Amalgam Universe

Some species evolved without certain chemicals in their background, or with them causing no effect. Therefore they never evolved a receptor for it. Meanwhile others had to identify toxins or marker chemicals immediately and are highly sensitive even if it’s unnecessary -ie bitter vegetables -. This leads to nonplussed galactic citizens wondering why the deathworlder took a bite of that boring stuff and immediately gagged or refused it entirely because it smelled like pure evil.

Food unites. Meals shared tend to lessen tensions amongst the participants. Excluding, of course, the occasional tension caused by differing definitions of ‘table manners’[1].

The Aphemii had put on a feast of their own native foods. They had been extremely careful in selecting the dishes that would cause the least amount of trouble to the most amount of visitors. Everything in the buffet was entirely digestable by every visitor.

And yet…

Gauz couldn’t help but notice how the humans gave the Helgoq-leaf wraps a wide berth. She could see each and every one of them shy away from the display as if it burned them.

As host, it was her duty to find out what offended. She sidled up to an Ambassador known for her honesty and murmured, “My pardon, Ambassador Shayde… what is the error in our menu? I have witnessed all humans avoiding the Helgoq-leaf…”

Caught in a huddle of fellow plus-one’s, her nigh-perpetual companion Rael urgently made no-no motions at Shayde.

“Th’ green sausage things?” she pointed. “Aye. Yeah. Uh… To be real honest… they smell like satan’s arsehole after a bad curry night.”

Rael smacked his own forehead.

Gauz took that to mean that the scent was highly offensive and resulted in instinctual revulsion. Interesting.

[1] Manners in the Galactic Scene are so wide and varied that, in a multicultural arena, they have to be ignored. So long as another cogniscent is not getting their nutrient content on anyone or anything else, then you have no real reason to complain.

[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

So capsaicin is dangerous, and even the species that can eat it recreationally recognise the effects as painful. Mint, on the other hand, even in high doses, causes no such thing. (L-Carvone (spearmint) at least appears totally harmless). Safe fun food for everyone?

Humans are insane. No other species makes a game out of painful ingredients in otherwise harmless things. No other species combines schadenfreude and friendship, and expects the friendship to continue.

And no other species can convince otherwise sane cogniscents

The adventures of Tyr’ip and her big scary bodyguard mother hens.

(does this make her technically the species ambassador? Not a galactic ambassador I guess since her people are already part of the community and if there was one for every species encounter there’d be billions of them but still)

[Galactic ambassadors generally stand for their native planet and, in the case of low-gravvers and nomadic ship-tribes, habitation construct.]

It had been quite the journey. The humans formed a walking

Murphy’s law of Babies 2:  Toddler gone? It’s with the humans.

Nita almost didn’t notice the curious little Numidid until she nearly stepped on the poor child. She was big for a human, and this little scrap of pinfeathers barely cleared her boot.

“Whoops,” she said. “Hello, little peep. Where did you come from?”

Alas, the tiny child was still talking Scribble. Multilingual Scribble, but still Scribble. It varied between Numidid, Amity English, and Galstand. She sounded irritated, and

Murphy’s law of Babies: When you look away for two seconds and your child has absconded, it will invariably be found in whatever situation would cause the quickest messy death or most political upheaval if an adult were in the same situation.

Luckily children can get away with anything by virtue of being children, and will not be immediately vaporised for hiding behind Graknor, Conqueror of Galaxies’ legs.

Sahra let her toddler go so she could tuck herself back in. Poor

Observation: The more fragile a species is, the less danger it is in (physically) from the humans. The ones that can withstand them are treated aggressively and with much suspicion, and the dainty little ones are coddled and cooed over. And petted if the humans can get away with it.

[AN: Just FYI, not all Havenworlders are tiny. But loads of them are]

It should have been an ordinary shortcut. Just a quick dash home to pick up her LifeAlert bracelet. She

So if the first person to contact another world is automatically ambassador, what happens if an accident involves first contact being between the alien civilisation and Bigot McAssface, who would fit right in on that Greater Deregulation. Specifically, the rest of BMA’s civilisation, especially the ones interested in galactic alliance, would usually say the complete opposite of anything he does, but now he’s their galactic spokesperson.

[AN: This story will contain slurs because my main character is an arsehole]

“Keeping

“Like many other things, if you know what you’re doing, an open fire isn’t particularly dangerous.” Says the person wearing no safety gear, having lit a campfire with flint and steel and currently rearranging the burning sticks barehanded.

“You’re… burning raw cellulose,” said the alien, through its translator. “There is no safety equipment.”

“Got a shovel,” soothed Tanja. “Got loads of sand. We’re good.”

“You are not knowing if this cellulose is loaded with toxins.”

“I live

Hiccups.

“But… I can’t be an ambassador,” Lalama protested. “I’d be the worst. HIC! There’s a reason -hic- there’s a reason -hoik- a reason I -hic- I went for -hiku- for Oort mining.”

“Well understood,” said Ruraha. She was a saurian. “Galactic law is not on your side. Friend Yayama… is breathing problem medical-dangerous?”

“No, I -hic- I just get -hyurk- get hiccups when -hroooip- when I’m nerv– HIC! Nervous.”

“But… you are

Prompt: That “GNK” noise a person makes when they manage to sneeze with their mouth shut.

Brexx didn’t know what was wrong. The human ambassador spasmed suddenly and made a sort of Skngx! noise. Then she gasped for breath and went, Skngx! Skngx! Skngx! in rapid succession.

Brexx hit the panic button. “Human ambassador non-communicative. Making abbreviated noises of unknown meaning.”

“…th’ flowers,” gasped Ambassador Harry.  Skngx! Skngx! Skngx! Skngx! Skngx! “I’b allergig…”  Skngx! Skngx! “To th’ flowers&

A time machine has to have flashing lights. It’s not a proper Time machine unless it has flashing lights!

It was a tiny little nookery of surprising inside dimensions. It only
seemed small on the outside. The shelves were full of interesting things that looked very impressive. There were a myriad of blinking
lights.

“Welcome, welcome,” beamed the proprietor. Their nametag declared them to be Thiite. “Do you like my time machines?”

Blez Jenkins looked again at the items on the