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Leo is manic at the best of times, psychotic at the worst, and a god when he drinks too much espresso.
Bookmarked by Jul_4
15 Mar 2026
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Sigh of the Llama, or No One Wins a War on the Internet (except maybe Riario) by zephfair
Fandoms: Da Vinci's Demons
16 May 2016
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Leo's band is over; he's drunk, washed-up and wants out of the music business altogether, so starting a social media war with another musical artist is the most fun he's had in months. Nobody warned him that Riario plays everything to win.
Bookmarked by Jul_4
15 Mar 2026
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Underestimating a man's true nature can come at a steep price. After all, a wolf's disguise as a lamb is often its deadliest weapon.
Girolamo Riario never won anything through virtue.Bookmarked by Jul_4
02 Dec 2025
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What disturbed him the most was not that insane gaze, nor the creature's sharp tongue or the threats it uttered, trying to destabilize him and poke at open wounds in a cruel game of truth or dare that the Sinner played alone, day after day, as soon as he surfaced.
In truth, the worst lay in those atrocious moments when the sedatives administered to him by Leonardo slowly left his system, yet remained active enough to dull him. And then there was that limbo between unconsciousness and awakening, between the abyss of sleep and the world beyond the fog that rendered his body useless, between the delirious Riario and the half-awake Sinner, when both met halfway. They did not repel each other, yet neither reached the fullness of their mental faculties. They lingered there, fighting for dominance over a dormant body—the chains that bound him merely another adornment to keep them in place—while the real and the illusory blurred before his glazed eyes. And it was exactly in this moment, neither conscious nor unconscious, that Girolamo Riario was forced to face the dark mirror of his soul.Bookmarked by Jul_4
02 Dec 2025
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“Remember, O man, that from dust thou camest, and unto dust thou shalt return.”
Girolamo Riario remembered. With every open wound, every fallen comrade, every drop of blood spilled—irrigating the battlefields where his tormentors would perish—he recalled.
For it was in pain that he recognized he was alive. And, being alive, he knew: inevitably, he would have to die.Bookmarked by Jul_4
02 Dec 2025

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