#west fjords

[aisling-saoirse]

Autumn Stream at Seljalandsdalur - October 9th 2023

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[classic-art-favourites]

Audun and His White Bear by John Tenniel, 1859.

Context: illustration from The Tale of Auðun of the West Fjords.

[lasagras]

Excuse the poor image quality, but I felt the need to introduce Tumblr to this 16th century Icelandic chess piece

More information here: https://www.sarpur.is/Adfang.aspx?AdfangID=341008

[paramedicabroad]

West Norwegian Fjords

Welcome, fellow adventurers, to the breathtaking West Norwegian Fjords, a UNESCO World Heritage site that beckons with its awe-inspiring landscapes, dramatic cliffs, and pristine wilderness. Join me as we embark on an unforgettable journey through this natural wonderland, where towering mountains meet cascading waterfalls and deep blue fjords carve their way through ancient valleys.

Set sail on a fjord cruise and immerse yourself in the stunning beauty of Norway's majestic landscapes. Cruise along narrow waterways flanked by towering cliffs, past picturesque villages nestled on the shores, and beneath cascading waterfalls that tumble down from dizzying heights. Feel the cool spray of the water on your face as you glide past rugged coastlines and hidden coves, taking in the serene beauty of the West Norwegian Fjords from a unique perspective.

Strap on your hiking boots and hit the trails to explore the West Norwegian Fjords on foot. From gentle walks along the shores of tranquil lakes to challenging treks up rugged mountain peaks, there's a hiking trail for every skill level and interest. Trek to iconic viewpoints like Preikestolen (Pulpit Rock) or Trolltunga (Troll's Tongue) for panoramic vistas that will take your breath away, or venture into the heart of the fjords to discover hidden valleys, ancient forests, and alpine meadows carpeted with wildflowers.

3. Wildlife Encounters: Meeting Norway's Natural Inhabitants

Keep your eyes peeled for encounters with Norway's diverse wildlife as you explore the West Norwegian Fjords. Scan the skies for sightings of majestic eagles soaring overhead, watch for playful seals basking on rocky outcrops, and listen for the haunting call of loons echoing across the still waters of the fjords. If you're lucky, you might even spot a glimpse of reindeer grazing on mountain slopes or glimpse a shy fox darting through the undergrowth.

Take time to explore the charming coastal villages and historic sites that dot the shores of the West Norwegian Fjords. Wander through narrow cobblestone streets lined with colorful wooden houses, visit ancient churches and historic landmarks, and immerse yourself in the rich maritime heritage of the region. Learn about the traditional fishing practices, folklore, and legends that have shaped the culture of Norway's coastal communities for centuries, and experience the warm hospitality of the locals firsthand.

As visitors to the West Norwegian Fjords, it's essential to tread lightly and minimize our impact on the fragile ecosystems of this UNESCO World Heritage site. Respect local wildlife and habitats, follow Leave No Trace principles, and support conservation efforts aimed at preserving the natural beauty and biodiversity of the fjords. By traveling responsibly and advocating for sustainable tourism practices, we can help ensure that future generations can continue to enjoy the pristine landscapes and unique experiences that the West Norwegian Fjords have to offer.

In conclusion, the West Norwegian Fjords offer a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to connect with nature, explore ancient landscapes, and experience the rich cultural heritage of Norway's coastal communities. Whether you're cruising through the fjords, hiking to remote viewpoints, or immersing yourself in local culture, this UNESCO World Heritage site invites you to embark on a journey of discovery and create memories that will last a lifetime. 🏞️🚢 🇳🇴

[onekisstotakewithme]

Summary: “And this… thing… would be…?” “Off the record.” ~ (Or, one missing scene per episode).

Pairing: CJ/Danny

Chapter 14/22: "Take This Sabbath Day"

Thank you all again for reading! Hopefully these updates will be more consistent (knock wood) now that I'm done work. 💜

[sesamestreep]

i think you should tell him vengeance is not jewish well, neither is the president i don't think the state should be allowed to kill people 71% of the population supports the death penalty yes, sir what would you have done, leo? kept him out of the country for two more days? yes, that's what i would have done i just really wish i didn't know his mother's name was sofia i don't talk to him like that, nobody talks to the president like that, and i gotta be honest, not a lot of people talk to me like that anymore does he have someone in mind? YOU god sent you a priest, a rabbi, and a quaker, mr. president. what more do you want from him? i think you knew i would come back this morning and you put her there on purpose she's our communications department i wouldn't want to see him executed. i'd want to do it myself. we don't execute people on the sabbath.

[ryah-wolfe]

Because I’ve been playing rdr2 online the idea of a Wild West au with Essek being introduced to the M9 bandits and finds out all of their horses are named after different terms for the toilet. And these were the people who are supposed to be protecting him

[kellymcquain]

Day 7: A Painting a Day

Day 7 – A Painting a Day – Shh! Secrets are hatching! This painting is one of the earliest completed in the current show, done during COVID. It reflects a nascent stirring toward the more fanciful style that dominates the works in my current show. I am a fan of painting people, whether from real life or a my imagination. I once did a series of poet portraits for Fjord’s Review, a literary…

[aisling-saoirse]

Spectacularly Vibrant Bilberry - October 8th 2023

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XIX)

Chapter 19: ‘I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs’

Hi! Here is new chapter! Today's chapter contains... an update on Saoirse and Sean, a man a little controlling in the kitchen, poetry, and our best boy Elwood!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3119

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Bog Queen

I lay waiting between turf-face and demesne wall, between heathery levels and glass-toothed stone. My body was braille for the creeping influences: dawn suns groped over my head and cooled at my feet, through my fabrics and skins the seeps of winter digested me, the illiterate roots pondered and died in the cavings of stomach and socket. I lay waiting on the gravel bottom, my brain darkening, a jar of spawn fermenting underground dreams of Baltic amber. Bruised berries under my nails, the vital hoard reducing in the crock of the pelvis. My diadem grew carious, gemstones dropped in the peat floe like the bearings of history. My sash was a black glacier wrinkling, dyed weaves and phoenician stitchwork retted on my breasts' soft moraines. I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs– the soaked fledge, the heavy swaddle of hides. My skull hibernated in the west nest of my hair.

Which they robbed. I was barbered and stripped by a turfcutter’s spade

who veiled me again and packed coomb softly between the stone jambs at my head and my feet.

Till a peer’s wife bribed hil. The plait of my hair, a slimy birth-cord of bog, had been cut

and I rose from the dark, hacked bone, skull-ware, frayed stitches, tufts, small gleams on the bank.

Seamus Heaney, North, 1975

Saoirse reckoned that at this stage, there was more caffeine in her organism than blood, or water, or any other normal component of her body. She was made of cheap coffee, her brain buzzing with chemicals and lack of sleep. At this point, her entire body was trembling…

By her side, Sean wasn’t much better. He had been procrastinating, and now he was paying the price with too much to be done in too little time.

Damn, exam season was something else… A new kind of hell, no doubt…

The library was about to close, that was how late it was. They gathered their stuff five minutes before closing time, and headed for the night. The cold burned Saoirse’s cheeks, although for once it wasn’t raining. It was snowing, instead… how great… she could get frozen and wet…

“Christ’s sake, don’t tell me it’s fucking raining again,” Sean complained behind her.

“It’s snowing.”

“No better. God, my feet are gonna be soaked.”

She looked down at his old boots, the leather visibly tired.

He heaved a sigh.

“Want to eat something before we go to our dorms?”

“A burger. Something that will give me diabetes and cholesterol just by looking at it.”

“Fuck yeah… extra fries too.”

“Of course!”

She almost slipped as they climbed down the few steps leading to the library, and Sean held her hand to steady her. They were both wearing gloves, and yet she felt warmth spread through her fingers as he held her. At the bottom of the steps, they didn’t let go, merely walked across the campus in silence, their feet making the thin layer of white snow crack under each of their steps. It was late, barely anyone was around anymore. Streetlights were tainting the snow a yellowish white, and the world was quieter than usual. It was a special power of the snow to make the world slow down, to make everything quiet. Saoirse was thinking about her exams though, about the book she had to finish for your class, about the notes she had to read again about Yeat’s poetry, and there was this essay she had to finish…

Both of them looked up when a voice rose over the stillness of the night.

“ANDY! LOOK! IT’S FUCKING SNOWING!”

Saoirse recognised you instantly, you were hurrying out of a building, arms spread open and face up to meet the falling snowflakes. You were laughing.

And then another silhouette came out of the same building as you, so tall it was easy to recognise Pr. H-B. He was laughing too, watching you enjoy the snow, his deep voice rumbling through the night.

“I see that,” he nodded, readjusting his man bun under his beanie.

“I hope it won’t melt too fast,” you pouted, looking at the white that covered the grounds, the leaves of the bushes, the empty branches of the trees, the wooden benches. “I want to make a snowman. And a proper one!”

“I want to send a snowball right into your face.”

You exploded with laughter, and he broke into a teasing grin.

“And I thought you were a peaceful lad!” you teased, reaching up to pinch his side, which made him giggle more like a boy than a grown man.

“Never said that I was!”

“You softy…”

You shook your head at him, let the snow fall on your cheeks and your closed eyelids again. Nor you nor Andrew seemed to have noticed Saoirse and Sean though, as they slowly kept on walking across the grounds, looking at their professors’ silly behaviour from afar.

“Christ, I’m freezing… let’s go! I’m starving.”

“So, you’re really going to cook for me tonight?”

“Yeah, I can make you something decent,” Andrew nodded, already turning in the direction of the carpark.

He groaned.

“God, I have to take Elwood for a walk. Fuck…”

“We can go together! It’ll be fun!”

“It’ll be fun to freeze our arses outside? Don’t worry, I’ll do it. You’ll catch your death.”

Saoirse saw you bending over a bench to gather snow in your hand. Not much, but a handful. You crept behind Andrew, went on your tiptoes before pulling on his scarf and pressing the snow against the back of his neck. He yelped, jumping in surprise and cursing like a sailor while he wiggled to get as much snow out of his scarf as he could, while you laughed so hard you were bending over and losing your balance.

“Fuck you!” he groaned, and yet there was a breathy laughter in his voice. “I’ll pay you back for that…”

He hurried towards the nearest bench, gathered some snow as well, but you were running off already, laughing. He ran after you, laughing as well, and managed to throw his snow ball to hit the back of your head. You yelped and doubled with laughter at the contact, but then you slipped, were falling on the icy ground.

Saoirse and Sean both gasped as they saw you falling, but heaved a relieved sigh when Andrew bent down and managed to catch you before you would hit the ground.

“Christ! You’re okay?” he asked with genuine worry, and you looked up at him as he pulled you upright again.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” you mumbled as you found back your footing. “That was a nice shot, by the way.”

“One of my many talents, I’m a killer in snowball fights.”

“Your tall arse also must make for a very good target.”

“Depends, I can easily disappear. I just pretend to be a scarecrow, nobody notices me.”

You laughed at that, and so he smiled.

“Let’s go home,” he spoke in a softer tone.

Saoirse noticed that he was still holding onto your arms, she noticed the longing that appeared across his features for a moment when you pulled away, the way he stared at you as you started walking again, babbling about dinner and hoping he wouldn’t poison you. And then he blinked, seemed to find back the use of his muscles, and followed you.

Saoirse stared at the pair of you walking away, a smile forming on her lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Sean asked, noticing mischief in her eyes.

“He likes her.”

“What?”

“H-B. He has a crush on Y/L/N.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you seen what just happened? The longing?!”

But Sean blinked, and she heaved a sigh as she pulled him further across the grounds, aiming for the large portal and the busy street of Dublin.

“Men…” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“ELWOOD!”

You had barely passed the door that you knelt to greet Andrew’s dog, generously petting him and complimenting him for no other reason than the fact that he was an incredibly good boy.

You didn’t see the grin on Andrew’s features as he looked at you, the warmth that made his cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink.

“Yes! I’m so happy to see you too! It’s been weeks! I’ve missed you!” you cooed, scratching him behind his ears, and Elwood happily wiggled his tail.

He excitedly licked your hands and cheeks, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Andrew chuckled, bending to scratch his dog’s head as well, diverting his attention so you could stand again.

You made a mental note to buy Elwood a toy, next time you would come over. He was too adorable, deserved all the treats and gifts…

“Alright, I’ll go cook us something.”

“What have you planned?”

“Erm… I can do a decent pasta dish if you want. Like… with a sauce and everything.”

“Hmm… sounds nice!”

You followed him inside, but he stopped as you were ready to enter his kitchen, and turned to you with a serious look on his face.

“I have a rule though. You stay away from the kitchen.”

“What?”

“I don’t like it when people cook with me.”

“Oh… so you are a control freak,” you teased, but he seemed more offended than you had anticipated.

“Of course, not… just… don’t cook with me.”

“So, you’re a control freak, but specifically in the kitchen, then…”

He rolled his eyes, but yielded.

“Alright, maybe I’m a little controlling in the kitchen. I just… like things to be done a certain way. Or maybe I simply have terrible friends when it comes to cooking. You should see the look of those poor vegetables after Alex had ‘cut them’. An outrage, really.”

“I have a special skill though. It’s my superpower.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I can cut fruits and vegetables in perfectly even pieces.”

“What?”

“Like… if I cut an apple in half, it’s almost perfect!”

“So… your superpower is decently chopping fruits and veggies?”

“It is,” you nodded with fake pride, making him laugh.

“I mean… at least, it’s a useful skill!”

“What’s your hidden skill?”

He looked at you for a moment. You could see that he was hesitating, you gave him an encouraging nod. He blushed as he spoke again, his voice growing quiet.

“I can sing.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I already know that! I know you used to write music, I know you still like it. You’ve told me you used to sing in a choir too.”                    

“I sang at Trinity. Anúna.”

“Really? That’s high-level stuff!”

“I still play gigs sometimes.”

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t control your brain as you imagined Andrew standing on stage, singing, looking hot…

You pushed the thought away. Reminded yourself that you were colleagues, friends, and nothing more and this was out of line…

“That’s awesome!”

“Hmm… yeah… I’m playing a gig on Saint Patrick’s day, in fact,” he added, growing increasingly nervous as he went on, he actually turned away from you and started picking up plates and knifes and vegetables throughout his kitchen. “With Alex and the old gang. Erm… and it’s also my birthday, so we’re having a little party about that, nothing fancy, just… a barbecue if the weather allows. You… you could come, if you want to.”

Your heart felt warm at his words, at the thought that he wanted to share this passion of his with you, that he wanted to spend his birthday with you too. You tried to hide how excited you truly were, refusing to look too much like some kind of creep…

“I’d love to come!”

He froze, threw you a side glance, but there was a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Really?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

“Of course! Sounds like a way to get free beer and get hammered at your expense. Sign me up!”

He laughed at that, but the grateful look he gave you let you know that he wasn’t fooled by your joke.

“Also… are we going to mention that you were born on Saint Patrick’s Day? Like… that is disgustingly patriotic of you,” you teased, leaning your back against the sink so you could stand next to Andrew and look at him.

“Hey, it’s not that bad! Always a day off work, everybody is available, and if they’re not, then they’re just lying gobshites,” he beamed up as you laughed. “Also, my dad pretended the parades were for my birthday as a child.”

“Ha… that explains the size of your current ego…”

He laughed at that, washing tomatoes and stepping closer to you to do so. You didn’t budge though. You tried to ignore that you kind of longed for that sudden proximity…

“Right… I bet I’m insufferable.”

“I mean… you are… just not because of an ego problem,” you smiled at him.

“Because of what kind of problem then?”

You noticed a shift in his tone, and you hated it. You knew he was kind of serious now, that he was growing anxious. You saw it in the way his shoulders bent, how he tried to look smaller than he truly was. You gave him a mischievous grin, made sure he knew you were still joking around.

“You won’t let me show you my unbelievable skill!” you answered, dissolving any trace of stress that was left in the room.

He laughed, standing straighter again, before handing you a knife.

“Alright, show me.”

You made a show at placing the knife on the nearest tomato, and Andrew stared at you with glee, highly entertained by your antics.

“AND…”

You cut the tomato in two fairly even pieces, and Andrew dramatically inspected the fruit. You tried hard not to laugh, but quickly failed.

“Not too bad,” he admitted, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

You threw your fist in the air in victory.

“So… does that mean that I can cook…?”

“Nope!”

You laughed at him, finished cutting the tomato you were still holding. Andrew eyed you for a moment, before sliding some vegetables your way.

You gave him a cheeky grin in return, one that coloured his cheeks with red.

Andrew shooed you out of the kitchen after all the ingredients had been cut though, claiming that you didn’t have a special skill in cooking, but only in cutting, and you yielded after some further teasing; you set up the table, then aimed for his living room while he busied himself with his food, claiming it was almost done. You played with Elwood for a bit, then busied yourself with a meticulous inspection of Andrew’s bookshelves.

A tender smile formed on your lips at his extensive collection of Heaney’s poetry. You picked up North, the collection you had been reading lately. You were not surprised to find traces of many reads on its cover and alongside the pages, with sticky notes here and there. You were not surprised to find the extensive notes slipped between the pages enclosing ‘Come to the Bower’ all through to ‘Strange Fruit’.

“It’s ready!” Andrew called after you, stepping into his living room to bring you back to reality while your eyes travelled through the first verses of the ‘Bog Queen’.

You looked up at him while he approached, tilting his head to the side. There was no animosity in his voice when he spoke, it was soft and warm, on the contrary.

“It’s impolite to snoop around.”

“I’m only assessing your taste.”

“And? Your conclusion?”

You smiled up at him.

“Not too bad.”

He chuckled, but there was something tender in his gaze. Something that made your heart skip a beat.

He bent a little to see what book you were still holding, he hummed as he nodded.

“I do love Heaney a lot,” he admitted.

“I know. I’ve started reading his poetry again, you know?”

“Really? What made you pick it up again?”

“You.”

His relaxed smile faltered, and for a moment, you cursed yourself, thinking you had been too direct, that you had spoiled everything. But then you noticed that he was blinking, saw his eyes shining a little while he averted his gaze.

When he spoke, his voice was so soft you could barely hear it, deeper than usual too, it made your heart beat faster, shook your frame with a shiver.

“That’s… that’s really fucking nice, Y/N. That… that you did that.”

“I saw the books sitting on my shelf the other day, and I know how much you love these poems. It made me think of you. So… I’ve started reading them again.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded, before he would clear his throat.

“Thank you,” he repeated, although you weren’t too sure of what he was thanking you for. It seemed natural to you.

“I see you have a lot to say about bog bodies, and I am not surprised,” you added, showing the pieces of paper tugged safely between the pages.

Andrew chuckled, rubbing at his neck as he grew a little uncomfortable.

“Right… yeah… I do love those an awful lot.”

“Hmmm… I had guessed. Actually… we should discuss them! That would be fun!”

It was your time to avert your eyes now, though, to grow uncomfortable. Fun? To you, perhaps, but Frank had showed you time and time again that nobody else was interested in talking about these things…

“God! Yes! What do you want to talk about? Like… the macabre aspect of it? The political side? The mythical side?”

When you looked up at Andrew, he was grinning, excited like a little child in a candy store. His hand was slightly shaking when he pushed his glasses up his nose again.

“Oh, and… you know, I’ve bought the Divine Comedy too!”

“What?” you asked, taken aback by the sudden change of subject.

“Yeah, I just… I… saw it at the bookstore the other day, and you love it, so I wanted to give it another try, and we have so many points to discuss! I’m almost done, not quite though, but there are so many elements that I want to go through with you… Like…”

He stopped his rambling as you blinked up at him. You must have looked stupid, while you tried to register what Andrew meant.

He had bought that book to read it… because you loved it. Just so he could… talk about it with you… without you recommending it to him or lending him the book, he just… He saw it. Thought of you. Bought it simply because of you. Read it because of you. And now he wanted to discuss it with you…

You blinked tears away. It was ridiculously simple and yet… no one had ever done that. Frank had definitely never done that for you…

“I… I’d love to talk about that with you,” you spoke in a softer voice, a grin slowly forming across your lips.

You were staring at each other for a moment, your hands still holding one of his favourite books, his eyes fixed on yours. God, his eyes… the green that dominated the brown tonight, like leaves on a summer afternoon, vivid and bathed with gold… you couldn’t look at anything else in the room, in the world, in your life…

You noticed that the space between your faces was slowly diminishing. You noticed that Andrew wasn’t that tall anymore, or rather, that he was bending closer. Closer. Closer…

You felt something bump hard into your leg, making you lose your balance for a second, although you recovered almost instantly. When you looked down, Elwood was staring up at you, waiting for your attention.

You laughed, scratching his head.

“The food is going to get cold,” Andrew mumbled under his breath, and you tried to ignore how much he was blushing now. You carried the book in the kitchen as you followed him, Elwood in toe.

God, had you dreamt this? Had Andrew tried to kiss you? Were you… were you ready to let him?

[dame-de-pique]

Burton Brothers - Lake Hankinson, North West Arm, Middle Fjord, Lake Te Anau, 1889

[thesiltverses]

Hello! Have you heard black sheep by poor man’s poison? It’s so carpenter and Faulkner coded I could swear you had that song in mind when you wrote it. It was the first song I added to my silt verses playlist when I made it

I have not heard either of the songs you recommended (or the bands!) but I just checked them both out this morning after spending a month glued to sound design, and I enjoyed them a lot, so thank you!

Poor Man's Poison reminded me a lot of The Devil Makes Three, this sort of straight-faced Weird West music, but I really liked Rabbitology's Bog Bodies, which took me back to Seamus Heaney's bog poems, which were very much an influence on the show as a whole.

Quick, let's have a bog poem:

BOG QUEEN I lay waiting between turf-face and demesne wall, between heathery levels and glass-toothed stone.

My body was braille for the creeping influences: dawn suns groped over my head and cooled at my feet,

through my fabrics and skins the seeps of winter digested me, the illiterate roots

pondered and died in the cavings of stomach and socket. I lay waiting

on the gravel bottom, my brain darkening, a jar of spawn fermenting underground

dreams of Baltic amber. Bruised berries under my nails, the vital hoard reducing in the crock of the pelvis.

My diadem grew carious, gemstones dropped in the peat floe like the bearings of history.

My sash was a black glacier wrinkling, dyed weaves and phoenician stitchwork retted on my breasts’

soft moraines. I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs—

the soaked fledge, the heavy swaddle of hides. My skull hibernated in the wet nest of my hair.

Which they robbed. I was barbered and stripped by a turfcutter’s spade

who veiled me again and packed coomb softly between the stone jambs at my head and my feet.

Till a peer’s wife bribed him. The plait of my hair, a slimy birth-cord of bog, had been cut

and I rose from the dark, hacked bone, skull-ware, frayed stitches, tufts, small gleams on the bank.

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

West Fjords of Norway

[utilitycaster]

A less talked-about but no less interesting part of God Discourse I've noticed is that amongst the There Is Nuance Here crowd there's a weirdly pro-Betrayer God attitude; like there's examples of gods being bad right here (see: The Actual Devil in Literal Hell), but we're choosing to focus on Melora for some reason? Fascinating levels of dissonance here.

So here's the thing. I've found that this has also been an evolving position.

I think during EXU Calamity, the main argument was pro-Betrayer God. Some was that Asmodeus was in fact played masterfully; Zerxus, after all, fell for it. The rest seemed to be to me the usual dull "but I wanted it to be subversive" argument, upon which the motivations of that desire I can only speculate (and such speculation, while entertaining, is not productive). I would argue, Calamity was not lacking in subversion, notably with the portrayal of Vespin Chloras and the fact that this was ultimately an immensely hopeful, if also deeply tragic story of an averted annihilation.

I think currently? It's the Wild West, at best. I don't have much to add other than what I've said already, and unfortunately it does require either familiarity with the posts I'm thinking about or me doing something as tacky as publicly posting screenshots to get the full context. Suffice it to say I've rarely seen such unformed and unsupported arguments. They are phrased in apery of a coherent argument, but, crucially, lacking the evidence.

Getting back to your point I think the focus is more on the Prime Deities because those are the gods whom past characters (and FCG) were affiliated with. I honestly don't think most of them have the lore knowledge to recall deities who have not come up as directly in game; they're focusing on Melora because they know who she is. Possibly because she was Bor'Dor's deity; possibly because she was the deity who reached out to Orym and was insufficiently clear in her communication to Fearne to satisfy them (and yet we stan Liliana, queen of clear responses, amirite?); possibly because it's edgily rewarding to them to fantasize about upending and destroying Caduceus, Fjord, and Fy'ra Rai's lives. Similar arguments can be made for Pelor and the Raven Queen; one can point to the genuine harm mortals have done in Pelor's name and the fact that the Raven Queen collected on a deal, willingly made, from Vax, and you get to weakly and cringingly tell yourself you are dunking on people who like Vax, or Vex, or Morrighan. It is interesting to me that people are not focusing more on Lolth given her appearance and the fact that Opal's choice, while technically willing, was much more manipulated than anything the Raven Queen has every done. Lolth behaves in canon as idiots believe the Raven Queen to have done in fanon. I've found a significant number of the arguments against the gods rely on a profound misattribution or at best deliberate avoidance of what is voluntary vs. what is coercive or done without consent (eg: comparisons between Judicators and Ruidusborn).

Basically: they bring in the Betrayers when it's convenient for the argument and cherrypick around them when it's not; they do the same with the Primes. There's just a lot more to pick from with the Primes.

[rune-folk]

Fjord views, West Norway