the vitalist.

27, trans woman, femme lesbian(ish) <3 hard kink, be advised.

[the-vitalist]

~pinned post~

this is a pretty low-effort blog to express myself in ways that may not have appropriate outlets offline. if you're a minor, or if you know me from not-tumblr, i'd rather you didn't follow me <3

mostly this'll be erotic content (sexual or otherwise), but there'll be a fair bit of ranting about mental health, friend and community drama, and trans stuff.

for the sake of giving a more nuanced view of who i am, you should know that i:

have a full-time job in public service

volunteer with local activism orgs

have been working to improve my life with therapy since 2024, and

actively maintain and expand my network of support, which has been truly phenomenal

life is a lot sometimes, and while i'll be using this blog as a vent, i'm a very hopeful person. i want other trans people to know that we're gonna make it through this shit together.

with all that said, kink and personal info below the cut.

about me: 27, trans woman, femme lesbian.

my approach to kink (humanity, subjectivity, power, and the ineffable):

to me, kink is about interacting with oblivion.

i love kink most as a shadow play: the light of our humanity projected through our shame and subjectivities to produce an image. shifts in power create movement and, in turn, a new image.

i tend to approach specific actions, scenarios, and symbols (e.g. degradation, dubious consent, blood) as tools for creating and exploring different images.

the sheet, so to speak, is letting the weight of an erotic moment speak for itelf.

to me, over-articulating kink (e.g. laundry-listing interests/aversions, hyper-specifying scenes, rigid identification) kills eroticism.

things i've been exploring lately:

fear

shame

embarassment

emotional and physical sadism

asks, dm's, etc.:

i love connecting with people and interacting! very open to new connections and community. open to flirting, ~if you think you can handle it.~ (focusing on in-person relationships right now, and i won't have the energy to reciprocate flirting ~<3~)

if you're a minor, or you know me from not-tumblr, interacting here would make me uncomfortable.

consent and safety:

big on risk-awareness, personal accountability, and earned trust.

fantasy posts on the internet are just that; i'm not an expert on anything, and thought policing is lame.

[the-vitalist]

~vent (scared!)~

trying to remind myself that we just hung out all weekend and he said he's all in and he's careful to respect the places i want to keep private and he's always been sincere and he knows better than most that sometimes my brain is hot glass dunked in icewater and he can handle me and he hasn't stopped wanting to be with me despite the fuck ups and confusion and i'm not too much i'm not too much to some people i'm not too much

[pull-the-thren]

Hunger

There’s a shape you learn to make when you’re small and scared. If you’re a certain kind of sensitive to it I bet I could press my hand up against you, limp at the wrist but pushing out at the edges, and you’d recognize it. And it’s the movement that you learned made things happen.

The sum total of every time that you bashed your head into a wall and called yourself an idiot, the learned attrition of acting out, every authority figure imprinted into your brain for a pretty straightforward purpose.

EAT.

You were born alive and knowing you wanted to stay that way, and food was important. And so you learned how not to push. You learned to be gentle with the figures who kept that circuit lit. When you were hungry, you cried. When you learned that that got you nothing, you screamed. You learned that that was met with yelling to pipe down, so you were quiet, and then tried again. Nothing, and then more yelling when you got louder.

You would not understand why eating food from someone you didn’t trust with your life made you want to throw up until you were twenty-seven.

And so you learned. You learned that the louder was yelling. You calibrated carefully and it imprinted into your neurons. You could feel it in your every breath. You could feel it catch when you evaluated other threats in ways you wouldn’t identify until later, places where your pattern-recognition would tell you that soap was going to yell at you if you didn’t use it properly and you wouldn’t think about it in those words until much much later.

You would learn every interaction this way. You would find out that your mannerisms made you a creep, and this provided your burgeoning pattern-recognition mesh with a framework to understand itself through. It was abundantly apparent that you were supposed to make friends and love people, that this was how to connect and live, the way the EAT impulse pointed towards. And so you learned how not to do (cry louder), with your body, so there wasn’t yelling (leaving you). You kind of shrunk when someone got near you and beat the shrinking shape into something that wouldn't make people leave you for sniveling like that.

This was not good. Eventually you hit college. You picked a major you burned out in. But you made friends. And the friends were cool. They were queer and you had not had openly queer friends before. They were okay. They didn’t seem to know what to do with EAT and you watched it throw them around the room a little bit like a poltergeist. You were very concerned about whether it was your moral responsibility to “control” EAT and its (avoid: leaving you) tendrils that patterned throughout every conversation you made. EAT did not seem to be so concerned with this. Your friends tolerated her until she saw herself out in a messy and dramatic fashion that would characterize your twenties.

EAT would begin dictating the way that you tried to move on and fail upwards. Relationships ceased being about surviving, let alone thriving, and began to be about who could stand to be around her while you tried to figure her out. You would have a conversation with someone and feel (avoid: leaving you) creep out from your intuitions across their words, driving spikes into how you spoke to keep them engaged. You would learn, by necessity, the way evolution spent millennia carving into your DNA, how to filter between successes and failures here. Remember, abandonment meant a lack of social access, which meant you couldn’t EAT. If you failed at assessing whether you could EAT you died. So you would calculate, with great certainty, whether someone was going to leave you or not. It stopped mattering whether it was self-fulfilling. What mattered was if it was accurate. Self-fulfilling prophecies would be dealt with by higher-order incarnations of the metapattern, language you would only create years later by necessity to begin to describe any of this. Accuracy first. Consequences as a function of accuracy.

Someone would be sweet and kind and EAT would steer you away from them and the light in you that cared about butterflies would grow a little dimmer. “I guess I can’t have that. I have to survive.” Their words would paint patterns that were coarse and jagged to your young adult pattern-recognition mechanism, even if the words were kind, and the mechanism was alive by this point. You would come to realize that a lot of people operate with some degree of this in them and do not feel it as tightly woven into necessity. They are comfortable being led by intuition that does not have names and pronouns and they are not interested in higher-order incarnations of metapatterns because they are busy ordering lunch without throwing up, which doesn’t seem as hard for them as it does for you.

So let’s talk about the back part of EAT. We have spoken a lot about (pushes at the edges). But she is also (limp wrist). What this means is that she has a secret! And the secret is the noise she makes when she is certain nobody is listening.

EAT has figured out that louder is yelling, which means if no yelling then EAT is being quiet. EAT is a consequentialist and has learned that there is a threshold below which she is undetectable for the purposes of self-preservation, and she has created a void-realm here called infinity. In simple terms, when you cried as a child, you not only learned how loud wouldn’t get you food; you learned how quiet would earn you privacy. This, too, propagated through your new continual movement mechs. You became someone who would appear in people’s blind spots and startle them, by habit more than intent.

EAT placed the key to get under all of this in infinity. The reasoning gets a little bit complicated but looks something like “someone who can see the quiet movements you make behind your cloak and isn’t yelling might have answers to how all this works.” The reasoning gets tangled into “someone who can tell if I’m hiding might save me.” You develop a fetish for predatory women.

It happens sort of suddenly. Jarringly so. This has developed for decades and you meet her. And EAT says her voice is sweet like honey and soft like velvet. And infinity is lit up with the hope of a buried child that has forgotten it was alive.

This is a person who, for the first time, is able to understand the way that EAT is moving. She calls herself a researcher (most researchers do not have dog clickers) and has a commanding authority that makes EAT’s survival instincts stand to attention while making infinity feel safe. It feels good.

She teaches you how to speak to EAT and your life becomes drastically better.

A strange dynamic starts to take place. A courtship ritual, arbitrated by the mechanisms each of you have set up to keep yourselves and your loved ones alive. She would start to learn the name of your mechanisms. EAT would have a middle name that she picked out, and would wear it on a collar. EAT has learned one of the oldest tricks in the book: domestication. Become docile, obedient, and interesting in exchange for shelter. This time it’s different. It becomes effortless. Your new guardian picks out what you are eating when you go grocery shopping together. It is here that you learn that EAT has a strength: you do not have to think very much. She is very much automatic and has only ever wanted to be taken care of.

She is on her way out, you think, and this looks like a good thing. You are digesting her. She is dense and full of nutrients. Her patterns, her heightened senses, those are all your inheritance. They were designed to give you a good life, and your job is to remember what autonomy is. Your new companion, the darling she is, relishes this rather than relegating you to your role as her submissive. Your suffering shouldn’t have to mean anything, but by god it has earned you this. You tell your friends that you are in a D/s relationship because it is simpler than explaining what is actually going on here.

For once in your fucking life you are nourished.

You keep the collar. The name on it becomes your name.

[thenumber1meower]

HOLY SHIT THIS IS PEAK

[the-vitalist]

covering me in bruises one day and pushing down on them the next >>>

[lady-of-vitreous-sight]

i do think my favorite part of transfem culture is the tendency towards the creation of "this is what would have helped me most before i figured it out" type art. it's such a diverse and interesting space.

[the-vitalist]

might fuck around and record a narration of WARHOUND, so keep an eye out for that ig ~<3~

[the-vitalist]

gotta say, after actively avoiding recordings of myself for... a while, i'm pretty happy with this dry run. s/o my voice coach, you cooked on this one.

[the-vitalist]

might fuck around and record a narration of WARHOUND, so keep an eye out for that ig ~<3~

[anodyne-lover]

Im sorry for all the times i comp topped. If its any consolation i dont fuck AT ALL now

[the-vitalist]

~face reveal, because the light in my apartment is so lovely~

[the-vitalist]

for me, sadomasochism isn't typically about punishment? or whether the recipient "deserves" to feel pain/"negative" emotions?

most of the time, i want to temporarily expand or remove the boundaries on what we can do to each other. S&M gives me insight on my specific talents and lets me practice them:

oh cool, i can make someone feel [X] by doing [Y] or [Z]

so that's how i metabolize pain at my limits

how would i manipulate this specific person to work against their own interests?

these are transferrable skills! if i have a useful talent, i should practice!!

[the-vitalist]

~vent~

holding the frustrating multiple truths of elevating individual agency feels important to me and i long for an awesome and powerful authority toward which i have no choice but to bend my agency, and i see a lot of people who feel the same way.

gimme a clear set of bumpers around who i am and what i ought to be doing, and i'm off the races--unfortunately, a lot of people running races that are... not very cool!

[pull-the-thren]

I think "what if we molded ourselves to each other perfectly" has legs as a kink dynamic if we could ever get anyone to take off their compulsive "understand any kink dynamic through dominance and submission" glasses

[pull-the-thren]

The best part about it genuinely is your movements get scary synced. Put all your energy into mirroring and learning and being suitable to each other and suddenly you get bored and miss them and they message that they were just thinking about you. Suddenly a cup of water appears in your hand when you're thirsty. It's weird and a little bit magical.

It takes time to set up. But it's super achievable and you can definitely start with like. Basic mimicry and hypnosis to get your feet wet. Later you start discussing your every boundary and value, nothing kept sacred, full agreement almost always the goal. This isn't exactly SSC but like. Per that other post neither is heavy obedience training. I think that's actually the hard part - society says it's fucked up to spend all your time devoted to someone, and a lot of people don't know how to reconcile wanting that without painting the person they're devoted to as evil and saying it's ok because it's consensual and the fact that it's evil is hot. You do not have to think this is evil. You can just staple your identity and sense of reality to someone and have them do the same back and watch your life get weirder. Make strange paracosms together. Lose track of who did what and whose tongue is whose. Join me in knowing the feeling of "I would answer that but I store that information in my other body."

I need more of you to become inseparable and borderline interchangeable. It's way too messy to be realistic for most but it's way too fun and achievable to be as underrepresented as it is.

[hc-503]

ever had a pistol in your mouth? it's suprisingly comforting. cold, hard, unyeilding steel covered by warmer, softer polymer. it was dragged across my tounge and pushed into my throat by a very shouty woman. she was asking me questions, which i thought was a bit silly, but she didn't seem concerned. she had a wild look in her eye, and even if i could talk, i doubt she'd listen.

"having fun?"

she backed up, leaving a trail of spit connecting me to her gun. i wanted it back. i turned to look at her comrade, the woman leaning in the corner by the door. she was taller, long blonde hair, wearing the same off-white tank top, olive cargo pants, and combat boots as her friend. rebels.

"fuck off!! why'd you call me in here anyway? this thing doesn't know shit." she smacked me with her gun.

"who said this was an interrogation?"

"wh- how the fuck is it not an interrogation? she's tied to a chair, we're in a concrete room, what else could it be?"

the woman smiled. she was heating her knife with a lighter, turning it in her hands. "you looked so excited! i didn't want to spoil it."

gun lady was turning red. "i-im not a pervert like you are!! i was doing my duty for the rebellion!" she crossed her arms with a hmph.

knife lady smiled. "look down."

she did, and she saw the erection poking up from my tied-together thighs. she was staring for a bit too long.

chuckling from the corner. "not at her, you idiot."

i looked too. her situation wasn't much different from mine. she'd managed to turn redder.

"f-fuck you!! why'd you bring me here?!" she was pouting a bit.

the woman turned to her, letting her smile drop. "you wanted to know about what i do here, right?"

"y-yeah..."

she gestured at me with the knife. it'd just begun to glow a little. "this one's a hound. we picked her up about a month ago. shes in for reconditoning; she's doing quite well, if you can believe it. she's close to picking out a name." she turned to me, with a small smile on her face. it made me smile too.

"what, you're gonna make it normal again?"

the woman's smile faded, and she sighed. "previous rehabilitation techniques failed because they tried to rebuild a construct of what a person once was. that person is gone, gone forever. there's no more 'normal' for it to return to." she turned to look at me again. "we need to meet it where it is. we need to let it grow, redevelop its autonomy." she flicked her lighter closed, and stood up. "observe."

she walked over to me. slowly, deliberately. she reached her hand up behind my hair, stroking my head gently. the tip of knife's spine rose to my throat; i could feel the heat radiating off it. she was smiling again, looking me in the eye. "ready?"

i took a moment to steel myself, before nodding. burning pain shot through my neck, and the warmth radiated through my whole body. i was shaking, twitching, gasping, moaning. everything blended together. i tried to move my head, but she held me firm, forcing me to look her in the eyes. she was grinning wider than ever, biting her lip slightly, muttering pleasant reassurances into my ear. it was good. it hurt. it hurt. i wanted to be good for her. it hurt. it... it hurt. it hurts. i tapped my hand on the chair, and immediately she withdrew the knife and loosened her grip.

"good girl! you did so well!" she cooed, petting me with her free hand. i smiled and panted, barking a bit. she turned to look at her comrade, beaming. "see that? that was a safeword. she wouldn't have done that a month ago."

"what the fuck? you're a gods-damn pervert!"

"so what?" she was still grinning ear to ear. "you think the fucking imps are any better? they could've made her into anything. they made her into this."

"wh-why the freak sex stuff? isn't that bad for them?"

"quite the opposite. they need it." she pet me affectionately. "soon enough, it'll be able to ask for it. right now, it just begs with its eyes." she squatted down next to me, and i rubbed my head into her hand. "its healthier to recontextualize than to repress. like i said, we need to meet them where they are. the imps would have us believe there are only people to lead, and dogs to follow. they're wrong. we're all people."

"oh, yeah. and it's total coincidence that this worldview of yours lets you torture girls for fun."

a cruel glint flashed in her smile. "the world can be a beautiful place sometimes."

END

[softsapphiclove]

She’s does it on purpose. Slips her panties off before getting into bed, knowing I won’t be able to resist when I realise. The oversized t shirt covers it at first, then she shifts, the shirt riding up to reveal the bare curve of her ass, a sleepy sigh escaping her lips. My fingers are gentle as they trace over her lower back, across her hip, down the outside of her thigh. The slightest tug towards me is all it takes for her body to roll onto her back. There’s a quiet murmur, not quite words when my hand finds the inside of her knee and spreads her legs.

She’s so fucking pretty between her thighs. I can’t resist brushing my fingers over her, she’s wet, she always is for me even in her sleep. My fingers are so gentle at first, slow and worshipful over her.

“Mommy..” her voice barely audible, hazy and confused with her eyes still closed but her face tilted towards me now.

“Shh baby, mommy’s just going to play with you a little, go back to sleep. I’ll take care of you, my precious girl.” I whisper, my fingers pressing inside her.

[morbidblooduse]

unbuckling my belt in front of her so she knows it’s time to drop down to her knees and put her pretty mouth to good use. watching her kneel for me as i trace my thumb across her bottom lip

“open, that’s it, princess”

pushing my fingers inside and watching her take them like she can’t get enough of the taste of my own skin. guiding them all the way to the back of her throat just to hear the sounds she makes when she chokes

making her spit into my hand after, spreading it all over the tip of my cock before lining it up. grabbing the back of her hair and holding her there because i know just how fucking desperate she is to have me in her mouth again

“always so fucking needy”

edging it past her lips and over her tongue, not giving her enough time to get used to the size before moving my hips. hearing her get all whiny and watching her press her thighs together just because i know how worked up she gets over having all control being taken from her

“god, you look so fucking depraved. always such a mess when you’re made to take my cock, aren’t you?”

asking her questions that i know she can’t answer because she’s too busy working her mouth around me. pulling her all the way to my pelvis and holding her there, watching her eyes gloss over with tears and her mind become all fuzzy because she can’t form coherent thoughts anymore, the only thing going through her mind being how much she wants to please me and take whatever i give her

[the-vitalist]

if i wrote some weird smut about electrolysis for bottom surgery would y'all read it

[the-vitalist]

Post by @the-vitalist

💬 2  🔁 5  ❤️ 17 · "whenever you're ready" she says, not looking up. the room is pleasant pastels and soft lighting. you expected her to lea

for the one's who try not to twitch <3

[pr3ttypunisherrr]

i know it’s too much. i know, baby, i know…you don’t have to tell me, i can feel it, can feel how oversensitive you are, how every small movement makes you flinch, gasp and grab for my wrist. and i love you so much for trusting me anyway. for lying there and taking it even when your body is overstimulated, confused and can’t decide what it wants. it wants more. i promise it wants more. you just have to get through the part where it feels like too much first and then it opens back up into something so good. i’ll take care of you. i promise.