#transchesters

[transchesters]

meg notices something strange when she’s inside of sam.

sam, who is 6’4” and 220 pounds of muscle, who towers over everyone he meets. sam, who on the inside, is a battered and broken little girl. meg would know. she’s been a battered and broken little girl herself.

so maybe she feels a little sympathy. maybe, as she stares into hazel eyes at this massive body in the mirror, she wishes that sam would just give in to all of this. her demonic blood, her cursed existence. at least if she was a demon, she could choose her body! she could look like meg knows she wants to.

yes, there’s sympathy, but meg is a demon. so sympathy comes with a darkness, twisted and vile. she lets sam be present in her mind as she gazes at her, through her, into the mirror. she makes sam watch as she slowly unbuttons her flannel, revealing her toned chest, her defined abdomen.

“if you were like me, sammy, you could choose any body you wanted,” meg murmurs, her voice lowered since she’s speaking from sam. “you could even take the one i used when we met. that little blonde piece. i know you thought she was pretty. i could take this body, and you could take that one, and we could find your rightful place on the throne of hell.”

she grins as sam constricts and fights against her. “besides. i think queen of hell has a much nicer ring to it than king. the demons wouldn’t question you. they’d call you whatever you wanted. she, your majesty, your highness. wouldn’t that be nicer than what you get now?”

when sam thinks of dean, meg sees what she sees. her brother, in all his glory, and what he would look like if sam said yes. “oh, sammy… you think he would ever accept you?” meg laughs, a throaty sound. she’s not used to sounding so masculine, but she doesn’t hate it at all. “i mean, the demon blood is one thing. it happened when you were a baby, and he still blames you! how do you think he’ll react if you tell him you’re a girl? he’s not exactly an award-winning feminist.”

meg tuts softly, shaking her head. sam’s hair is shaggy and ruffles as meg moves. “he’ll just think you’re an even bigger freak. hell, he’d probably blame me! i mean, you’ve got a girl demon inside of you. that must leave a mark, right?”

—

when all is said and done, when meg is exorcized from his body, sam can’t help but wonder if she was right. here he is, back to thinking of himself as a man. as a younger brother and a son. as a hunter, cursed to live this life. this life where he can’t, by any means, be a girl. he knows what dean would say.

meg was right. sam keeps his thoughts to himself. he doesn’t have time to contemplate his gender. he’s suffered with this secret since he was sixteen, old enough to stare at his female classmates and wish for his body to be like theirs. he decides that he’ll suffer for the rest of his life. he was born a man, and he would die a man. his secret died with jessica, with brady, with all of his stanford friends he had come out to. they were the last, and only, ones to call him “she”.

sam will take it to the grave. he doesn’t need to give dean another reason to call him a freak.

[sammygender]

there is no hope for our society

[ardentpoop]

fav eps are man who would be king (bc cas) and season 8 finale (bc sam) 😎 what’s ur favorite ep? 👀

ships d/c AND s/c AND d/s/c

started out as primarily a d/c shipper before shifting to a focus on sam

favorite sam arc is s7 cage trauma arc and favorite cas arc is s8 brainwashing arc

also if I had to pick a number 1 favorite episode it would probably be BUABS, though metamorphosis is a close second :)

[ro-sham-no]

Transfemme dean your beloved, you say?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55091809

- schizosamwinchester

"Dean had found some shred of himself in his father’s bed, but that Dean had died right along with him."

holy FUCK this is incredible. you've done it, you've captured The Thing.

i love the way you captured dean's internal conflict, especially about how other queer people see right through him (her?). i feel like being seen is one of dean's biggest fears, in general, but especially so for any sort of perception that shows him as weak or "less-than" in a way he doesn't intend.

that fear, to me, is a huge part of why he plays up the whole machismo act, just like you've written about here. he plays up the machismo-ness, but also his overall slob/player demeanor, which is just such a huge flag for "hate me about THIS, not that other thing that you definitely don't know about."

but i really, really love that he just can't fucking hide it. even sam sees it, "well, you are kind of butch. they probably think you're overcompensating." he is a queer, and just his existence, the composition of his skin, screams it out to every person he meets and i lovvve thattt

and then, in the end, having that identity be SO entwined with his dad and how he could be something like a woman but only in his father's bed, that when john dies, all dean has left is being john's eldest son, being sammy's older brother? so, so good!!

[sticky-bros]

Write T4T Wincest to scare TERFs.

[transfemmesam]

2, 16 & 23!! 💫

hiii thank you!!!

2. a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

hmmmmm i can't actually think of anything, most of my headcanons are the same as when i joined the fandom </3

16. a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

sammy dimples. sammy dimples i know this probably means a plot relevant thing but sammy dimples are my favorite tiny detail

23. the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

house of the dragon/game of thrones in general!!

[samdeancrimespree]

losing my mind over trans dean rn cause it’s like. what if everything was the exact same just dean was like 5’7

[vimbry]

know what's a fun fact about manchester. the latin name of the roman fort was "mamucium", meaning "breast-shaped hill". "chester" came from "castrum", meaning fort, which is why many cities here have that affix. the name has since evolved down the years to be unrecognisable to most modern people, but still resemble "man chest". tits endure.

[macbethz]

jst remembered I can draw whatever I want actually

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

Is there any (fannish) content you tend not to reblog? Conversely, is there anything you ALWAYS reblog?

there's not exactly a type of creation I don't reblog--I know some ppl don't reblog things that arent "aesthetic" to them but idrc about that haha. Obviously not AI, but thankfully thats pretty rare (for now). I will pretty much always reblog vids, fanart, and fic unless it's something that I don't like, which again, rare. Especially vids no matter the skill level, experience, technique, etc bc I feel that vids are some of the most underappreciated fandom creations.

In terms of content, I'm also not very picky, but I don't like things that hypermasculinize Sam. I'm sometimes picky about m/f wincest when it's Sam x deanna. I love the opposite (Samantha x dean) but the former is just not my cup of tea. If it's really good though I'll still rb. Also one thing that bothers me a lot is when people act above discourse, especially top/bottom discourse but it's still clear that they're not and that they still begrudge other people's preferences, so those kind of posts are something that I avoid.

Something I'll pretty much always reblog though is transchesters, wincest (inclusive of daddycest) through an abusive or more dangerous light, and anything ethelnatural <3

[transchesters]

the first time sam wears a dress.

dean had been a boy from the moment he was placed into his mother’s arms as a baby, even though the doctors proclaimed otherwise. even mary knew, when she looked into her child’s eyes, that he was a boy.

and as he grew, mary was proved right. dean threw aside anything with bows or skirts, but his eyes, still filled with wonder at the time, would light up at the blue t-shirts with dinosaur print and the torn up jeans. so deanna turned to dean, and john accepted it as it was. he knew his wife, knew she wasn’t delusional. and when mary got pregnant again, the thought of another boy running around the house with little dean as an older brother filled their hearts with warmth.

maybe sam was too young for mary to know any better, to know that her second son was actually her only daughter. maybe if she had lived past sam’s six-month birthday, she would have dressed her in the little dresses dean had detested.

but mary was dead, and john didn’t care what the hell his boys’ thought. what mattered was raising two hunters, trained to take down the things that ruined their lives. and sam picked up on that at a young age, and kept the deepest parts of herself, *to* herself. all she knew was her older brother and her father; she never got a chance to see any femininity in her life. her life, which for as long as she remembered, was guns and training and learning all the lore.

now, sam is fourteen. now, she is curious about the girls she meets at one school or the other, all with long hair and pretty skirts and colored eyelids. now, sam doesn’t know what’s wrong with her and why she longs for those things.

dean had been out on a supply run with their father, leaving sam to study or do whatever reclusive nerds do in their free time. sam was told to stay home by both dean and john, and they expected her to do exactly that considering most of the time, she was a perfect, obedient son. but could you blame her for wanting a bit more? to want to explore her curiosities and find out what they mean?

so she went to the local thrift shop in their current, rundown town. just to look, that’s all! that’s at least what she told herself as she walked inside and made a beeline for the women’s section.

sam felt close to panicking as she yanks a pale green dress from the racks and rushes over to the cashier. she offers some vague comment that it’s *”for my sister,”* and quickly paid and rushed back to the motel.

it’s late when dean and john return. john retires to his own room immediately, grabbing a beer and bottle of whiskey on the way. he leaves dean to unload supplies and tuck them away wherever they belong in the impala, before he’s shambling into his shared room with sam.

sam, who is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, gazing intently at herself, turning this way and that to watch the flowy dress twirl around her. she’s so lost in her mind that she doesn’t look up until dean slams the door shut, staring at her with wide eyes.

“dean! i-i, uh, i was just-” sam rambles, stumbling over her words as she quickly yanks the dress over her head, balling it up and holding it behind her as if dean will forget she was ever wearing it. “i just thought it was cool, it’s nothing, i swear! please— please don’t tell dad.”

dean feels stupid very suddenly. has he been ignoring obvious signs, similar to ones he showed when he was yonguer? a well of grief opens up within him, one he has worked very hard on squashing into a tiny ball and shoving it in the back of his mind. he misses his mother, and wishes desperately that she were here to help him say the right things.

the look on dean’s face is unreadable as all of this passes through his mind, at least until he remembers to soften it. until he offers sammy a smile. “it’s cool. i get it.”

the words do nothing to quell sam's panic. she shuffles out of the bathroom, keeping the dress clutched tightly behind her as if revealing it to dean would incite some unknowable rage. she is already the freak of the family, the one who wants nothing to do with the guns and the hunting and the moving town to town. and now, she’s a boy who wears dresses. she doesn’s even have the vocabulary to express the fact that she doesn’t feel like a boy at all!

“i'll get rid of it,” she mutters, shoving it under her bed, scrambling to grab one of dean's hand-me-down shirts and pulling it on.

“sammy. it's okay.” dean steps foward as his words still seem to do nothing. he grabs sam's shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “stay,” he states, before he takes a step back and begins to pull off his shirt. sam's face is screwed up, a mixture of confusion and distress, but watches nonetheless as dean drops his shirt to the side, revealing his chest, wrapped in the bandages from their first aid kits as usual.

“i guess i never really explained this to you,” dean mumbles under his breath, scratching at the bandages which make his whole upper body ache, but make his skin crawl when they aren't there. sam fidgets uncomfortably as she stands before her brother, shifting from foot to foot. she doesn't understand what he means, and he *hates* not understanding.

“can we just drop it, please?” she whines, averting her eyes as suddenly, dean begins tugging the bandages from his chest.

“look at me, dumbass,” dean grits out, because he doesn't have the words to explain this any better than just showing sammy.

maybe if things were different. maybe if mary was still here, they would have learned about this together. and when sam finally felt like sharing how she felt, they would be able to explain it to her together.

but mary is dead, and dean doesn't know what he is or what sam is other than winchesters'.

sam lifts her eyes finally when dean tells her to, and it's like she's seeing his brother for the first time. sure, she has seen dean naked before. they've shared a room forever, lived in impossibly small quarters, sometimes just the impala's backseat when john was too tired or drunk to find them a place. dean’s chest was different than his own, but he had never really thought about it. dean was a boy, and sam was a boy, and he never knew anything other than that.

until now.

sam’s eyes well up with tears as she finally understands. she and her brother are the same, yet different. she understands, and she feels understood, and it's so entirely overwhelming that she can't help but sniffle and wipe at her wet eyes.

dean rolls his eyes, his cheeks heating up as he yanks his shirt back on. “knock it off, sammy,” he grumbles, but there is a note of fondness in his voice he can't help. “it's fine. we'll deal with it.”

they both know it's going to suck. dean was lucky to look boyish enough that he passed pretty well. under his dad's big jacket and his oversized, thrifted clothes, no one questioned him. but sam thinks it won't be quite the same for her. and what is she supposed to tell her dad?!

perhaps those are questions for another time.

when sam pulls the dress back on under her big shirt and crawls into bed that way, dean doesn't say anything. when dean wraps his chest again, sam looks away. she wonders if the bruises lining his sides hurt. she wonders why their bodies are the way they are, both itching for the other's skin. why must sam’s chest concave when dean wants nothing but a falt chest? why must dean hide curved hips under baggy jeans when sam wishes she had anything besides her stick-like figure?

the sibilings go to sleep, a little more in tune with the other, and a little bit sadder for the other.

[schlonghaver]

so you telling me that nobody took the url transchesters until now

[ardentpoop]

just have to say i’m obsessed with your takes. You Get It. thank you for your work 🫡 your johnsamdean writing is. s tier

thank you so much 🥰 I know I gripe abt the fandom every day lmfao but I do very much appreciate that there is a larger pocket of ppl who make it fun to be here today than there was a decade ago. luv you all mwah mwah

[transfemmesam]

oh btw if you followed me recently and got a follow from b********t we’re mutuals 🫶

[transchesters]

okay. interact with this post if you would wanna join a transfem sam / transchesters / transnatural discord server… i am pushing the agenda as far as possible and im wondering if anyone would actually want to join 👀 because i would figure it out if there’s enough interest!

[transchesters]

could you perchance write something with transfem sam........... maybe stanford era.......... no pressure ofc

HI YES!!!! made it kind of sad. oops. hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the req!

sam was sixteen when she realized she was a girl.

and two years later, at eighteen, her body is betraying her. she’s huge, towering over her brother and her father. she towers over them now as she grips a letter in her hand and stares at her father. can he even be called that at this point?

“you walk out that door, you don’t come back.”

sam looks to dean, wondering if he’ll say anything. he doesn’t. he just watches as sam turns on her heel, storms into their shared room, and starts shoveling her few belongings into a bag. she’s out the door before another word is spoken, and she ignores the yelling she leaves behind. dean can deal with john on his own. they’ve always been one and the same. violent hunters, quick to pounce and hit and kill.

sam is different from them, in more ways than one. she thinks about these differences as she walks in the darkness towards the bus station, a hoodie tugged low over her face. for one, she hates fighting and hunting. what’s fun about getting hit or clawed or bitten?! what’s fun about having to sit beside an exhausted dean and stitching him up, while john gets plastered on the sofa? she hates this life, she hates her father, and she hates that the biggest othering aspect of all is that she’s not the son or the brother they think she is. and she never even got to tell them.

when sam arrives in palo alto, she buys her first dress. it’s long, though thanks to her height it only reaches her calves. she pulls together ever ounce of courage in her body and she wears it to orientation. it catches in the wind and flares around her, a dark floral pattern, and her grown-out hair hides her haunted eyes. she gets misgendered a few times, but california is by far the most welcoming place she’s ever seen. the first time she hears someone call her “she,” her heart clenches in her chest and her eyes dart around nervously, waiting for someone to laugh.

no one does, and everyone uses her proper pronouns after that. she's gifted a pin that boldly states "my pronouns are she/her" and she wears it with pride.

sam is two months into her first semester, and she's acing all of her courses. it's amazing what a normal life can gift someone. she still has nightmares, and her eyes still linger on the crime section of the newspaper. she still checks her phone with a sinking feeling in her chest that is not at all relieved when she sees no new missed calls from dean or john. but she's adjusting.

her wardrobe is full of thrifted skirts and dresses and crop tops. she crops a few of her own, in fact. one, an AC/DC shirt she didn't realize she'd stolen from dean. when she cuts off the bottom third of the shirt, she thinks about dean seeing her in it, showing off her toned midriff, paired with a black skirt that billows when she walks. she wonders if he would be disgusted.

sam is suffering through finals week of her second semester when she's dragged to a bar with her group of friends. brady insists she go out; she's not exactly a shut-in, but her therapist suggests she might be suffering from an acute bout of agoraphobia. and doesn't she want to be normal? normal consists of going out on a regular basis, interacting with others, staying out way too late. at least, that's what she assumes, based off of brady's numerous stories.

she's leaning against the bar, her hair now grown out to her shoulders. she's lost in thought when brady suddenly calls her name into her ear. "earth to sam! c'mon, pay attention!" sam huffs as she pulls herself back together, focusing on what's in front of her rather than the monsters in her head.

brady stands beside a blond, curly haired woman. she has light eyes and a beauty mark and a wide smile. "i'm jessica!" she shouts over the bar chatter, thrusting her hand out towards sam, who blinks as if she's never been offered a handshake before.

"uh, sam!" she responds once her brain starts working again, trying to fight a feeling of bashfulness as her large hand envelops jessica's smaller one. they shake firmly, but jessica's hand lingers in hers, and sam doesn't pull away.

sam is finished with her first year of college when she asks jessica if she wants to move in together.

"why'd you take so long to ask, sammy?" jessica responds with her cheeky grin.

"it's sam!" she shoots back, her own grin brighter than it has been her entire life.

sam is beginning her second year and third semester at stanford when jessica sits down beside her at a table in the library, holding a hodge-podge collection of papers, notebooks, and folders. sam regards her curiously, before returning her attention to her assignment. "that looks like a tough one," she comments, assuming that jessica was just assigned a case to research, similar to her own assignment, which was breaking down roe v. wade and casey v. planned parenthood.

jessica rolls her eyes at sam's quick return to her work, and she sets down a girthy folder on top of sam's materials. sam blinks, about to ask what jessica is doing, when she processes the words on the page.

feminizing hormone therapy: a history and guide by jessica moore.

sam looks up at jessica, silent at first. jessica's eyes are glinting with excitement and a bit of nerves.

"you... did all this for me?" sam asks slowly, like she can't understand why someone would put so much work and time into something like this for someone like her.

"of course. i know your dysphoria is getting worse. you hardly shower or look at yourself in the mirror. so i figured we could look into this together. there's some clinics nearby, and you can easily get a referral from your therapist," jessica responds, speeding through her words with the fervor she often gets when discussing something she's passionate about.

sam and jessica have been dating for twelve weeks when she tells her she loves her.

sam is starting her fourth semester when she finally gets in to see a doctor and start hormone replacement therapy. she cries on the way home, and jessica holds her throughout her sleepless night.

sam is in the middle of her fourth semester when she hears someone breaking into her house. she's in love with her girlfriend and their life, and then dean ruins it all.

she doesn't take HRT after jessica dies.