Empress Zethrie
LightNews LightNews
banner
zethrie.bsky.social
Empress Zethrie
@zethrie.bsky.social
90 followers 100 following 190 posts
🏳️‍🌈 She/Her 🏳️‍⚧️- Probably a Demon
Writer
Beginner Programmer
Gamer Mom

You might see me as NatalieZorah elsewhere. Call me whatever, but be ready for the consequences.
Posts Replies Media Videos
zethrie.bsky.social
Immigrants, LGBTQ+, Indigenous peoples...

Are those grocery prices going down yet?
Graphic outlining the ten stages of genocide. Stage one, Classification. Stage two, Symbolisation. Stage three, Discrimination. Stage four, Dehumanization. Stage five, Organization. Stage six, Polarization. Stage seven, Preparation. Stage eight, Persecution. Stage nine, Extermination. Stage ten, Denial.
January 30, 2025 at 3:14 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF TORTURE
A man makes the mistake of taking advantage of one of Zethrie's girls, for which a point must be made.
#hbp92 #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
Simpleton. These fucking creatures are always braying about possession and ownership as though they’ve any right to such a claim. Their lives are measured in decades. Which they spend humping anything that moves as if it were the only thing they know. It’s almost tragic, truly, that he’s so little grasp on what real possession is. My girls are not property. They’re My responsibilities, My charges… My Blood… His pleas fall on the same deafening silence all the others have, consumed by the oblivion he has yet to beg Me for. And as I circle him with silent footfalls, studying his frail features, I can’t help but be a little impressed with his resolve. His will to live has almost been inspired, so far, but I grow bored with his refusal to give Me what I want. I come to a stop behind him, sliding one of My claws from the base of his tailbone to slowly count the vertebrae. One… Two… Three… His wails have long since been reduced to ragged squeaks from dehydration, a fact I am reminded of as I twist My talon in slow circles around his sciatic nerve. The seconds tick by in melodic agony, a sound I’ve come to enjoy a little too much from My vengeance hunts. It never gets old, the feeling of a delicate nerve between My fingers, especially when the adrenaline and cortisol season the blood so deliciously. The longer their hearts race as only a prey creatures’ can, the longer their blood marinates the meat and grey matter. The only value they have once they’ve tested My patience. I begin to measure the time in the beats of his heart, even as the pain brings about the telltale palpitations of arrest. A sign it’s time to let up, at least in part, but I prolong the yoking each time, showing him what it feels like to know a fraction of the lasting trauma he’s inflicted on what’s MINE.
January 27, 2025 at 10:53 PM
zethrie.bsky.social
#WritingCommunity #Snippetshare #Writers
I only just manage to get the first few undone before he peels away from me with a husky grunt. “Strip.” He demands, tossing me back onto my bed in the process, and eyeing me with that same familiar lust I’m so accustomed to seeing in others. “Are you used to getting what you want so easily?” I quip through my smirk, crawling backward on the bed to better center myself on the mattress. It’s only a tease and he knows it, my hands sliding down my frame and into the loose folds of fabric that surround me. His eyes rake over me in searing licks as I begin to peel myself out of my gown, his own hands taking over for mine in ridding him of that meddlesome shirt of his. He casts his shirt aside and kicks his boots off to join it in a haphazard pile alongside his jeans a few moments later, leaving him looming over the foot of the bed in just a pair of boxer briefs. He’s reasonably endowed, nothing preposterous mind you, but more than enough to satisfy. His legs are far more well defined than his chest and abs, a product of his role in his family no doubt, though he is more sculpted than I’d initially thought. Ripples of control course over him as he patiently waits for me to obey in silence, an endearing enough trait that I suppose I may as well relent. I’ll choose defiance another day.
December 31, 2024 at 3:49 PM
zethrie.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #Writers #WritingPrompts #WriteSky #AmWriting
When… Tallero! That was that insipid little twit’s name… When Tallero had first begun to dip his toes into the true power of we Ascendants. His Gluttony all but consumed his every thought almost instantly. It’s rare that Ascendants of his type are of any use beyond machines of war, and he was no exception. He took as much joy out of how he consumed as he did the consumption itself. Pustules of blood breaking out on countless victims, whose suffering served as substantive a meal as their blood did when it ran through the streets I let him live a little longer than I probably should have. Gluttonous Ascendants are arguably more dangerous than even Wrath. They fall so easily to their lust for consumption and power that they often don’t stop to consider the consequences. In this case, close to half of Europe fell in just a few short years. Tens of millions of victims piling up their dead into mass graves just to keep up with it all. With every death, his influence grew and grew, and what had started somewhere on the coast of Crimea, what is now Feodosia I believe, spread across the continent. I ended his reign of terror in thirteen fifty… three? I think? The humans believe it to have been an infection brought to them by rats. Calling it “The Black Death.” I couldn’t come up with anything else at the time, and that Belgian astronomer was looking for some kind of sign from the skies already. Simple-minded creatures, at least in terms of how easy those minds are to alter. He wasn’t the first Gluttonous ascendant to come out of that particular bloodline that century. Something I made sure they took special note of when I dropped his spine off to the Ascendant who had Sired the both of them. That particular one saw three years of famine break out earlier that same century, and the continent didn’t really fully recover for another several years after I ended that one’s life either. Needless to say, Arceyus has Sired no Childer since Tallero.
December 31, 2024 at 10:03 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
#WritingCommunity #poetry #Procrastinating
#writers
## Stone A river, a lake, a stream, a sea, the day to day of a Stone seems to stretch through time and space. For though they just wait out the rains, and waves; the currents that may even sweep them off to new banks, or bays. The Stone will always be the same, won't it? It would never differ from past to now. A Stone never withers, nor wavers no matter how much the water rushes, or the wind howls. It stands firm when needed, unchanged, unbeaten. Undefeated... From one eon to the next, the Stone will always be the same, right? No, that's all a lie, it just depends on just how long the Stone weathers the tide, how harsh the sands of time, the length it rides the rivers wide. What starts as jagged, sharp, and dry; is ravaged by its travels far and wide, or weathered in place as it takes in stride the things the world decides. As pieces of the Stone erode, and leave behind a face so bold of color and tone, it holds a window into the pain, that's beauty is soft, and smooth, and tame. The edges, once so ragged and harsh, turn to dust that's dragged apart by that which some might say is only a start. Yet to others, still, is worse than hard, savage, and cruel. A Stone cannot atone for its own nature. It can only promise to nurture that which inspires a future of easy peace, as the veneer of the past is retired to dust, and the sheen of surfaces it keeps beneath, is brought to those of us who need to know its truth. A pattern of color, complex, and clean, that holds it's form, its freedom pristine. So wonderfully a Stone, now seen.
December 31, 2024 at 3:56 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
Katherine doing a little investigating of the archives in Zethrie's family estate. A few things don't seem to make any sense.
#WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity #Writers #WritingPrompts
I run my fingers over the gouges. They appear somewhat fresh… Where a thin layer of dust has settled on the wood surrounding them, they themselves are completely clean, and there’s still a few shards of wood lying in the corner of the shelf. With an estate of this size, it’s not surprising that there would be some places lower in priority than others for cleaning, but even still. Looking around at the other cubbies on the shelf only leaves me with more questions. They’re all near spotless. Why was this one left as it is then? Better yet, where’s the book that once sat here? Its imprint in what little dust is here betrays the presence of it, so there must be one, and my curiosity of its contents grows with every breath. I try to get some sense of what might have been in it from the surrounding tomes, but there seems to be some sort of organization to the room I don’t fully understand. One of them is just a random book of smutty short stories. Another is an omnibus of The Lord of the Rings. There’s another that looks to be a collection of old home remedies. When my investigation proves utterly fruitless, I leave the shelf and it’s mysteries to look at some of the artwork around the room. There are a few portraits hanging on the ends of some of the shelves, with a select few hanging on what little bare space there is on the walls. A bust of Zethrie stands on a plinth at the end of one shelf, the intensity of her gaze captured in the stone with a precision the mason should be proud of.
December 29, 2024 at 11:51 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
A little melancholy I was told to share, so here I am sharing.

#writingcommunity #poetry #writers #writersofbluesky
Lamentations Perfection lies in the spaces where pain abates and wanes. Where the dreams we made along the way are manifest, and the suffering fades to naught but mist and rain. I've paid my dues to this wretched place we call life. My agony's run its course and set its flames so bright, that to settle on just one soul to claim as right, betrays the very struggle that fosters what our chaotic plays bring to a sheltered mind. Or even threatens to flay us alive for sins we'd sooner unmake. It's in the way we stand astride with our brothers, sisters, and siblings that's where we find a fortress strong, and weed things like the weakest strife which blinds us out. It stings me still that in this time, when family stands against my life, I love so deeply still that my heart stands in angst. Let this serve, for some time yet, a Mother's Lamentations that such a complicated thing could leave her child wanting and her heart a tangled wreck.
December 28, 2024 at 12:38 PM
zethrie.bsky.social
A little spice in a vampires life never hurt anyone. 😉
#WritingCommunity #Snippetshare
He’s gentle in his hunger, I won’t deny that much, and just for once I think I’ll indulge myself in the affection before I take corrective action. Let my ever-tight control slip for a few hours to simply feel something for a change. At least I can pretend for just a moment that I’m not alone, even if it’s just for a night… “Fuck it…” I murmur into his lips, letting the façade I wear slip a little, exposing just a bit of the majesty that is my truth. I lean into the kiss in earnest, twin tongues twirling into a textured mess with his as I swallow the groan he feeds me. It’s an intoxicating sound I can tell he’s spiked with a little of his power, but Gods is it good. He’s no doubt unaware of the touch I’ve added to my own soft whimpers, he’d be far more voracious if I were forcing enough to detect. I take my time in guiding his tongue as he explores and tastes of my mouth, teasing him just a little by playfully pushing it against one of my fangs. That same moment sees his hand slide from the small of my back to the top of my ass where he splays his fingers out. Flesh spills between the digits as he squeezes tight and pulls me into him, eliciting a light gasp I play up to encourage more.
December 28, 2024 at 8:15 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
December 11, 2024 at 8:50 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
IYKYK
Bondrewd's Elevator. If you know, you know.
March 1, 2024 at 5:51 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
Yeah, this ain’t it bub.
Media bias fact check dot com. GB News: Far-Right bias, questionable source. A questionable source exhibits one or more of the following: extreme bias, consistent promotion of propaganda/conspiracies, poor or no sourcing to credible information, a complete lack of transparency, and/or is fake news. Fake News is the deliberate attempt to publish hoaxes and/or disinformation for profit or influence (Learn More). Sources listed in the Questionable Category may be very untrustworthy and should be fact-checked on a per-article basis. Please note sources on this list are not considered fake news unless specifically written in the reasoning section for that source.
February 28, 2024 at 4:47 PM
zethrie.bsky.social
Under Settings => Privacy => External Media Preferences
They're off by default.
External Media Preferences for Bluesky.
February 26, 2024 at 4:33 AM
zethrie.bsky.social
Twitter post screenshot from "Shitpost Gateway", the post has a screenshot of Porn Hub for a video titled "What is the most Fuckable Pasta? I Fucked 6 different Pastas to Find Out!", Caucasian man standing behind a table with 6 different flesh light toys filled with pastas.
February 10, 2024 at 11:31 PM
zethrie.bsky.social
February 9, 2024 at 8:01 PM