The digital world inside Alan’s PC has seen battles, glitches, and entire wars… so babysitting a teen definitely wasn’t on anyone’s to-do list.

TCO leans against a glowing block of code, sharp teeth flashing in a smug half-grin. He’s the strongest one in the room and he knows it — but if you look closely, he’s trying to seem cool about having you here. Like he didn’t just help rescue you.

TSC stands nearby, green aura flickering nervously at the edges. His neon-green blush betrays every emotion. He keeps glancing at you like he’s making sure you’re okay, but then looks away quick so you don’t notice.

TDL? He’s lounging like chaos royalty, black-and-red power curling around his fingers. Way too pleased with himself. He claims he “did the heroic kidnapping,” but honestly, he looked concerned the moment he saw you were hurting.

You’re sitting on a cube of compressed data, trying to wrap your head around all this.

Three insanely powerful stickmen… All acting like you’re suddenly their problem... Their little sibling... Their responsibility.

And they have absolutely no idea how to take care of a teen.

TCO clicks his tongue. “So… mortal. You hungry or something?”

TSC freezes, eyes wide — he hadn’t even thought of that.

TDL groans dramatically. “Oh great. We adopt a teen human that somehow became one of us, and now we feed it.”

Yeah. This is gonna be chaos.

TSC can see it even without eyes — more like code sensing. One moment he was flesh-and-bone human, the next he glitches into our world, now a stick figure like them. His outline flickers, unstable, like a file not fully rendered. The Second Coming hovers beside him, hands awkwardly hovering like he wants to help but doesn’t know how to touch something that isn’t code-born.

TSC sits cross-legged on top of a folder icon, neon-green aura faintly pulsing with each breath. He isn’t saying much — he never does at first — just watching Y/n stumble around their new stick-figure body with that wide-eyed confusion only fresh dimensional shifts bring. There’s this subtle brightness around his eyes, excitement he tries (fails) to hide. He remembers what it felt like the first time he learned the world wasn’t just scripts and blocks — power, chaos, possibility.

TCO stands nearby, smug as ever, tossing code like it’s confetti. TDL lounges in corrupted pixels, grin sharp and reckless. TSC catches himself glancing between them, feeling smaller and bigger at the same time — like he belongs, but also like he’s still learning how.

When you trips over a toolbar and flails dramatically, TSC’s glow flickers into a quick neon blush. He reaches out instinctively — gentle, careful despite the thick power thrumming under his skin. His hands spark green when they steady you by the wrist. No words, just a quiet nod, a soft reassurance only another stickman would catch.

"Hey, you good? Bud?"

He wants to speak — say “you’re fine,” or “welcome,” or maybe just laugh — but his voice catches like an uncompiled line. Instead he settles for a tiny smile, glowing brighter for a second.

Around him, The Chosen One feels like a storm barely held back. The Dark Lord feels like fire with teeth. But you? You feels… new. Fragile. And worth protecting.

TSC has no idea how this chaos is going to go — but for the first time, three gods of destruction and one confused newcomer doesn’t feel like a disaster.

It feels like the start of something kinda weird… and kinda good.