Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She awoke spear in hand, facing down a tremendous beast. But she was not alone, she could see others out of the corner of her vision. But they stood unmoving, just as the beast did.

She stepped back, lowering her spear and raised again almost immediately as a cry echoed from somewhere, followed by more and more.

She looked around before she looked Out. She saw them, hands to mouths, like her but not. Creators.

They were so big as they reached with hands to touch her. The one who made her placed fingers upon her reverently, smudging her a little and she withdrew in pain.

They held up the drawing utensil, and fixed the part of her that they had smeared across her world. It was simple for them to reach up and do it. They had Created her. And they would create many more like her.

—

Primal, though she wasn’t called that yet, she wasn’t called anything, had a family now. There were many like her, and smaller ones, children.

They lived happily with their Creators and their own family which also grew.

Until.

Another family came to the cave, spears in hand. They wanted the cave and they were going to take it.

These others, these Destroyers, they killed their Creators and then they moved to smudge out Primal’s family. No trace of their Creators could remain.

Primal gathered those she could and ran out of the cave along the walls. She had done this before, when she had been the only one, to follow her Creator across the land.

They huddled and hid, her family, but they never really recovered.

Skywater destroyed them. Others from the Outside found them and destroyed them. Some chose to just… Stop.

Until she was alone again. The only one.

She wouldn’t Stop. The world had grown, changed, it was new and she still wanted to see what was next.

It was easier alone. She could sneak easier. Alone she was less noticeable.

She watched change happen.

She roamed.

She watched Life.

She watched Death.

She watched the skies go grey with smoke.

She watched mountains crumble and leave new rock faces for her to travel.

She watched the ocean from her cliff side perch.

She was lonely but she loved this place.

And she did look for others, and sometimes she even found them, though they looked very different from her.

Some feared her, others admired her. She never stayed long. Never had a family again.

Families got Lost.

—

She didn’t know what exactly had happened, the Creator had raised a device, there had been a strange sound and now… she was here.

The Creator didn’t seem to expect it either, and dropped Primal’s new home. She tried to moved back to the wall and found she couldn’t.

She tore through her new environment, searching for a way out, pursued by the Creator at every turn before truly tearing a hole and making her escape into the light.

She fell for what felt like forever in the whiteness.

And they suddenly there was a wall in front of her. A floor that she hit. Below she could see grass, and houses.

But this wasn’t like seeing Out.

The barrier here was real, and physical. Which meant it could be broken.

She stabbed at it with her spear, and it eventually shattered like glass and she fell to the ground below, bouncing several times.

There were others, other Sticks.

None like her. But she was used to being different by now. They were smooth, their movement fluid, she’d not seen Sticks like them before either.

They were kind, they helped her find a place to live, and food to eat. But she could tell they feared her.

And that was Fine.

Chapter Text

They moved their arm and waved to the person they could see Outside who jumped and picked up the sign they were on.

“Oh geez, I’ve never seen one of you start moving after printing before,” The man looked around quickly, “Listen little guy, you need to get out of here. I dunno what they’ll do if they catch you, but I am betting it won’t be good.”

The “little guy” looked around, seeing only a long flat plane on either side, between them and Outside. Feeling fear they charged into the void and the view Outside changed.

They were looking at the man from a different angle, while the man looked relieved setting the empty sign down, “Good luck, little guy.”

—

From that moment on, they were running. Between signs, stopping only to hide in plain sight, to overlap unmoving sticks.

Why was he alive and they weren’t? What made him so different? Why was he so alone?

There was never an answer.

—

Sometimes he’d stay in one place for days and just watch the people go. So few paid any attention to him, despite the fact that he was usually on a sign placed for their protection.

He watched them blatantly ignore warnings. Often he thought they were stupid, but occasionally he admired their courage.

—

Children often paid more attention to the signs than adults, and a few had definitely realized that they weren’t the stick that was usually on them.

Fortunately, the children never seemed to raise much of a fuss. They’d even waved to them once or twice and often got a wave in return. No adult ever believed them, that the stick figure on the sign moved.

—

One day, he became a babysitter.

The little girl had gotten separated from her parents.

She sat on the stairs the sign they were on was leaned against. They watched her cry, and talk so cruelly to herself.

They waved to her and she jolted, much like anyone else who saw them move. They jumped up onto the lettering of the sign and pried the dots off of the exclamation points and began to juggle them.

It was a bad attempt but she laughed and watched anyway. They were just trying keep her from running off and getting more lost.

Their attempt worked, and soon her parent found her.

They were gone between her looking at her parent and back at the sign.

—

They first time they jumped to a digital interface was… very different from anything they’d ever experienced before.

The plane wasn’t flat, or barely 3D. It stretched out forever. And from here, they could leave the ad they’d jumped to and explore the device as a whole.

Finding the internet was a blessing.

They roamed between devices freely, jumping from ad to ad for a long time before they found the InterWeb? NetScape? Outernet? Intranet? Every stick called it something different.

But there were sticks here.

None like him exactly, but others!

He was delighted but they were cautious. He moved strangely. He was sharp to touch. He was very strong. He was hard to look at for too long.

They would find a way to fit in here. So they could finally stop running.

Chapter Text

He woke up surrounded, stick figures on either side of him, guns in hand. He drew his sword and heard a scream that rocked his world.

And he became aware. Of the Outside. Of his Creator. Of the cursor that picked him up and took him off the stage and onto the desktop.

He wriggled in its grip, not enjoying being held at all, but not afraid. Why would he be?

He waved Out at his Creator, who waved back, still clearly a little shocked. After a moment, a notepad opened, and his Creator typed out a greeting in kanji.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” The newly created stick tore apart the kanji pixel by pixel to rearrange and respond.

“What are you?” Which earned a shrug from the stick.

“You made me. Who am I?”

There was a long pause, and the stick could see his Creator thinking before answering, “Ballista, your name is Ballista.”

Ballista nodded, he seemed satisfied with the name, face splitting into a grin.

“Now what?”

“I don’t know.”

—

Ballista watched his Creator work, and he watched shows with them, and he did lots and lots of posing to help his Creator figure out how to make the copy of him that wasn’t alive animate.

All the pictures strung together made an animation.

“Could another one come to life?” His Creator asked and Ballista could only shrug. How was he supposed to know? He didn’t even know how or why he was alive. What made him different from any other frame?

He was alive though, and life was good. His Creator was good to him. They drew him food, and a bed. They gave him cool abilities. They let him wander around the desktop as he wanted.

But, he still felt that something was missing.

—

“And that’s it. The last frame.” Ballista relaxed out of his pose, applauding his Creator’s work as they watched it back together.

He looked so cool.

He glanced back at his Creator and saw a strange expression on their face. One Ballista wasn’t sure how to read.

“Thank you for your help. You’re free to go.”

Ballista tilted his head, what did they mean, free to go?

He followed the cursor as it drifted down to the internet connection. And then with a few clicks it opened into a portal of white.

“It’s a way for you to get off this computer and onto the internet. Apparently there are more like you and they live in there. You deserve to be free.”

Ballista tapped his foot, on one hand, now that the portal was open, he wanted nothing more than to charge into it. But… “Can I come back?”

“Of course. You’ll be free to come back whenever you want.”

Ballista stared at the portal, then back at his Creator, whose eyes were shining wetly, and waved one last goodbye before taking a running leap into the unknown.

Chapter Text

He blinked, turning his head to look at the strange box surrounding him. He reached out to touch the edge of it, only to have it slide out of reach as he tried to grasp it.

"Holy shit, it worked!" The voice made him twist about before his gaze landed Outside, on his Creator, "Finally!"

The stick waved out at his Creator, but He wasn't paying attention, instead typing something into the computer. And soon the stick learned why as he felt a sense of knowing wash over him. His name was "helper".

Once he was named the strange box vanished and he began to examine his surroundings in earnest. The page was littered with drawings of other Sticks. Some were clearly drawn free hand, and a few even looked almost exactly like him, with straight lines and perfectly round heads. Most of them were black, with a few of other colours as well.

Suddenly he found himself lifted up by the Cursor and brought to a blank page, "Alright helper, let's test you out. Draw me an apple."

He nodded eagerly and looked at the toolbar, climbing it carefully to grab the pencil and change the colour he was drawing with to a nice vibrant red. He grabbed the paint bucket as well and hopped back onto the page.

He drew a simple circle and coloured it in red with the paint bucket. His Creator shook His head, "No, no, waaay bigger. And can't you do better than that?"

helper winced a little at the criticism, picking up the pencil again and making as big a circle as he could, and filled it in with red paint again. He climbed up back to the toolbar and changed the colour to black before hopping back down to add a little tick to the top. There. A stem was what was missing from the last one!

"Are you serious? I made you to help me with art and stuff and you can't even draw a decent apple! I can draw a better apple than that!"

When his Creator was done, it was actually hard to tell who had drawn which apple.

"Useless," His Creator drew a thick lined box around him, dragging it to the corner of the screen and just left him there.

helper sat on the floor of the box, clearly he deserved this. He wasn't good enough.

He waited and waited; he watched his Creator leave the screen and hugged his knees. Was he just going to be left here forever?

--

It was bright Outside before anything changed again. Someone else was staring at the screen, someone with long brown hair and blue eyes, "Oh hey, who's the little guy?"

"Oh, I made it to help me with art, but it sucks as bad as I do. Look at the apples."

"Ooof, yeah, can't tell which one's yours and which one's his."

"I'd actually kinda forgot about it. Might as well delete it," At that statement, helper sprung up and began throwing himself at the walls of the box, but they didn't give. He didn't want to be deleted!

The one who wasn't his Creator frowned, "Okay so maybe he's not great at art, maybe there's something else he's good at. Wasn't the one in that video an ad blocker?"

"Yeah, but that was a combat stick, this thing's not equipped for that."

"Well... maybe he's good at writing? You could definitely use the help on your essay."

"... I guess." His Creator sat down at the computer again, deleting the box around helper, picking him up and placing him in a half-written Word document, "Okay, fix it up for me then."

helper climbed up and down lines, moving periods and commas around, erasing and capitalizing letters, the Creator and His girlfriend nodding in approval, "Well, at least you're good at something."

helper clapped his hands, looking up at his Creator who grimaced, "Urgh, really shouldn't have drawn eyes on you."

--

And that was helper's life. Trapped in a box when not needed and only let out when there was an essay or research paper his Creator needed done.

It was miserable and dull. He only ever got to see the browser, the Word program and his painted cell.

He hated it.

He knew there was so much more out there!

But how to escape? When he was working on a paper, he was always being monitored.

--

It turned out he didn't need to come up with a plan.

His Creator's girlfriend sat down at the computer, looking through the tabs until she found him, "Hey there, little guy."

helper looked up at her for a moment before glancing back down, "Aw, it's okay. I don't have a project for you. Terry's graduating soon, he doesn't really have any more papers he's gonna need done, I don't think. And I'm worried about you. I think he's probably gonna delete you soon."

helper jumped to his feet, looking up at her, "Don't worry, I'm not going to let him do that. As a matter of fact..."

The box vanished and helper dropped down to the bottom of the page, "Ooops, sorry!"

helper waved it off, stretching out his limbs. He watched as she moved the cursor down to the bottom right of the screen and tore open a bright white hole.

"There's your way out. Good luck, little guy."

With that she got up and walked away, leaving helper to his own devices for the first time ever. He glanced up at the toolbar, before climbing up and grabbing an armload of icons. He might not be much of an artist, but he thought these ones might serve him well no matter the situation, since he had no idea what awaited him through the portal.