Tumgik
#mathilde swann
drswannbond · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
James Bond Girls - Léa Seydoux and Lisa-Dorah Sonnet on the set of No Time To Die (2021)
36 notes · View notes
crewman-penelope · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Don't worry. You have me!
31 notes · View notes
luminiferocity · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Watch our souls fade away, and our bodies crumbling
Don't be afraid, I will take the blow for you
- Hoodoo by Muse
106 notes · View notes
safinsscars · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
11 notes · View notes
chieftyphoonchaos · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh
Tumblr media
You don't eat me
Tumblr media
But I do
Tumblr media
But I'm special
Tumblr media
Honey, it's the special ones that taste best.
Tumblr media
All the plates in my garden are full of "Steam" Mathilde.
If you are hungry,just eat them until you have enough.
Little vampire.
Tumblr media
Thank you Safin
Tumblr media
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
When will you take me to that garden with nice steam plants Mathilde?
We have been each other's best friends for many years…right….?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Herewith my invitation to you at my upcoming wedding in that beautiful garden
Tumblr media
Who is that gentleman over there Mathilde?
Tumblr media
Don't worry, that's my fiancée
Tumblr media
Hello Violet,nice to finally meet you,my fiancée best friend
Tumblr media
Let me tell you a story….About a man….His name is Safin…Lyutsifer Safin….My Safin ❤️💞
Tumblr media
Please, it looks so sweet man
5 notes · View notes
milkwithginseng · 6 months
Text
I’m back with a second WIP Wednesday on the trot, with another grown-up Mathilde snippet. Except this time it's from a fic where she goes off to uni and encounters a Bondian scheme by one of her professors bc I grew up the Young Bond novels and I just think they're neat. Will I ever complete it? Probably not but I’m having fun writing it.
‘Spare me the patronising tone, Miss Bond. Turing used his incredible brain to aid the war effort, there are no clean hands.’
‘His work saved millions of lives. The war would’ve dragged on for years longer had he not cracked Enigma.’ 
Irritation bubbled over in Claiborne’s eyes, ‘It was the Poles who cracked Enigma. You really should’ve paid more attention in my lectures, Bond.’ 
Mathilde grimly noted the use of the past tense. This must have been what had happened to Nathan Richards. He must have found out about the zero day attack too and Claiborne had him murdered for it. Now it looked like Mathilde would suffer the same fate. ‘Turing did refine the decryption, I’ll admit that. But what about Babbage and his Difference Engine?’
‘What about it?’ She said with equal frustration as she fruitlessly struggled against the restraints pinning her wrists to the chair. ‘He never got a chance to make it.’ 
‘Imagine that he had. He intended it to be used to calculate the financial assets of the British Empire. Its conquests, its wars, its plunder. At least tell me you know where the word computer comes from?’
If Claiborne was affording her the chance to play the smart Alec she decided she might as well take it, she didn’t want to show how frightened she really was. ‘From Latin, via the French. To determine together through reason.’
‘By jove, she does know something. You see Miss Bond, I reason all this technological advancement, all this progress in the end it has always been used to do what humans have always done. This is power as its most pure. I’m just staking my claim.’ 
‘That’s it? The miracle of technology and it all comes down to making algorithms to decide who to kill and how to do it most efficiently? And make yourself a little more rich in the process? You’re a monster, sir.’
If Claiborne was wounded by her words he didn’t show it save for the brusqueness with which he spoke his next utterance. ‘I do believe this tutorial is at an end, Miss Bond. I truly am sorry it has to end this way, you really were a very promising student.’ 
It's doubly fun to write a villain 😁 I'm imagining Claiborne as Samuel West because he did such a marvellous job as Sir Hugo Drax in the radio play of Moonraker and he is delightfully devilish as Peter Judd in the Slow Horses tv series.
@mi6-cafe
7 notes · View notes
mudpuddless · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Mathilde Swann and Q
54 notes · View notes
verdigrissoup · 2 years
Text
007 Fest Prompt Fill: "Why do you think giving a child a knife is a good idea?"
“Now, tell me, Bond, why do you think giving a child a knife is a good idea?” To Moneypenny’s credit, she didn’t yell nor did she say anything rude, instead she said it as calmly as someone placing a coffee order. 
Bond watched in a similarly unconcerned manner. Mathilde’s bright blonde hair weaved in-between tiny 6 year old bodies with the fervor of a child on a mission. “It’s plastic. She doesn’t get steel till she turns seven.”
“Mmm.” Moneypenny hummed, “Smart.”
“I thought so.”
Though she knew it was poor form to drink alcohol in the daycare pickup line, she couldn’t help but wish she had something to sip on as she watched Bond’s daughter stab the small plastic knife into the leg of some boy.
“Oh dear, that had to hurt.”
“I did tell her only to go after the bad ones.”
Both Bond and Moneypenny were silent a beat, small smiles coming up the corners of their faces.
“It was retractible, you know. It won’t actually hurt the boy.”
“Oh, I assumed. I’m always for giving bullies a good scare.”
“I do think he’ll think twice before picking on any of the girls again.” They both watched as Mathilde turned, absolute glee in her face.
“We’re bad influences, aren’t we?” Moneypenny asked.
“Absolutely.” Bond agreed without a thought before breaking into a wide smile. “Mathilde, darling, let’s go home!” 
49 notes · View notes
maplesleep · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
009 Mission Report:  Operation get Mathilde a puppy is a go ;)) !
(Don’t worry, they adopted her after this harrowing chase scene)
44 notes · View notes
ellayuki · 2 years
Text
01052022 - 007: No Time To Die
~
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes down, shoulders drawn up. He has no business, he knows, talking to her, no business, when he was powerless to keep Bond alive, when he’d been so useless. Still, Q needs to do this, needs to say it, if only for his peace of mind, if nothing else. “I’m sorry, dr. Swann, for your loss. For…” He swallows, takes a shuddering breath. Finds the rest of his words lost.
“Thank you, Q,” she says, voice sad but gentle. Q understands, he thinks, why Bond loved her so much. “And… It’s not your fault, you know. He made his choice. We just… have to live with it, I suppose.”
Q nods. His eyes prickle and burn, they haven’t really stopped since- Well. 
He’s startled out of his downward spiral by a soft, tentative touch to his cheek. When he blinks and looks up, little Mathilde smiles at him, just a tiny bit. “Ne pleure pas,” she whispers, patting his cheek. Her eyes are so blue, Q feels like he can’t breathe. He smiles, does his damnedest not to show how broken his heart is (no right, no right, he has no right-), and nods again. “Bien.” 
60 notes · View notes
teamcivilian · 2 years
Text
Fear and Desire — Chapter 03
Fandom: James Bond
Rating: M
Warnings: Non-con in Ch01 and to a briefer extent in Ch03, graphic depictions of violence in Ch02 and Ch03, and major character death.
Summary: "If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?" — Cormac McCarthy (No Country for Old Men)
[Ch01] [Ch02] [Ch03] [Ao3 Link]
This was originally going to be four chapters but I said, three is enough. It's been a hot minute since I saw NTtD and I tried to elaborate a bit on Safin's motives, since canon couldn't be bothered. — Dorminchu
03: RUINER
Growing up, Safin was always a smaller, sickly boy compared to his siblings. That was why his father had been so eager to share his knowledge of the garden. 
By the time he had awoken from the coma his body had betrayed him. Now every day was a fight to regain what had been stolen from him, travelling in and out of hospital. A dozen surgeries and therapeutic sessions. Physical therapy and medications. Access to his father's inheritance ensured he would have a fresh set of organs and whatever else he required. The nurses and doctors and psychotherapists all remarked on what a polite and reserved young man he was in the face of the awful tragedy that had befallen his family. How strong he was to persevere through all of that.
In-between operations and recuperations Safin had plenty of time to ruminate. To lament what had happened to him for the rest of his life would be futile. Instead of grief there was only hatred disguised as emptiness. Under threats of incarceration he had expressed his absence of feeling and been told it was no aberration. Grief took a lot of time to process. He had every right to be angry about his condition. Never illness.
Though his family had been slaughtered and the garden razed, many of the books remained intact. Over the next decade and a half, and with time and care, he was able to eliminate most traces of the dioxins from his body in ways most modern medicine could not. He could do little about his skin pitted over.
By the time he was eighteen he had established contacts with the same men his father had worked for and learnt the name of his family's killer. Over the course of his recovery he was able to whittle down his desire for vengeance from the absurd and theatrical into something more sensible.
Alone, he would raze those who had seen fit to ruin the lives of his family, and from there begin reinventing a new life for himself from the ashes. It began with Mr. White and ended with Madeleine Swann. A girl born from wealth, brought up in the shadow of her father's work and a dying, feckless mother. He looked down into the surface of the lake, into the black abyss, and saw his sister. He reached into that lake and withdrew an innocent child from death. He ensured she would survive in time for her father's return.
For the next eighteen years he was her silent confidant. He knew of her name and all of her pseudonyms. Passing details delivered by his loyal subordinates. Her interest in mental health and non-profit work for charity. Her lack of luck in friends and poorer taste in men. At any time, he could have ended her as her father had ended his entire family. When Mr. White was found with a bullet in his head in Altaussee. When Swann came into contact with SPECTRE's worst nightmare 007. When Blofeld was thrown in prison, and when Bond abandoned her for good in Matera.
Yet Safin did not intervene. Why should he enable the success of that syndicate which had taken everything from him? Despite her abhorrence of her father's methods she had accepted White's money and his protection. She attached herself just as naturally to 007. She was cunning enough to spite her own fear. And nine months after the incident in Matera she bore a child.
Only then did Safin begin to put together a procedure for her retrieval. She would need protection and MI6 could only offer a surface-level guarantee. So for the next four years as he amassed his resources he was also keeping an eye on Madeleine Swann and her infant.
When they met for the second time in her office, five years later, he was curious. Would she recognize him now? Did she pause because of his inflammatory words or some part of her mind that recoiled in unwilling recognition?
The same part slowly giving way from disbelief into understanding on some subconscious level. It was not clear until she grasped the memory box in her hands. The horror he had grasped in the eyes of the adolescent giving way to despair. To look at his face and know there were no outs, no bargaining chips.
Two days had passed since their initial arrival onto his base. In between consultations with Obruchev and the other bioengineers, Safin noticed the blank walls. The soldiers around every corner were necessary but a proper refurbishment was overdue.
Military intelligence anticipated that the MI6 agents 007 and 008 would arrive within the next twenty-four hours. Not enough time to intercept the release of Heracles into the atmosphere. There were enough forces on the ground and around the island to alert him to any further interceptions. Better yet to lower the guard around the subterranean complex and let MI6 come directly to him. After Bond was dealt with there would be time to create an environment more befitting of home.
For now his new guests must be kept comfortable.
That morning, Madeleine would not come out of her cell for breakfast. When Primo opened the door she was still laying in the bed provided, feigning sleep. Dressed in her own clothes from the day before.
Safin said, Playing dead won't help you.
The stillness to her body suggested childlike stubbornness. But there was nothing she could do to harm herself within her cell. The room had been checked before her arrival.
He said, Mathilde has asked me about you. Did you know that?
No response.
I would like you to accompany me for breakfast. You may go willingly, or I will have you dragged like a prisoner. Which will it be?
She finally raised her head. An ugly, violent emotion kept behind her eyes.
There is a change of clothes for you. He motioned over to the chest. You will dress first. Everything you will need is here.
She did not move. I'd like some privacy.
Safin said nothing.
The realization passed over her with a slight shudder. She averted her face. She got up and went over to the chest and opened it. She slipped out of her blouse with trembling hands but kept on her camisole.
Undress, please.
A sharp flinch of her shoulders that she disguised as reaching for a plain taupe dress that would come down to her ankles. Matching blouse and cardigan covered her wrists. If she were looking she would catch his cold, empty smile. She had nothing to fear from him.
As she redressed she did not look at him. She stood with her chin down. He walked over to her. Without anger she was a much simpler creature. A beautiful, fragile thing just as easily snapped in half. In a perfect world he would have plenty of time to correct her more clandestine tendencies.
He said, Now, I'm sure you feel better.
Madeleine said nothing. She was looking past him. Safin nodded to Primo.
In a little while the two of them were attending a quiet breakfast while Primo remained as wordless vigil. The female aide who brought the tray of tea caught Safin's attention.
Klava, he said, switching to Russian, a moment please.
The aide stiffened at the gesture. He brushed her sleeve aside and brandished her hand revealing a row of smaller teeth-marks that were not enough to pierce the skin. How did this happen?
Her stupid little shit, she hissed, wrenching her hand away. That's the last time I bring her food.
Madeleine grasped her own teacup tightly. She was watching them now, very closely.
Safin said, I think she would not retaliate without good reason.
Every time, she asks for her mother. I don't see why you insist on keeping them separate from each other. The aide glared at Madeleine.
Your orders were to make sure the girl was fed and rested. Not push that responsibility onto our guest.
Your guests, the aide said through her teeth, who will not eat or drink anything I offer them because they suspect it must be poison.
Madeleine's jaw was very tight.
I assumed you would be skilled enough to negotiate, Safin said. Perhaps I was mistaken. If you would prefer instead to work down in the garden, I will notify your team immediately.
Klava's face was very pale. No, of course not.
Very good. You may leave us.
Then he looked at Madeleine. If you wish to know, Mathilde is safe. The girl does not cry much. But she is listless. She misses you dearly. I see no reason to separate you indefinitely, as long as you remain obedient.
She wouldn't bite someone out of malice, Madeleine spat.
Safin allowed her a small smile.
Of course not. She is usually so well-behaved.
Listen to me, right now. I will do whatever you ask. But you will not involve her in this sick little game. If you ever think of harming her, or allowing harm to come to her—
—in what way have I harmed either of you?
Her eyes flashed.
I have given you a room to sleep where you will not be threatened or disturbed. I have provided your daughter similar accommodations. If I wanted to hurt you—he glanced at Primo with the barest of nods that went unreciprocated—there are much simpler ways to do so. He looked at Madeleine. You are the only woman on this base. 
Her jaw clenched. Each meeting would be the same as the first. Safin waved his hand.
If you still think I have harmed you, in any way, please speak. Whenever we are alone I will only ask for your honesty. 
Her grasp on the teacup was uneven. She had curled her fingers into a fist, white-knuckled. He reached across the table to take her wrist and she shrank back, displacing a little liquid onto the saucer. His mouth twisted.
Madeleine, there is no need to be nervous. We are having a civil discussion.
She looked him in the eyes and said, I am doing this for Mathilde. No one else.
Of course. You need not justify yourself to me. He said, But if you are still concerned, I will entrust you the responsibility of caring for Mathilde. In return you will remain here on the island.
Madeleine's facade of calm rippled. What are you saying?
I cannot send you back into a world that would just as soon devour the daughter of SPECTRE. You will be safer here with your daughter. Does this not suit you?
The same dangerous softness without a smile. One misplaced word was all it took. She swallowed dryly.
Yes, it—it suits me.
Safin nodded. Have some tea.
Madeleine glanced at the mess she'd made but did not move.
You saw Klava serve us both. I gain nothing from poisoning you.
She took a sip but her eyes shone with contempt. She said, For what purpose are you keeping me alive?
I knew that someday you would grow into my enemy. You have been living in the shadow of your father for so long, yet you forget you are still his daughter. When you offered yourself for the sake of Mathilde it was your choice. The first, selfless act you have ever wrought, and now you will live by it.
That's not what I asked.
Madeleine, we have each lost so much. We understand one other so naturally that there is no reason for me to eliminate you. As the daughter of SPECTRE, it would be a greater cruelty to leave you to fend for yourself. What I am offering is far more merciful.
You are confusing obsession for mercy.
He faltered. A wheezing scoff shook his frame and betrayed the frail body beneath the kimono.
I assured you that I would never let anything happen to Mathilde, he said. But when our business with MI6 is finished, if you truly wish to leave this place, I will hand over the girl to your lover. There are many who would pay good money to claim ownership over Bond's woman.
Now she was forcing herself to remain very still. Her face must be blank. Placid. An arrogant tilt of the chin or callous remark would be easier to stomach than his lack of sentiment. Without that tenuous thread of human connection all her sacrifices were for nothing. The sooner she understood this truth the easier her life would be.
Of course, he said, it doesn't have to be this way. You can start over. Repent for the sins of your family. He gestured to the vial tucked away against his breast. If you wish it, I will make sure no one else can touch you.
After breakfast he dismissed Madeleine to her room and ordered Primo to accompany him to visit Mathilde. She was sitting on the bed meant for an adult, clutching the stuffed rabbit to her. When the door opened she looked over sharply.
Mathilde, I would like to talk to you. Is that all right?
No response.
You are more comfortable with French? He switched. Your mother and I were just talking about you.
Mathilde said nothing, though she was looking at him closely. She had her mother's hair. The same nose. Safin approached slowly and she did not decry his actions. She was looking over at Primo. Her wide blue eyes a shade darker than her mother's.
He indicated the opposite corner of the bed and asked, May I sit here?
She glanced over at the stuffed rabbit. Clutching it tightly, she nodded.
I heard about what happened this morning, with Klava. I understand you miss your mother. But you cannot behave like this in my home.
She was a bad lady.
Bad? What did she do?
Mathilde's brow creased. She was saying mean things about maman. And me.
Hardy, like her mother. But she would need a little coaching.
I'm sorry, Mathilde. I didn't know. If you would rather see your mother from now on, that can be arranged. But you must behave yourself. Can you promise that much?
Mathilde was looking at him closely. To settle her nerves, Safin gestured to the stuffed animal. What is his name?
Doudou.
I see. That's a nice name.
Mathilde said, Why are you talking to me?
You are my guest. I want to know how you are feeling.
You only care about maman.
That isn't true. You are important to her, and so you are important to me.
Mathilde looked away from him, at her only friend. Deep in thought. You know my maman?
We met a long time ago. When she was a child I saved her life. Over the years I came to care for her.
Why do you care about her if she doesn't like you?
Safin stopped. Mathilde was looking at him, unbiased and frank. Unlike her mother she had not yet learned to hate. He chuckled.
Well, sometimes you care for someone, even when they do not understand why. It doesn't matter if they understand. You care for them all the same.
He touched her head as if to tousle her hair. She tensed immediately, and he removed his hand. Are you feeling well?
It's cold.
It's no good for you to be stuck in a room by yourself. I would like you to accompany me for a walk. Remember? We walked around the garden together.
He offered his hand. She did not take it. I want to see maman.
You will see her after we walk. You have my word. OK?
They rounded the circumference of the garden two times and did not speak. Mathilde kept Doudou under her arm.
Mathilde looked him up and down. Still tense. I'm not supposed to talk to you.
Safin knelt down so they were on the same level.
Your mother is going to be all right. Right now she needs a little time to think. I know that I said you will see her. But she needs to be alone. Have you ever felt like that?
Mathilde didn't speak. She looked steadily at Primo and walked up to him and offered Doudou. Give him to maman. So she's safe.
Primo blinked slowly. He took the stuffed animal and nodded.
Safin caught Primo's eye. Return her to the room afterwards. She will see her mother another time.
Madeleine had been sitting, thinking. When the staff spoke in front of her at all it was always in Russian. They would always avoid eye contact. The thin man with glasses looked over and expressed his condolences for the boss's woman. Primo was the only one who acknowledged her with a look.
Every one of them complicit in their leader's scheme.
Left on the verge of tears that wouldn't come. Until he was away from her family once and for all there would be no end. She could not fold.
The moment she saw her own face it would be her father staring back at her. Or her mother.
Primo opened the door, walked in, set Doudou on the armoire. The kid came up to me and insisted that you have this.
Madeleine looked up. The muscles in her face fighting a losing battle for indifference. Her composure finally broke into a light sob. Primo turned away, ready to leave.
You don't have to do this, she said thickly. You see this plan he has, the lack of one. How can you stand there and let him get away with it?
I have my orders. As do you. See to it you don't give him a reason to reconsider his mercy.
Madeleine sneered. This is not mercy. It is senseless.
What he could not communicate in words. Two souls entrapped in the same circumstance. 
He's sick, said Madeleine. And he isn't getting better. That is why he feels he must eradicate all of these people, isn't it?
Primo said nothing.
He has probably been sick for some time, I think. All the medicine in the world can't stop the inevitable. Your boss is no better than any of these heartless men and women he has slaughtered in the name of progress. Whatever ideology he wants to paint it as. If he succeeds, what else is left to conquer?
Primo said, I'll collect you when he calls for you.
Madeleine walked over to the armoire. She clutched the rabbit to her own body and wept into its soft fur.
Then stopped. Groped the seam along Doudour’s head until she found the foreign outline under soft fabric. There was a slit no bigger than an inch. Reaching in, she experienced a stab of pain along the pad of her finger. Drawing out a shard of china spanning the length of her palm to her ring finger.
Madeleine wiped her bloodied hand on the sheets. She stared at the shard for a long time. She used it to tear a strip from the sheet and bind her hand.
Each time Madeleine left the cell she paid close attention to her surroundings. In the garden, the steel gate was closed. Mathilde was nowhere to be seen. It was just Safin and Primo and a handful of soldiers in the garden, around the perimeter.
Where is Mathilde?
She was not feeling well, Safin said. Primo told me she hasn't been sleeping regularly. I offered to give her some tea but she refused. So we will let her sleep for a time.
Madeleine looked at Primo who gave her the slightest incline of the head.
Then Safin was right in front of her.
What happened to your hand?
I cut myself.
Safin took her hand in his, meticulous. His brow furrowed. How did you manage this?
I wasn't thinking. I dropped one of your plates and cut myself cleaning it up.
Safin looked at her closely. Why were you cleaning? That is for the help to do.
I thought it would be right. I did not intend to offend you, or your help.
Primo was coming up behind them.
Safin understood what was happening a second too late. Primo was the larger man and he grabbed Safin by the back of the collar, pinned his arms behind him with little effort.
Madeleine looked at Safin. His teeth bared. In her other hand she gripped the shard of china so tightly she'd drawn blood. He opened his mouth to speak.
She slashed at his naked throat in one jagged movement. Blood spattered down her chest and forearm. His mouth opened but all that came out was a congested gurgle. Madeleine shut her eyes.
For some reason the soldiers were not rushing to eliminate them.
Primo let him fall limp to the ground. Madeleine did not look.
These men answer to me, said Primo. Safin gave me that authority. I instructed the to give Mathilde a light sedative. Right now she is only sleeping. She will wake up in an hour or two none the wiser to this.
Just then, Bond and the other 007 rounded the corner. Madeleine looked at them and they looked at her and the woman said softly, Shit.
Madeleine, said Bond, but she was already with Primo.
It's over, said Madeleine.
Not yet. We have to shut this down. 008, with me.
Nomi glanced at Madeleine once before joining Bond up the stairs into the heart of the facility.
Hours later, when the island was disarmed and they were all on a helicopter back to Europe, Mathilde was sleeping in her mother's arms.
24 notes · View notes
drswannbond · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
New production still of Léa Seydoux, Lisa-Dorah Sonnet (and Daniel Craig) on the set of No Time To Die
36 notes · View notes
crewman-penelope · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Food/Drink scenes in No time to die
17 notes · View notes
pollyna · 2 years
Text
James's death tastes like the sour gummy worm in Q's mouth. It tastes like calm, white and then blind rage stuck in the back of his throat because he wanted to destroy every single piece of that plane and die in the ocean too. It tastes like the tears he held back because Mathilde was on the same plane too and Madeliene was watching him like he could take James back to them, like it was all his fault and now, now, it was the time to show the fucking genius they all say he was.
James's death tastes like candy Q can't even look anymore, stashed away in the second drawer of his desk, a place miles and years away from where he's now and where he'd loved to be. It tastes like a random conversation over the com, about his cats and what they should eat next time he's in town and about five years, and then eight if not ten of them, where friendship had become love and love had become a relationship and then marriage, celebrated with two other random people in a city hall, in a country where English was the third most spoken languages.
It tastes like something he would love to indulge but it's not in production anymore and it won't ever be again.
34 notes · View notes
safinsscars · 2 months
Text
Instagram
3 notes · View notes
chieftyphoonchaos · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mathilde,
Yes mummy.....
 I'm going to tell you a story about a man...... His name was Safin...Lyutsifer Safin💕
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
12 notes · View notes