Work Text:
Here’s the continuation of your story, incorporating Gardenview’s setting and Shelly’s emotional struggles.
It was obvious.
So blatantly obvious that she wasn’t good at anything she tried. So painfully obvious how hard she’d worked to fit in, to make conversation with fellow toons. So disturbingly obvious how quickly they’d lose interest, their gazes wandering, their bodies shifting away before she could even finish a sentence.
She was sick of it.
Sick of the bullshit. Sick of the blatant ignorance of her existence. Sick of the undeserved cold shoulders she always received, whether from the children who visited Gardenview or the toons she shared a home with. She was sick and tired of being useless. Sick and tired of being boring, small, and nothing more than an eyesore.
She wanted to change.
No—she needed to.
But how?
How could she change to be better? How could she fit the expectations of Gardenview, a place designed to inspire and educate, when she couldn’t even get people to listen to her? What could she do to make herself interesting?
She wasn’t built to be anything other than a history-loving ammonite. She didn’t know how to be anything else.
The dim glow of emergency exit signs flickered overhead as she wandered the quieter halls of the museum, her footsteps silent against the polished floors. The exhibits around her—fossilized displays of prehistoric life, carefully curated sections showcasing the wonders of evolution—were meant to be fascinating. Meant to capture attention. Yet, despite being surrounded by remnants of creatures that had shaped history, she felt like the only thing in this building that had been forgotten.
The visitors never lingered on her displays. They passed by without a second glance, their excitement reserved for the more popular exhibits. Even the other toons had something that made them stand out—Astro had his floor, a whole section dedicated to him and the mysteries of the cosmos. Dandy was Dandy, the star of the show, and Vee, the ever-enthusiastic television, always had people gathering around to listen.
But Shelly?
She had her floor, too, but it was always the quietest.
She sighed, shoulders slumping as she leaned against one of the massive display cases. Inside, a preserved ammonite fossil sat in pristine condition, encased in glass and positioned beneath a spotlight. It was supposed to represent her, a piece of history that had survived through time.
And yet, she couldn’t feel further from it.
Her fingers traced the edge of her own shell, the smooth surface warm from her body heat. What am I supposed to do? she thought bitterly. How do I make myself matter?
The museum’s air felt heavier than usual, thick with the soft hum of the ventilation system. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint, static-like voice of Vee speaking to a group of children, their laughter bubbling through the corridors.
Shelly swallowed hard and turned away from the fossil display, heading toward the farthest section of Gardenview—the one where the lights were always a little dimmer, where the visitors rarely wandered.
Her space.
The place where no one would notice her, just like everywhere else.
But before she could disappear into the quiet, a familiar voice called out.
“Hey, Shelly.”
She froze.
Turning her head slightly, she spotted Astro leaning against the wall nearby, his blanket draped over his shoulders as always. His glow was faint under the artificial lights, but even in the dimness of Gardenview’s museum halls, he stood out.
She blinked, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t looking at her like the others did—he wasn’t searching for a way out of this conversation. He wasn’t politely acknowledging her just to move on.
He was here.
With her.
“…Hey, Astro,” she finally replied, voice quieter than she intended.
He stepped closer, his gaze flickering toward the fossil exhibit she had just been staring at. “Thinking about history again?” he asked, a knowing lilt in his voice.
Shelly hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”
He hummed, glancing between the ammonite fossil and Shelly herself. “Y’know, I think it’s kinda cool. How something so small lasted through time. Outlived everything else.”
She let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Yeah, well. Not sure I’ll have the same luck.”
Astro’s expression shifted, the usual relaxed ease in his posture straightening just slightly. “You do know you matter, right?”
Shelly’s breath hitched.
It was such a simple statement. So casually spoken. And yet—
She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t know,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, gentle warmth.
She stiffened as Astro placed a hand on her shoulder—not forceful, not overbearing. Just there. Present.
“You do,” he said simply. “Even if you don’t see it yet.”
Shelly didn’t know how to respond.
But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel invisible.