cauldwell

Transsexual vs. Transgender: Do Transmeds Have It Wrong?

This is something that I’ve been thinking about recently, and I feel that it’s something that should be discussed in the truscum/transmedicalist community.

After doing a bit of research, I found that the word ‘transsexual’ (and derivative words) was coined by David Oliver Cauldwell in 1949, though sex-changes were being performed before then. The word became popularized in 1965 with the publication of Harry Benjamin’s seminal work, 'The Transsexual Phenomenon’.

Here we see the use of the word transsexual to mean 'someone who wishes to change to the opposite sex.’

In 1965, Dr. John Oliven proposed that the term transsexualism be replaced by the term transgenderism, arguing that the concept of sexuality could not account for the “all consuming belief that [transsexuals] are women who by some incredible error were given the bodies of men”. On April 26, 1970, a TV Guide newspaper insert used the term “transgendered” to describe the transsexual title character of Gore Vidal’s sex-change farce Myra Breckinridge (“Sunday Highlights” 1970). In 1974, Drs. Robert Hatcher and Joseph Pearson used “transgender” as a term for operative transsexuals, writing, “The transvestite rarely seeks transgender surgery”

Clearly, the word transgender started as a synonym for transsexual.

But, starting in the mid 1980s (and being extremely popularized in the 90s), transgender started to become the umbrella term that we see people claiming it to be today. It began with encompassing transsexuals as well as cross-dressers, and now is so broad as to include anyone who’s gender expression deviates from their assigned gender role. Essentially, people who are gender nonconforming can be labeled as transgender.

Here is where we are running into problems within the greater 'trans’ community.

Everywhere I look, every source that I see, transgender does seem to have taken this definition as far back as 20-30 years ago; a definition that many transmedicalists disagree with.

Transmeds are defined by one thing: that you need to have gender dysphoria (ie, not identifying with/feeling disconnected/dissociated from your sex characteristics) to be transgender/transsexual, and that being trans is a medical condition to be treated.

Many transmeds agree that the word 'gender’ refers to your brain sex, while the popular transgender way to define 'gender’ is socially and/or how one 'feels’.

But the problem is, if transgender can now mean that you are simply gender nonconforming, can we really say that you need dysphoria for that?

————

The question boils down to this:

Are we the ones in the wrong?

Can people who identify as 'agender’, 'bigender’, 'genderfluid’, 'genderqueer’, 'non-binary’, etc call themselves transgender due to them actually fitting the common definition?

Should we assert that transgenderism started as an alternative word for transsexualism and that it should remain the word used to describe our condition?

Should we go back to using just the word transsexual, and assert that it is different from transgender?

Or should we (or they) come up with new words to separate us distinctly from each other?

Where My Demon Hides - Part 1: Flashbacks

Warnings: None really. This is just part 1 of a few I got planned out. Will lead to hot Demon!Dean smut eventually.

Word Count: 967

Summary: The reader and Dean Winchester were in a relationship but then her world collapsed when Metatron stabbed Dean, subsequently killing him (In Season 9). At least that’s what she thought. Nothing could have prepared the reader for what really happened. 


Pairing: Dean x Reader, Demon!Dean x Reader, Deanmon x Reader

Part 1: Flashbacks

Fanfiction.net | AO3


The wind hustled through my hair as I stood above the grave of Angela Cauldwell. In the dead of night, I was the only soul left in the cemetery, which was of course a good thing. Grave desecration was a crime, aserious disgrace to the dead and also a very usual occurrence in the life of ahunter. It was best done in solitude. I watched the flames engulf her bones.“Rest in peace,” I whispered to no one in particular. I mean it wasn’t likeanyone could hear me. The cemetery was deserted and Angela was already longgone.

The thickening silence was suddenly disrupted with the shrill sound of my ringtone. I had half the mind to ignore it. I’d been doing that a lot lately. All I wanted was to be left to my own devices. I hunted on my own and all I had to deal with was my lonely self. That was just how I had come to like it. This had not always been the case though. There was a time when I had a home – the closest to a home a hunter could come to have in our line of work – in a ‘hole’ somewhere in Kansas. There was a time when I never had to worry about backup because I had the two best hunters on this side of the ocean by my side. There was a time when I never had to be alone because I always woke up to the warmth of a gorgeous green eyed man every single morning. Not anymore.

I willfully broke off that painful train of thought and fished out the phone from my jean pocket. I stared at the name on my screen for a while, debating whether or not to pick up. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need him to remind me over and over. This was like salt in an open wound that I’ve come to think would never heal. It’s been months and I still couldn’t wrap my head around to be okay about any of it.

With a sense of foreboding and resignation, I answered his call. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Y/N. You know I never would have called unless I had an alternative,” he told me. I knew he was right. When I left the bunker with him weeping for his dead brother, I had told him to lose my number. Evidently, he hadn’t.

“Yeah, I know, Sam. So why did you call?”

“It’s about Dean.”

My heart felt like it stopped.



 

“Dean! DEAN!” I screamed clutching his worn plaid shirt. His worn, bloodstained plaid shirt. Oh, God! There was so much blood. His blood.

 “He’s gone, Y/N,” Sam uttered solemnly.

 “No!” I yelled, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare say that!”

 I turned back to Dean, wiping away some dried up blood on his cheek. “Wake up, damn it,” I whispered. The tears were streaming down my face. I could feel their wetness on my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel like I could care about anything in the world. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. He was gone.

 Dean Winchester was dead.

 


 


“Y/N, you there?” Sam’s voice brought me back from the unwanted trip down memory lane. Just the mentioning of his name was enough to trigger the flashbacks.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I reassured him. “What about Dean?”

“I found him.”

“What do you mean you found him?”

“He’s alive, Y/N.”

“Samuel Winchester! Don’t you mess with me,” I yelled, my voice ringing louder in the silence. “I don’t know what kind of cruel game you’re playing but I’m hanging up.”

“Would I ever joke about this?” He asked. He was right. I knew that he wouldn’t but I couldn’t understand for the life of me what he was getting at. I had held Dean’s dead lifeless body in my very hands. I had felt his unmoving chest, and listened to his heart that didn’t make a beat. “He’s not dead. Not exactly,” Sam continued. “He’s a demon, Y/N.”

My grip on the cell phone tightened involuntarily. “Come again?”

“Just come to the bunker ASAP. I’ll explain everything,” he sighed. He sounded so very tired. “I need your help, Y/N. You know I wouldn’t ask if I really didn’t need it.”

I nodded, and then realizing he couldn’t exactly see it through the phone, I said, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”


 

“You need to brace yourself for what you’re about to see,” Sam told me before the entrance to the bunker’s very own dungeon. “It is Dean, but it’s not him.”

I nodded. Sam had explained everything. He told me about how the Mark had brought Dean back to life as a demon. He told me of Crowley’s role in all of it. He told me that there was a chance for us to cure him and maybe, just maybe to bring him back.

“Are you ready?” he asked me. Could you ever be ready for something like this? Could you be ready to see the love of your life, whose death you mourned for months and months, brought back to life as a heartless demon? I didn’t think so.

I nodded anyway. Here’s the thing though. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have ever prepared me for what awaited in the cold dark dungeon.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said with a feral smirk on his beautiful face. It sounded like him but at the same time it didn’t. “Are you here to save me, love?” he hurled the endearment like it was an epithet…and his eyes flashed.

His beautiful green eyes I used to drown in, they weren’t green anymore. They were as black as sin.


Part 2: Bound and Gagged

Part 3: In Control

Part 4: Cat and Mouse

Part 5: Hardest Word

10

Christmas and cold is not my thing, so I took my favourite Vendon family to Sunlit Tides instead! The lucky bunch is the Cauldwell family consisting of fireman/ex biker Jawsie Cauldwell and his three adopted kids which he saved from a house fire 10 years ago. 

I quickly merged the FUCKING STUNNING Sunlit Tides with IP stuff and added a hidden island as well as all the dive lots from Isla Paradiso. I stuffed it with ports too. Serenity Retreat was turned into one of those old Caribbean wooden villas (yes I’ve played too much AC Black Flag haha). The oldest kids were out exploring the world. I seriously love Sunlit Tides!

Jawsie was taken by surprise as he spotted a mermaid in the sauna, hahaha that facial expression is priceless. I love my simmies. 

Last pic is of the resort’s infinity pool with a fully clothed man taking a swim at 5 in the morning. Perfectly normal sims behaviour as per usual. 

Where My Demon Hides (PG-13 version)


Warnings: Language, heartless demon!Dean being callous and mean.

Word Count: 2826


The wind hustled through my hair as I stood above the grave of Angela Cauldwell. In the dead of night, I was the only soul left in the cemetery, which was of course a good thing. Grave desecration was a crime, a serious disgrace to the dead and also a very usual occurrence in the life of a hunter. It was best done in solitude. I watched the flames engulf her bones. “Rest in peace,” I whispered to no one in particular. I mean it wasn’t like anyone could hear me. The cemetery was deserted and Angela was already long gone.

The thickening silence was suddenly disrupted with the shrill sound of my ringtone. I had half the mind to ignore it. I’d been doing that a lot lately. All I wanted was to be left to my own devices. I hunted on my own and all I had to deal with was my lonely self. That was just how I had come to like it. This had not always been the case though. There was a time when I had a home – the closest to a home a hunter could come to have in our line of work – in a ‘hole’ somewhere in Kansas. There was a time when I never had to worry about backup because I had the two best hunters on this side of the ocean by my side. There was a time when I never had to be alone because I always woke up to the warmth of a gorgeous green eyed man every single morning. Not anymore.

I willfully broke off that painful train of thought and fished out the phone from my jean pocket. I stared at the name on my screen for a while, debating whether or not to pick up. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need him to remind me over and over. This was like salt in an open wound that I’ve come to think would never heal. It’s been months and I still couldn’t wrap my head around to be okay about any of it.

With a sense of foreboding and resignation, I answered his call. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Y/N. You know I never would have called unless I had an alternative,” he told me. I knew he was right. When I left the bunker with him weeping for his dead brother, I had told him to lose my number. Evidently, he hadn’t.

“Yeah, I know, Sam. So why did you call?”

“It’s about Dean.”

My heart felt like it stopped.

* * *

 

[Flashback]

 

“Dean! DEAN!” I screamed clutching his worn plaid shirt. His worn, bloodstained plaid shirt. Oh, God! There was so much blood. His blood.

 

“He’s gone, Y/N,” Sam uttered solemnly.

 

“No!” I yelled, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare say that!”

 

I turned back to Dean, wiping away some dried up blood on his cheek. “Wake up, damn it,” I whispered. The tears were streaming down my face. I could feel their wetness on my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel like I could care about anything in the world. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. He was gone.

 

Dean Winchester was dead.

 

[End of Flashback]

 

* * *

 

“Y/N, you there?” Sam’s voice brought me back from the unwanted trip down memory lane. Just the mentioning of his name was enough to trigger the flashbacks.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I reassured him. “What about Dean?”

“I found him.”

“What do you mean you found him?”

“He’s alive, Y/N.”

“Samuel Winchester! Don’t you mess with me,” I yelled, my voice ringing louder in the silence. “I don’t know what kind of cruel game you’re playing but I’m hanging up.”

“Would I ever joke about this?” He asked. He was right. I knew that he wouldn’t but I couldn’t understand for the life of me what he was getting at. I had held Dean’s dead lifeless body in my very hands. I had felt his unmoving chest, and listened to his heart that didn’t make a beat. “He’s not dead. Not exactly,” Sam continued. “He’s a demon, Y/N.”

My grip on the cell phone tightened involuntarily. “Come again?”

“Just come to the bunker ASAP. I’ll explain everything,” he sighed. He sounded so very tired. “I need your help, Y/N. You know I wouldn’t ask if I really didn’t need it.”

I nodded, and then realizing he couldn’t exactly see it through the phone, I said, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

* * *

“You need to brace yourself for what you’re about to see,” Sam told me before the entrance to the bunker’s very own dungeon. “It is Dean, but it’s not him.”

I nodded. Sam had explained everything. He told me about how the Mark had brought Dean back to life as a demon. He told me of Crowley’s role in all of it. He told me that there was a chance for us to cure him and maybe, just maybe to bring him back.

“Are you ready?” he asked me. Could you ever be ready for something like this? Could you be ready to see the love of your life, whose death you mourned for months and months, brought back to life as a heartless demon? I didn’t think so.

I nodded anyway. Here’s the thing though. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have ever prepared me for what awaited in the cold dark dungeon.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said with a feral smirk on his beautiful face. It sounded like him but at the same time it didn’t. “Are you here to save me, love?” he hurled the endearment like it was an epithet…and his eyes flashed.

His beautiful green eyes I used to drown in, they weren’t green anymore. They were as black as sin.

* * *

“So what’s the plan again?” I asked Sam as I watched him fill a syringe of the blood he had gotten blessed through a priest. I wasn’t the only one watching him either. Demon Dean watched too. He seemed nonchalant on the outside, but I knew Dean. He was observing Sam’s actions intently like a hawk.

“Sam here has it in his mind to cure me,” he said smiling that feral smile of his I was already beginning to hate. Then his eyes honed in on Sam. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to be cured?”

Sam went right on ignoring him like he had since the moment we stepped into the dungeon. He looked so tired and defeated except for that determined gleam in his eyes that spoke of how he’d do everything that needed to be done to save his big brother. He took the syringe and punctured the needle into right where the Mark of Cain lay on Dean’s arm. As he fed the blood to the system, I could almost see the veins pop and bubble under Dean’s skin. His subsequent scream was purely guttural and it echoed against the cold walls of the dungeon.

“I know you think you’re curing me,” Dean gasped out. “For all we know, you could be killing me.”

Funny how that was the exact same thought in my head. The process seemed to be hurting Dean way more than it could be curing him. Was this supposed to be this hard, this torturous? Then again we were curing his soul from its demonic blackness. I don’t think anything about that was ever meant to be easy. Frankly, at this point, I didn’t know what to think! The man I loved and mourned the death of was sitting before me alive and kicking. There should be no logical explanation for that. The righteous man who dedicated his whole life to fight evil was now the very thing he hunted. There was no plausible explanation for that either. The man who had promised me his love for however long the hunter’s version of eternity lasted now watched me as if he couldn’t give a damn about me. So yes, I didn’t know what to think right now about anything.

“Please, Dean,” I pleaded. “Let Sam do what he is doing. Let him cure you. I need you to come back.” I stared into his eyes that were for this moment the very green I remembered. “Come back to me.”

He stared at me, unblinking. I was almost starting to think that maybe, just maybe I was getting through to him. Maybe I could reach into some part of his humanity even if I had to delve to the very depth of his blackened soul. Yet just when I thought I was making some kind of progress, he launched at me growling. The anti-demonic cuffs held him in place but I jumped back with a horrified gasp just the same. I’m sure the fear that was now consuming me was reflected evidently in my eyes. He laughed, and perhaps involuntarily his eyes turned black once more. He laughed with pure evil joy. He enjoyed my fear, I realized. He enjoyed being the reason for it.

Tears pooled in my eyes. “This isn’t you, Dean,” my voice broke, and they spilled over to trail down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my palm. “This monster isn’t you,” I insisted.

“Oh, it’s me alright,” he smirked at me. “I’m going to get out of this little contraption of yours and when I do, I will show just how much of me is in here, sweetheart,” he said with a sensual gleam in his eyes. I didn’t know whether to be aroused or disgusted. It was my Dean, but it wasn’t him. It shamed me to admit it but I couldn’t lie to myself. Demon or not, Dean’s word did spark a fire in me. I chose to blame it on the months and months of celibacy I punished myself with after his ‘death.’ Then again, I could never resist Dean Winchester…even if I was supposed to be repulsed by him right now.

I felt Sam gently lay a hand on my shoulder. Dean watched that move with what seemed like a possessive gleam in his eyes, or perhaps that was just my wishful thinking. Maybe I desperately wanted to believe that Dean still felt something when it came to me. What a pitiful creature I was…

I followed Sam out of the dungeon. It took everything in me to not turn back or to fall down and weep when I heard Dean say to my back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’d do you right like all the whores I did on my way here.” Sam locked the door, shutting him and his hateful laughter in.

I involuntarily wrapped my arms around myself. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Sam asked leaning in. I nodded despite how my body was shaking with shock. He reached out and hugged me, his tall body easily enveloping my short tiny one. He always did know when I was lying. “Listen,” he said in the most comforting voice I’d ever heard him use. “It’s all going to be over soon. We’ll cure him and he’d be back.”

I pulled back just enough to look up to his face. There were deep set shadows beneath his eyes. He looked pale and tired, himself. I felt a deep sadness about what this boy had to go through in the past few months, alone and hunting down a demon brother that didn’t want to be found. “Who are you really trying to convince, Sam? Me or yourself?” I asked managing to smile just a bit.

Instead of replying, he smiled and let me go. “I need to go pick up some more blood. I won’t be long. Will you be alright staying here for a bit?”

I nodded my agreement. “Yeah. I’ll be alright.”

He picked up the keys to the Impala from its usual place, and walked out. Then he turned around to face me once more. “I know you think some part of him is still in there, Y/N, but there isn’t. Not exactly. Please don’t go in there. It is not him. Not anymore. Promise me you’ll stay in your room,” he said.

I didn’t think I could survive being alone with Dean in the dungeon even if I wanted to, and trust me, I did not want to. I didn’t need his heartless, careless words cutting me to shreds. I really didn’t need that right now. “I promise,” I told Sam without a hesitation and with that, he was gone.

I walked into my room of the bunker and closed the door behind me. It wasn’t just my room though. I traced my hand across one of the daggers hung up on the pristine walls. This was the room I shared with Dean when I was still here and he was still alive. Our own little sanctuary from the rest of the world.

I lied down on the bed, and silently smiled to myself, feeling the mattress with my palm. “Memory foam. It remembers me,” I giggled to myself, repeating Dean’s words when he first brought this mattress into the bunker. He had been so excited that day and I remembered feeling both sad and happy for him at the same time. This was the first place he had called ‘home’ in practically forever. This was the first place we’d made love.

I closed my eyes with a groan. Clearly my physical and emotional exhaustion was catching up to me. Just laying my head down on the familiar pillow, surrounded by Dean’s familiar scent was enough to knock me out.

I hadn’t been sleeping that long when I heard the door to the room open with a soft thud. Dean was probably coming back home from a hunt. I smiled, not even bothering to open my eyes. “Come to bed, Dean,” I whispered. In my sleepy state, enveloped by the familiar feel of my surroundings I didn’t really remember where I was for I was stuck in between a place of memory and reality.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I heard him say.

A part of me knew that something was not right. That part of me jolted me awake with a gasp to find Dean standing in the middle of the room, just a few steps away from the bed. I took in his maroon shirt and over-grown hair. How was he even here? I looked at his wrists to find he had somehow broken off the anti-demonic cuffs and all other bindings that kept him in place in the dungeon.

As if he read my mind, he said, “You can blame Sam for that. The more the cure worked, less effective your little contraption was.” I pressed myself against the headboard. “So Sam actually left little Y/N alone with the demon. How careless of him,” Dean continued.

“Oh! He didn’t leave, Dean,” I lied. “He’s probably right behind you with the demon knife.”

He laughed in my face. “Points for effort, but you always were a terrible liar, Y/N.” He stepped closer, running a hand through his tousled hair messing it up even more. It should be illegal for someone to look this attractive.

His eyes glinted green and the playful smirk that always played on his lips was so familiar to me. He looked so much like how he used to be with me before everything went wrong that I forgot to be afraid of him. I forgot that this was not my Dean. I forgot that he was a demon. I stepped towards him defiantly. “What do you want?” I glared.

“Who? Me?” He glanced at me casually. “Oh I told you, sweetheart,” he continued bridging the gap between us. His eyes dropped to the top of my chest, and the smirk became even more evident. “I’m going to show you how much of me is still here.” It was a promise. It was a threat.

Then his hand caught my face and his head dipped to capture my lips in a hot, grueling kiss of both pain and pleasure.

The distinct sound of the front door closing made him pull away and look up attentively. The mask of nonchalance was back on. I couldn’t read him anymore. “Sammy’s home,” he said walking towards the door.

That look in his eyes terrified me. “What are you going to do?” I asked my eyes widening with dread.

He turned around with his hand on the knob. “I’m finally going to cut his hair.” He opened the door, facing away from me. “What do you think, Y/N?” he asked turning around to face me once more as he stood just outside the room, with the door halfway closed. “I’m going hunt him down and kill him.”

The door slammed shut as I stared in disbelief at his feral teeth-baring smile.


Find the smutty version here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3