#Count Orlo

[femininemenon]

THE GREAT — 1x10: “The Beaver’s Nose” (2020)

#thegreatedit #the great #perioddramaedit #catherine x orlo #catherine the great #count orlo #orlo #gifs #byzil #usermarta #ceremonial #perioddramacentral #weloveperioddrama #onlyperioddramas

[put-em-up-star-boy]

My friends are telling me that this is the closest, but Idk.

#count orlo #count Orlo the great #the great hulu #the great season 3 #the great #my artwork #pencil #pencil art #hand drawn #sketching #sketchbook #traditional art #fanart #my fanart #my art #love this style

[how-masterful]

Rip King

#miss him every day #sacha dhawan #the great #the great hulu #count orlo #orlo the great

[countorlo]

The Great season 2 episode 3 “Alone at Last” (2021) dir. Zetna Fuentes

#thegreatedit #sdhawanedit #sacha dhawan #the great #count orlo #gif #* #perioddramaedit #lgbtedit #usertom

[werich]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN ORLO IS DEAD

#the great hulu #the great hulu spoilers #the great spoilers #count orlo #orlo #the great orlo

[13atoms]

Anthology (Count Orlo x Reader)

There's someone in court distracting Orlo from his daily duties, who loves the written word as much as he does. 1.5k, fluff, F!Reader

📚📚_

There were very few things in the palace as predictable as Count Orlo. He rose in the mornings, he ate when food was presented to him, and he completed his work on time. When Peter teased him, he did not rise, and when he made choices he followed the most pragmatic route which still offered some kindness.  

He could name each person at court, how they were related to each other. He often didn’t know who was sleeping with who, or when cruel words were passed between courtiers, but he knew the things which mattered.

In each part of his routine there were a hundred variables each day, and he could cope with all of them.

Except for you.

When you appeared in the library, or sat beside him at dinner, or smiled at him as he stood beside Peter and suddenly made his hands shake. It confounded him, that he would look for you in every room he entered. If you were behind him on the staircase, he would grow self-concious of the way he walked, the words he spoke, the way he held his papers.

Gradually, his steady routine had become decentred, until finally he was altering it with the hopes he might spend a little more time with you.

It was one of those evenings, where sleep was too far away and work was too much of a chore. He wandered the corridors, waited for some crisis which never seemed too far away.

At each wide-hipped skirt flitting around a doorway, his heart skipped  with the hope it might be you.

Finally Orlo settled in the library, hoping that if he could not read, he might find some solace wandering amongst the books. Hoping against hope that you would be there again.

He was so set upon his wallowing for the evening, that when you were there, he hardly noticed.

Orlo had closed the door behind him and wandered halfway across the room, before he heard your soft voice.

“Good evening.”

There had been precious little opportunity to speak in private before tonight, and now it was happening, Orlo had no idea what to do.

“Evening.”

You were sat at the oversized study table, which he recalled Peter ignoring lessons at when he was a child. Around you were a dozen chairs, the ghosts of academics which no longer existed in this part of Russia. He picked a book from the shelves blindly, and fumbled to smoothly pull a chair free of the part of the rug it had become stuck in.

You looked up at him, a few chairs down from the one he had chosen, and Orlo fumbled for words.

“Do you mind if I sit there?” he asked, suddenly struck by the fear he was intruding.

“Not at all,” you replied softly, “be my guest.”

In truth, Orlo realised he had little interest in the history volume he had picked up, and the moments passed interrupted only by the scratching of your pen. Long minutes stretched by, and yet he did not grow bored. Instead, Orlo found himself fixated on the thought of his body so close to yours in space.

Of what might be in your head, whether it might chime with what was in his.

“What are you writing?”

You looked up in confusion, your forearm curled around the page protectively, and he bit back an apology.

“Hm?”

“You’re writing, I assume? If it is not personal, of course.”

“Oh, no. It’s… it’s poetry. Nothing good, I’m afraid, I just… I admire a great many poets –”

“Me too!”

Orlo regretted his interruption at once, it had seemed like a wild thing, trapped in his chest and fighting to get out. You smiled at him, and he thought from the crinkling of your eyes it must be genuine, before continuing.

“Anyway, I just… I thought I would never know if I was any good at poetry if I never tried it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

You chuckled, and Orlo found himself smiling along for no reason he could name.

“How are you doing, then? Trying it?”

With a shrug, you gestured to the page in front of you, and Orlo could see you were halfway through a notebook.

“I’m doing okay. It’s a puzzle, but I enjoy it. Truly, it’s nothing special, but I find it settles my mind.”

“Incredible,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was teasing you.

“Do you write?”

“Poetry? No!”

Startled, Orlo stopped attempting to read what was on your page, and instead found himself staring at your face. A prospect which induced his heart to beat even faster.

 “Could I read anything of yours?”

It was impertinent to ask. He had predicted the hesitation on your face, anticipated the moment you could freeze and turn your face away from him as embarrassment burned at your cheeks.

It was worth it, though, for the moment he watched you stand and pull a book from the shelves opposite the table. It was smaller than all the others, without an ornate cover, and as you thumbed through the pages Orlo could see it was entirely handwritten as many of the older tomes in the library were.

“This is my favourite piece,” you offered, handing the open book to him.

Orlo thought he would melt to the floor, holding his breath as he read, and you watched with an intensity he had never seen from you amongst the frivolities of court.

“I wonder if you studied under Dante himself?” he finally commented.

Orlo was delighted at your response, the fear you might misunderstand him entirely gone.

“Actually, I wrote something closer to his tone – though obviously incomparable…”

 As you flitted through the pages, a furrow in your brow, Orlo could only stare.

The evening passed in moments of silence and moments of laughter after that moment. You were selective in the pages you showed him, glancing nervously if his fingers strayed to turn a page.

Yet you trusted him. You returned to your words as he read, and laughed in delight as he praised your work. You had moved a seat closer to him, and brought the candles around both of you, and if Orlo focused for long enough he imagined he could feel the heat of your body in the cool night.

When the night finally grew too late, you excused yourself with a sincere regret that made Orlo’s heart ache with hope. He took the book to his room, and devoured it cover to cover, in a way only someone with a true love of a poet can.

Between each piece he thought, trying to imagine where your mind had been as you wrote it.

The tone oscillated between love and loss and distress and simple joy, from piece to piece and stanza to stanza, and some hidden part of Orlo felt voyeuristic to have such a sudden insight into your inner life.

Each page was written with the tempo of good poetry, a few dozen meticulously penned words, followed by a flowing stanza of more rushed handwriting – as though you were desperate to get the words onto the page as inspiration struck.

When he finally fell asleep, it was with a jolt awake, as he carefully removed your book from where it had fallen atop his sheets and placed it on his bedside table.

*

When Orlo awoke, there was a sealed letter on his desk. It bore no other markings, not even his name – though once the page was snapped open the handwriting seemed as familiar as his own.

Time is curious, how it hangs around us

Languorous when it seems abundant, and short when it is scarce

An hour of joy lasts barely a blink,

A second of sorrow long enough to wrinkle crows feet.

Time is not told by the clock, but by the heart as it beats.

Orlo, my days here are often meandering,

Filled with banality,

Yet I find time flies, when you are near me.

Once Orlo had finished reading, he sat on the chaise by the door, and he read again. By the morning light streaming through the windows. In the privacy of his bed, curled up against the pillows, pulling the paper to his chest once he had read. Finally, he put the paper down and rushed to the door, only to return and read it again.

When he found you, it was at the breakfast hall, your meal long abandoned and your eyes firmly set upon the main doors. He had taken a shortcut, and watched you for so long he interrupted the servers and feared you would catch him staring as they swerved, swearing, around him.

It would be a decade before Orlo acted as a proxy to help you publish your first collection of poems, but his decision was made in that moment. Once your eyes met his, the time flew by.

#is this techincally a drabble? #count orlo x reader #count orlo #count orlo fic #13atoms #fic #requested #this would've been half an hour back in the day #now it takes like 3 days #wild #If you have anything negative to say about the poem just know #I’ll kill this blog and then myself #ily requesting anon give me a shout if you want to be fwiends

[shesnake]

Sacha Dhawan as Count Orlo in The Great season 2 episode 3 (2021) dir. Zetna Fuentes

#thegreatedit #perioddramaedit #sdhawanedit #tvedit #sacha dhawan #the great #count orlo #tv #gif #* #q #saberwood #usertom #nothing i post on @countorlo is showing up in tags :///// #oh well. in an ideal world i'd look exactly like this #dsg

[nicoleanell]

I'd probably enjoy the poetry of Orlo's death if he was actually a villain, but he wasn't. And if they did intend us to think Orlo wanting Peter gone was wrong, that doesn't make much sense either. he was right that Peter needed to die for Catherine to become a better ruler. that's pretty much proven true in the later episodes. Atp I'm just hoping they do something with this next season. he deserved a lot better.

Yeah exactly, his death gave me this vibe of black humor and irony that would seem more fitting he was a villain without any further purpose, not a major character we've been invested in for 2 seasons.

If I squint my eyes I can read it as a weird kind of tragic -- that in the end it was one of Catherine's first and most ardent supporters and advisors who got the bullet AND the bear when all the others who turned on her were spared. But mostly it feels like it was treated with barely more gravity than her mother falling out the window, and she was a *full antagonist* who was only in a couple of episodes, y'know?

Earlier in the ep, I was actually believing that they were setting up a bigger storyline for him this season with his sort-of-heel-turn and the dissolution of his relationship with Catherine. In hindsight I just feel like they were kind of vilifying him and making him so intractible so viewers would feel like he HAD to die, while also washing any character's hands of responsibility for intentionally killing him - no one was responsible for his death more than himself, actually! He sealed his own fate by being out there in the first place trying to do an assassination, and like, how far he's fallen from his aversion to violence in the beginning to his bloodlust now and how he should've just let it go and stuck with Catherine's wishes etc! The implications just rub me the wrong way, especially because I DON'T think he was wrong lol. And the whole rest of the episode was like a testament to other characters getting away with worse choices, regardless.

Anyway I have no idea if the actor wanted to leave or what, but even if that was the case there were many better ways to handle it - either open-ended for him to come back or more satisfying and meaningful if they were set on killing him off.

#the great #the great spoilers #count orlo

[milui3l]

I need to make a post about this because I’m more upset than I thought I was. 😔 Spoilers for The Great season 3 ahead (and 2 and 1).

Orlo became a really important character to me at a very weird and rough time in my life, so I’m definitely a little biased, but the fact that his death happened so suddenly and accidentally and at the hands of Catherine feels so wrong. He was her first true supporter besides Marial (who only befriended and supported Catherine for her own gain, understandable in this society) and the only male supporter in her crew that followed her out of pure desire for the realization of a shared vision of what their country could be, and not because of any romantic inclinations.

Besides Catherine, I’d argue that Orlo had the most drastic and substantial development of character out of all the cast. Going from a cautious, almost cowardly, bureaucrat to a self-assured, sought after advisor and friend for Catherine who was ready and willing to remove anyone who stood in her way. He bonded with Catherine over a love of literature, philosophy, and justified hatred for Peter. More on that motherfucker.

The fact that Orlo was killed while Peter droned on about whatever he remembers eating on whatever given day… ughh. I really don’t understand the direction that this show is going in with the Catherine/Peter relationship. Am I missing something? Here’s where I say that I’ve only watched the first episode of this season so maybe there’s more to see. Still, correct me if I’m wrong, Peter doesn’t seem to have changed much except for the fact that he’s in love with Catherine and their baby now so he’s unwilling to kill her anymore. He still seems like an unintelligent, abusive jackass. The bits of season 2 where they tried to make it seem like Catherine has fallen for Peter because “he’s the only one who understands her” seemed so forced and unbelievable. You could try and tell me that the weight of the crown became an object of mutual understanding between the two of them, but I’d have to disagree. Whilst Peter used his power as emperor to be an ignorant, egomaniacal, oppressive dictator, Catherine used hers to establish progress for her country, usually to her own detriment (i.e., S1E7, S1E9, S2E6). The crown weighed differently on their heads since they fundamentally disagreed on what it should be used for. I know that a good portion of viewers seem to be into this relationship, so maybe I’m blinded by first impressions or something. But I digress.

Orlo seemed to have a lot more to offer narratively than what was shown. Being so intrinsically different from the rest of the court (lacking the salaciousness of his counterparts), the exploration of his sexuality in season 2 was surprising. I know it kind of seemed like the show was using his journey of self-discovery as a comedic device (not saying that’s bad) but I thought his relationship with Katya was so sweet. His attraction to her intellect was refreshing and their mutual bond over their love of philosophy was very cute. Mostly because their relationship implied that he doesn’t have to have the same sex drive as everyone else. I was really looking forward to seeing more of them this season. ☹️ On top of that, the subplot with Orlo’s uncle last season!!!! Was that not intriguing???? I understand that Orlo was just a supporting character that I latched onto at a bad time, but it still seems like an unfair end to him. Anyways, goodnight, everybody.

#the great #count orlo #catherine the great #katya velcra #the great season 3 #the great season 3 spoilers

[peauxheaux]

Marry me

#count orlo #the great #the tongue ungggggggg #the ARMS

[femininemenon]

CATHERINE THE GREAT and COUNT ORLO THE GREAT — 3x01: “The Bullet or the Bear” (2023)

#thegreatedit #the great #the great hulu #perioddramaedit #catherine x orlo #catherine the great #count orlo #gifs #byzil #the great spoilers #thegreatdaily #usermarta #weloveperioddrama #perioddramacentral #onlyperioddramas

[put-em-up-star-boy]

Finally finished it! I think I am getting closer, hopefully, the other ones I do will help. My friend hates the doodles so there will be more next time.

#count orlo #the great hulu #the great #count orlo the great #the great fanart #my artwork #my art #my fandoms #my fanart #fanart #love this style #digtial painting #digtial art

[how-masterful]

The great just posted this on Instagram... he was taken far too soon from us

#they killed him because hes NEVER beating those master in disguise allegations #count orlo #the great #the great hulu #sacha dhawan #the master #dhawan!master

[himbocampus]

Not orlo showing up for a millisecond in the new trailer for the great 🙄🙄🙄🙄

#sacha dhawan #the great #orlo #count orlo #they better do right by him this season!!!!! #they prolly won’t but it’s good to have hope

[13atoms]

Arm in Arm (Count Orlo x tall!female!reader)

Thank you for the people who recommended Orlo for this! Getting back into writing fic after so long off was very difficult and very slow, but this is a first step! Reader is taller than Orlo (>5'8" or something?) and wearing a skirt.

Fluff (very light hurt/comfort) | Oneshot | 1.6k

It was a generous Russian morning, which looked to precede a deeply pleasant day. The whole world was languid and cheery, with a gentle breeze swaying through the summer drapes and sunlight illuminating patches of the rugs which ran through Orlo’s living quarters. The fire was built in its grate, but unlit, and the chaise longues had been moved to let you bathe in the warmth of the sun instead.

There was a great feast being held somewhere which wasn’t the Palace, and the whole place had breathed a sigh of relief as a great convoy of nobles and royals set off to attend it. It was, Orlo decreed, a rare day off. And the two of you were to enjoy it together.

You groaned and stretched out, wary where your legs were draped across Orlo’s lap. There’s a burning behind your eyes as you closed your book over your thumb, and extend both of your arms over your head. Hours of reading had left a tension in every part of you, yet it quickly melted away.

 Orlo closed his own book, stretching himself out like a cat with a groan so gratuitous you were sure he’d intended for the sound to make you laugh. He yawned as he set the books aside and hugged your calves to his chest, making you shout out in shock as you were pulled down in your seat.

Laying flat, you looked up at him, felt the gentle stetch through your spine as he kept a hold of your legs. Orlo was smiling lazily, in a way you hadn’t seen him do in months. You flexed your bare feet, felt the muscles of your calves move against his arms, and threw your head back to stare at the ceiling.

It was painted with great skill, depicting a scene you probably ought to distantly recognise from the Bible. You had no inclination to focus on the brushstrokes for that long. Instead, you enjoyed the settling of your back against soft cushions, and the gentle patterns Orlo was tracing on your ankle.

“You’re too long for his sofa,” he mused, finally setting your legs down and letting them hang off the end of the arm.

He was trapped in, slouched under your legs, head lolling against the cushion behind him. Looking down the length of your own body, you only felt contentment. The Count clearly didn’t have anywhere else he’d rather be.

“I’m too tall for the chaise in my apartments too, the furniture-makers ought to be more considerate.”

You had no quarrel with the chaise. Not really. You were enjoying the relaxing, hazy feeling of having your legs above your head.

“I suppose if it just means we have to be closer together.”

“Tragic,” you murmured, looking back at the ceiling.

Orlo snorted a laugh, pulling his glasses from his face and tossing them onto the side table. When you lifted your head to look at him he was rubbing at the indents his glasses left on his nose. You loved seeing him without them, it was something private. Reserved for you. He squirmed with discomfort when you said it, but he was so pretty without them.

“Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly.

You cocked your head, humming a question.

“Height, I mean?”

Entangled together, you had forgotten he was any shorter than you. Now he looked at your legs, side-by-side, as his stretched out in front of him, and you felt a flash of embarrassment.

“I suppose… sometimes I think I’d prefer being shorter. It would be easier.”

Orlo frowned at you for a moment, and then rushed to speak, his words falling over each other.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all!”

His hand was back on your calf. Orlo’s eyes were wide and sincere, flashed with panic where they had been downcast a moment ago.

“I just meant…” he thought for a moment, thumb rubbing across your calf, “I know it’s not… popular to be seen with men shorter than you are.”

You thought for a moment, that uncomfortable sting in your chest completely extinguished by the slight shine of Orlo’s eyes. There’s nothing wrong with you, you wanted to tell him. You saw how Peter looked down at him, how people made jokes. The way being measured for new clothes would put a damper on his whole day. He’s avoided the process entirely for far too long, until he began courting you.

 “Do you think there’s anything I’d want to change about you?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer it? For it to be a little more comfortable when we dance? To have someone… more?”

“All we have are the gifts we are given, Orlo. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

 He struggled to articulate what it was he wanted to say, and you waited, not wishing to put ideas in his head or words in his mouth. His hand found your ankle, and stroked over the delicate bone there. He brought his face to your calf, and mumbled against it as he spoke.

“I just want you to feel protected…”

“I do,” you insisted, quiet and sincere.

For a moment there was silence. You stared back at the ceiling, a maze of richly coloured stories merging into one another. Was that Eve above you, tempted by the serpent? Samson, in the next scene? With long cut locks of hair beside his sleeping face, and the glint of Delilah’s knife against the pillow?

“I’m sorry. You should never have to feel inadequate… I try to slouch. To not make it obvious. I can step further away, if you prefer…”

“I hate when you do that,” he told you plainly, no anger or malice in his voice. “You’ll hurt your back.”

The paused for a while, staring at the carpet.

“You don’t have to change yourself for me either.”

“I know I just feel bad sometimes…”

You thought about him in the moment he thought no one was watching, straining to stand up straighter, rocking on the heels of his shoes, staying seated when Peter walked up behind his desk to speak with him.

“Why would you feel bad?”

“It’s not as though you’re short, Orlo. Lots of women would look fine beside you, I’m just tall. I just know… some men don’t like being the shorter one.”

“I love that you’re taller than me.”

You ignored him. The cut on Adam’s rib was a smear of crimson against delicately painted skin, the paint so fresh it might have been real blood pouring from the ceiling.

“Catherine is tall,” he murmured, “and widely considered one of the most beautiful women in Russia.”

You hummed, and he reached for your hand, pulling it into his lap.

“Probably the second most beautiful,” he teased, and you scoffed at him.

“She’s not that tall. Peter is taller.”

“Peter is far too tall. I often think if he were shorter, he couldn’t get away with as much. He’d be too easy to punch.”

You shushed him, the sound broken by a laugh, and Orlo groaned, hiding his smile against your underskirts.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad about yourself. You have to know, that’s the last thing I want.”

“You don’t.”

He thought for a moment, and tapped his fingers on your skin in the pattern his often drummed into his desk. Finally, he spoke again.

“I love to see how tall you are. I love that I can spot you across a room, that you can do things with such ease. I envy it, sometimes. When I have to rush to keep up with you.”

You groaned as you curled yourself towards him, taking another moment to stretch. That horrid pang in your chest was now absent, replaced with something warm. Your guard was down. The palace was so quiet the outside world might as well not have existed. You indulged your insecurities a little longer, knowing Orlo wouldn’t strike if you showed weakness.

“I always worry that eventually you’ll find someone… easier. Someone shorter.”

“Why would I even be thinking about that, when I’ve got you?”

“A good point.”

It took a great amount of shuffling to lie next to him on the chaise, but it was worth it, to be beside his warm body. He pulled one of your legs over him, offered his bicep as a pillow. His dark, warm eyes staring into yours still gave you butterflies.

“If our heights bother other people, that is their problem. I’ve never known someone who understands me so well,” he murmured, “even if you take up far more of the bed than you ought to.”

“You’ve never complained about me being in your bed. You cling to me –”

“Yes, I understand. I’m teasing you, my love. I want you to take up every bed I ever sleep in.”

“I wish you saw yourself how I see you, Orlo. You’d never feel like you needed to be taller again – you’re the only person I pay attention to in any room.”

“How funny, I feel completely the same.”

You would concede, months later, when the bloodshed had ended and Orlo’s quarters grew far too big for one man, that he had been right to have a longer chaise long made. And when he crushed himself into you after long, arduous nights, his face pressed to your neck, you would both be grateful you could shelter him from the world – even for the shortest moment.

“Do you want to go out today?” he asked, when his arm was going numb from cushioning your head and the sun was high in the sky.

“Perhaps just for some air?”

“That would be nice.”

Your elbows didn’t really fit with one another, formally walking arm-in-arm as many other couples did – though you didn’t feel sorry for it. Instead you took a turn of the gardens hand-in-hand, head held high, all the closer for it.

#count orlo #13atoms #count orlo x reader #orlo x reader #the great fic #fic #orlo #ngl this was harder than i thought and im not very secure in it! so likes comments rbs etc. #very very much appreciated #not really got the fic bug atm but we'll see! i enjoyed doing this again

[dummie-vaughn]

me watching the end of season 3 episode 1

#The great #count orlo #the great orlo