#soda’s mailbox

[hoofpeet]

can u do a faygo flavors tierlist now....

Ohhh fuckk Michigan moment incoming

-Creme soda (tha best)

-Rock & Rye (Also tha best)

-Red pop

-Black cherry

-root beer faygo

-Grapefruit

-Cotton candy

-Ginger ale

-Peach melon

-firework

-candy apple

-can't remember any other ones

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

First of all: good luck with Dar, gang... Is in the mailbox will pray for you

Second of all: 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪 For Johnny because he floured Dally and was so fucking adorable asking for his reward that he deserves all the cookies in the world

man. we've even made the damn mailbox people religious. gang. are we fucked? be honest. (WHO CARES THERES FUCKIN COOKIES IN HERE MAN)

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

*sigh* just checked ao3, and no rasxjay 😔 welp, u kno what that means *picks up pen*

You should totally send me a link pls pls pls

I need everyone to write toxic yaoi jay ras fics for me I'm bad at words

[skibidiahaajarkin]

Hold on…. Soda…..

ough…. /sill

I miss him <- hasn’t continued the suckening because uhhh actually i dont have a good reason for it /sill

SODA........... what if he collec5s water bottle caps now

[jils-things]

I'm sipping on my soda. I like how I just caused 48% of all of your fnf moots to just come on your ass lol /lh -Ekans anon

oh you so did,.. you so did. i knew it was coming but i didnt know it would end up like this .... HASJFHSKFSAHKGSA

you truly woke my blog up and i thank you for that... genuinely the funniest thing i did in awhile hehe

[im-the-son-of-rage-and-lov3]

...the JESUS OF SUBURBIAAAA..

THE BIBLE OF NONE OF THE ABOVE ON A STEADY DIET OF!!!

[beangods]

just had the most frustrating experience trying to pick up my goddamn mail (still unresolved). germany is the result of some child's sadistic genie wish

[unlikelywrestlingfan]

hiiii eeeeelle, can you tell me about orange cassidy mayhaps? 👉👈

OC is so extremely talented - managing to pull off amazing feats WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS POCKETS and have a cool, calm air while also making the audience laugh. He weaponizes being a little shit via taunting his opponents while maintaining his calm expression. And his CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT THIS PAST YEARISH? So satisfying to watch!!! And oof he's pretty. He commits to the bit like no other, and I love him

edit: For more posts relevant to Orange Cassidy, see "#a can of soda"

[cursingtoji]

that boy even wanted to take me to an amusement park date ugh too bad he was addicted to coke

WHAT… HUH???? SHOULDVE ACCEPTED, COKE ADDICTION IS WORTH IT 💯💯

no bc my mom’s bf literally drinks nothing but coke too and ITS ACTUALLY NOT THAT BAD OF AN ADDICTION TO HAVE…

I mean, other boys out there be smokin’ weed and snortin’ cocaine (speaking of which, coke used to have cocoaine in it…) 🫡

~fanfic anon 💥🎺

i meant the other coke babe hahahaah (aka cocaine)

also this boy was a whole encyclopedia of drugs, when i asked what stuff he did he started to count on his fingers 🤡

we talked for a while cause i thought he was done with that but then he said he used it on nye and that was it for me

[cherri-cola-soda]

….. uhm. pleasedon’tkillmeagain but I can keep putting things in the mail for you..?

[a letter written on folded paper, torn from a spiral notebook. There’s no envelope]

Phoenix Witch,

Thank you. Thank you for sending me back so quickly. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain properly when I died. A little while back, maybe a few days? A week ago. Time feels hazy and hard to track. But Krash tried to ghost themself, and I was taking care of them. Sort of. I stitched them up and they were at the station. After putting them back together, I got really bad. I couldn’t even eat properly. Then Ghoul accidentally drugged himself somehow so I went over to check on him, and I couldn’t do anything. … I couldn’t do anything and I was too broken inside to try to help him, so I left. And I was driving home and saw Krash and they were going to kill themself again and we ended up fighting for their gun and it went off. I didn’t wanna die in the sunshine, but I did. I didn’t wanna die with my eyes open, but I did. I didn’t wanna die at all. I didn’t get to say goodbye to Kobra. I saw Kobra sit with me and hold me and sob and then I was gone. And you held me too, when I cried. And you let me go back to my moonbeam. Thank you.

The static broke somehow. Now everyone else can see parts of it, too. It feels so weird and broken. But I’m alive and I don’t know what I’m trying to get across to you with all these words other than thank you. It hurts so much, but Kobra says it gets easier to live again. I really hope he’s right. Thank you. Thank you.

- Cherri Cola

@cherri-cola-soda

someone kill cherri cola again so i can give him a hug and then beat him over the head with a stick

[hoofpeet]

OUPPY!!!! She’s so cute <3 What did you name her?

Pocky :]

[everyandanything]

Okay so here's the thing...

I'm having to come to terms with the fact that a story idea I have in my head might... not actually be written anytime soon in the way that I want. But I also love the first chapter. And I don't want it to sit on my hard drive collecting cobwebs forever. So, I figured it could have a lovely home on tumblr.

So with that in mind, please enjoy my unaired pilot of a fic that has my heart... a vietnam!Darry au.

“Hey Soda, did you get the mail on the way in?”

Soda’s laughter filled the kitchen, followed closely by Steve slamming the door shut. The dishes rattled and Darry cringed, one of these days those boys were gonna knock the door off its hinges.

But Darry wasn’t focused on one of these days, he was focused on now. And now, Soda was too busy cutting up with Steve to pay his big brother a lick of attention.

“Soda!” 

The smile fell from Soda’s face. “What’s got you so cranky?”

What a question. Where should Darry even begin? That with winter creeping in Darry’s hours were about to get cut back, and he’d have to find a third job willing to hire him for just a few months? That the water bill was long past due and if he didn’t pay it soon it’d get cut off? That Pony’s report card had come home yesterday and he had a B in math, and he’d looked so terrified of Darry when he’d told him, so frightened that his big brother was going to hit him again, that Darry had to lock himself in his room until his hands stopped shaking?

Darry took a deep breath. Soda didn’t want to hear any of that. Just wanted to walk in the front door without his brother yelling at him.

So he started again.

“Did you get the mail?”

Soda winced. “No, sorry. Weren’t thinking. I can go grab it now though if you want.”

Darry shook his head. “Nah, just stir this for me, I’ll go grab it. My check should be in there today.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

But Darry waved him off. It might be nice, he thought, to get some fresh air for a few minutes. Might cool off his temper.

The screen door slammed behind him, and he took a deep breath. The autumn air burned his throat and cooled his skin. He loved this time of year, loved when the weather shed its oppressive heat. It made roofing almost enjoyable, or at the very least, as enjoyable as roofing ever got. His jeans weren’t so sweat soaked they stuck to his skin, the shingles didn’t burn to the touch. Instead, a gentle breeze would whisper through his hair, and the air no longer felt heavy and humid in his lungs. 

He never cared much about the weather before, when the most time he spent outside was during football practice. But now that he spent his entire days at the mercy of the elements, he found himself watching the morning weather more often than any twenty one year old ever should.

He reached the mailbox, pulled open the door, and grabbed the bundle of envelopes. He thought about heading straight back to the house, but remebered Soda and Steve still cutting up in the kitchen, all laughter and play fights, and Darry suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. He was too tired today, too worn down to deal with all their noise. He didn’t have the energy to play nice. (But isn’t that true every day? he thought.) So he figured he’d take a lap around the block as he flipped through the envelopes in his hand. The day was nice, the weather soothed his temper. And Soda wouldn’t mind watching dinner for a minute.

As he started walking he looked down at the mail: Water bill. Power bill. Coupon Mailer. Gas bill. Postcard from their Great Aunt Bobby’s holiday with her family. Mortgage bill. Darry’s check. Letter from the Department of National Defense.

The last one gave him pause. Department of National Defense? He couldn’t begin to guess what it was about. For a moment he thought it might have been sent to the wrong address, but his name was printed across the envelope in sharp block type. Curiosity got the better of him and he ripped it opened.

He scanned the first few lines. He thought at first it was some sort of junk mail. Honestly, a letter from the President of the United States? What a load of—

But then his eyes scanned further down on the page and saw the words YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED FOR THE INDUCTION INTO THE ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES. 

Darry read the line over and over again. He flipped the letter over then flipped it back. This was a joke. A mistake. Some flaw in the logic of the universe. This didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a soldier, he didn’t fight. Well, sure, he could pack a punch as good as anyone. But never kill a man. Never hold a gun. 

There was a ringing in his ears, a roaring in his head. The letters on the page jumbled together, he wasn’t even sure he read them right.

He couldn’t get drafted. That happened to someone else. To other men. The ones that spent their summers hunting deer and shooting skeet. Not Darrel Curtis, he hated all that stuff. He was lettermen jackets and a full-ride scholarship. He got all A’s in school and read for fun. Soldiers didn’t do all that. Not the ones off fighting in Vietnam. He wasn’t a soldier, he was too good to be a soldier.

But then he’d been too good to spend his life roofing all day and stuck on the East Side. And look how that turned out for him.

His feet moved of their own accord, his mind raced a million miles a minute. What could he do? Where could he go? He didn’t even like the war, wasn’t sure what they were doing over there in the first place. He didn’t know much about Vietnam, Darry couldn’t afford to spend time sitting around watching the world fall apart when his own life was in shambles most days, but he did know that no one seemed to have a good enough reason to send men over there to get slaughtered. And Darry certainly didn’t want to be one of them.

His blood felt thick in his veins, his body numb. The next thing he knew, he was hit with the heat of the kitchen as he stepped back in the house, the screen door slammed but he hardly heard it.

Then, his brother’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Did it come?”

Soda. Pony. His brothers. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even thought about his brothers. They couldn’t be here without him, they couldn’t make it on their own. Soda was only eighteen, his shift at the DX station barely covered gas. And Pony was too busy with school and track to help out with the bills. He had to get out of this. Had to be there for them.

Darry’s heart stuttered. “What?”

Soda didn’t even glance up from the food in front of him. “Your check, was it in the mail?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Darry couldn’t stop staring at his kid brother, taking him in. The tilt of his jaw, the turn of his nose. The way, even at eighteen, he hadn’t quite grown into himself. Still lanky arms and sharp elbows. A constellation of freckles scattered across his nose.

He stood there, so perfectly young, smile so bright Darry sometimes couldn’t look at it head on, and Darry couldn’t help but wonder, would this be one of the last chances he had to see him? Would this be their final day together, before everything changed, only to have Darry waste it with sharp words?

Soda’s smile dimmed, and the look he gave Darry faded into concern. “You alright, Dar? You’re looking a little funny.”

Darry shook his head. He couldn’t tell him, not yet. Not until he knew for sure. Maybe there was some way out of this, maybe he just needed to think a little clearer, maybe—

“Yeah, sorry, I’m okay. Today was just rough, I’m more tired than I realized. I think I might go to bed early.”

Soda’s brow furrowed. Darry hated when he looked at him like that. “Without eating? You sure you’re feeling alright?”

He took a step towards Darry, to do what Darry didn’t know. But Darry took a step away, putting more distance between them. “I’m fine, Pepsi. Don’t worry about me. I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Soda studied him for a moment, and Darry fought the urge to turn away. Soda could read him better than anyone, knew all of his tells. He couldn’t afford to give his brother a reason to doubt. 

Apparently, Darry was better at it than he thought, because eventually Soda nodded. “Okay, well, holler if you need anything. I’ll leave some out in case you get hungry later.”

Soda gave him that soft smile of his, one Darry tried to return, and he ran to his room and slammed the door shut before he could blurt out the truth. Because Darry could do a lot of things, but lying to Soda wasn’t one of them.

[askponyboymcurtis]

There's no letter, just a few more of Johnny's and Dally's things in the Mailbox.

Pony sifts through the small pile of things, taking the ever familiar jean jacket into his hands. "...How'd they get this stuff?"

Soda shrugs, resting his head on the side of the bed. "Dunno. Who gave it t'you?"

"Didn't say. There wasn't no note or nothin',"

"Do'ya think it could'a been Johnny's ma, or somethin'--"

"Nah." Pony cuts in, shaking his head. "Johnny's ma didn't care about him, you know that. It was probably just one'a the doctors from the hospital. Found some stuff, 'nd they didn't have blood family to give it to."

Soda looks at his brother for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. "That coulda been it." He confirmed, simply.

" 'Least they got it to us, now, right?"

"Right." He smiles and reaches out a hand to Pony, landing it on his knee. He rubs a small circle on it with his thumb.

And it goes quiet. The two of them sit in silence, looking at the small bundle of items. After some time, Pony takes out a small pen and note, writing:

"Thank you."

-- PB CURTIS '65

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

Would you still love me if I was a worm?

DAR. wake up. Someone in the mailbox asked us a question n now I gotta ask you. (Huh? What's goin on? Is everythin ok? Didya have a nightmare kid?) (nooo im fine. read it) (Worm? Pony. You're missin a screw kid) (hey answer it :() (Fine. Yes. I would love you even if you were a worm. I'd keep you in the kitchen window.) (awful borin up there :( ) (Fine. I'd leave you a book) (I couldn't flip the pages if I was a worm :( ) (FINE. I'd read to ya) (...) (would you love-) (YES. I'd love Soda if he was a worm too. Now go to bed you have school in the mornin)

[fab-ernathy]

Eating Like the Greek Class, Book 1

Okay, so here's my thing. I have a hard time motivating myself to do basic human things like eat food. It has to be linked to a special interest or hyperfixation OR be a set routine for me, and since I don't have a routine for dinner that's the most difficult meal of the day. And TSH is my hyperfixation at the moment so... behold: every food the Greek class eat (not including drinks or we'd be here forever).

(Under a read more because it's Long.)

Chapter 2

Page 62:

Despite the vast amount we ate that afternoon – soups, lobsters, pates, mousses, an array appalling in variety and amount [...]

Page 73:

Charles had the oven open and was poking at some lamb chops with a fork.

Page 90:

[...] to find Bunny and Charles on the front porch, eating ham sandwiches and playing cards.

Page 94:

We borrowed Henry's car, drove to Maine so he could have a club sandwich in a bar he liked there [...]

Page 103:

Francis sat curled in the window seat with a plate of little sandwiches in his lap, reading [...] Bunny lay on his stomach on the hearth rug, doing his homework; occasionally he would steal one of Francis's sandwiches or ask a pained question.

Chapter 3

Page 120:

I found an awkward note of apology in my mailbox, wrapped around a paperback copy of the poems of Rupert Brooke and a box of Junior Mints.

Page 121:

Sitting around the kitchen table we had a sad, makeshift dinner of canned mushroom soup, soda crackers, and tea without sugar or milk.

Page 126:

Then I would go make myself a can of soup and some instant coffee on the hot plate in the Social Science office [...]

Page 142:

But sometimes when I got home he would have made dinner – he wasn't a fancy cook like Francis and only made plain things, broiled chickens and baked potatoes, bachelor food [...]

Page 144:

I cut some bread and made him a cheese sandwich, as he showed no inclination of getting up and making anything himself.

Chapter 4

Page 154:

One morning after he'd had a date with Marion, he showed up at breakfast with his tray full of milk and sugar doughnuts

Page 162:

I went upstairs and got myself a cup of coffee and a couple of soft-boiled eggs, which I ate alone at a table near a window in the empty main dining room. [...] It was the big back-to-school dinner that night – roast beef, green beans almondine, cheese souffle and some elaborate lentil dish for the vegetarians.

Page 166:

He reached in and pulled out a frozen cheesecake.

Page 172:

'There was no food at Francis's house except some cans of black olives and a box of Bisquick.' 'Yes. We ate olives and Bisquick.' [...] 'There wasn't any milk, even,' said Camilla. 'We had to mix the Bisquick with water.'

Page 175:

Henry ordered an enormous dinner – pea soup, roast beef, a salad, mashed potatoes with gravy, coffee, pie – and ate it silently and with a great deal of methodical relish. I picked erratically at my omelet and had a hard time keeping my eyes off him as we ate.

Chapter 5

Page 198:

Walking home, a sandwich from the snack bar in my pocket, [...] Bunny leaning back on his elbows with his legs stretched in front of him, cracking pensively with his rear molars at a little Dum-Dum sucker.

Page 200:

'He took a quart of ice cream out of my freezer to eat while he waited he couldn't bother to get a bowl of it, you understand, he had to have the whole quart – and when he fell asleep it melted all over him and on my chair and on that nice little Oriental rug I used to have.'

Page 204:

We ate Welsh rarebits and listened to the rain beating down in gusts on the roof.

Page 234:

Dinner appeared with instantaneous magic: pork roast, biscuits, turnips and corn and butternut squash, in thick china bowls that had pictures of the presidents (up to Nixon) around their rims.

Page 237:

To the casual observer, I suppose, he seemed pretty much his jolly old self - slapping people on the back, eating Twinkies and Ho Hos in the reading room of the library and dropping crumbs all down in the bindings of his Greek books.

Page 240:

He ignored our awkward greetings and went straight to the cabinet and made himself a bowl of Sugar Frosted Flakes and sat down wordlessly at the table.

Page 252:

She was still a girl, a slight lovely girl who lay in bed and ate chocolates [...]

Page 264-5:

He reached in the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a bundle wrapped in napkins. 'I brought you a sandwich since you weren't at lunch. [...] It was cream cheese and marmalade, I knew without looking. The twins were fanatical about them but I didn't like them much.

Page 269:

There was roasted lamb, new potatoes, peas with leeks and fennel; a rich and almost maddeningly delicious bottle of Chateau Latour. I was eating with better appetite than I had had in ages when I noticed that a fourth course had appeared, with unobtrusive magic, at my elbow: mushrooms. They were pale and slender-stemmed, of a type I had seen before, steaming in a red wine sauce that smelled of coriander and rue.

Page 279:

Henry switched off the lamp and went to the stove and began, rather mechanically, to make some bacon and eggs.

Page 283:

'Well, I don't know who did it,' the house chairperson said, 'but whoever it was, they had spaghetti for dinner.' [...] Then I put on my robe and, eating an apple I'd found in the house kitchen, walked downstairs [...] When I got to Henry's, I was glad to see that Charles and Francis were still picking at a cold chicken and some salad.

---

OK, so so far we have lots of sandwiches, European-style food, and mentions of lots of unspecified meals (that I didn't include) but some were seen as elaborate by Richard's standards. I did take note of the drinks, but they seem to be of all varieties; alcoholic drinks (which tended to be whiskey based), coffee, tea, water, and soft drinks. This is a good start, and I'll be back for Book 2 soon for more inspiration.

[taurosrider13]

A few tips from a fellow Audhd who just moved into college for the first time (these won’t work for everyone but they’ve helped me)

- Put your medication in those weekly box things old people use, does wonders to help you remember if the meds have been taken or what day you will run out

- Put doodles on your calendar/planner that match the event. Adding a little doodle helps me remember to actually put things down because it makes it fun

- Painters tape and sharpies do WONDERS to help organize things, they may not hold posters up that well but they sure are good at marking cabinets

- Don’t sit in your bed when you have break time, you will have a hard time getting out. If your dorm has a common area with a couch/chairs sit there or sit outside and enjoy the fresh air

- Use what I like to call “the summer camp rule” in the dining hall. You gotta drink one full glass of water before you get your “fun drink” like coffee or soda. (This was the rule at my summer camp and it did wonders usually I just wanted more water afterwards and didn’t even get the fun drink)

-Back to the painters tape MARK YOUR KEYS. Use some tape and pen to label what key goes where and some extra info on them (dorm room, mailbox number etc)

Will update if I learn any more tricks