#dmitri anastasia

[daveys-sister]

Gleb: Wow, Anya, you look really pretty.

Dmitry: Ya, pretty fucking annoying.

Anya: *decks him*

[illegally-blind-and-deaf]

Dmitry Snippet

Look idrk I'm bored and i was thinking about dmitry's childhood so yeah

Enjoy

St. Petersburg

1913

The first thing Dmitry stole was a pair of boots. Yes, he had technically stolen other items beforehand, but they had been discarded, left alone in the gutters of the streets, the same as the boy who plucked them from the ground. A holey mitten, a half-used spool of thread, the pin that kept his jacket mostly closed, though his bare chest could still be seen. But he had never stolen anything directly from a person.

It wasn't as though he stole for pleasure, or to cause a ruckus. If anything, Dmitry wanted nothing more than to never need to steal again. He dreamed for a warm, cosy bed with soft sheets and three large meals a day and endless wardrobes full of bright, new clothes.

And a pair of boots.

But that's all it is, the almost ten-year-old thought bitterly. A dream. Winter's icy fingers were curling around the corner as he walked down the Griboyedov Canal, a haunting reminder of the harsh months approaching. For most of the year, Dmitry handled the little food and clothing with stoic patience, but when winter inevitably knocked on his door, it became more of a struggle to simply survive. He was dreading the winter months, especially since his only pair of shoes finally gave their last step after many faithful years. That was how the boy found himself was doing down the streets of Petersburg with the damp cobbles cool under his bare feet.

Light from the nearby houses spilled across the dark road, beckoning Dmitry into the golden warmth. As he looked up at the towering terrance houses with four floors, he wondered what it must be like to have a home. Not a ramshackle, cramped apartment burtdidng with 16 people or the cold, hard floor of the factory. A proper home, with a family.

The wind sighed and Dmitry pulled his jacket tightly around his bare torso. He didn't have enough money to buy a shirt; he was "The property of the factory" and was "nothing more than a foolish child" and therefore he didn't "need men's wages." All because that blasted orphanage had sold him for three rubles. Three! Dmitry spat on the ground. "I'm worth more than three measly rubles. That's less than a bonnet maker's wage! Besides, what do rich factory owners do with three extra rubles?"

The boy lapsed into silence again, kicking a small pebble down the road. He kicked it a little too hard and the pebble went flying through the air, landing with a clatter several feet ahead of him. It was then that Dmitry saw the boots as he watched the pebble sail away. They were tucked into a corner on the doorstep, shining softly in the light of nearby houses. Who would leave such a good pair of boots outside? They could get stolen. Dmitry approached the boots, careful to stay in the shadows. As he squatted by the doorstep, he could see the mud caked on the soles of the shoes. Ah. He picked one up, placing it gingerly by his foot. They were a couple of sizes too big, but he could stuff the toes with scrap fabric while his feet grew into them. The were only a few weeks old, just broken in and still shiny, save for the mud.

Dmitry paused, staring at the window above him. Slowly he raised his eyes over the sill, peeking through the gap in the corner. The family sat seated around the largest dining-table Dmitry had seen, heaped with steaming food in delicate china bowls and plates. There, nestled in between two sisters, was the owner of the boots, a couple of years older than Dmitry. His face was clean, his clothes bright and his eyes shining as he laughed. Dmitry lingered, an ache growing in his chest. What he would give for a home, for love, for a family.

He still remembered when the telegram announcing his father's death arrived. He had his employer read it because he had never dat in a classroom or owned a book of any sort. There were no sympathetic glances, no pitying hands on shoulders. Dmitry hand spent the painstakingly long 11 and a half hours of work with tears streaking his face and no one had even glanced in his direction.

Dmitry tore his gaze from the family and studied the room. They were wealthy, but not hugely. They were middle class, the merchants and the lawyers. They could afford another pair of boots. Dmitry could not.

In one deft movement, Dmitry grabbed the boots and sprinted down the cobbles, leaping over loose rocks and gutters and into the dark night. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and a small smile began to play on his lips. He had a pair of boots.

[eliounora]

season's greetings🎄 (anastasia is a christmas movie right?)

[collageofnudes]

Anastasia Shcheglova (Anastasia Scheglova - Анастасия Щеглова) by Dmitry Borisov

part 1 / 3 (part 2 , part 3)

[jomarchswritingjacket]

fact: every single theater production can be improved by lesbians

[winterstarfall]

do you ever read the anastasia broadway script and just want to die

[izloveshorses]

anya + flinching at loud noises and sudden movements (vs dmitry noticing, adjusting his behavior, and becoming a source of comfort)

[mansion-of-haunts]

figured i should put these here

[darklinaforever]

I'm really confused about the musical's changes to the Dimitri & Anastasia relationship. Yes, they couldn't keep the Dimitri saves her child aspect. But they could keep the part where he worked at the palace and suggest that he and Anya had known each other as children and mayne liked each other, like an echo of the original movie which suggested that Dimitri probably had a little crush on her when he was small. But no. Instead we get : Oh they saw each other once as a kid at a parade and he greeted her in the crowd and their eyes met leading to a love at first sight that lasted their whole lives... Wtf seriously ? It's rubbish ! Especially since Dimitri lost a lot of his anti-hero substance in the musical. Yes, he's still a scammer but he's much more tender and smooth than his film counterpart ! For what ? Again, transform Anya's personality, I can still understand, to make her more like a Disney princess. But why Dimitri ?! My god... the musical is great to listen to and the character of Gleb fantastic, but they massacred my darling Dimitri. I love Gleb, but facing Dimitri from the original film, there is no match. But against the Dimitri of the musical, yes, Gleb wins. Why every time a villain in love is created, people prefer to invent a bland love interest ?!

[clairedelune-13]

Hot Take: The Disney princes are not the only icons. The non-Disney ones are GOAT.

[meri-l]

spoilers! spoilers! spoilers!

Big spoilers on Major Grom: The Game

Artwork by Anastasia Phobs Kim for the movie Major Grom: The Game

MGPD: Seryozha thinks he's talking to Oleg

MGTG: Oleg thinks he's talking to Seryozha

[usernamesuggestionsarefunny]

Dmitri's beloved dad whom he loves and admires being killed by the tsarist government and him still having a crush on Anastasia, going to a Romanov parade, and bowing is an “inconsistent and unnecessary” addition to the story TO YOU

I have a whole ass series of automatically created backstory headcanons I barely had to think through based on Dmitri's cynical and apolitical vibes that perfectly explains it

[midnight-drip]

this is so vlad and dmitry

[collageofnudes]

Anastasia Shcheglova (Anastasia Scheglova - Анастасия Щеглова) by Dmitry Chapala

part 8 / 8 (part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5 , part 6 , part 7)

[jomarchswritingjacket]

hey you know that one ship with the spunky lost princess and the suave criminal who becomes a better man because of her while she gains more confidence and assurance in who she is?

yeah i love that one 💖

[izloveshorses]

do you ever think about the absolute tragedy that my guy vladimir popov had to sit and watch anya and dmitry BICKER and PINE and YEARN like THAT and he didn't even get a little relief??? his gf is in paris. they're in soviet russia at the height of food rationing, so no booze or coffee. he has like two dollars. he can't go outside because the bolsheviks might shoot him. ibuprofen hasn't even been INVENTED yet. if he gets a headache while anya and dmitry are learning to dance and she deliberately steps on his stupid son's toe he can't even pop an advil about it. so he has to Endure and sit between them while they simmer and look at each other with the longing of two feral cats with absolutely nothing to help him cope. no wonder he spent the entire second act with lily, better to be standby for booty calls than to be near those two anymore smh