the great

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the great
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Some peter iii doooodlesss
Give my man Grigor the love he deserves 🙏 (So clearly not Peter lol)
you are my greatest love
the great, 3.08 // there are better ways of doing this by margaret atwood
Thinking about how Catherine and Grigor turn to each other in the wake of Peter’s death. How they were the only ones who witnessed it (Hugo and Velementov notwithstanding). How Grigor is the first person Catherine has to convince that he’s not dead. And how once it is revealed that he is dead, by both of them breaking simultaneously, they two are the only ones truly ravaged by the grief it brings.
Thinking about Catherine asking Grigor to tell her stories about Peter. Thinking about Grigor’s loyalty being won in the first episode by the simple fact that Catherine makes Peter happy. Thinking about the fact that Grigor won’t kill her because Peter loved her.
The two of them were wholeheartedly in love with the same man. A man who was baffling, who was obviously without remorse or second thought for much of his life. A man who hurt them both, intentionally and unintentionally, over and over and over again. A man who they both had tried to kill, and who had tried to kill them in return. No one else was as completely devoted to him. Not Elizabeth, not Georgina. Everyone else in his life saw him as a pawn, as something to manipulate to get what they want, noted when Georgina states “Nothing I used to own is mine anymore.” and when Elizabeth gets mad at him for not secretly ordaining Paul. Catherine and Grigor though. They get mad at him, yes. They are hurt by him time and time again. But they don’t use him. They love him. Completely and purely. Naively. It is why Grigor is the only person Catherine trusts with Paul. It is why she kisses him when they get back to the palace. The only people who can understand the depths of their grief are them. Their love for him blinded them. Their love for him stunted them. No one else will ever understand the depths of their love for such a madman, and no one else will ever comprehend the depths of insanity they were both slowly driven to by their love for him. In both their love for, and grief of Peter, they are completely united.
“I could’ve said anything else. Any other words. Salt bath, otter spit, Irish stew, hurt me, love me, kiss me, forget all, touch me, hit me, shoot me. Love you with every sinew and one day it will hurt all over to never touch you again. To never feel our eyes meet and inflame me. To never hear an inane thought that somehow made my blood sing. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.” - Catherine the Great
“Fuck you for your lack of love. He was a man who felt everything. Not with the hurdles and cul-de-sacs and fences we stop ourselves with. If he was fury, he was nothing but fury, nothing but joy, nothing but killing. He knew life whole, not by measly portion. He loved me that way. He was the rarest of men. He was all fucking in on life! You will never see his like again! For my life ended too, in that freezing water. I loved him. More than I have ever loved anything or ever will.” - Grigor Dymov
II have created several more interchangeable clips for bracelets. Barclay de Tolly has this effect of either snow or stars. I unsuccessfully cut a circle at Suvorov, but the edge glows in the dark (the same story with Fyodor Ushakov)
“I love you. My whole fucking heart and all my body and whatever ineffable spirit animates me. Everything.”