#rygoda

[milfstalin]

bukharin x yezhov and rykov x yagoda as the "friends to enemies" ships. bukharin thought that yezhov was a good person and was very disappointed to say the least. rykov and yagoda were close friends but yagoda chose to save her own skin and split from the rights. also rykov x bukharin is literally canon. and yagoda hated yezhov's meddling so that's also the seed for a kismesis there. all in the shadow of stalin who's fujoing out.

[milfstalin]

yagoda blaming rykov for getting her into the right opposition is really funny. especially considering that they were friends... just throwing him under the bus at the last possible moment when it didnt matter, they were already doomed from the start...

however on the other hand reddick gives a very compelling portrait of them as friendly coworkers if not actual friends, so like. doomed friendship...

[milfstalin]

this is so hard to recognize as yagoda... but also rykov is there so

[milfstalin]

bodyguard x premier or something about being on a boat together

[milfstalin]

yagoda, holding a cigarette: isnt it weird that i met you when i was 14 and you were 24 rykov: yeah

[milfstalin]

[milfstalin]

[milfstalin]

Look at this. Genrikh Grigoryevich Yagoda. Deputy chairman of the O.G.P.U. Terror of counterrevolutionaries. Reduced to… this.

Bukharin was right That smug bastard was right "Coward" He spat it like it was my rank Deputy chairman coward Yagoda Decorated for distinguished service In emotional cowardice

They gave me a medal for it I keep it in the drawer Next to his first letter

What was I thinking? Letting Rykov— Letting Alexei— get close? Letting him see… this? The great Yagoda Who can't even keep his own apartment in order Who hoards junk like some bourgeois widow Who—

I told myself it was to protect him What a joke We both know the truth I panicked The moment I realized I'd actually— Loved him I had to destroy it Because that's what I do I destroy things

Tomorrow I'll be Yagoda again The ice-cold commissar The executioner Tonight… Tonight I'll just be the coward Who loved him

Fuck.

...

A real man wouldn't have let Bukharin Bait him like some schoolyard bully A real man wouldn't be sitting here Crying over a—

God Look at me Thirty-nine years old and Sobbing over a boy like some provincial maiden Is this what the revolution was for? So I could become this? This caricature?—

The worst part? If he walked through That door right now… I'd beg Like a dog (woof) After everything After pushing him away After breaking his heart I'd get on my knees and beg

That's the real treason, isn't it? Not the embezzlement Not the hoarding

But this This weakness This need

I hope he hates me I hope he spits on my grave It's what I deserve

Tonight the uniform hangs like dead skin And I pick at the stitches Where my heart used to be This ragged doll Stuffed with state secrets

They warned us about bourgeois sentiment But never taught us how to extract A man's smile from your marrow

Chekists aren't meant to love Chekists aren't meant to— Chekists aren't meant to love Chekists aren't meant—

(I wasn't—)

(I'm sorry.)

Which is the real treason, comrades? The stolen kisses or the stolen art? The embezzled rubles or the embezzled hours Spent tracing his jawline in the archives When I should've been I should've been signing death warrants?

Even my vices are mediocre A closet full of dresses and perfume A tongue sharpened on confessions That goes dumb and soft when it matters

Let history remember me cruelly: "Here lies Yagoda, who choked On his own contradictions— A fistful of diamonds in one hand A shattered locket in the other"

Tonight I'll be the coward who always loves him Tonight I'll be the coward who always— Tonight I'll be the coward— I'll be the coward I'll be I'll be nothing. Good.