He called it a commune, a brotherhood, but there was nothing fraternal about our life here.

The house was fully furbished by the time we arrived. He had plenty of time to prepare our rooms for us. Strangely enough, he hadn't found the time to buy proper farm equipment or actually learn how to live off the land. He hadn't even written up a basic set of house rules. He didn't care, and I mistook that for composure.

"Failure isn't fatal," he would say after the latest blowup over broken tools or cleanup duty. "This is a setback for all of us, but we'll learn. We'll do better."

Everyone learned a lot in those days. We learned not to question him or point out his mistakes, only fix them quietly when he wasn't paying attention. He learned how to use food and love to keep people in line. He saw all of us as collections of faulty parts to be fashioned into useful components in his design, and we were all so easily replaced.

He soon dropped his unwritten three-strikes rule. Another eager young idealist was always available to move in. Forgetting a friend is painful but I got used to the sting quickly. It hurt less than his wrath.

He'd never wanted brothers. Only serfs and subjects. But by the time I realized that, it was already too late.

"Look! A scale! A scale from the messiah! It's a sign! We must follow the scale!"

That’s a better description than the thing I’ve been doing

I like the term 'Sophont' for the general 'is this a reasoning being?' term because sapient/sapience is human-centric and xenointelligences would have their own 'person-like' analogue.

Common is a learned language, though. It is explicitly developed from a mixture of Dwarven and Human languages, originating as a pidgin trade-tongue. This is why there is the completely separate "undercommon", which developed from Dwarvish and Elvish languages (specifically the language of Dark Elves).

There are a few languages in D&D that this does qualify, though, specifically Draconic and Primordial. Dragons (and kobolds, and other dragon-related sentients) innately understand and can speak Draconic. All elemental creatures from the Inner Planes are mutually intelligible, even if they are technically divided into four varieties. Celestial and Infernal are natively understood by beings of the Higher and Lower planes, though can be learned by others (usually clerics and warlocks respectively).

Amazing story. 10/10 bro

HAH! Yeah, ya fine

Moar?

Who will win?

T72 tank, an advanced soviet armor platform that can penetrate over half a meter of pure steel armor!

OR

G̵̪̮̱̠̭̗͙͋̔̈́͛͌̀̾́R̶̛̗̳͈̼͔͈̭̆͐́̾̏́͐͐̅͂̚͜͠E̸̺̽̓̓G̸̪̣̮̀̋̽̕N̷̞͉̪̓̏̏͛Ǫ̷̯̱̟̤̭̬̏̀͋͐͐̽͒̌̓̋̏̉͠͠͝K̴̫̘͕̖̻̳̲̩̜̺͈̙̈́̔̎̀͂̈́

YES PLEASE.

"Hey!" The middle aged man snapped awake, drawing his attention away from the glass, but still appearing dazed.

"No lookie-loos, it's $25" I said.

'What?' he asked.

"The mirror you've been staring at for 10 minutes. $25, cash only." 'umm.. oh, right. No thanks.'

"Off you tot, then."

The man stumbled further into the home and picked up a book of a dresser in the adjacent room.

"Another one, eh?" my partner asked.

"Yeah, all lookers, but no buyers. I've found 10 people staring at that mirror just today. We didn't price it too high, right?"

"No, it's a steal. Easily more to the right collector." replied my compatriot, fixing her hair. "Doesn't matter though, tomorrow's Sunday, half price."

"How'd this lady die again?"

"Client's mom? Suicide. Curled up by that spooky thing too."

"Ugh. Maybe call up that antique shop with the ghost hunter kid. I bet he'd give us $50."

"Good idea! Hey, want to go for Thai after?"

"Sure."

I looked over at the mirror again and an old woman stood staring into it and weaping. She reached towards the glass expectedly, while a soft whispering filled the room.

"HEY! You touch it, you brought it, lady!"

The noise stopped. The lady blinked and seemed suddenly awakened to her surroundings.

"It's 25, discounted tomorrow since you're on a fixed income."

The woman, bearings restored, looked mildly offended before she wandered away.

I can't wait till this estate sale is over.

Death: If I wanted to play the board game version of my job I'd follow war instead

you're welcome

A Practical Joke

The boisterous surrounding crowd fell silent as the small spacecraft descended, a silver disk so stereotypical it was almost laughable falling gently from an overcast sky.

It touched down lightly as a soap bubble, the silence stretching thin but holding fast until a small hatch in the craft's underside slid open to an accompanying jubilant roar.

Aliens! It was true, they were real, we were not alone and Company had arrived!

A stout, oddly adorable rounded alien creature waddled solemnly out of the hatch, blinking four large luminous eyes in the Earth's brightly lit atmosphere. It surveyed the crowd minutely. The crowd rumbled slowly back into silence. An interminable few moments passed.

"Keeneetaa?" said the alien at last, a plaintive note jangling in its otherwise dulcet tone.

Silence. Everyone wondered, what did that mean?

The alien's eyes were distant and sad. After a while it slowly shook its head. Without another sound it turned and waddled, crestfallen, back up to the hatch, which engulfed it and then folded up neatly and closed itself tight. The spacecraft flew away.

Humanity was left mystified. Keeneetaa? Every scientist on earth bent their minds to study. What was keeneetaa? Speculation ran amok. Theories abounded. Every academic journal and every university course and every political conversation began to revolve around the question of keeneetaa.

A few years later the alien returned to the scene of its initial appearace.

Sniggering a bit, it whispered to its two alien friends, "Watch this!"

"What?" asked one friend while the other asked excitedly, "Did they fall for it?"

"Just watch," the first alien told them, and opened the hatch.

It waddled out once more, this time to a sea of humans all shouting together, "Keeneetaa! Keeneetaa!"

The two alien friends turned to one another, laughing. "Oh my stars, they did fall for it!"

"That's mean," one alien friend finally gasped. "You're corrupting their culture."

"They'll be fine."

"Keeneetaa!" cried the other alien friend hysterically, still laughing.

Keeneetaa is an obscene Ferblornian slang word that translates roughly to "Genitalia."

Thank you! This is one of the first story I've written and shared.

this was the story i found on tiktok!

Thank you very much!

They're a bit redundant in some of their naming conventions; I just found it funny for an "enlightened" society to call themselves some funny stuff.

Humans do have this innate language that's understandable among all Humans! I read through some of the comments posted to this excellent writing. And non of them mentioned body language. The majority of our language, like 60% of our language is expressed in body language!

This was an excellent story!

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Excellent stuff here :)

Me too!

The knight lifted the helmet from one of his fallen foes and used it to bash the lock open, finally kicking down the door. He took two steps in and found the small girl, beaten and afraid, a ball and chain around her ankle. She got up frantically, but in an attempt to move, she tripped and fell, her chin splitting on the cold stone.

"Princess Maiko, you are alive!" The man stepped forwards with haste. "I had assumed you had fallen at the hands of these ruthless savages!" He inspected the red haired girl, deeming her relatively put together. "I heard of your absence and came to rescue you, but I feared I was too late." He clenches his fist, getting on one knee and opening his arms. "You are safe now."

The girl slumped forwards, sobbing into the shoulder of the brave warrior. "Thank you... I thought I was to die in this wreched place! Please, take me home with you."

The soldier lifted the small child, looking her in the eyes. "I am sorry, milady, I have a wife, currently watching over my dearest daughter Ina" He stood. "Apologies for not explaining the situation, I deemed it unfit to say."

Maiko seemed to stand taller and puff out her chest, assuming that made her look older. "Sixteen!" She cried."I am sixteen next month! And despite my status as royalty, I do not mind wife in laws!"

The man seemed disappointed. "I am two, closer to three times your age, and I have been married to Mrs Sinclair since I was a peasant boy. I believe she is perfect for me, that much is true, but I also believe that I was hasty, that I rushed marriage. That was a fool's move, but fate smiled upon me. Do not walk in my footsteps, for a stroll between the trees behind a wandering old man is far less reliable than using the path around the forest."

The girl looked sad. "But, you must be compensated for your actions, you saved my life! Is that not to be rewarded greatly? I am the second heir to the throne, I walk along the border between east and west while the eastern peasants shout crude comments, and the western nobles shout offers for my hand in marriage! Its all yours, for free! Please, brave knight, take me as your bride, do me the honour of allowing me to live in your presence, so you may return home to Freya and Ina as on a normal day, and to me, a third place in the happiest home in all the land." She gripped his hand with all her strength, yet the man waved her off with incredible ease.

"I saved you because you were a helpless child, and because it is my duty as a Knight. You are too young, and I am too old. I am old enough to be your father, even a grandfather if both I and my children had children at your age. Just go back home, return to your studies. If, in a few years time, you wish to get married, I will have no objection. You may marry whomever you like. You are a child, and I am forty, and a married one too.

"I cant go home. My father says so." The girl muttered sadly. "He says if I were to be captured then I was to marry my saviour or lay slave to my captor. He said something about motivating knights for future."

The Knight stands up with rage flashing in his eyes, lifting Princess Maiko by one arm and placing her on her feet. "I may refuse to be your husband, but there is still time for you to grow in a decent household, with a family who cares for you, and not for some obnoxious ulterior motives" He stabs his battle axe into some furniture to relieve himself of the burden and free his other hand. "My name Sir Seamus, but you can call me father."

It was my 18th birthday. I grew up in a loveless family, with an almost contractual relationship with my parents. As long as I did not step out of line and continued my royal duties, they would pay me in a luxurious living. If I broke the contract and followed the whimsy of my heart, punishment and a further restriction of freedom awaited. I was like a nightingale trapped in a birdcage. While I continued to sing, I would be cared for.

I did not particularly care for this arrangement and for my duties to the family and the nation, but I had no power to escape and I had thus frozen my emotions and grown into my role. After all, this was the path of least resistance for me to follow. My whole life was planned out for me, and on this day, I was to be decorated like a doll. Intricate jewels shaped like leaves were interwoven between my locks to match my flame-like hair. Dressed in a gossamer lilac gown embroidered with flowers, in a couple of hours, I was to be paraded like a prize for suitors from all over the world, to be married off in some political alliance.

Perhaps out of the small silver of conscience they possessed, my parents had informed the servants to get me ready early and leave me with a few hours of freedom before the processions begun. I decided to spend it in the garden. This was the one place I could feel, even for a moment, the illusion of freedom. High above the castle walls, overlooking the grand vista of the city. The beautiful wisteria clustered around me and swayed gently in the wind, engaged in a little dance with my fluttering hair and gown. The heavy scent of the flowers mixed with the scent of fresh, chilly air and swirled around in the night. It was still early, and I could still see the full moon in the sky, a beautiful backdrop to the scene.

Suddenly, I noticed a shadowy figure disrupting the serene night scene. It approached so quickly that I barely had time to register the sight. A beautiful serpent of enormous proportions dominating the space before me. It’s body was covered with light blue scales, made stunning with the moonlight falling on them, twinkling and reflecting every way. The dragon shone like a jewel in the reflection of the moon, and two deep, intelligent eyes came face to face with me.

“Do you want to be taken away?”

The booming voice seemed to awake some primordial part resting deep within me, resonating within my body and seeming to envelop the night.

I tilted my chin, looking up at the thing of beauty, the dragon in flight. Freedom personified.

“…Yes.”

It was a foolish answer, but perhaps it did not matter either way. What difference did it make were I to be whisked away by dragon or man to some unknown land? At least I could appreciate this dragons beauty.

“Come.”

For some unknown reason, the dragons voice felt comforting in a way and I willingly let myself be enveloped in its claws and placed on its back.

“Sleep.” The dragon commanded, and so I slept.

When I came to, I was in a large, gilded cave, glistening with gold specks all over the walls, the soft luminescence beautiful in the dimly lit atmosphere. I could see children running in circles, the sound of free laughter and play that I had never experienced as a child.

“You’re up”, a soft voice remarked.

I turned around. Beside me was seated a beautiful lady in her 20s, with long, silky jet black hair and flashing golden eyes. With some effort, I recalled the events of the previous night.

“What happened? Where am I?”

“Happy adoption day!” I blinked in visible confusion.

She chuckled, her little laugh more melodious than any birdsong I had heard before. It was an easy laugh, giving me the impression that she had given this little speech before to some unknowing others.

“I guess I should explain the situation. I am Eva, the queen of dragons. We have a tradition of allowing each of our kind a little human pet when they turn a hundred if they wanted. Yesterday, you were chosen for adoption by our youngest hatchling. Of course, contrary to belief, we are a peaceful species. If, after meeting her, you want to go back home, we’ll send you on your merry way.”

She gave a thoughtful pause, as if she was carefully picking her next words like strawberries from an abundant field.

“As you know, dragons are powerful. Once you bind yourself to her, you cannot reverse it and you have to serve her for life- no, even after death. It really is a lottery. Some dragons are kind and bond with their humans, and it becomes a beautiful partnership. Others treat their humans like slaves. It all depends on your luck. Oftentimes, we recommend our hatchlings to choose troubled royals as they rarely refuse the offer.”

I turned her words over in my head and recalled the beautiful scene I had witnessed last night. Sapphire scales glittering in the moonlight as their reflections danced every way, the whipping of the wisteria and my lilac gown in the wind as I felt the chill of freedom on my skin.

“Can I meet her?”

“She’s just past here.” Eva gestured to a little doorway near our side of the cave. I nodded my thanks.

I stood before the door, steadying myself with a deep breath. After a few moments, I slowly brought my hand up and knocked, the quick tapping akin to the quickening pace of my heart.

“Come in.”

The booming, primordial voice resounded. I turned the knob, ready to greet a new life of freedom, to fly out of the cage.

Feel proud, that's how I felt when a couple of my own prompts did this well.