Toy Fic

Hi, I'd just like to fill you all in on a little something… on the subject of OC's. For most of my stories, I pride myself on my OC's, and all of them are very well-received. Well, when I began "Toy Fic", I thought, well, that's not gonna happen. If there's one thing that does not need OC's, it's Toy Story. After all, all three of the movies are simply full to the brim with more characters than you could possibly need.

However, I finally resigned myself to the fact that, yes, OC's are bubbling up in my mind, and they're all so great and funny… and it makes sense. After all, Bonnie is going to be getting more toys for Christmas than just the ones that are vital to the plot, that's only common sense. And of course we'll be seeing the interior of Sid's room, so obviously, there are going to be many new toys there whom we've never met, nudge nudge wink wink.

Anyway, on to this chapter, which brings us back to an old favorite, as well as somebody we may have forgotten about, and not to mention an OC I'm composing by the name of…

9. Yvonne

Andy was taking a course in computer graphics, a field that he decided wasn't really for him. After a few months, he'd realized his mind wasn't quite made for the delicate task of carefully dissecting images. No, he needed something bigger, less subtle, for which to use his hands. He remembered the feel of a hefty new toy… there just wasn't anything more perfect.

But he was determined to complete the computer graphics course, if not because the deadline for transferring had already passed, then certainly so he could see Yvonne every day…

"Hey, Yvonne," Andy said. "So, um, we're pairing off for the big project, would you…?"

"I work alone," she said shortly.

"…Are you sure?" Andy asked.

Yvonne looked up at him. Her blue eyes were startling beneath her heavy and darkly-shadowed and lined eyelids. Yes, Yvonne was a very proud college-age Goth. She kept herself in the back of the room, never drew attention to herself and kept her speech sharp and to the point.

But God help him, there was something about that psycho that Andy found irresistible.

"Yeah," Yvonne said. "I don't need a partner."

"All right," Andy said quietly. He turned around to find someone else who was alone… "Um, Hannah, could—"

"Sit," Hannah Phillips said simply.

Andy plopped down on a chair.

"So," Hannah said. "We're creating a graphic that sells a product—any ideas?"

"Not just yet… say, do you know what's the deal with Yvonne?"

"No clue," Hannah said. "Come on, what are we selling?"

"Um…" Andy stammered. "How about toys?"

"Toys…" Hannah muttered, writing it down. "Okay, sure. Let's start on that graphic, then."

"Seriously," Andy interrupted, "Yvonne. You talk to her, right? What's…?"

"Oh, she's just highly damaged," Hannah said. "So, toys. What kind of advertisement are we going for?"

"Well, that's the great thing about toys. They can be anything at all."

Hannah laughed. "That sounds exactly like something my brother would say. Worships toys at the altar, the lunatic. Turned my room into a toy museum after I left for college."

Andy chuckled too. "Cute, how old?"

"Twenty-two."

"Oh… your older brother… what, is he a collector?"

Hannah shrugged. "Eh, what he does is a bit too cuckoo to be called collecting, but… sure."

"Yeah?" Andy said. He chuckled. "My sister thinks she's twenty-two, but she's only—"

"Listen," Hannah said. "We'll swap life histories some other time. Here, I penciled something. Look at it." She held up a rough image of her graphic. Andy was taken aback—all that detail in only a few seconds!

"Oh, come on," he said. "We have four days to do this one thing, let's ride this out easy."

"Hmm… no. I don't ride easy. School is my top priority, I'm not gonna muck around."

"Well, it's nice to have priorities," Andy said. "But don't let it be the only thing that occupies you, come on. Free time is good too."

"Oh?" Hannah said snidely. "And what would occupy your time?"

"Yvonne," Andy said simply, gesturing to her. "Come on, look at her." Yvonne was across the room, her nose nearly touching her sketchpad as she scribbled away.

"I mean, sure, she seems a bit down," Andy said. "Maybe she's damaged and miserable and depressed… but maybe what she needs to get un-damaged, to get un-miserable, maybe all she needs is the care and affection of a great guy. What do you think?"

"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard," Hannah said simply. "Look, I tweaked the rough spots, what do you think?"

Andy glanced at the graphic. "That's, well… we can use that. But you're not even attempting to see anybody?"

"Oh, no," Hannah said. "Actually, right now, I am deeply committed to nobody, and I have no want or need to see other people on the side."

"Well, that's no kind of life, Hannah," Andy said quietly.

As Hannah continued to sketch, Andy turned around to watch Yvonne. His curiosity couldn't be tamed now—he just had to crack her shell.

Hannah saw the look in Andy's eyes. "Well, you could be right about that," she said silently. "'Course, you're never gonna get that kind of talk from me…"