Chapter Text
When Finn first opened his eyes, he had to feel around, to check if this was all real. He stumbled, unable to walk quite yet. When he inevitably ran into a table in an attempt to touch it, he earned himself a chip.
Delilah chuckled, then sat him down. She rubbed the rim of his head with her thumb. It seemed maternal, but deep down, Finn knew she was just checking if he’d fall apart. He didn’t.
“Finn,” she stated, as if testing his responses. He looked up at her, and she smiled with pride. Through all her failures working with a more delicate material, she held through, and this was her reward.
She jotted down small notes on her fragile little thing. He struggled to do much without hurting himself, but he stayed… oddly bold. He would crawl when he couldn’t limp, and every time he risked a crack, he took the chance as long as he got further from where he once stood.
Delilah couldn’t form a solid opinion on his recklessness. Though it would be detrimental to lose all her progress regarding this endeavor, it also meant that, if he survived these rough stages, he’d be just as bright a character with the children.
She decided to find a way to keep his excitement at bay.
Winding a purple toy fish, she smiled. Meanwhile, Finn sagged with the new weight of the water in his body. Though heavy, it felt… right. Though he could barely move with the fluid in his body, it made him feel almost whole.
And when Delilah dropped the bath toy in his head, he was complete. He grinned wide, feeling the little toy swim around in his head. He tried to reach for it, but couldn’t get his arms in without dipping his head and spilling his contents.
Eventually, Delilah’s handiwork managed to subdue him. He sat still just to feel Barnaby move. All the while, Delilah filled in the small crack under his eye.
“Thank you, Finn,” she mumbled quietly, spreading the black substance over the crack to keep it sealed. “I appreciate it.”
“Appreciate what?”
She blinked. So that would be his first words. Usually, Toons could already talk, but she gave Finn some slack—he was a fragile one. They probably had issues regarding development. Oh, well. She still loved him the same.
Then, she sighed. Her next project would not be so eventful. After Finn was already released to the public, Delilah began to begrudgingly work on Shrimpo.
Shrimpo was smaller, would probably take less ichor to make. That was likely the only good thing.
He was rude, incredibly so, about as mean as a kids show could get. The show was praised for not condoning bullying by not making him a tragic character, but that did not convince anyone to like him—just what he represented. He was loud and annoying, so Delilah only went through with some simple tests.
Make sure he didn’t melt, make sure he could (unfortunately) talk at the proper volume, and make sure he acted in-character. He punched the walls just fine, even with odd strength. He yelled until the ears of his handlers hurt. All of that was absolutely Shrimpo’s character—beholden to nobody, a selfish and arrogant individual all in a compact, cartoony body.
Shrimpo needed the shortest span of time to develop before he was tossed out, left to his own devices.
He only grew angrier when in the public eye. Sometimes, he’d be pulled back in to be reworked. However, nothing truly changed the essence of who he was. He supposed that was the worst thing his creators ever did to him.
~~~
After Gardenview had been abandoned, all the toons had been hit hard. Well, all of them but Shrimpo, who made a tasteless joke that it was bound to happen.
As everyone learned to adjust, Shrimpo found himself spending more time in his room. He’d write letters that he never gave, all of them just filled with the one thing he could think of—hate. He would grip the pencil with so much force that it would snap, and he’d have to grab a new one. When he ran out, his frustration would make him punch the walls until his knuckles leaked and the drywall caved.
Some Toons, in an attempt to understand what was going on, went underground, but Shrimpo never did. He felt no connection to the others. Why help them? Why bother, when they’ve done nothing for him, anyway?
When they came back with horror stories of deformed monsters, coated in black, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It didn’t affect him. It wasn’t like he’d ever go.
As apathy plagued Shrimpo, though, the hints of desperation began to show in Finn.
He would joke more often, to the point where he was often accused of not taking the situation seriously. Finn stopped trying to defend himself long ago. It’s not like the people who thought of him that way would listen. Instead, he doubled down. More jokes. Less… Finn.
~~~
On a rather cool day for summer, most of the Toons were either riding the elevator or talking with their friends. Shrimpo had neither. Instead, he went on a rare stroll. Then, some glass Toon came up beside him.