#i. dmitry sudayev

[sachingja]

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me? (kath for dima!)

the night has fallen quiet around them, drenching the world outside the mansion's window in shades of midnight blue and mist, and the inside of this room in a hazy glow, all amber and yellow-gold. for someone who has only ever lied his way into these places, deception wrapped around his fingers like rings and threads of yarn, a spider in the center of his nest — this feels remarkably different. for starters, dmitry had to barely play any pretend to make his way here; katherine invited him, a clever girl with a knife-like heart and an affection for risks. like a vampire, he has been beckoned over the doorstep and has made his way through wide hallways into grand rooms, one bigger than the next, with more wealth displayed than dmitry has ever seen outside of the historical palaces of his hometown, or that of paris.

now, he is leaning against the thick, rich tapestry of the wall of this drawing room, his dark eyes on her ever-moving form. never looking away, as if he might miss any second of her if he'd do as much as blink. it is sickening, to desire someone so much that they might shift and shake the foundation of your being. doesn't he know all about that?

he takes a sip of his — whatever is in his glass, something warm and spicy, alcohol, though he does not need any more heat poured into his chest. she's enough to get him more than halfway towards intoxication. " not all, no, i wouldn't say that, " he muses and allows the lazy decadence of want curl his lips upwards. katherine is as beautiful as ever but the air of something forbidden surrounding her has dmitry on the edge. oh, if her father would know all about the delinquent young man she has brought into his house. " i certainly want more than just that, but it wouldn't be such a terrible start. don't you think, miss pulitzer? "

with the soft, slow steps of a lover, he moves towards her — his fingertips reach her waist before he can feel the heat of her body, a gentle touch, that of a gentleman. he wants, but he never wants to displease or anger her. they are far too alike for that.

her skin is soft where his cheek touches her neck & the brush of his lips follow in the whisper of a kiss. " allow me the honor? "

⋆ . · * ·✵ · ✹ · ✹ *  and other stories / accepting.

[sachingja]

around them, the people are moving past them as in waves, but right here, right where they are, in the space between them, time seems to stand still and all the noise - the loud music, the voices piling on top of each other, the children yelling - is swallowed up, and the only thing dmitry can hear is the frantic beating of his own heart, the thrum of his pulse, like someone is chasing him. how ironic, he thinks, after all he has never been the one chased, he has been the chaser all this time, disguised as a friendly tourist, an amicable companion, and the lucky fool who allowed himself to fall into bed with the daughter of the president of the united states. but his luck always has a way of running out, so this really should not come as such a surprise to him, he shouldn't be standing here in disbelief, his brows furrowed at the sight of her, in the face of all her reluctance. what did he think was gonna happen? that she would fall into his arms and forgive him? of course not. if he has learned one thing about katherine in the past few weeks, entirely removed from the briefing the secret service had given him and only founded on the intimacy of knowing someone, is that she follows her own will, like a gust of wind rushing through fields of reed.

his thumb brushes her wrist, and he can feel her pulse mirroring his own, quick and quiet, only the tangible sensation of her adrenaline beneath his fingertips. fight or flight. he has been there, too many times to count, but he never thought he would be at the receiving end of it quite so soon. this was all supposed to play out differently. he was supposed to do a good job. an easy job.

he opens his mouth to speak, to retort something - anything, and how is it suddenly so hard to talk to her? but she pulls out of his grasp, sand between his fingers after all, and the words are dying then and there, leaving nothing but dust in his mouth, the taste of dry ash. his mouth clicks shut, lips pressed into a resolute line. sure, if she wanted to do this her way, he would not deter her any further, but the one thing she has to know before she leaves him here, before she vanishes into thin air and out of his sight -

" i will not do anything you don't want me to, " he says, and it might sound hollow after all he has done already, but he finds that he means it, every word. if he could change the past and make it come undone, he would, but he is just a man and nothing else. he doesn't possess the power to change anything, cannot rewrite history the way it would befit him, not the way her father can, anyway. all he has is his word; all he has right now is a few precious moments more with her, the kind of luxury he should have never indulged in but couldn't help himself to do so anyway. " miss pulitzer, " he adds, and he takes a step back, respectfully, the distance between them already bigger than just those few steps he allowed himself.

then, he tilts his head and watches her, trying to commit her to his memory in case this might really be the last time they will see each other. the way her hair falls in careless disarray, how the sun has kissed her skin in a lovely shade of pink, the kind you would only find in paintings in museums, where dmitry would dwell to kill time with a roof above his head, the fury in her eyes, and the tears that she cannot refuse, that she seems to be angry about, that he would want to brush away. his hand flexes once, twice, but in the end he shoves it into the pocket of his pants, or else he might do something really stupid.

she doesn't want you to touch her, he reminds himself.

" if it means anything to you, " he speaks quietly, as if someone might overhear them. as if anyone cares. " i never lied about this, " he gestures between them while retaining a mindful distance, as if the air he might stir would be too much. " yes, i lied about why i am here, but i never lied about a single touch, or a single night, or any minute i spent with you. " the words sound clumsy, feeling unfamiliar and thick in the midst of his accent now, but he is too tired to do anything about it, or try to disguise it. this is who he is; she might as well know.

FOR A SPLIT SECOND SHE THINKS SHE MIGHT HAVE SUCCEEDED; that enough people have swarmed the streets and filled the space between them, allowing her an escape from dmitry's sight. but then her name rolls off his tongue, the intonation or pronounciation just slightly unfamiliar ─ is it an accent colouring in the edges, yet another lie floating to the surface and revealing itself? the sound is enough to make her halt, which grants him just enough time to catch up and wrap his hand around her wrist. the feeling of his skin on hers is warm and familiar, a painful reminder of how close they've been & how affected she's become by his touch, and despite everything it still sends goosebumps up her arms.

❛❛ it doesn't matter where, so long as I get away from you. ❜❜ the grasp he has on her hand isn't harsh, only determined ─ if katherine wanted to, she could pull away from him and run for the hills. but other than a weak ( not even half-hearted ) attempt at slipping from his hold, she doesn't. the prideful part of her brain assures her that it's only because it's logical: he has longer legs than her, is in far better shape than she is, and, considering his line of work, is likely trained to follow in pursuit for long periods of time; none of these facts can katherine claim for herself.

the other part of her brain knows that the reason why she stays is because she wants to. even now his touch burns scorching hot, and she wants him like she's never wanted before. insatiable even as her heart aches and her fury rages. love makes you vulnerable, and at last she knows for certain that love is what this is. but to wear that plainly on her face now would be to lay down as prey before an apex predator & offer her neck willingly to the wolf's open maw. no longer can she afford herself this vulnerability ─ a kind she's never allowed herself to wear, until now, until him; whoever he is, if he's even real beyond a bureau assigned cover story. it is this final thought, coupled with a glance at his face and those deep, blue eyes, that makes her yank her arm from his grasp at last.

❛❛ don't touch me, ❜❜ she says, cradling the wrist he'd held in her other hand. embarrassingly enough, tears well up in her eyes again. ❛❛ you don't get to touch me anymore. ❜❜ her voice cracks just as the tears spill, trickling down her cheeks in silence. avoiding his gaze she scans the crowd for an exit, even while knowing he will follow wherever she goes. it is his duty.

it doesn't take long before resignation truly settles in. the chase is over, he caught her. glossy eyes find his face once more, her own quickly mirroring what she thinks she sees in his features: furrowed brows, a detached look in her eyes. at least that is what she attempts to convey. ❛❛ and it's not katherine to you. ❜❜ she's not so sure the severity comes across, what with the wet tear tracks running down her cheeks. a sniff follows then, as she uses the back of one hand to wipe away the evidence of her heartache. ❛❛ it's miss pulitzer. ❜❜

[winterstarfall]

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

[izloveshorses]

thinkin about how dmitry wears less and less clothes throughout the show bc he's getting more and more vulnerable as time progresses and his relationship with anya deepens

[wylansvanhendriks]

musical!dmitry isn’t as good as his movie counterpart to YOU. i get him though.

[midnight-drip]

Paris holds the key!! (to their hearts)

[fireworkss-exe]

musical characters that should be played by women at some point

ponyboy curtis

christian (moulin rouge)

crutchie (yes I know crutchies been played by women in local and school shows but I want an official production with her)

orpheus

davey jacobs

jay gatsby

hades

clyde barrow

jason dean

pierre bezukhov

billy flynn

emmett forrest

seymour krelborn

jean valjean

marius pontmercy

inspector javert

the emcee

tony (west side story)

dmitry sudayev

gleb vaganov

che (evita)

erik (phantom of the opera)

raoul (phantom of the opera)

[sachingja]

[   GENTLE   ] kath for dima!

[   GENTLE   ]    ⋆⭒˚.⋆    katherine holds  dmitry's  face  in  her hands.

everything has gone from me but your kindness, your goodness, the intention of your love in every motion, every breath, every sense of the word. dmitry has spent most of his life in transgression, a state of eternal incompleteness, as if there was a part of him missing, a chunk teared out of his soul that he would only ever be able to find in foreign countries, and certainly never on the streets of his wretched hometown. a city he loves and a city he loathes in equal measure, that has taken everything from him, either in the form of death or thievery, but has given, too, has taught him lessons more valuable than any school or university could ever had. he bears the memories and marks now, though, the tender, scarred skin beneath his eye, the posture of a man constantly haunted by ghosts and the past, and uncertainty and the future. nothing ever made much sense to him.

nothing — until this, of course.

there has never been anyone who has ever touched him like this, with reverence and devotion and great care, and there has been no one who is quite as unattainable as her, so far out of reach he would find himself wondering how they could end up in the same place quite so often, from their first meeting / he doesn't believe in fate but maybe he should... until now, this very moment, where he can hear the steady drum of his heartbeat pounding in his ear and threatening to burst through his chest. ribs are nothing but brittle bones, and every bone can be broken far easier than mankind could ever possibly imagine. once you have done it, broken a man's jaw or a few of his precious fingers, or an eye socket, it becomes quite clear how simple it is. how much force can be driven out of yourself if you are desperate enough, if you need it enough to survive.

dmitry has never fought anyone with the intention to kill, but he hasn't lived a blissfully sheltered life. he does not know the reality of katherine's life, forever sheltered behind high walls and the invisible, impenetrable veil only deep wealth can afford. he used to rob these sort of people, tell them pretty tales until they would offer him shelter for a night, food maybe, a warm body & once he had taken what he needed, he left.

this is different, in how he knows there is nowhere for him to go where she wouldn't find him, and he doesn't have the heart to try either. he leans his head into the hold of her hand, her palm warm and dry against the cool skin of his cheek and the stubble of a day's worth of carelessness, like he could get away with that here. " are you aware, " he says, pauses, and exhales quietly before he raises his arm to lay his hand on top of hers, as if he could keep her anchored to him so they would never have to part. " how dangerous this is? " he asks, knowing that katherine is much smarter than he could ever be, infinitely so, that he has played this from every conceivable angle already, multiple times, and still, he would make the worse decision.

he would always come back and seek her out, the shadow to the light she spills across every room she enters.

with gentleness usually so foreign to him, he lifts her hand and presses his lips to the inside of it. watches her and how she is watching him and dares, for the first time in many, many years, to want something that would cost him greatly enough to perhaps reconsider. if he would be a lesser man. but, alas.

⋆ . · * ·✵ · ✹ · ✹ *  𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝  ,  𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡  𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞  .     ݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡ / open.

[ao3feed-anastasia]

A Serendipitous Letter

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fWiqo9e by LovelyLandry75 Dimitri Sudayev recieves a letter written in Russian cyrillic and is confused, everyone he knew lived with him in this house in France... So, who could the letter be from? *This work is a part of a series and I would suggest you read "Don't Forget Me" before reading this or you may be confused and get some big spoilers!* Words: 3012, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 4 of Don't Forget Me Fandoms: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Dimitri | Dmitry (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Vlad Popov, Lily Malevsky-Malevitch, Dagmar af Danmark | Maria Feodorovna, Nicholas II (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Tsarina Alexandra (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Olga Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Tatiana Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Maria Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Alexei Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Original Male Character/Original Female Character, Lily Malevsky-Malevitch/Vlad Popov Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Found Family read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fWiqo9e

[vampyrekatwrites]

From the time Anya blamed herself for Dmitry’s lies to the time she knew better.

[izloveshorses]

I saw a post complaining about musical Dimitri so I want to know what is your favourite things about him in the musical?

sigh... musical dmitry... giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair thinking about him. i'm always daydreaming about him. if you saw me on the street irl i almost guarantee you'd catch me lost in some variation of musical dmitry thoughts.

there are so many things i could say here, anon. his redemption arc™ from a selfish liar to the most noble and self-sacrificing slavic sadboy i've ever seen? his angsty daddy issues backstory? his bewitching silly goose ways? how he lets One Woman completely change the trajectory of his life? how he falls into an emotional spiral about it? the way he Knows Who He Is and is very self assured in his identity, and helps anya do the same? how his identity is so intertwined with his home? his role as a Storyteller™? etc????

but for this ask today i'm going to focus on how gentle he is. i don't think gentleness is something that comes very easy to this dmitry. he lost his father at a young age, as we know. he was alone on the streets and had to fight to stay alive. he cons people for a living. by the time we meet him he's very cynical about the world and doesn't really trust anyone, other than vlad. mostly he just relies on himself and can't really count on anyone else. when he meets anya, a cryptic girl who is a bit off but in need of help, his first response is to scoff and send her away, since unstable people are too risky to deal with. he's capable of being charming, but he uses this skill to get what he wants.

a lesser character with an identical backstory would be gruff and unfeeling, but... this dmitry isn't. in spite of it all, he's so hopeful, though he buries it deep. his most treasured story is about a girl he met at a parade. he is known as the 'prince of petersburg,' has a relationship with everyone on the streets. in the hartford production he calls an older woman in the ensemble 'little mother.' he rescues vlad, a complete stranger, from a firing squad. and though he turns her down at first, he agrees to get anya to paris. he protects what's his own.

you can tell it takes him a while to learn gentleness. whether it's physical or verbal, especially around anya, he is still always on the defensive for a while. fight first, think later. she's really jumpy and skittish but he doesn't start changing his behavior until they fight the ruffians together. he flags all of his movements around her, making sure she knows his intentions first. he talks about his father. he gives her a music box because he thinks it'll make her smile. because she 'earned it.' when she's crying after a nightmare he tells her a sweet, simple story from his childhood.

the train scene is the best example of this shift-- when she cowers after the gunshot goes off, he is completely lost about what to do. 'calm her down,' vlad tells him, but how is he supposed to do that? she's sobbing into his shoulder and he's frozen, panicking, because what is he supposed to do here??? but he shushes her and holds her anyway. he does his best. and it works. in such a tense situation where they very well could be shot next he is so so gentle and patient with her. and by the time we reach iacot in paris, he knows exactly how to comfort her. he learned how to hold her gently and speak in a soft voice. how softness can ground someone in need.

to summarize: musical dmitry is... really soft? and softness/gentleness isn't really something you see in the conman archetype very often. he is so special.

[wylansvanhendriks]

and when will we as a society start fancasting ruby cruz as dmitry

[midnight-drip]

no thoughts

just young Dmitry in my math workbook :))

[pureanonofficial]

ANASTASIA AT MALMÖ OPERA

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

they are THE bi4bi m/f couple of my heart 😩🥺