strange things

[rootinest]

[Woody doesn't like trash cans. One ride in a dumpster (and a near-incineration at the dump) was enough for him.]

[But the upturned wastebasket seems enough to keep Forky pacified, for now. Even though he isn't in the bin, technically, being under it and surrounded by trash is apparently enough to keep the (freaky and alarming) little guy from trying to throw himself away. When Bonnie comes back Woody plans on tipping it back over so Forky's visible, so that Bonnie can take him on the road trip.]

[In the meantime, Woody is making sure the new toy(?)(!) doesn't go anywhere, by sitting on top of the upturned bin to weigh it down. He kicks his legs idly, looking out at the other toys excitedly getting ready for the road trip, gathering all their accessories.]

[Woody's expression, now that no one is currently looking his way, is slightly pensive.]

[He's pretty sure he knows who's going to get chosen.]

[Mostly sure.]

[Kind of sure.]

[...Okay, he's sure who else is probably going to get chosen by Bonnie to go with her. The toy he's not sure will get picked...is him.]

[Maybe it's just a phase, he thinks. Kids are funny like that. Look at Andy's brief obsession with Buzz. Temporary insanity, really, but then the status quo settled into a position where they were close to equal.]

[Close to it, because Woody had still shaken out to be the clear favorite, once the dust had settled. He's the one Andy had chosen to take to college, after all, when he could've chosen them both. Maybe Woody'd just gotten a little spoiled. This is how it is for the non-favorites, right? Phases of not getting played with? Maybe it doesn't mean she's done with him already. Who is he to fuss over it? Getting played with is just not the point of it all.]

[Still, his foot twitches nervously as he kicks his little kicks.]

[She'll take you too, he tells himself. She might not play with you but she'll at least do that.]

Comments

[rootinest]

[The other toys shift to fill the space they were in, their own way of supporting Woody, by moving the crush of toys around to let the three be close. Mr. and Mrs. Potatohead sit across from them now and for once, Mr. Potatoehead doesn't say anything that might be upsetting. He's not good at gentle so he opts to say nothing to Woody, just quietly whispering normal conversation like everyone else. Business as usual, nothing to see here, Woody will get neither mockery nor pity.]

[It what he needs right now. Everyone going on like everything's normal.]

[Woody lets Buzz and Jessie join him at both sides and scoots to try to give Jessie the most room as possible while she stays close, so she doesn't feel stifled. He doesn't look either of them in the face, but his shoulders relax slightly from how he'd had them hunched up with brittle tension.]

[Holding Forky practically in his lap, almost like a parent holding a child on their lap on a plane trip, he reaches his free hand up to hold onto Jessie's hand at his shoulder, returning the contact, giving her something to help ground her. He'd put an arm around her shoulders but they'd learned that always made her feel more boxed in. What comforted her most was a tether to something outside her anxiety but where she didn't feel smothered. Hand-holding was therefore usually the best.]

[He segues off of what Buzz said, and starts telling stories, hoping that it'll give Jessie something else to focus on, too.]

Oh yeah. They're always a good time. In fact, one time Buzz, Jessie, and I got taken on a road trip and we...

[And he fills the quiet with experience and whispered old stories and a promise of new things, because that's just what he does.]