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thatsrightice · 12 days

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The story of these two men is my Roman Empire.

Yuri Gagarin and Vladimir Komarov were highly decorated Cosmonauts, both of which made firsts in the history of space flight.

Yuri Gagarin famously became the first man in space on April 12, 1961.

Vladimir Komarov piloted Voshkod 1 on October 12, 1964 on the first space mission to carry multiple crew members. He flew again aboard Soyuz 1 on April 23, 1967, becoming the first Russian man to make two spaceflights.

Yuri Gagarin and Vladimir Komarov were close.

The Soyuz 1 was described as being “a piece of shit” and a “devil ship” as issues plagued the spacecraft throughout development and failed testing. Yuri had done everything he could to get the launch postponed, including writing a ten-page memo detailing the 203 structural problems he had discovered during inspection of the Soyuz 1. Any person who had laid eyes on the memo would be fired or demoted.

Komarov knew of these issues, but refused to step down from the missions. In March of 1987 he met with Venyamin Russayev, a then-recently-demoted KGB agent who had been assigned to "mind" Yuri Gagarin.

He met with Russayev and said, "I'm not going to make it back from this flight." Russayev asked, “Why not refuse?” Komarov answered: "If I don't make this flight, they'll send the backup pilot instead." That was Yuri Gagarin. Komarov couldn't do that to his friend. "That's Yura. And he'll die instead of me. We've got to take care of him." Komarov then burst into tears.

Yuri, nicknamed Yura by friends and family, showed up on the day of the launch “demanding to be put into a space suit,” "demanding this and this and this...", doing anything and everything he could to be the one on that spacecraft instead of Vladimir. Unfortunately, his attempts were be futile.

Soyuz 1 would launch on April 23, 1967 and faced serious issues throughout the flight. The parachutes failed to deploy during reentry and the spacecraft burned up while Vladimir screamed and cried and cursed out those responsible.

Yuri Gagarin was grounded from future space flights and denied permission to pilot military jets. This was devastating for the already deeply depressed man and everyone knew it. Even his favorite hairdresser said that “Yuri couldn't live without flying. It was his whole life. A man can't live without his trade. He can't survive.”

He eventually convinced them to let him fly, but on March 28, 1968, less than a year since Komarov’s accident, he was tragically killed during a routine-training flight aboard a MiG-15. The cause of the accident is unclear, though many speculate that the accident was an assassination on the cosmonaut as he had a falling out with several high-ranking officials following the death of his close friend.

Both Yuri Gagarin and Vladimir Komarov’s names are featured on the memorial for fallen US Astronauts and USSR Cosmonauts left on the moon by the Apollo 11 crew.

#I KNOW FOR A FACT I read somewhere that Yuri dug through the crash site for his remains but I can’t remember 😭😭😭#DID I MENTION HE’S 5’ 2???#there’s tons of controversy surrounding what’s right and wrong but regardless their story is tragic #and I mean tons of controversy btw #there’s absolutely no way for us to know what’s right and what’s wrong #we’ll never know what actually happened but we all know what should (or should I say shouldn’t) have happened #look at how they look at each other and tell me there’s not *something* there #space race #Cold War #Soyuz 1 #Yuri Gagarin #Vladimir Komarov #cosmonaut #research #information #THIS is my Roman Empire fr #like these two deserved better 😭

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thatsrightice · 17 days

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BUCKY: buck is a fighter pilot. a fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus. BUBBLES: and so are you, bucky. BUCKY: bubbles😜

#That first clip is EASILY one of my top 5 favorite lines/exchanges of the series #joseph bubbles payne #clips #video #episode 2 #bubbles payne #john egan #john bucky egan

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thatsrightice · 18 days

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What if Rosie rescues our POW boys and brings them back to Thorpe Abbott, but Crosby is more excited to see him than all the other flyboys. And they’re all offended like “wtf?? what about us D:< “ and Croz is just like “you were basically dead for two years you can be dead for a couple more minutes while I kiss my man”

#they’re basically husbands I bet they bicker like an old married couple #or at least Croz bickers and Rosie just smiles at him with heart eyes #probably not what actually happens but it’d be funny if it did #like they might as well have been dead #these two I’m telling you #Croz and Rosie #Crosie #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #rosie x crosby #Crosby x Rosie #crosenthal #mota musings

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thatsrightice · 19 days

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Post-war at Thorpe Abbotts and Croz shows up to the Officer’s club but there’s no chairs left. One of the flyboys moves to get up to let him have their chair but he just waves them off and sits sideways in Rosie’s lap, starting a conversation with Jack who is completely unfazed. Rosie just wraps his arms around Crosby’s waist and continues his conversation with one of the other flyboys like nothing happened. And all the former-POW boys are just like “-the fuck?” 🤨 because what they don’t know is that this is completely normal for Croz and Rosie.

#Croz and Rosie #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #Crosby x Rosie #rosie X crosby #crosenthal #mota musings #crosie

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thatsrightice · 19 days

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So those injured men continued to man their guns and fight off enemy fighters even after they were injured, right? Like they’re freaking insane, taking down most of the enemy fighters after they’d already been severally wounded. As far as injuries go this is what I’ve found:

James Douglass, bombardier: struck by flak that shattered the nose of the plane, tore through his layers of clothing and injuring his hand

Charles Via, copilot acting formation officer in the tail: projectile pass from the fat of his hip through his pelvis, severing his sciatic nerve, opening several blood vessels and passing on out his hip (would take many months to heal, deemed SWA and awarded the Purple Heart)

Lyle Nord, tail gunner: scratching flak fragments out of his face, head, neck and clothing

Edward Yevich, wait gunner: a shell ricocheted his gun into his arm resulting in a double compound fracture in his forearm, received a deep gash in his leg, was also seared across the back by flak fragments at the target

Lester Saunders, waist gunner: a 20-millimeter shell tore through the left waist window into the pit of his stomach and hurled him back against the other side of the plane (he would succumb to his injuries but not until after taking down several more enemy fighters, was literally walking around and smiling reassuring the crew)

William McClelland, ball turret: the first flak that hit him tore deep into his scalp, later another burst or an exploding 20-millimeter scraped his face and made shreds of his oxygen mask, headset and clothing, also received an injection of flak in his leg

Here’s people unloading injured from the plane after they crashed:

Rosie’s Riveters was the only aircraft to return from the mission to Münster on October 10, 1943 and it was no easy task getting home.

Blakely’s crew in 42-3393 Just-a-Snappin’ had to go through something similar on their return from the mission to Bremen as they had to drop out of formation and make the trek home by themselves. I think Blakely and the rest of his crew deserve a little bit of recognition too;

Bremen had the worst flak they’d ever seen. "There was so much solid flak, you could almost slice it like cake” said pilot Ev Blakely

Flak destroys the number four engine, left elevator, and stabilizer as well as cracks the nose sending shrapnel into the Bombardier and Navigator

They catch on fire, but their electrics are gone so they can’t use the fire extinguisher. The only way to put it out is to drop out of formation and head straight into a steep dive in hopes it blows it out, which Ev Blakely is miraculously able to do

Have to limp back well over 200 miles to get to base with a max speed of 120 mph (at 100 mph the aircraft would stall and drop out of the sky) and immediately watch the only other Fort near them explode in a ball of flames thanks to enemy fighters

Smashed shortwave radio forced Forky, the radio operator, to send out an SOS by touching two wires together and praying

They were a sitting duck for the enemy fighters as they limped back to base at a mere 120 mph (at 100 mph the aircraft would stall and drop out of the sky)

Compass was stuck so Crosby had to navigate using the position of the sun with near-constant course corrections

They are credited with taking out at least 11 enemy fighters on their way home but not without their own injuries. Three of their crew are seriously wounded, one has a three-inch hole in their stomach, half of one’s face was scalped, and the other had the entire lower half of their body crushed and bleeding

You know engine number four? Yeah, it’s on fire again so time for another dive and it’s a miracle it went out again

But now they’ve got to salvo literally everything out into the channel from the spent cartridges laying on the floor to their woolen flying clothes, including their boots

Their dinghies were shot to pieces by the German fighters (and Crosby accidentally pulled the emergency handle on the hatch in the nose) so landing in the water ain’t an option

Everyone who’s not flying goes to help the wounded, packing their wounds with their open parachutes and warming up the frozen morphine applicators (?) in their mouths

Now they’re coming in for a crash landing at a dummy UK base with literally zero control surfaces so Blakely and Kidd were piloting using pure strength. The rest of the crew go back to the waist and hold onto the injured men, like hold them to their chests, so that they aren’t further injured in the landing

Their brakes go out as they land and they’re sent careening into the only tree in the entire airfield, crushing the nose of the aircraft and sending tree branches and leaves through all of the windows and compartments (click for pics)

They just kind of sat there? Until someone came and was like “hey you need help?”

They want nothing more than something to eat but instead are stuck watching some officer count 1200 holes (no, not 800) before giving up because there’s too many

So now they had a hour long drive back to base, those who didn’t get sent to the hospital that is, only for the mess halls to be closed, all their stuff locked up in storage, and everyone looking at them like they were ghosts. But on the bright side, every man in the o-club tried to hand their drinks to them

Add-on:

In the end, 7 of her crew were injured and one fatally so. Most of the men would never fly another mission.

#just a Snappin’#just-a-Snappin’#masters of the air #mota #Blakely’s crew #Harry Crosby #Lester Saunders #everett blakely #James Douglass #Bremen #mission to Bremen

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thatsrightice · 20 days

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we rest amongst the tumult of war

chapter: 5/5

words: like 2.4k 💀 so like 8k total

main themes: big fluff, big suggestive relationship but still technically platonic, much cuddles, slight emotional angst, I’m the writer and even I’m screaming “JUST KISS ALREADY”, entirely Croz & Rosie but can be read Croz/Rosie (in fact I encourage it)

chapter summary:

It’s a shame it has to end, Rosie is willing to admit for the first time since they arrived at the flak house. He would be perfectly content to remain here forever so long as Crosby kept him company. Despite their lack of belief in the positive impact of such flak houses, Rosie knew they both saw the beauty of such a place, of such a life. A beauty that cannot protect itself. And so they return to war, but they are returning together. They return to the fight where they are fighting for each other and they are fighting for the beauty of a life that would be worth living once the war was over.

READ ON AO3 HERE

#like boys just kiss already 😭😭#Croz and Rosie #fanfic #mota musings #fanfiction #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #we rest amongst the mad tumult of war #Crosie #rosie x crosby #Crosby x Rosie

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thatsrightice · 20 days

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I AM LIKE VERY MUCH NOT OKAY™️

Harry & Bubbles // Masters of the Air

The Racing Rats // Editors

Inspired from the moodboard

#i'm starting a go fund me for everyone's therapy 🫡😭#<- YOU BETTER LIKE I AM NOT OKAY OP #omg I am dead like actually dying #op you’re literally killing me like I can’t 😭#Croz and Bubbles #crosby x bubbles #bubbles x crosby #crubbles #video #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #bubbles payne

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thatsrightice · 20 days

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Hi, please have this thing I wrote on February 23rd, SIXTEEN DAYS before Part 8 came out where we saw Crosby neglecting his own wellbeing.

how do I know I’m still not hallucinating?

words: ~2k

main themes: entirely self-indulgent, Croz doesn’t take care of himself, POWs are back in Thorpe Abbotts, Croz & Bubbles, Croz & Rosie, basically implied Croz & everyone, the very definition of hurt/comfort

summary:

Harry Crosby becomes so sleep-deprived from constantly overworking himself that he hallucinates seeing friends who have gone down. He startles the first couple of times because they look exactly the same, as though not a day has gone by since he last saw them. He quickly recognizes them for what they are, soft smiles reminding him to get some sleep. Amidst a particularly stressful couple of weeks organizing missions to shuttle POWs out of Germany, the hallucinations become more frequent and he's not sure how much longer he can take it.

Harry Crosby becomes so sleep-deprived from constantly overworking himself that he begins to hallucinate seeing friends who have gone down. He startles the first couple of times because they look exactly the same, as though not a day has gone by since he last saw them. He quickly recognizes them for what they are, soft smiles reminding him to get some sleep.

He looks up from the map in Group Ops and Bubbles is leaning against the table listening intently, nodding and smiling in encouragement like always. He could have sworn that it was the Bucks who nearly ran him over with a jeep. One time an entire group of them were in the Flying Mess, laughing and pounding on the table as Curtis spun another one of his tales. He stops and listens for a moment before promptly turning around and heading straight for his bunk, all with a smile on his face.

He finds comfort in their presence, a hopefulness that they’ve found the path to Valhalla. He can’t help longing to join them but knows that his work isn’t done here yet.

And so he pushed on.

It’d been a long week for Crosby. Even after they’d shifted away from bombing runs towards supply drops and shuttling POWs, there was still plenty of work to be done and little sleep to be had. That’s why he’s not surprised when he passes Bucky standing with an arm around Buck’s shoulder. Crosby does nothing more than give a polite smile and a tired nod; he was already on his way to bed.

Of course, suddenly those two, along with some others, just keep showing up around base no matter how much sleep he gets. They all look a little worse for wear but Crosby decides it must be some sort of projection of how he feels. They try to talk to him but he can’t respond. To get diagnosed with Combat Fatigue and sent home after he’s been so unbelievably careful about not letting anyone find out about the hallucinations for so long would be a disgrace.

It all comes to a head after he’d been awake for far too long even by his standards. He discovers his chance and slips out of Group Ops for a brief moment of reprieve. He jumps into the front seat of his jeep taking off down the road. He drives to the Flying Mess without even really thinking about it and takes a seat at an empty table with nothing but a coffee in hand. He tells himself that coffee here tastes better than whatever shit they serve at Group Ops.

“What? The food here not good enough for you anymore, Croz?” Bucky grinned, taking a seat at the table across from him with Buck at his side. Crosby said nothing, eyes cast down as he stared into his cup. The table began to fill with more old faces among the likes of Brady, Hoerr, and Hambone. Murphy and DeMarco, too.

“Bingo’s too good for us now that he’s runnin’ with the high mucky-mucks,” Ham teased.

“Croz!” Bubbles greeted cheerfully, taking a seat on his left side. Though he finds himself surrounded, it’s like there’s a buffer between them, no one coming close enough to touch let alone brush against him.

“Hey Bubbles,” Crosby mumbled softly into his cup as he took a sip to avoid looking at the man.

“So he speaks,” Buck drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him with that all-knowing look of his.

“You know, Croz,” Bucky began, pointing at him with his fork.”In the Stalag they got us eating nothing but spuds and slop.”

Crosby recognized it as a reminder to eat, but he wasn’t too sure he could stomach anything solid. He used to find comfort in their presence, but as of late, it felt as though his chronically optimistic demeanor was turning against him.

He set down the cup and bowed his head, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to quell the building emotions. The table goes quiet.

“Croz? Are you-“

“Major Crosby will report to Group Ops,” the Tannoy called, echoing over all corners of the base. It was like a switch had been flipped and he was immediately running on autopilot.

He downed the rest of his coffee and quickly strolled through the mess to his jeep. He remembered walking into Group Ops and holding a conversation with one of his assistants, but everything faded to black as he walked up the handful of steps to his office.

Bubbles is sitting at his bedside when he wakes up, staring down at his hands. He let out a shaky exhale and focused his eyes up at the ceiling.

Bubbles’ head shot up.

“What the hell happened, Croz?” he scolded. “You’re dehydrated, malnourished, sleep deprived–”

Crosby doesn’t have the energy to fight it anymore and allows himself to look at Bubbles, to truly look at Bubbles for the first time since the hallucinations had begun. He examined Bubbles’ face closely. He looks over every wrinkle in his brow and every freckle on his cheeks.

“God, I miss you,” Crosby rasped. Bubbles’ face fell.

“I’m right here, Croz,” Bubbles reassured. And now that Crosby could see his face in full view, vision no longer blurred and the room no longer spinning, the other man looked as awful as Crosby felt.

“It’s not fair,” he babbled, staring up at the ceiling and blinking away his tears. “It should have been you here and not me.”

“Don’t say that,” Bubbles chastised.

Crosby swallowed a sob. “I can’t do this, Bubbs,” his voice cracked.

“Hey, it’s almost over,” Bubbles soothed, scooting his chair forward. “We’re so close, Harry. We just gotta stick it out a little bit longer.”

Crosby shook his head, tears falling down his face. “I'm sorry, I just- I can’t do this anymore, Joey.”

“I am so incredibly proud of you, Binger, and don’t you dare think otherwise. You are the smartest, most selfless person I know. You give and you give until there is nothing left,” Bubbles spoke firmly. “But you're not in this alone, alright? There are so many people outside right now who care about you and are worried sick; Blake and Doug and Rosie. The Bucks, Ham, Brady, Murph, and DeMarco. We’re all here for you,” Bubbles grabbed his hand.

Crosby couldn’t help but jerk out of his grasp, staring in fear at his best friend.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“You touched me.”

“Do you not want me to?” Bubbles questioned, concern and worry replacing his confusion.

“You’ve never been able to touch me before,” Cdosby fiddled with the edge of the blanket.

“Course I have,” Bubbles smiled softly, moving to sit on the edge of the hospital cot.

Crosby reached out and hesitantly placed a hand on the other man’s cheek. When his fingers made contact he couldn’t help but throw himself at Bubbles. “I thought you were gone,” he cried. His arms were wound tightly around Bubbles’ neck, the other navigator’s arms circling his waist. “I thought I was hallucinating. How do I know I’m still not hallucinating?”

Bubbles was too shocked to speak and Crosby took that as his queue. He spilled everything and Bubbles listened, rubbing the man’s back gently as they embraced. He hid his face in Bubbles’ neck, crying and apologizing profusely for ignoring them all. Bubbles whispered reassurances while he wept, murmuring promises that no one was angry with him. Bubbles was equally mortified that none of them had done anything to step in. They watched from afar as the navigator worked himself to the bone. They kind of picked up on the fact that he was ignoring them, but they were too afraid of interrupting his extremely busy schedule. Bubbles began to tear up as he replayed every interaction he’d had with Crosby over the last couple of weeks. He couldn’t help but blame himself for not doing anything sooner.

Bubbles pulled away, thinking carefully as Crosby’s words sank in. He separated from the man and came around to the other side of the bed. He put Crosby’s arm around his shoulder and helped the man stand up. He led him to the window.

“Do they look like hallucinations?” He questioned, gesturing out the window at the grounds out front.

A group of men occupied the space in front of the hospital. Douglass stood close to the front door of the hospital deep in conversation with Blakely. Blakely took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair before securing it back on his head. Buck stood with his hands on his hips, looking out across the base. Murph was sitting on the ground leaning against the tree beside Hambone. DeMarco and Bucky stood a little off to the side throwing a ball back and forth with Meatball darting between them.

“Blake and Dougie don’t,” Crosby answered, seemingly avoiding the subject. Bubbles sighed, resting his head against Crosby’s as he became lost in thought.

Crosby glanced down at Bubbles’ watch and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Bubbles, I need to go. I’m flying with Rosie today,” he quickly pulled away from his friend and stumbled towards the bed.

“Croz, no!”

Crosby and Bubbles grappled, Crosby fighting with all of his remaining energy as he tried to escape Bubbles’ hold. A jeep screeched into the grass off to the side and Bubbles was incredibly thankful for the pilot’s timing.

“Croz! Harry, look!” Bubbles grabbed Crosby’s head and forced him to look out the window. “He’s right there.”

“Rosie?” Croz murmured questioningly. His struggles slowed as he watched the pilot hop out of the jeep and make a beeline for Douglass and Blakely, faces pinched.

“Blake rang ‘im up a bit ago, said this would probably happen.” Bubbles explained. “You want me to bring him in? You have to sit down, though.” Crosby scrunched his nose, face flushing slightly out of embarrassment. The navigator nodded, allowing himself to be helped back to the edge of the cot.

He watched Bubbles exit the infirmary, craning his neck to look out the window. Much to his relief, he watched Bubbles jog out the front door towards Rosie, Blake, and Doug. Bubbles put an arm on Rosie’s shoulder as he talked, the others making their way over. Rosie nodded and immediately turned to go towards the front door, but Bubbles remained outside talking to the others. As Bubbles continued to speak to the rest of the flyboys, Crosby could tell exactly when he broke to them why he’d been so distant. Before Bubbles even finished, Hambone broke off from the group and stalked back towards the tree, shaking his head. DeMarco crouched down, busying himself by burying his hands into Meatball’s fur. Bucky’s face twisted into a frown, eyebrows drawn tight together and looking ready to argue. Buck put a hand on his shoulder, still listening intently but not looking any more pleased than the others.

Crosby slid down in the bed onto his back, the shame of everything starting to overwhelm him again. He brought his arms and covered his eyes with the back of his hands. The door swung open, followed by soft, but quick footsteps. The bed dipped and a hand carded through his hair. He dropped his hands down to his stomach and peered up at the pilot with lidded eyes. Rosie smiled and Crosby could only blink heavily.

“Go to sleep, Croz,” Rosie murmured. “Everyone’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Everyone?” Crosby mumbled. He glanced up towards the window, but all he could see was the blue of the sky.

“Everyone,” he reassured. His voice was firm and all-encompassing, leaving no need for any follow-up questions. Yet, Crosby still needed to ask one more.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#not my best work but I needed it out of my system #this is entirely self indulgent #sorry it’s just not as thorough or well thought out like it’s very cheesey #but I didn’t want this to just keep sitting in my WIP folder #let me know if I should post it on ao3 idk if I will because it’s not very good #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #Harry Crosby needs a hug #Harry Crosby needs help #Croz and Bubbles #Croz and Rosie #Croz and Everyone #ft many of your fave flyboys!#fanfic #Olie can see the future #I SWEAR I WROTE THIS BEFORE PART 8 #BUT I WAS WORRIED EVERYONE WOULD THINK I WAS LYING #mota musings

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