#Rajha

[rajhxe]

rebuilding the body.

[rajhae]

snapping the bawdy back into shape 🥀

[baby-dragons-art]

Consequences

Short story.

{What happens when you openly defy the dark lord in his own home}

Sauron x OC

《 From the tale of Sauron and the Haradrim Rejha》

She knew it was only a matter of time before her luck had run out. Before the leash yanked back a new. She had gotten close, so close as to reach the platform to the lower levels.... to fresh air. The very thought of fresh air giving her confidence and strength to push onward, to find a way. She had been so close.

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It was only when she found the platform that she was caught. It must have been strange seeing her there, un accompanied and wide-eyed. Of course, she was caught. A skulking Uruk, rousing from its stupor, snorted aloud and emerged from the alcove overlooking the platform. She had been careless.

Any fight she had left in her was all but spent on her defense against the stinking thing. Not her whit or blade spared her. Though she was not starved, she was little match against the creature and earned a sporting cut on her jaw as a reward. A favorable price to pay compared to what was to come.

She had been caught. This time, there would be no excuses. No forgiveness. If only she had been more careful.

With in little time, Rejha was standing in a familiar, circular parlor, a single man like guard not far behind. Jagged rock of cut, black caged around the room, framing lamp lit walls of deeper black. Only some flash of color graced her eyes. Red. A flicker of gold. She stared downward harshly. Her face reflected in the polished black, offering little comfort in the soft red hues of the oil lamps hanging above.

She could hear her heart racing in her ears, her knuckles white as they gripped her sleeves, persperarion glittered across her forehead despite the bitting cold.

At last, the sound of the adjacent doors opening stabbed her ears, flinching, she bit the inside of her cheek.

Soft foot fall and the gentle hiss of heavy fabrics slithered toward her at a steady pace, not a word spoken. She need not look up to know the individual. In the cold, the heat that enveloped from his presence was enough. He was a forges fire even from a distance. As the footsteps came before her, Rejha pursed her lips and lowered her head all the more.

Black folds of void like fabric pooled before her muddied boots like a tar pit. Though the sight made her knees tremble, she dare not close her eyes. She dare not raise her head.

Finally, the dreaded words were uttered. Her stomach dropping like a stone.

"You disobeyed." Came the voice. Like fingers over silk and blades to flesh. Rejha cringed at the sound. The silence following his words a relief.

She breathed out cautiously and uttered as firmly as she could.

"I did not leave the tower." She spoke bravely. "I did not go beyond your sight. I remained in Barad-dur as-."

She was cut off by a hiss of air above her. A sound that silenced her immediately.

"You think me so plain that your words would hide your true intent?" Under her jaw, Rejha felt a leathered hand take her chin and raise her gaze. The heat from his touch, nearly scalding. Now, looking upward, Rajha faced the full breadth and horror of her host. Black was all she could see, save for two piercing eyes that shone down brightly beneath a low hanging veil. The eyes of Sauron. Even veiled the sight wearied her to the bone.

"After my generosity, I had hoped you would show some respect as gratitude."

His thumb stroked over the cut she had received from the Uruk, the folds of the veil tilting ever so.

"I swear..." Rejha breathed carefully, her lungs feeling shallow. "I was not trying to leave... I just wanted to see the sky. Breath real air again. I am owed that."

The dark lords stature adjusted to full height and released her face. His hand disappeared under the veil, a soft suckling heard, and soon, the blood was gone from his thumb.

"You have shifted along the edge of my patience, Harad. You are owed what I see fit to give you."

The heat of his gaze was suffocating as she held eye contact with him. It was not out of feilty or foolishness that she did so. But the fear that if she looked away, he would strike her down, like a wild animal cornered.

"Yet as it stands, you have done little to earn such favor."

Rejha clenched her jaw, trying to compose herself despite his words. She must tread carefully. His voice was as honey, but his viperous words were meant to rile. To push her on to do something foolish.

Her hand ghosted the blade at her side. Her arm aching to seize the hilt and cut through her way to freedom. But such were foolish fantasies. How long would she stand against him in a fight? A second? A few seconds, if he were gracious. She would not last long. Nevertheless, her desire to draw her blade ever present.

"You can't keep me prisoner here when I have done no crime." She spoke evenly, slowly, as best she could. "My people expect me to return, I am needed home. What more could I serve to you if I am kept here, purposeless?"

Sauron's head perked. Whether he was taken aback, insulted, or intrigued by her was unknown. Though the heat of his gaze did not relent in the slightest. It intensified.

"Who is to say what your purpose is to me?" He lulled, now leisurely walking about her as though admiring something she did not see. "Is that for you to determine?" His hand gestured toward her in strict fashion. Displaying, slender, leather clad fingers, only his ring finger was missing from his hand. Rehja's stomach turned, averting her eyes she would rather stare into his gaze than look at his hand.

The hand that was cut....

"If it is my will, if my word commanded you, who are you to question it? Is it not my wisdom and power that leads your people to victory? Am I not your sire?"

Gritting her teeth, Rejha flinched as his hand retracted into the void of his garments. She felt as though she were tettering on the edge of a cliff, desperate to stand upright.

"A thousand times you are, my lord. I can not comprehend your grand designs, but nor can I serve you cut from my purpose. I am dust with out my garrison. Let me return to my people. Let me serve you as I am born to, with your armies. I can be of greater use as a scout, archer or emissary. Please, lord. See that I am perishing, be merciful."

At this, a huff of amusement rattled her ears as a sickening chuckle wandered from his chest. From the moment she had first opened her mouth infront of him there had been little hesitation or fear. True the woman had been terrified in his presence but spoke her mind regardless. He could see the expressions in the eyes of her garrison. Horrified at her imputence. But how refreshing it was.

"Your tongue does you credit in only that it amuses me." He hummed. "Your betters would grovel at my word, yet you quarell with me." His slender, towering form circled about her till he stood behind her, leaning down over her shoulder. "Were I in a less savory mood-." He cooed, his fingers stroking the intricate bangles of her head piece resting on her temple. "I would have you on your knees, humble you till you begged for my pardon."

Rehja's face took on heat and redness. She turned her head from his touch, scowling to repress the intent of his words.

A gesite that did not go unknoticed. Sauron removed his touch and spoke further.

"As you amuse me, I shall be merciful, aleviate you of your woes by putting them to rest. Your garrison is not coming back for you, Rejha. They have been commanded out of Mordor to continue their orders. Therefore, any attempt to leave Barad-dur would be as pointless as it would be deadly to you. Your people have gone."

A shallow gasp escaped Rejha's lips as the silken words of Sauron hissed into her ear. The very idea of such a betrayal cutting into her very chest. It could not be true. They would never leave her behind, they were family. Her brothers and sisters in battle.

And yet there she was. Still in with in the dark lord's tower, standing alone with in the very center of his evil. Alone.

Her garrison had gone.... she had been left behind. The devastation of reality gripped her as though her heart had been squeezed till it burst.

"Given this." Sauron continued. "It is pleasing to me that you are to remain in Barad-dur as long as I require it. To serve me as I deem you should."

Tears welled in Rejha's eyes, her vision blurred from fatigue and grief. She could not help it. After waiting so long, desperate to see her garrison again, to finally go home, the news of their departure was more than she could bare.

A pained breath escaped her lips as she turned back and stared into the blackened void behind her. His two eyes watching intently.

"You ordered this...?!" She gaped, tears falling from her grey eyes. Sauron's head tilted downward, eyes fixed on hers. He did not hide his hand in this.

Rehja turned her gaze from his, lowering her eyes to harshly wipe her tears away. Her greif was crushing, nit only has she lost her freedom but any hopes of seeing Harad again. What could she do against what has been done? How was she to overcome the walls that had been closed in on her?

No answers were given. Only frantic panic and greif as she held her face.

With her face oscured, darkness enveloped her. She felt his hands on her shoulders.... the left one missing the ring finger. A heavyness like waves of thick fabric settled about her.

His breath was at her ear. His grip held her steady yet seemed dire in some way as she tried to console herself.

"Harad is your past." Came his voice, a lull that was sickeningly sweet to her ears. She almost fell into him from their honied tone. "You belong here now. With me."

Gasping, her heart racing, the cage she was trapped in shrinking, Rejha cried out. She could see only darkness. Feel only the heat closing around her. The dessert, her people, her home vanishing before her eyes into the jaws of fire.

Rehja pushed her arms outward, casting Sauron back in desperation. It was only far enough for her to reach her for blade and draw it. "No!" She yelled, tears streaming down her face as she raised her arm to strike him. If she was left behind, never to see her homeland again, then death was her only solace. Her only honor left.

Cursing in her own language, she made a swipe to create some distance between them. She managed one cut to his garment that was utterly harmless and swiftly found her wrist caught in his grasp.

Firmly, her arm was pulled to the side as she fought against him. A brave but fruitless endeavor. For no sooner had she cursed his name than he uttered one word that seased her movements entirely.

The word was harsh. In a language she did not know. Evil. Poison. It turned her stomach and left her without breath. She felt the vibrations of the word tremble about her, ringing in her ears and flushing her mind of all thought.

Rehja felt all strength with in her vanish, her mind became a haze and her will failed her at last.

The blade in her hand fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor loudly. A hand was secured about her lower back keeping her upright as she hung limp.

Staring upward into the veil, she was able to see the shadowed chin of the dark lord beneath. The skin was cold, pale, scarred and unpleasant to behold. Some devistation had befallen him, so much so that his body had been mangled, a horror to behold.

Despite her state and beholding a glimlse of the evil before her, her heart rate slowed. Her breath evened. Her eyes watched him calmly but intently as tears slid down her face. All care had left her.

His gloved hand returned to the cut on her cheek, apprasing it attentively. She felt her body being lifted and pressed against his as her face was brought to the hem of the veil. The the sensation of warmth suckled the cut of all blood.

When that well had run dry, his lips pulled back, a soft sigh following. The gaze under the veil lowered to her exposed neck, finding it unguarded.

Even as his lips were pressed upon her throat, Rejha did not cry out. She found peace, even contentment, despite the horror of reality.

Was she perhapse, even so bold, to find the warmth pleasant? The sensation of lips on her skin welcoming? Was it beyond her to enjoy what was happening? Was this not her purpose to serve the Lord of Mordor?

In a moment, piercing pain like a dagger punctured her throat and sent a jolt through her body that caused her to yelp aloud. Rejha held her mouth agape as an explosion of burning heat blossomed at her neck, spilling down her throat.

Fangs buried into her, lips drinking deeply as though her host were dying of thirst.

Sauron was wholly occupied in her blood as his nostrils flared. A low toned growl purred in his throat and his grip, held tight about her waist. His indulgence into this precious desert spring was a long desired thirst he would not now deny.

She could hear each gulp as blood was stolen from her body. Every suckle loud in her ear. Yet not a care could be had. Her vision blurred. Her breath weakened as each drop of crimson was hoarded, she faded more away into dimness.

"Don't kill me...." Her thoughts begged, while in her minds eye, she wandered from dimness to visions of Harad. Vast dessert of swooping, golden dunes that stretched across a pale blue horizon. She could see it even with her eyes open. Could almost feel it. Smell the air.

"Death is not for you." A voice spoke in her mind. And there in the dunes stood a man in stark white, she was nearly blinded by the sight. Even from a distance, she could see him, a fair elf like being that struck her with his beauty.

But the eyes... they were that of Sauron.... he smiled cockily at her as sandied winds kicked up his garments and disturbed the red, strawberry gold hair.

"I would not be so foolish to deprive myself of my only oasis."

In the cold reality, Rejha's eyes closed fully, a labored breath escaping her lips. She hung limp in darkness, defenseless against the moster at her throat and left alone in a strange land far from her people. Yet despite this, she remained at peace and dreamed of fresh air, dessert sands, and a of a fair stranger with blazing eyes.

[knjigeobradovic]

KĆI RAJHA - LUIZA FAJN

[mentalnahigijena]

Srbi klanjaju kralju, kraljica i Srpkinje nose hidžabe, a na sahrani je i predstavnik Trećeg Rajha, Gering. tit svetoSlavlje je fašizam !!! Sahrana Ace palikuće kojoj prisustvuje Gering ,Srpkinje nose hidžabe a sahranjen je uz LIPA NAŠA DOMOVINO !!! Nikad ovi Srbi ništa svoje imali nisu pa neka mi neko kaže da Srbizam nije fašizam !!!!

[tamannasharma]

💛 Illuminate any event with our Rajha Yellow Thread Work Silk Suit. This exquisite ensemble is a masterpiece, featuring intricate thread work on luscious silk. Perfect for those unforgettable moments. Radiate style with La Glits! ✨ #LaGlits #RajhaSilkSuit #EthnicWear #FashionGoals

[ayosuniii]

Heere meriiii zoolfen teri

Mere haathon ki yeh lakide bunti haiii 👉👈

Ughhhh urge to hear this from rajha 👉👈

[mysticalblizzardcolor]

Rajha -Visionary Art https://psynft.xyz/artists/rajha

[banglacartoonhome]

rajhas

[rajhxe]

i think im going to start documenting this journey enter 33 on tiktok. I have so many things going on, so many changes in my life happening.. a lot of which i feel like if only one person, could help them by sharing my experiences. Hmm?!

[rajhae]

growing & glowing 🌿

[eliza-fustel]

ok so I’ve been rotating this in my head for a while now but I was thinking about Eliza’s parents (as I do a lot) and had a like……gigabrain realization

I think I had been unconsciously taking inspiration from Fruits Basket Kyoko for Eliza’s mom

Not necessarily backstory or anything, but just kind of general personality and strength. of the two, her mom (Lisbet) is DEFINITELY the more outspoken on while her stepdad(Haeleyha), though more boisterous when they’re together, is more quiet and calm when on his own (they’re childhood friends and thick as thieves). Her bio-dad was super soft too and in Japanese, would definitely be the “speaks in keigo” type LOL

Basically, mom is absolutely the “EXCUSE me he asked for no pickles” for both of them LMFAO

But so that like….got me thinking more about her bio-father’s death. up until now, I had never given a super amount of thought about the immediate aftermath other than “mom was devastated but life moves on”

But what if…it didn’t?

What if Eliza’s mom was so devastated that she was essentially…out of commission for quite a while after the incident and it was basically up to Haeleyha and T’rajha (cat siblings’ mom) to raise Eliza during that time? Fiddling with timeline stuff a bit, this would happen maybe 6 months after T’jhimei’s birth so Eliza/T’rhika would be almost 5 years old. Though Hael was dealing with a massive case of survivor’s guilt himself (bio-dad died saving him), he’d be damned if he didn’t do his best to make sure the daughter of his two closest friends was raised healthy, safe, and loved. And for Rajha, she would do anything for the family that took her in no questions asked when she arrived in their village with nothing but the clothes on her back and a child in her arms and 3 months pregnant with her second one.

Though Eliza’s mom does eventually pull herself out of it, I imagine it would….leave a VERY strong, lasting impression on Eliza growing up. Ultimately, this is part of the reason why she’s so desperate to save her stepfather after the Calamity ends up killing T’rajha and leaves him bedridden, this is why she’d leave Eorzea entirely just to chase even the slightest whiff of information that might lead to a cure.

She doesn’t want her mother to go through that again. She managed to hold it together for the T siblings after their mother passed because she knew they needed someone there, but if the Calamity took Hael too…Eliza didn’t want to think about it.

So despite her misgivings about leaving the village, despite T’rhika slinging all sorts of insults at her in his grief, accusing her of abandoning her family when they needed her most, she decided to leave. Because doing something was better than just waiting and watching her stepfather slowly get worse as the days passed.

She couldn’t do anything when her father died, but this time she would be the one to keep her family together.

[zoranphoto]

Prije 70 godina pojavio se 'Fahrenheit 451', Ray Bradbury uvijek je govorio da je njegovo djelo krivo shvaćeno

Uspješna distopija obično je ona koja ima utemeljenja u stvarnosti. Margaret Atwood jednom je rekla da je za strahote u 'Sluškinjinoj priči' uzela isključivo pojave koje su u vrijeme pisanja postojale negdje u svijetu. Jednako slavni 'Fahrenheit 451', djelo Raya Bradburyja (1920.-2012.) koje ove godine puni 70 godina od prvog izdanja, posebna je priča     Mnogi znaju priču: događa se u društvu koje je potpuno zabranilo sve knjige i u kojem specijalne postrojbe pale svaki primjerak koji nađu, kažnjavajući načitane prijestupnike. Kad se 1953. pojavilo ovo kapitalno djelo znanstvene fantastike, od pada Trećeg rajha bilo je prošlo manje od deset godina, ali čak ni Hitler nije potpuno zabranio pisanu riječ (ne kažemo da nije maštao o takvom gušenju kulture). Bradburyjevo remek-djelo bavi se vrlo sličnom vrstom totalitarizma, a od pojave prvog izdanja traju nagađanja na koje se društvo pisac referirao tako okrutnim opisom.

Prva asocijacija su, naravno, nacizam i fašizam s njihovim užasavajućim iracionalizmom. No kad je objavljen, 1953., roman je itekako ukazivao i na sovjetsku verziju državne represije i Staljinov kvazikomunizam, bez obzira što je i tamošnja komunistička partija dozvoljavala tiskanje knjiga, makar uz stroga ograničenja. Kultura je, doduše, žilava biljka, pa je čak i u najgorim danima SSSR-a (kao i u nacističkoj Njemačkoj) zabranjena literatura živjela kroz ilegalno nakladništvo i memoriju čitatelja. Sjetimo se, uostalom, slavne rečenice u 'Majstoru i Margariti' Mihaila Bulgakova: 'Rukopisi ne gore.' 'Velika literatura je vatrootporna. Ona nadživi kritičare, cenzore, čak i protok vremena', pisao je Bulgakov, koji je 1929. spalio vlastiti dnevnik kad ga je otkrila tajna služba NKVD. Kasnije je spalio i rukopis svog kapitalnog djela, a onda ga rekonstruirao po sjećanju.     Na sličan način funkcionirali su i pobunjeni intelektualci u Bradburyjevom romanu, koji nauče napamet cijele knjige da bi jednog dana mogli rekonstruirati pisanu kulturu. Totalitarni režimi onoga vremena itekako su, dakle, mogli poslužiti velikom piscu kao predložak. No u jednom radijskom intervjuu 1956., tri godine nakon prvog izdanja, sam Bradbury je iznenadio sve: glavni kontekst njegove knjige bila je antikomunistička paranoja u SAD-u u ranim pedesetima. 'Mnogo ljudi plašilo se vlastite sjene, postojala je prijetnja da će se knjige spaljivati, a mnogo ih je uklonjeno s polica u knjižnicama', rekao je tada Bradbury. Nije naodmet spomenuti da je i njegova knjiga, kao i cijeli distopijski žanr koji je predstavljala, bila predmet istraživanja tada svemoćnog FBI-a. Kad je knjiga izašla, bila je napravljena posebna verzija, u skladu sa sadržajem i strahom koji budi. Naime Bradburyjev izdavač Ballantine objavio je ograničenu seriju od 200 rukom autora potpisanih primjeraka te s koricama napravljenim od azbesta kako ne bi mogle biti spaljene. Jasno, tih 200 komada danas su iznimno tražena roba među kolekcionarima pa im cijena na aukcijama doseže i do 20 tisuća dolara. To što stranice knjige ipak mogu izgorjeti, jer su napravljene od papira, nimalo ne smeta onima koji žele imati takav dragulj. Teško može biti bolje manifestacije onoga o čemu roman govori, strahovima koje je budila sredina 20. stoljeća, od azbestom 'oklopljenih' knjiga. Svih ovih desetljeća 'Fahrenheit 451' (naslov se odnosi na temperaturu u fahrenheitima na kojoj papir gori) doživio je bezbroj izdanja i referenci na sadržaj, a snimljena su i dva filma, vrlo dobri iz 1966. u režiji Francoisa Truffauta i sasvim promašeni i neuspješni remake iz 2018. Što danas možemo naučiti od 'Fahrenheita 451'? Mnogi bi uprli prstom na ograničenja i preispitivanje što ih donosi politička korektnost i 'woke kultura', no modernom svijetu u 21. stoljeću mnogo je veća prijetnja more (dez)informacija kojima smo svakodnevno izloženi. Tolika produkcija pisane riječi po mnogima djeluje destimulirajuće na čitalačke navike, pa je unatoč golemom broju novih knjiga u cijelom svijetu dominantan trend pad čitanja. Ili, kako bi rekao sam Bradbury: 'Ne trebate spaliti knjige da biste uništili kulturu. Dovoljno je navesti ljude da ih prestanu čitati.' Tu se krije još jedno — po mišljenju autora — pogrešno čitanje 'Fahrenheita 451'. Kako je govorio u svojim poznim godinama, roman je alegorija, simbolički prikaz društva koje postaje sve gluplje, represivnije i destruktivnije. Po tome bi spalitelji knjiga bile snage koje skreću pažnju javnosti lažima, poluistinama ili sumnjivim 'zamjenama' za znanje. Kad je to govorio, Bradbury je glavnu krivicu svaljivao na televiziju, ali bilo bi zanimljivo vidjeti kako bi komentirao — da je doživio — eru 'pametnih telefona'. Tportal.hr Read the full article

[cgvijesti]

Pokušaj državnog udara u Njemačkoj, policija otkrila identitet ljudi

Pokušaj državnog udara u Njemačkoj, policija otkrila identitet ljudi

Njemačka policija objavila je identitet ljudi koji stoje iza “Pokreta građani Rajha”, koji je označen kao teroristička organizacija koja je planirala državni udar. Pored bivše poslanice desničarske partije Afd i jednog berlinskog sudije, policija navodi da je organizaciju podržavala i državljanka Rusije. Ova organizacija je navodno planirala upad u Bundestag, a imali su spremne svoje kadrove…

[tamannasharma]

Explore the exquisite Rajha Blue Thread Work Silk Suit by La Glits. Meticulously crafted to perfection, this outfit is the epitome of luxury and tradition. Visit our store or shop online to own this exclusive piece. #LaGlits #RajhaSilkSuit #TraditionalFashion #Elegance

[kimttaejji]

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