inquiry stopped his thought process immediately. Srikit hadn’t realized the implications of what he’d said earlier, and wasn’t prepared for Dimmel latching onto such a small detail anyway. A disorganized string of vowels came out of his mouth as he stalled for time. Something constricted inside his chest, and Srikit suddenly felt irritated with Dimmel for reminding him of what had happened long ago on Illium. “Sort of? Not really,” he ended up saying with his eyes on the wall behind Dimmel, and hoped the other man would lose interest in the subject. Within the next few seconds Srikit came to the conclusion that the surest way to avoid any follow-up questions was to simply leave.

“Anyway, that was all,” he said and started making his way to the door.

(Source: srikit)

gawmer-dallanda:

His first thought at seeing Srikit as a human was noting how much more rattier he…. she— he looked. Faded scars all over Srikit’s face, hair un-brushed and greasy looking, teeth crooked— he wouldn’t want to set his hands anywhere on his head until he’d turned back for sure. How could Srikit act so calm in such a state?

Gawmer couldn’t help but drop his jaw and furrow his brows at the human. How could it look so alien and yet so much like the friend he’d made only months ago? Gawmer had to stop himself from gawking for too long. He straightened himself and cleared his throat— yet all he could manage was a sound close to the one Srikit had just made.

“Hhhuh…. H-How are those teeth working out for you?” He chuckled awkwardly.

“More importantly, feeling ready to go?”

Having to crane his neck when talking to Gawmer was nothing new to Srikit, but their height difference was much more significant now. Srikit made a displeased sound and took a step backwards to reduce the strain on his neck. The astonished expression on Gawmer’s face didn’t go unnoticed by him. Srikit swallowed the last of his extraordinarily bland-tasting snack and dropped the wrapper on his couch. “What? If you think I look weird, imagine how weird I feel.”

“They’re actually not that bad,” he said. At least the teeth weren’t all that different from his own set, and therefore not distracting like many other body parts of his were. “This still sucks, though. I can’t even reach the top shelves. Or lick my eyes.”

Prompted by Gawmer’s question, Srikit glanced at his apartment to make sure it was prepared to be left alone for a few hours. “Mmh.” He nodded, more to himself than at Gawmer, and approached the doorway, making a shooing hand motion at the man standing in it.

(Source: srikit)

dimmelsodo:

salarianrebel:

/You/ will once I BEAT IT OUT OF YOU you dicking fuckmunch. And thanks for all the help, Eyeburn. You better fucking get used to that name because I don’t know who the hell even names their kid Dimmel anymore. Eyeburn’s much cooler.

And is anyone here going to explain what the fuck is happening in this game? I’ve been asking and all you two have been is equally unhelpful as you claim I am. HELLO!

Dano! I won’t tolerate fighting in here. Just…take a seat, maybe you can try to play if he gets a game over. Neither of us have figured out what is actually happening, either, so there’s nothing we’re not telling you. And—what’s wrong with my name?

-watches Srikit pat him, bemused- It seems very complicated. Perhaps you need to visit all of the doors…?

Nrrrgh. -at Dano- If you hurt people on the Citadel, you get sued, shitdick. And you’re not the one playing this game, therrefore you don’t need to know.

-shakes head at Dimmel- He’s not going to play. Nnno. And I’ve had enough for now. -shuts omni-tool- That’s probabbly not enough. I think. I bet there’s certain stuff in the rooms that I need to do.

(Source: srikit)

dimmelsodo:

salarianrebel:

FUCK YOU I could play this fucking game and beat it within an hour while you and your fat ass is still fumbling around in your seat beING A DUMBASS /ASS/ USUAL! Fuck, Eyeburn, you’re not going to let him talk to me that way, right?  That’s fuckin’ verbal ABUSE

-not angry, slightly confused-…excuse me, Srikit, I’m…what? And I didn’t mean you had to get a whole guide for every step, but manuals often have basic information like setting and controls that might give this mess some meaningful context.

Dano—it’s only a game, and swearing at Srikit more loudly is also verbal abuse. And not going to help you any, besides.

And I thought I asked you not to call me that…

Dano. Hey, Dano… Nobody gives a shit.

It’s alright, Dimmel. You don’t need to be helpful, I can do this on my own. -pats Dimmel’s shoulder with his fingertips- I know the controllls. The only thing I’m not sure of is what I’m supposed to be doing in this game.

(Source: srikit)

dimmelsodo:

Dimmel frowned. “How much perfume have you tasted?” Perhaps a better question, how much mouthwash had Srikit tasted? At least that wasn’t a question that Dimmel had to worry about now.

“My sister once kissed me on the cheek, that’s the depth of my experience,” he shrugged. Srikit seemed terribly matter-of-fact about the whole thing, but Dimmel felt stiff and awkward. He had never been struck by the urge to kiss Srikit (or anyone, really) and he would have preferred to kiss someone because he wanted to. He did feel that Srikit could be quite handsome if he put in a bit more effort with his appearance—wore clothes that fit him better, or, perhaps, less rumpled—but that hardly meant he wanted to kiss him. But apparently, it had to be done.

Even though he was waiting, Srikit’s quick descent as soon as Dimmel tilted his head took him by surprise. Their lips met, and he stood there uncomfortably as Srikit’s breath tickled his face. Was something else supposed to happen? How long was a satisfactory kiss?

And then Srikit’s tongue slid over his lip.

He jerked back. That, he was most certainly not prepared to go for, magic be damned.

“Who said it had to be a tongue-kiss?” he blurted. His lips felt strange, half-wet, and he licked them without thinking. His reaction embarrassed him and rubbed his mouth on his sleeve, hoping Srikit hadn’t noticed. He could still taste the sharp mouthwash, and was quietly thankful that he’d insisted on it.

“None, that just didn’t taste like any mouthwash I’ve used before.” Srikit scoffed mentally as he realized the difference was probably caused by Dimmel’s credits. Srikit himself always bought the cheapest mouthwash he could find.

As soon as Dimmel jerked back from the kiss, Srikit also distanced himself, feeling no need nor desire to stay close. Despite his original intent of finishing the task as quickly and noncommittally as possible, he suddenly couldn’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dimmel’s reaction made the situation amusing, and the subconscious tenseness Srikit had been feeling faded almost instantly.

“What? I figured you must have wanted something like that since you were so insistent about the mouthwash.” It was easy to joke now - he was no longer doing chores for the greyfaces, he was simply having fun with a friend. Seeing Dimmel so flustered made Srikit feel approximately the same way he’d felt as a child whenever he had successfully snatched food from a brother’s plate without anyone noticing.

(Source: srikit, via dimmelsodo)

dimmelsodo:

“They’re always on the mouth on television. Usually a contrived way of forcing contact between designated romantic interests.” Dimmel held off on mentioning that they rarely involved tongue; he had a feeling that Srikit would use that as an excuse not to clean his mouth, and if he was going to be that close to Srikit’s halitosis he considered the best defense to be a good offense.

“It takes an extra fifteen seconds, if you had done it right off we’d be kissing by now.” He frowned as his own phrasing. “I don’t enjoy being forced to do things by gray men, but it’s best to just get it over with so we can get back our days.” Admittedly, Srikit coming by was a bright spot in his day, even with the circumstances. As tired as he was, he liked the company that he had come by.

“And if you weren’t such a princess, I’d be on my way out already,” Srikit said neutrally, shuffled past Dimmel and entered the bathroom. Having ignored the directions Dimmel had given earlier, Srikit opened a random cabinet. “Where is—” His question got cut off as his searching gaze landed on a bottle that looked like it could be mouthwash. It was. He opened it and smelled the contents before pouring some into his mouth. He was careful not to touch the bottle with his lips in order to avoid the complaints Dimmel would definitely have if he did. He gurgled the fluid with exaggerated enthusiasm while returning the bottle to the cabinet.

“That tasted more like perfume than mouthwash,” Srikit commented after spitting. With that out of the way, he stepped out of the bathroom and approached Dimmel. “I haven’t done this properly before.” A disclaimer, not an apology. He looked Dimmel over, contemplating if he should hold onto some part of him, but decided against it. No need to be dramatic. Srikit motioned for Dimmel to raise his chin a little, and leaned in to press his lips against the other’s. He exhaled through his nose, feeling his own breath warm the air between their faces. That was it? He wondered how it was possible for humans to get so caught up in kissing on tv. It wasn’t nearly as intriguing as they made it out to be. Right as he was about to pull back Srikit came to the conclusion that the kiss needed something more, and so, in a quick motion he slipped out the tip of his tongue and ran it over Dimmel’s lower lip. He had a feeling it wasn’t exactly what humans did, but at least it was something.

(Source: srikit)

dimmelsodo:

srikit:

“I know,” Srikit said, convinced that he had more reasons to despise human traditions than Dimmel did. Apparently Dimmel had a lot of freetime today, as he continued to inquire about meaningless things.

“Well, fuck, who else? Movie nights. And my GoF contacts aren’t in that contact book.” Srikit shrugged violently and went to change the topic back to the one that would get him back home the quickest. “Are we doing this?”

“…right,” muttered Dimmel. Srikit had an entire separate list of people he talked to more.

Srikit seemed to be chomping at the bit, but Dimmel held up a hand to stop him. “Wait. I’ve sat close enough to you to know what your breath usually smells like. You’re not touching my toothbrush, but if we have to do this at least use some mouthwash first. It’s in the bathroom, left cabinet.” He stepped back from the door to let Srikit into his apartment.

Srikit exhaled forcefully. “I’m not planning on spitting in your fucking mouth. It doesn’t even have to be on the mouth, now does it?” He said confidently, but it soon occurred to him that he might be wrong. He dug up what he could remember about the few mistletoe kisses he’d seen on tv, and couldn’t remember a single one that hadn’t been on the mouth. His mood fell. “Fuck. Does it?” He looked at Dimmel, hoping that he’d have more detailed information, as he often did when it came to alien culture. Srikit could handle mouthwash if Dimmel demanded it, but it was an unnecessary delay that would take much more time than the act itself.

allos-mal:

Mal tried not to laugh as her weak tease bothered Srikit a little more than she thought it would. Her amusement was short lived as her personal space was being invaded, she tried to retreat further to regain her personal bubble but the arm of the sofa soon stopped her. It annoyed her to no end when people got in HER space and half considered making it more difficult for Srikit by raising her omni-tool above his head. But she could do so much better then that. 

She waited for Srikit to move a bit closer to suddenly slump on him. She draped her arm over his shoulder and rested her head on his then became dead weight. The only thing she bothered to do for Srikit was raise her omni-tool obnoxiously close to his face. “Is this better? Has to be, I was so kind to shrink down to your level I am sure you can see just fine now.” she grinned trying not to get any of his hairs in her mouth as she spoke. Mal never had a chance to be very close to humans and couldn’t help but wonder if they all smelled a little funky up close like Srikit did.

“Get off!” Srikit squirmed, finding his new position as Mal’s pillow extremely uncomfortable. Although the human body’s spine was much stiffer than the one he was used to, and despite Mal being relatively light, Srikit felt squished by the weight on his shoulders. He made a few exaggeratedly pained noises before finally managing to extract himself from his prison. He ended up lying sideways on the couch, but just to be sure, he scooted further away until he was able to place his head on the armrest and properly glare at Mal. Without another word Srikit lifted one of his bare feet and pushed it against Mal’s face on a whim. The action ended up being more of a clumsy prod rather than a real shove, but he figured it should be good enough to gross her out, at least.

Srikit looked intently at Mal’s omni-tool, although he was unable to see the text from the distance and knew better than to lean closer again. “I want something with red meat,” he informed the other. Mal had never sabotaged his food despite there being plenty of opportunities to do so, and so Srikit was fairly certain he could at least trust her to order something edible for him.

(Source: srikit)

dimmelsodo:

Dimmel had only had to see Srikit’s apartment once to know what he could use. Foldout beds were unpleasant, but hopefully a good duvet and quilt with matching bathrobe could soften the experience. Srikit seemed to resist style with extreme prejudice, but Dimmel chose something he hoped Srikit would find palatable—it was a soft, quality comforter set, most importantly, before it was a nice-looking one. 

The gourmet snacks were almost an afterthought, but he thought Srikit might prefer something more edible.

Traditionally speaking, it was far too much to give to someone with no job—nearly insulting, in fact, he had found all kinds of calculators on the extranet to help you decide how much was appropriate to spend on someone of a differing economic level—but Dimmel appreciated Srikit’s friendship more than he cared to admit aloud. His first meeting with Srikit had been…not exactly enjoyable, but it had been a rare shakeup to his routine, and he valued what had come after. Srikit probably didn’t even realize, and Dimmel was loathe to air his feelings and bear Srikit’s potential scorn. But that didn’t change how Dimmel felt.

“Srikit? It’s Dimmel. I have something for you.” Standing before Srikit’s door, Dimmel shifted the gifts wrapped in plain white paper. The blanket set particularly wouldn’t fit in his arms quite right.

“Betau,” he said by way of explanation when Srikit opened the door. “Before you say anything, I don’t expect anything back. I’m not trying to insult you. This is just something I felt like doing.”

Srikit generally preferred to not open the door to uninvited people, but since this visitor’s identity and purpose became apparent immediately, he made an exception. He mused irritably that had he been doing anything more attention-demanding than watching tv, he’d definitely have left the door unanswered, and it would have been Dimmel’s own fault too, the price he’d have to pay for showing up unannounced. These thoughts were forgotten the instant Srikit opened his door.

His first instinct was to tell Dimmel it wasn’t Betau, but he didn’t get further than opening his mouth before he realized it could well be. He closed his mouth. Since his departure from Sur’Kesh he had been more or less out of the loop when it came to salarian traditions. Not that he had been fond of them in the first place; the rare gifts he’d received during those events had left a sour taste in his mouth due to them being more about what the giver wanted him to be, rather than what he himself wanted. Alarm clocks and gym membership cards. Things he’d thrown away or refused to use out of spite.

Srikit wanted to say something, maybe poke fun at the gifts or the tradition in general, but no words came to him. He couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at Dimmel or at the actually really nice-looking gifts he’d brought. The silence stretched on for multiple seconds before Srikit cleared his throat. “Oh. Okay.” It didn’t feel like his voice, but he said it. He finally thought to let Dimmel transfer the gifts into his arms. “We only met like… when? Not long ago.” Why Srikit was saying this, he had no idea. He looked at Dimmel, feeling lost.