iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Today’s wipwed has some great life choices, like sleeping with your ex after his grandma broke you up like you’re 15 years old and not in your late 20s #rookanis

They exhale together, flat on their backs staring at the ceiling; talking about the elephant in the room is easier when she’s not looking right at him. “I wouldn’t mind being your mistress, if that’s what it takes to be with you.”

“Amore, please.” Lucanis shifts with a grunt, and Rook wants to bury her face into his chest, run her hands over it, and perhaps it will be all right. “I haven’t talked to Caterina since the day we broke up.”

“Why?” Her heart is made of delicate glass, liable to break at any moment.

“She should have talked to me first, and never gone to you. I meant it when I said I hadn’t wanted you to meet the family like this.” His hand seems unsteady as he touches her hair, and Rook lets herself whine; this touch feels better than the sex they just had. “Amore.”

He grins as she rolls over, pinning his hips to the bed with her own, her palms flat on the mattress on either side of his head. She sniffles. “Stop it.”

“No.”

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 07/10/2026

Still trying to get my word goals despite being in these FEFW trenches. Have some Rookanis featuring the quirks ofBellara’s fourth hand car

Rarely is Rook this aware of her size, but it most often happens in the backseat of Bellara’s car. She crawls in to sit behind Neve in the front passenger and angles herself sideways, kicking out her legs into the space behind the driver’s seat. In any other vehicle, Neve would give her the grace of the front seat, but they’ve learned their lesson about Bel’s car; the only way to get into the back is to fold down the seats, and more than once Neve’s prosthetic made it damn near impossible for her to get out on her own. “This is too embarrassing,” she had said the third time Rook had to pull her out by hooking her arms under Neve’s armpits, and that was the end of that. “Ladies,” Rook says in the present, slouching even more to keep the top of her cloud of hair from being flattening by the car’s roof. “Lunch is on me today, and the coffees, and don’t argue about it.”

“Oh, a rich girl is with us today. Perhaps a certain someone sent you cash?” Neve winks at her from the mirror in the visor, then continues putting on her lipstick.

000

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

No cheating, post your lock screen Wish I could remember the artist but I do love it sm

040

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

The worms got me. Sorry for the text wall, but you did ask for it

Lucanis hopes Caterina regrets taking this job; he certainly does—not that he had any say in the matter—especially in this moment as he treks through the Dairsmuid sewers. At least there’s a walkway, otherwise Lace would be drowning in the muck of the canal beside them. She’s shown no such remorse in her seemingly arbitrary visits to the Lighthouse, only directed him with that same sharpness she always shows. “You need a con artist,” she had said the last time, after he had explained his new, strange connection to Solas. “Someone who can hope to outwit the Dread Wolf.”

It had not surprised him that she did not offer Illario, then; his talents lay in seduction, not strategy. It had been Harding who had mentioned they had almost picked up one of Isabela’s Lords along the way, some woman who had run afoul of the royal family and needed an out. “She’s supposed to be clever, but unpredictable, so Varric…”

He understands the hesitation, even if he feels very little about it. Varric had been his employer, and he doesn’t make a habit of getting attached to them as a rule. The man died for his mission. That, Lucanis respects. It should have ended there, but the Inquisitor kept him on, even doubled the fee; she must despise Solas to put forward such a sum for his death.

He shakes off the thoughts as a breeze wafts through the fetid sewer air, smelling cleaner and brighter than this miasma despite coming from a prison. His eyes start to sting, barely more than a tickle compared to some of the magic he’s felt before. Overhead, there’s a grate wide enough for them to pass through. “Up there. We get in, grab this Laidir, and get out. There’s no money in killing the guards if we can help it.”

“Do you want me to look first? I’m smaller, less likely to be seen.” He nods, and gives Lace a boost to peer through the grate before pushing it aside enough to shimmy through the gap. She scrambles up, and Lucanis hears her suck in a breath as he leaps up to hook his fingers in the grate and pull himself up into the prison. It’s dim, half the torches snuffed out, but there’s enough light to see the bodies. Guards in uniform are slumped over, lifeless, littering the entire place. Lucanis frowns, glancing at each body in turn; the deaths look self-inflicted, but what could cause a mass suicide? “I don’t like this.”

“Stay on guard. There’s blood magic at work.” They creep through the passageway between the cells, most of them too dark to see in; the ones illuminated enough turn his stomach, as even the prisoners are dead. What happened here?

“No, I didn’t say that. I said if I could find a way to pick the lock, then we’d have to kill the guards. You just went ahead and did it.” Lace’s bowstring tightens as she draw back, and Lucanis slides a knife into his hand as they walk toward the voice. “I still don’t have a lock pick, and the key’s all the way over there because that guard didn’t have the kindness to slit his own throat next to our cell.”

“The situation is still hopeless,” another voice replies, eerily similar to the first but heartbroken. “We’re going to waste away in here.”

“Oh, that’s enough of that. I hear someone approaching.” The person calls out. “Hello! Who’s there? If you’re here about the mess, I can explain. You see, Hope got a little carried away.”

He can feel Lace tense beside him, but Lucanis clears his throat to raise his voice. “Isabela sent us to rescue someone named Osla Laidir, and I really hope you’re her.”

The laughter that answers him is warm and reminds him of honey. “That I am. There’s a guard near my cell with a key to get me out, if you’d be so kind.” She’s leaning on the door of her cell when they turn a corner, and Lucanis takes her in while Lace searches for the guard and the key. Laidir looks a little pallid, but otherwise none the worse for wear otherwise. There’s something cunning in her smile, and she waves a hand as it hangs outside the bars. “Didn’t know the old bitch cared enough to hire people to conduct a jailbreak for me.” She tilts her head. “Especially an Antivan Crow.”

Lucanis grins; yes, she’ll do perfectly. “We’re hoping to hire you. Isabela said you’re talented at deception and political jobs.”

“Yeah, until I wasn’t.” Keys jingle, and her mood brightens at the sound. “Ah, finally, I thought I was going to rot down here.”

“You might still.” Lace scowls. “Who were you talking to?”

“Ah, that.” Laidir beckons behind her, and a ghostly form wearing her face glides forward; unlike Laidir, however, the spirit frowns, tears streaking her cheeks. “My spirit companion, Hope, though she’s rather hopeless at the moment.”

“That’s not a Hope spirit, that’s a demon of Despair.” Lucanis tries not to wince at the hardness in Lace’s voice.

The apparition starts weeping in earnest, and Laidir sighs. “Typical southern bigotry. Look, you’re here to let me out, and I suggest we do it quick before the guard change happens and they find Hope’s mistake. Once we’re out of here, I’ll answer all your questions. If you don’t like the answers, we can part ways, no harm, no foul.”

Lucanis rolls his tongue around in his mouth, thinking. She’s right, they don’t have time to argue the point, and he can’t very well leave her alone in this cell, not with the carnage around her. “I’m holding you to that promise.” He holds out his hand, and Laidir takes, her grip firmer than he expected. “Lucanis Dellamorte.”

121

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Stealing from a mootie, to keep me sane today at work

440

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 23/09/2026

From my original work, near the end of part one.

It settles as more bubbles appear, and another of the merpeople emerge. An older man, heavy with gravitas that Fionn could never explain, his hair knotted with pearly shells and bits of gold; the king, there’s no doubt about it. He does not laugh, only looks at the boy standing on the rock for a moment, then turns his eyes toward them on the sand. A strange smile crosses his lips, passing like a squall, and he returns his gaze to Pebble. His voice is rain on the beach, of seeing a thunderstorm happening out in the wide ocean, of shipwrecks of lost gold and other treasures of man.

071

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 18/09/2026

#fefw #fefwspoilers This game is perfect, this is exactly the good shit I wanted to see

Some rando talking shit about Fodlan ten feet away from Seteth

051

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

Hello! Here I am with another chapter of Riptide Years, my modern Rookanis fic. This chapter is all Lucanis POV as he suffers through being home in Treviso without Rook: archiveofourown.org/works/662612...

021

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 16/09/2026

Out here teasing a fic that’s half dead once again, this time featuring Illario hiding from Venatori in Rook and Lucanis’ townhouse, making bad choices as usual

The landing’s narrow with a door directly in front of it. He opens the door carefully, but its hinges do not squeal a betrayal. This room, a parlor it seems, is better illuminated, the gauzy curtains on the balcony doors doing very little to keep the moon from shining in. It’s the only saving grace that keeps Illario from screaming as someone moves, a head snapping up to reveal a violet stare pointed in his direction. “Caught you creeping,” Spite says out of Lucanis’ throat, speaking far too loudly for the hour. He sets something aside, and pats it once. “Must be careful with Rook’s things. Books. Perfumes. Lucanis.” His head shoots up, Lucanis’ mouth twisting into a smile that looks much more ghoulish in the shadows cast by night. “But you are not one of Rook’s things! You smell like her! One who put us here. Old iron, corrupted blood! Nothing sweet!”

Illario tries to back up as Spite stands, to put the door between himself and the demon possessing Lucanis. “My cousin won’t like it if you hurt me.”

011

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 09/09/2026

Working on my Rookanis longfic, Riptide Years, with Lucanis back in Treviso living the rich boy life.

The car bounces as Jacobus heaves the suitcase into the back, but he’s careful as he slips into the driver’s seat, the mark of any good chauffeur. He hadn’t expected to see his usual driver during such a short visit—hebhad assumed he and his grandmother would share Candide’s services. “I’m surprised Caterina kept you on. I’m not complaining, however.”

Jacobus glances at him in the rearview. “She’s put me to work for Mr. Illario, mostly ferrying his legal team around, or himself when there’s a court appearance.” They pull out into the sluggish river delta of traffic surrounding the airport. “I understand she’s reimbursed your trust with Mr. Illario’s for the trouble.”

“Ah.” That explains why Illario has been so insistent that Lucanis help him pay one of his cars in secret, no doubt some sort of tit-for-tat in his cousin’s mind. He unzips the garment bag and scowls at the navy blue suit within. “And do you like working for my cousin?”

“He never buys me lunch.” Lucanis laughs at this, and perhaps even Jacobus cracks a smile.

020

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 08/09/2026

It was literally horrible and ended with her coming inside from an attempted potty break and peeing on the carpet Puppy and her sister kitty, they are best friends

110

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 07/09/2026

Time to get some kids married off: archiveofourown.org/works/413264... #fe3h #claudeleth

051

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 19/08/2026

Lucanis and Bellara hard at working making pot brownies for the crew.

“You and Rook are so adorable,” Bellara murmurs around another strawberry. “I never thought she’d actually find someone she’s willing to settle down with.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, she’s still not sure about marriage.” The timer dings, and Lucanis feels a relief at ending the conversation there. Rook’s resistance nags at him, the one splinter in an otherwise smooth relationship, and there’s little he can do about it but wait for her to make a decision. There are more important things to do now, such as mixing the flour and the chocolate batter together to finish this part of finals week prep.

The door opens just moments after Bellara pulls the brownies from the oven, and Rook doesn’t even stop to remove her shoes before she walks around the island. She puts her hands on her hips. “Amado. I told you that I was treating Neve today.”

020

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 18/08/2026

New chapter of Somewhere, Sometime! Getting closer to the wedding! archiveofourown.org/works/413264... #fe3h #claudeleth

074

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 16/08/2026

I have nothing to offer but an older fic about Jeralt struggling to let go. archiveofourown.org/works/66657589

153

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 12/08/2026

From my WIP novel about a merboy finding himself ashore because his dad is kind of a dick

He leans forward, resting a hand on his knee. “What would you have me do, then, Tilde? Leave him on the side of the road to fend for himself? He can’t speak, he trips over his own feet, but the king’s armies won’t care about that, they’ll snatch him up regardless.” Tilde looks away from him, her jaw quivering from the tight set of her muscles. Fionn chuckles, the sound bitter on his tongue. Just in his sight is Ainsley, sitting with her knees touching the boy’s as she teaches him signs. “Imagine how well Ainsley would take it.”

Clotilde’s form shudders in the flickering light. “Well, everyone needs their first heartbreak, to make the second love sweeter.” She stands, whistling and holding one of her hands aloft. A trill answers her, followed shortly by the leathery flap of wings as Skuld lands on her wrist. “Come along, dear, time to collect your bed for the night.” Fionn watches her go, only letting himself sigh once she’s disappeared to the far end of their encampment, his eyes still fixed on his daughter and her friend and thinking of how Ainsley has never smiled more than she has today.

060

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 05/08/2026

I keep saying “no more longfics” and then I give chapters titles. The start of the sequel to my murder mystery done poorly #claudeleth #fe3h

As a general rule of thumb regarding his rock-slinging investigations, Claude keeps the notes saved on his phone to a minimum. He’s not paranoid, mind, but there is something to said about the permanence of a paper trail. There’s a handful of photos, a couple documents he finds useful to reference on the fly, and most importantly, his questions. He limits himself to two, three in extraordinary circumstances, and they ought to encapsulate all the little nagging questions he has regularly about any one of his cases. At present, there are two that appear similar but are wildly different in scope regarding the Knights of Seiros:

-Who is Byleth Eisner?
-Who is LR?

2111

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 22/07/2026

Lucanis and his feral pirate wife 🥰

She’s given him several avenues of conversation, some of them more perilous than others. He grasps her hand and begins kissing her fingertips. “I’ll never complain about how much time you gift me. Every moment with you is a blessing.”

“Remember that in a month when I’m driving you crazy.” He laughs even as he pulls away, starting to feel clammy in his damp shirt. Rook watches him remove it with hungry eyes that peer just over the lip of the tub, looking like some ethereal creature of the deep waiting to consume him whole. Maker, how he wants her to. “You’re wearing your hair differently. I like it.”

He pauses, the moment delicate. “I went to the chantry with Caterina tonight.”

“Ah.” There’s a smirk on her face, but perhaps his frown keeps any smart remarks at bay. He doesn’t believe in the Andrastian faith anymore, she knows that, and it confuses her that he still attends services. “And how is your grandmother?”

010

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 13/07/2026

Quoting this one on my feed because we’re like inverses of each other

020

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 08/07/2026

One of these days I’ll finish one of my 734 half-baked oneshots

He’s too young still, too small; if he raises his head in defiance, how easy it is for it to be smacked back down. So, he escapes instead, walking the tightrope line between bravery and foolishness as he climbs the palace roof, catlike. The tiles are slick, giving very little grace, but it’s better than fists and knives.

The stars blink at him, and he blinks back, holding up his arms to examine the quicksilver scars that have begun to accumulate. Some are brighter than others, the ones he remembers as being more painful. Once, he had accidentally stabbed a pencil through his palm and has a bright dot in the spot; when he lifts up his shirt, there’s a spot on his side where a knife had gone in deep, somehow missing his organs. Khalid doesn’t like to look at it, however, because it reminds him of how it feels to kill, to watch a life bleed out and it be his fault. Instead, he gazes up at the stars, and imagines each dot as a wound; the heavens have more blemishes than he can ever hope to accumulate in his lifetime, no matter how many assassins come creeping into a prince’s bedroom while he sleeps. If the night sky endures, so will he.

050

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 24/06/2026

The fic Somewhere, Sometime: archiveofourown.org/works/413264...

010

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 24/06/2026

Hopefully this chapter will be up this weekend!

Yuri snorted. “So I brought your sister, as you call her, all the way here, only to turn around and have to take her back? I should have sent Jeralt’s letter by pigeon, I guess.”

“Apologies for the inconvenience.” Seteth seemed more sarcastic than sorry, but Yuri allowed him his ire; he would be irritated, too, if he was an ancient saint and some upstart kid was giving him lip. “It was quite the argument, but my brother has made some very good points in favor of my leaving. This border should be safe in his care.”

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 19/06/2026

From the next chapter of Somewhere, Sometime, which will hopefully be completed and up in the next couple weeks

“What in the hell is going on?” Felix demanded, and Yuri silently agreed; they were suddenly in over their heads, and perhaps he should reconsider his arrangement with Judith. “Who is that?”

Silence, and Flayn looked at Seteth, expectant. What does she know, and how long has she known it? More importantly, why didn’t Yuri know it? He had been here so many times and never heard that voice. Seteth sighed, and rubbed his cheek, a strange gesture of uncertainty for the man. Flayn stamped her foot and said something in a language so strange that Yuri could hardly understand it as speech.

Seteth blinked, and then replied in that same language. They seemed to argue, if their gestures and facial expressions could be believed. Behind him, Yuri heard Maya whisper, “Do you know what language that is? I can’t make it out.” She sounded a little affronted, as if the idea of a language being unknown to her was an insult.

070

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 17/06/2026

I feel like people are going to see this whole thing before I actually commit to it but whatever. From my potential sequel to my badly done Claudeleth murder mystery

Her fingers flex before she grabs the case and starts walking. “So I just have to keep my head down and ignore it?”

At least she’s not so angry as to flinch away when he puts his hand on her back, and he moves to take her hand next as they fall into step with each other. “You’re good at that.”

“Better than you are.” She digs in her pocket as they exit, cellophane crinkling in her hand. Somehow, she manages to juggle the pack, lighter, and gun case as they walk, and she barely slows as she sticks a cigarette between her lips and clicks the lighter; they had shared a smoke one day, and she never stopped. Claude shakes his head when she offers him a drag, and she puts it back between her lips.

They stop behind her truck, that rusted old beater that still smells of the deep woods where she grew up, and of her father. Claude has considered suggesting therapy to help her with her grief, but he doubts there’s a therapist anywhere in the world that can give Byleth the closure she needs. “Where are you off to, back to the office?”

160

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 10/06/2026

From my mermaid OW. I need to get back to them soon

At night the humans dig pits and load them with dead trees, then use screeching metal to set them ablaze. Dyfri hovers at the edge of the circle of fires, staying just far enough that he can barely feel its heat. Once, that rotten old king he calls Father brought him to the surface to watch the humans fight with their ships. Great blazes of light burst out of the sides of the boats, and the noise and the action had been very exciting.

053

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 27/05/2026

From an AU where Illario becomes the companion instead of Lucanis. Rook is one of the few people who visits Lucanis once he’s found, and he develops a bit of a crush

020

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 22/05/2026

This is a cat checkpoint; relinquish your most recent cat picture on your phone. The children have decided they can both fit on my lap.

142

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 09/05/2026

28: canon compliant, kind of? I like playing in the world and watching things spin out to their logical conclusion, BUT I also like introducing chaos into canon and imagining what would happen. 35: this. You know the fic

110

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 09/05/2026

Stole this from mikey

480

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 09/05/2026

New Somewhere, Sometime! Time to start tying all the threads together. #fe3h #claudeleth archiveofourown.org/works/413264...

161

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 06/05/2026

Claudeleth smut in the year seven of our lord and savior Sothis? More likely than you think

There’s a wet sound of her licking her lips, both obnoxious and sensual, but gods how he wants to bend down and kiss her again. Best to stay still, however, to keep his strength for whatever delightful torment she’ll subject him to, if she agrees. “I guess I can indulge you this time.”

“So generous, my queen is.” Byleth releases his hair at last, and warmth floods his neck and throat as the muscles relax. Now, his focus turns on how his hands are going numb from holding himself upright. Her tongue flickers out again, her lips parted and wet. “I can almost see your mind working.”

“I am thinking.” Her hand trails down his body now, still rough despite all the years between now and the last war he hopes will ever be fought—how vain of him, to think they have brought everlasting peace to humans—but her eyes are soft, with no sharp lines. “Stay like this, in this position, until I say so.”

392

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 29/04/2026

Maybe sometimes your boyfriend acts a little too rich. For the next chapter of Riptide Years which is almost done

“No, I don’t think so. Thank you.” It’s almost too slick the way Lucanis gives the host a tip; how had she missed the arrival of this Lucanis? This is a man used to traveling in a higher social circle than hers, and it reminds her of the way she felt stepping into Ashur’s office for the first time—underdressed and too coarse to exist in the space. It gives rise to nasty thoughts about enjoying the ride until it lasts that are immediately chased away when the host opens the door, and the music and strobing lights overwhelm her every sense.

Lucanis, ignorant of her thoughts, has his arm around her waist, leading her toward their table. Bellara stops them from sitting down, her face unusually stern as she pokes Lucanis in the chest. “I’m onto you. Table mother doesn’t pay.”

Lucanis’ grin seems irrepressible, and Rook snorts as she watches his lips quiver with the effort. “No, the rule is I drink for free. Paying for a private table isn’t a drink, is it?”

191

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 22/04/2026

This week: Jeralt somehow ends up babysitting Byleth’s Faerghus friends in the next chapter of Somewhere, Sometime

At least they were useful; indeed, it appeared that the brothers were in competition with one another, and it drove them to rip large gashes in the enemy formation. The Gautier boy took full advantage of their chaos to trample the incoming enemies under hoof, and the last darted about, quicker than the rest, and lightning bolts crashed around him. Where the Adrestian formations fell to pieces, the Almyrans crowded in, shoving the line back firmly into Hrym.

Then, the Fraldarius brothers seemed to shudder in unison, frozen for a moment; Jeralt could just see their heads move as they talked. The younger one pointed, and the older responding by starting to hack through the Adrestian line with renewed fervor, like a man possessed. Jeralt dove, ducking through a shower of arrows to land just behind them. “What’s happening?” Simurgh was ungainly on earth, but the saddle gave Jeralt the advantage of height to keep him protected.

“There’s a man on the hill!” Felix shouted back. “He was leader on the assault of the monastery. If we kill him, they’ll probably retreat.”

060

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 15/04/2026

I might have shared this before, but in honor of the US Tax Day, here’s a snip from my “Byleth has been queen for a year and still doesn’t understand taxes” fic

Claude waved a hand. “As is mine, and we won’t be using the time frivolously. It’s for crown business, I promise. Cross my heart, all that. We’ll be working to secure the future of our union.”

Of all the reactions he expected—suspicion being on the top of the list—Claude didn’t expect Seteth to blush. Didn’t know he was capable of that. But here he was, cheeks reddening as he stared at Claude. “I…see. Well, I believe it is a little early to be thinking of the royal line, especially since you are not yet wed, but if that is what you and Her Majesty think is best, I will do what I can to assist.”

Now Claude felt a little hot; the last thing he wanted to think about was Seteth “assisting” them in the bedroom in any manner. Ever. Gods help us if he decides to provide us with guidance on the topic. But if it got him the time he requested, far be it from Claude to disabuse Seteth of his notions. “Excellent, thank you. I do need one more thing, for our evenings. Could you find me a chalkboard?”

290

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 11/04/2026

@coucouart94.bsky.social had made a post a couple weeks ago about Claude having silver scars that shine in moonlight, so I wrote a little piece for a character study. I should finish it because it’s such a beautiful concept

Khalid remembers sitting on his mother’s lap in the garden, tracing the lines of her scars with a finger, following the thin seam of silver until it disappeared under her sleeve. Her skin is smooth, unblemished despite her penchant for talking with her fists or an axe, her scars only appearing under the light of the moon. They intersect, looking like a map of a sprawling, unplanned city, and he always falls asleep before he can trace them all. “Will I have scars like yours?” He trembles at the thought of having ones like his father’s, all uneven flesh, the new skin pink and shiny in a way that makes Khalid curl in on himself. If his mother is a city, his father is terrain, rough and unpredictable.

She pats his backside in a soothing rhythm. “It is inevitable that we find out, my star.”

She had been right, of course, because no one can stay perfectly whole their whole life through, and Khalid’s first was no different than many other children’s, royal blood or not. There are many tears, great fat ones, a nursemaid clucking as she examines his hands and knee, both of which had scraped against the rough earth. “All this noise and didn’t even break the skin.” She gives him a bit of bread soaked in milk and honey to chew on; one can’t eat and cry at the same time. “Next time, try not to catch yourself with your hands, Your Highness.”

That night, as he drifts off to sleep, a glint of silver catches his eye. Khalid sits up, gasps, staring at his palms. Under the thin beam of moonlight, the heels of his palms sparkle with stars, like a galaxy created for him alone. He’s beautiful, just like Mama.

63412

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 05/04/2026

I love digging into the fucked up dynamics of the Dellamorte family. archiveofourown.org/works/82540771

020

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 01/04/2026

Lucanis and his oops family. He was supposed to be the babydaddy one time and accidentally ended up the third in the Neverook marriage.

Lucanis settles on the floor of the nursery not ten minutes later, and all the children crowd around him save Elena, who has dashed off to her own bedroom. There’s seven of them all together: Elena, with his nose; Darany, who alarmingly looks more like a young Illario with each passing year; Beatrice and Malvina both with his eyes; Niraj and his cheekbones; then the youngest two, Pravina and Reva, who are still too chubby to make out how they resemble their parents. How can anyone be fooled? Caterina would see it in an instant, which is why they must never meet.

Reva dozes on his chest as Darany curls under one of his arms, nose already in a book. Beatrice keeps handing him wooden blocks, and he tells her the letters on each in between commenting about Malvina’s rambling about her dream. Niraj and Pravina circle him warily, still a little shy of the strange man who comes to visit from time to time. Elena, however, is an unstoppable wave, and she all but pushes her siblings aside to sit by his knees. She holds a folder out. “I have questions for you, Tío Lucanis.”

140

Igom @igom.bsky.social · 25/03/2026

I love writing about the Dellamortes and their fucked up childhood.

There’s a certain point where Lucanis is aware that he’s stopped thinking, stopped looking at the course logically and instead flies on pure instinct, trusting his body to move how he needs it to. The others still think about what they need to do, how to move, but not Lucanis, not anymore. He dances across the warped boards, swings across canals, flying like the crow he hopes to be one day. Slower than the first time, however, his legs quaking and his palms growing soft and damp with sweat and fluid from ruptured blisters.

Every joint feels too loose and his shirt’s soaked through by the time Lucanis rolls onto the roof a second time, too exhausted to stand, Caterina’s puckered mouth be damned. She taps her cane. “Punish the rest.” Lucanis squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to wheeze. Of course she would do such a thing, use him in such a way to humiliate the other fledglings even if Illario hasn’t been caught up in it this time.

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 19/03/2026

Some original work. My girl Ainsley’s not a fan

Andrew’s the newest addition to their troupe, the third son of some minor lord from down south. With him came a lute with silver inlay, a decent singing voice, and enough arrogance to rival of all the king’s court.

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 18/03/2026

From a half-abandoned fic where Claude goes looking for Dedue on Byleth’s behalf post-VW

“Ah, I would know that voice anywhere, in any language,” someone says from outside, and Dedue feels his stomach lurch unpleasantly, threatening to make the world tilt. He knows the speaker, as well, and it feels like some sort of dream when the shadow of Claude von Riegan passes through his door. Once inside, he closes the door just enough so the daylight is no longer blinding them, and he can see the man’s face in detail. Claude smiles at him, easy and confident; Dedue had never liked him much in school, but the years had seemed to smooth over most of the duke’s more frustrating personality quirks. “You’re a hard man to track down, Mr. Molinaro.”

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 17/03/2026

Someday I might get serious about this Illario companion AU

“So this is the Lighthouse?” Illario glances around at the floating debris suspended all over the courtyard, and then glances at the crumbling edge of the staircase. “I’ll have to watch my step.”

“Don’t think that will be hard with your training, yes?” He grunts when Rook smacks his shoulder, a little harder than is probably considered friendly, but she needs to know what he’s made of before she fully trusts him in a fight. She gestures as she speaks, watching how well he follows. “Bel’s taken that tower, Neve’s there, and Harding’s got the greenhouse across the way. Kitchen’s over there. Have a look around, and pick a place to sleep.”

“And you?” She stops mid-turn when he speaks. “Where do you sleep?”

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 14/03/2026

Claude faces his most onerous foe yet: an angry swan that keeps biting nobles in Derdriu archiveofourown.org/works/81198596

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 11/03/2026

More WIP because why not. I have been trying to frame this idea of Lucanis being conflicted about losing his faith post-Ossuary for awhile, but I think I finally have it pinned down

He shouldn’t be allowed in here. The thought presses on Lucanis’ temples from the moment he passes through the chantry doors until he leaves. He sees it in the eyes of the clergy as they watch him undergo the rituals, always behind Caterina and her clacking cane. She must have paid a good sum of money to the chantry for them to look the other way and allow a possessed man to attend services. Spite stays quiet; they have an agreement that he never uses their body in front of Lucanis’ grandmother, a deal that the demon has, so far, adhered to.

The last walk brings the anticipation of relief, and Lucanis tries not to sigh too loudly once they’ve emerged from the chantry. Caterina will frown, and he doesn’t want that. She turns, leaning a little on the silver crow in her hand. “Come to the villa, have dinner.”

He can’t tell by her tone if it’s a request or a demand, so he throws caution to the wind and inclines his head. “I have to decline. Osla is coming back tomorrow, and I need to ready the townhouse.”

Caterina doesn’t show any irritation with him beyond pursing her lips. “Very well, Lucanis, but when she arrives, I expect to see both of you for dinner.”

“As you like, Caterina.” He kisses both her cheeks, and watches as several Dellamorte Crows follow her back to the villa, keeping a loose pattern that only a few would understand as such. Now he sighs, shakes off the last of his lingering unease, and makes his way to the part of town where he lives in Rook’s house. He had bought it for her, a place they can have all the privacy they wish, and a promise that he will always take care of her. Even in death.

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 11/03/2026

I really should finish this fic about Claude dealing with very important duke things, such as rogue swans biting people in Derdriu

One of them moves too quickly, and the creature lunges, beak wide and ready to clamp down on flesh; it meets metal instead, thudding ineffectually against his shield. “Slow. Don’t spook it, or it’ll fly away and then we’ll have to start all over.” As if it understands human speech, the swan flexes its wings, looking more wyvern than bird. No one moves an inch, not even Claude. It’s scared. He knows what it feels like to be backed into a corner and want to lash out.

They back the bird up onto an avenue and suddenly it takes off, honking and screeching with a great flutter of wings. People laugh, and the din of the crowd picks up again as people return to their haggling. Few recognize him, despite the gaggle of guards who had insisted on accompanying him. Claude scratches his neck, thinking the sunlight feels too hot on it. He doubts this is the last he’ll hear about Derdriu’s most irritable resident.

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 09/03/2026

When your fandom is on year six and you’ve been there for five of those years, sometimes you become obsessed with writing for an ultra rarepair. Here’s some Petra/Felix. #fe3h archiveofourown.org/works/80884696

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 06/03/2026

Nine games to reveal that I really really like puzzles and strategy games

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 18/02/2026

I don’t have clothes specifically, but this is close.

Jeralt doubted this was how Khalid left their western front. They landed without ceremony, the paddock empty of horses and wyverns, and there was no one waiting to handle the tack. The prince frowned, looking around. “Something must have happened. Hey, you!” A soldier stopped in her tracks at Khalid’s voice, the command of a prince hardening his cadence. “Where’s General Nader? Have the Adrestians forded the river?”

The soldier glanced at the sash around Khalid’s waist, then bowed. “Trying to, Your Highness. Nader’s managed to keep them at bay for now, but it’s made for a rough few days. Begging your pardon, I wasn’t trying to complain,” she added when Khalid swore.

“No, it’s not you.” Jeralt watched him chew on his lip, dragging his teeth across the skin, whitening it. “Uncle Jeralt, I’m going on ahead. I’m sorry, but could you—“

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Igom @igom.bsky.social · 11/02/2026

WIP Wednesday is here! Sometimes you have to take a break from your precious longfic and write a crackship to shake off the dusties. Have some CF Petralix that I hope to finish soon #fe3h

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