Reinventing my old tumblr blog to use it as a place to explore my draconity and maybe publish some kinfeels short stories.
Also to be big and loud because I do find myself needing one of those now and then haha.
So anyway! Hi! My name is Skalos! You probably know me better as Spike, formerly giant dinosaur, formerly dragon, formerly gnoll, and now back to dragon with a new name to go with it!
I'm an author of dragon POV fiction, litRPG, fantasy, and monster content. I don't do commissions anymore, I write books instead. Hence the Bookwyrm title haha. I'll probably post some links to my books eventually, but I get the feeling some of you already know them ;3
Instead of cursing her to an eternal sleep or death, Maleficent declares that the princess will grow up to betray the kingdom and serve her instead. So the king sends Aurora away, but one day the young adventurous girl strays a bit too far and right into her territory.
And of course Maleficent is like "hey kid do you wanna learn some totally normal magic that is not dark or evil at all"
A big part of being a quadruped is being able to just lie down anytime. Waiting? Loaf time. Talking to someone shorter than you? Loaf time. Falling asleep in the sun? Loaf time. Bored? Loaf it up till something interesting happens. Leg hurt? Loaf time.
yo therianblr what types of dragons could possibly have fluffy feather wings? im thinking i might be a dragon (horns, long claws, tail) I just have biiiig fluffy white wings. or any creature that generally fits that description i genuinely have no clue. thx !!
Yeah, dragons don't traditionally have categories and types. That's a relatively new thing. Originally, most of us were unique chimerical mixes of animal traits that could be nearly anything, fit for the story we each belonged in.
So, literally, you can be your own dragon, and you'll be as much of a dragon as the rest of us.
Dragons, taxonomically, are a lot like fish. Which is to say we share a lot of similarities but there is no one "correct" way for us to exist. If it walks like a dragon, talks like a dragon, and says it's a dragon, then it's a dragon!
yo therianblr what types of dragons could possibly have fluffy feather wings? im thinking i might be a dragon (horns, long claws, tail) I just have biiiig fluffy white wings. or any creature that generally fits that description i genuinely have no clue. thx !!
Yeah, dragons don't traditionally have categories and types. That's a relatively new thing. Originally, most of us were unique chimerical mixes of animal traits that could be nearly anything, fit for the story we each belonged in.
So, literally, you can be your own dragon, and you'll be as much of a dragon as the rest of us.
The parking attendant paused by the double-length bay. Intended for mobile homes and cars with trailers, it was currently occupied by a sleeping dragon.
No parts of it extended beyond the lines, and the paper ticket was clearly displayed, impaled on a horn.
yo therianblr what types of dragons could possibly have fluffy feather wings? im thinking i might be a dragon (horns, long claws, tail) I just have biiiig fluffy white wings. or any creature that generally fits that description i genuinely have no clue. thx !!
YOU'RE LISTENING TO!
coins tumbling down a mountain of treasure
102.3! REAL DRAGON FM!
a princess screams in the distance
WHERE WE PLAY ROARS! ROARS! AND MORE ROARS!
a single proud dragon roars, echoing off the top of a mountain
This is not your broodmother's radio station!
Power of the Beast by Beast in Black starts playing
This would be my first time home since my transition.
My parents knew about it, of course. It was sort of impossible to hide from them. Every time I called them, they’d notice my voice changing ever so slightly more. One day, Mom asked for a video call instead of a regular one. That was when I broke the news to them. What I was doing was just so very hard to hide at that point. I’d changed too much.
My parents tried to accept me as I changed. Bless their hearts, they really did. But they just didn’t understand why I needed to do it, why I was compelled to seek the doctors who could help me through the procedure. Especially since I’d done so without telling them first.
When they focused in on that point, I asked them if they would have tried to talk me out of it. They denied it up and down, but the lie was pretty plain to see. Ultimately, my changes drove a schism through our relationship, one that never really closed again.
My sister, however, knew from the moment I showed her that this was something I didn’t just want to do; it was something I needed to do. When faced with the choice to take this leap and blossom into my best self, or languish in a body that was slowly killing me, she knew I had made the right choice. More than that, she recognized me. Even when I had changed so much that my parents didn’t know me anymore, my sister still ran up to greet me every time I visited her.
This would be my first time home, at my parents' house, in my hometown, since my transition.
It was a sort of… welcome-home party; I guess. My sister and I planned it together, so that we could reintroduce me to the family and my friends. Of course, she and her husband knew about me, even though they hadn’t told their kids yet. My niece and nephew were little, and wouldn’t understand who I was as I transitioned. I hadn’t had a chance to see them since my transition finished, but my sister promised that we’d do it soon.
Sis handled all the invites and insisted we hold it at Mom and Dad’s house. I wanted to do it somewhere a bit more open. The park, I mused, would have been a perfect place to do it. Plenty of space to mingle, but more importantly, I could run away if and when things went wrong. My sister insisted we do it in my parents' backyard.
It was a place of familiarity; she explained. It was a place where everyone already knew me, and hopefully, seeing me as I am now in this familiar place would help them connect who I was and who I am in their brains.
At least, that was the hope. There was no guarantee that the plan would work.
So that was where I was headed. My home town. For the first time since my transition. I kept dwelling on that fact as I traveled, the scenery passing in a blur. My town had changed so much in the two years since I left, in the two years since my transition started. It looked the same, but it also looked so much different. Uncomfortably different. Trees were bigger than I remembered them, casting streets in deeper shadows than I was used to. There were new cars on old driveways. There were unfamiliar faces in familiar windows, watching me nervously. And yet, through it all, I still recognized this place as home. Even though I hadn’t lived here in years, this was where I grew up; this is where I spent twenty-five years of my life.
My tablet buzzed, and I fished it out of my bag. My sister was sending me rapid-fire texts, asking about my ETA. Five minutes out, I told her. It was a generous estimate, even as I strolled down the street.
Message me when you’re around the corner. We’ll introduce you, my sister texted back.
Thanks.
I dallied a little bit longer in the cul-de-sac, just admiring the place I knew so well yet no longer knew at all. This street had taken such good care of me. There was the corner where my friends and I played street hockey, and where I inevitably broke my leg playing street hockey. There was the hill where Dad taught me how to ride a bike and, inevitably, broke my collarbone when I crashed into a parked car going way too fast.
Okay, maybe this street hadn’t taken such good care of me, but despite the pain, these were still happy memories. Memories of love and friendship, of being surrounded by people who knew me.
Knew me as I was back then.
This was my first time home since my transition.
I was standing outside the fence, hidden from view by the nine-foot-high wooden walls. My sister was there with me. We hugged, as siblings sometimes do, and she complimented me on how well I cleaned up. I hadn’t done anything special, but I still preened at her compliment. I couldn’t help it; I’d become a lot more vain since transitioning, something that the doctors had warned me might happen. I was aligning my body with how I always envisioned it was supposed to look; it was only natural to take pride in my new appearance and find joy in its beauty.
My sister stepped back through the gate and got everyone’s attention. She thanked them all for being here to welcome me home, and asked them not to be alarmed when they saw me. That despite the changes, I was still the same person they all knew and loved. I was even more that person, actually, because I was finally happy to be me.
At my sister’s flourish, I stepped through the gate, and presented myself to the crowd. There were gasps and murmurs. My mother leaned into my father’s embrace, shocked at my changes even though none of this was news to her.
My grandfather arched an eyebrow at me, took off his glasses to clean the lenses, then put them back on. “Are they hiding behind the dragon?” he asked.
“No, I am the dragon,” I said, with the confidence and resolve I could have only dreamt of having back before my transition. I sat on my haunches and held my head high, spreading my wings to display myself with pride. Sitting like this, I could easily see over the fence. I took pleasure in that fact and felt a reptilian purr rumble from within my chest. “Hi everyone, it’s nice to meet you all again.”
And with that, the barriers broke down. My friends were the first ones to step forward and congratulate me. They hugged me and told me they always knew, deep down, that this was what I was always meant to be. They took to referring to me within the context of being a dragon almost immediately. They didn’t need reminding or even gentle nudges from my sister.
“That explains the raw steaks,” one of them laughed.
“Yeah, I like my meat bloody now,” I joked. I wanted to pat them on the back, but I was a lot stronger now than I was back when we hung out regularly. I didn’t want to send them flying.
After my friends, my cousins stepped forward to talk with me.
“So do you go by a different name now? Something more dragony?” they asked.
“I thought about it, but I don’t really feel the need to go that far,” I explained. “I don’t hate my name, and the process to get it legally changed is such a hassle.”
They seemed relieved at that.
To everyone’s surprise, my grandfather was next. At nearly a hundred years old, the family patriarch was venerated, loved, and respected by everyone. I fully expected him to hate what I’d become, but to my shock, as I bent down to hear his wheezing whispers, he patted me on the nose.
“There you are, kiddo,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you, but you've got the same eyes. Always sharp, they were.”
“Well, I’ve got slit pupils now.”
“Sharper now than they used to be,” he chuckled. He patted me twice more. “You look good. Shiny. Like a pile of coins.”
I purred at his praise. “Thanks! I just shed my old scales, so my new ones are really vibrant. We actually timed this party super well, because if I were still in shed, I probably wouldn’t have been able to make it.”
The look my grandfather gave me said that he didn’t understand a word I had just said, but he was trying very hard to be respectful about it. I appreciated that, and told him as much.
The last people to speak with me were my parents. They approached me almost nervously, and I lowered my head to be closer to their eye level.
“I think we owe you an apology,” my dad said.
My mother nodded. “We… we were jut worried about losing you. But watching you now, the way you move, the way you talk. You never used to be like that.”
“Like what?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Happy,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Thinking back, you were always hunched over, slinking around like you were just trying to get from point A to point B. But now? You’re holding yourself tall and proud. There’s something so joyous in your every movement, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.”
I grabbed my tail and showed it off to them. “It’s this thing. It’s pretty hard for me to hide my feelings with this big ole rudder swaying around excitedly.”
My dad snorted a laugh as I relinquished my tail and let it right itself again. He hugged me, wrapping his arms around my neck. My mother joined in too, and I squeezed them both with my wings.
And with introductions out of the way, the party got into full swing. Everyone wanted to know what it was like to be a dragon.
“It’s right,” I said. “I feel more like myself than I ever had before.”
They asked me to do tricks for them. My draconic pride stung a little at the idea of parading myself around like a pony, but it soared at the chance to show off. I demonstrated my fire breath by igniting wood in the fire pit. I did some flying maneuvers I’d been practicing, including corkscrews and loops.
Through it all, I felt good. I felt right and, more importantly, I felt like my friends and family were finally starting to understand. The human they knew me as, that was never really me. Now that they’ve seen me as a dragon, they understood that this was always what I was meant to be. That I’d been trapped in my body and now, finally, I was free to be my truest self.
“So do you live in a cave now? You’re a bit too big to fit in a conventional apartment,” my friend asked.
“As stereotypical as it is, yeah,” I laughed. “The Therio Foundation, the organization that helped set up my transition, has some land set aside so folks like me can live in something approaching our natural habitat. I have a cave to call my own, but the inside is really more like an apartment. It’s got all the amenities you’d expect: running water, electricity, even internet.”
“But it’s still a cave?”
“Well, yeah. But it’s a lot nicer than it sounds! You should come by for a visit. One of my neighbors is an ogre, and as weird as that sounds, he makes the best chili!”
“What do you do for work now? I’m guessing tech doesn’t really suit you anymore, does it?”
“Aha, no. I got fired from my last job once my transition took me out of commission for two weeks. My wings were growing in, and it was probably the most painful experience of my life,” I said, making the growling noise that was a dragon laugh. “The Therio Foundation helped me find a new job, though.”
“Let me guess: security?” my friend asked, incredulous. They all burst into laughter as my cheeks burned with a blush.
“Is it really that much of a stereotype?” I asked.
“Dragons sitting on gold? Yeah, absolutely.”
“I don’t sit on gold! I just… sit in front of the vault. And sniff people for guns,” I muttered. “It’s really easy to smell gunpowder through clothes.” I blinked slowly as the realization dawned on me. “Oh shit, I’m a dragon stereotype.”
That got more cackles from my friends. “It sounds like it suits you just fine, though.”
“Yeah. I mostly get to sleep through the entire shift, which is shockingly both okay and entirely necessary, since I tend to stay up late playing video games.”
“And the bank is okay with that?”
“Oh absolutely. Honestly, just having me in the building has probably stopped most attempted robberies alone. I have had to get involved once or twice, but nobody really needs to wake me up. I can hear and smell enough even when asleep, and a little bit of smoke out the nostrils is enough to scare off most would-be-criminals.” I gave them a little demonstration, letting twin columns of smoke waft up from my nose. “Honestly, the best part about the job is that, aside from paying rent and utilities, I don’t really spend much money. I don’t need to buy clothes anymore, and I usually hunt for all my meals. So I’m putting a lot of money into my savings!”
“You’re building a hoard!” one of my friends blurted.
“Oh my god, stop that,” I giggled, blushing. “But yeah. I’ve started working on getting a proper hoard going. Turns out there is actually a biological reason dragons hoarded treasure. I've gotta eat metals now and again to keep my scales healthy, and the different metals I eat have different effects. So to get them all shiny like this, I had to eat silver, which is frustratingly expensive,” I explained. “I don’t have to eat metal very often, only before I’m about to shed. That’s usually the first warning sign that a shed is coming, actually.”
“Sweet. Think we could get some of your shed scales?”
“Nah, sorry. I traded them with the ogre next door for his incredible chili.”
That got more laughter out of my friends, and I felt a warm feeling inside that had nothing to do with the fire in my belly. It felt good to have people I cared about not only accept me for what I was, but take an active interest in my life.
As the party wound down for the evening, people took to their cars to drive away. One of my friends expressed interest in a possible transition of their own, and I conveniently had the card for my Therio Foundation doctor in my neck satchel. When I asked about what they thought they wanted to be, they shrugged and said that they didn’t know, just that seeing me as a dragon made them recognize that they probably weren’t human.
“The Therio Foundation will at the very least help you explore that side of yourself,” I told them, smiling warmly. “Hit me up if you come by Theta Acres. If I’m not at work, I’ll be in my cave. I can help introduce you to some people.”
“Thanks,” they said, genuinely moved by my offer to help.
I said goodbye to my relatives and friends, as one by one they left. Finally, it was just me, my parents, my sister, and my grandfather. The old geezer was fast asleep in his lawn chair, so we decided it best not to wake him up. I whispered him goodbye, then embraced my parents. My sister gave me a particularly strong hug, praising me for being so brave and sharing myself with everyone.
“So when do we show your kids?” I asked her.
“I was thinking we could have you make a grand entrance at their birthday party in a couple of weeks. One of my son’s friends has been bragging about their grandfather being a vampire, so I figure we should one-up him by showing off the dragon in the family.” My sister grinned devilishly, and I couldn’t deny the idea had some appeal.
As I took a few steps out into the street, I glanced over my shoulder to admire the house I grew up in. It looked a lot smaller than I remembered, but that was to be expected. I was nearly twice as big as I was before my transition. I couldn’t fit inside anymore, but that didn’t really matter. I had outgrown this home, both as a person and, quite literally, as a dragon. I smiled at the notion, spreading my wings and allowing my impressive wingspan to dominate the road. I flapped them twice, then leapt into the air.
This was my first time home since my transition. As the road fell away beneath me, and the sky reached out to embrace me, my heart felt alight with warmth and light. I would be back soon, I reckoned, because this place was full of people who loved me and memories I treasured.
the symbolism of your dragon partner rolling over to expose their soft underbelly and lowering their defenses so that you can get close and cuddle them for warmth 🥺🥺🥺
The draconic urge to grab your partner and fly off to a secluded lair, never to be seen again (the dragoness will still respond to her social media though).
literary dragons: metaphor for human greed or the villain in a protagonist vs environment narrative where the dragon serves as an extension of nature itself
professional dragon handler talking about her dragon: yeah this is Spirea. i have to get her a cranberry muffin every morning on the way to work or she gets really pouty. we’re late every day because she wants me to pet her for like twenty minutes but gets annoyed when i show up twenty minutes early to pet her. she is an apex predator the size of a large horse and she will jump out of her skin if you startle her. she cries at cute birds sometimes. she might starve to death if i didn’t feed her, i think hunting would make her sad. she ropes me into cuddling her for like an hour after work every day and makes puppy eyes at me until i do
dragon learning princesses don’t really exist anymore, at least in the country she’s in, so she figures that she should find the modern equivalent
she is frankly a bit baffled that everyone seems to be happier now and people on social media are encouraging her to just eat the landlord she kidnapped and then take ownership of the houses he does a terrible job maintaining. people start tagging her in pictures of their houses’ atrocious Landlord Special repair jobs
