Chapter Text
People are sometimes secretive; a person most would not discover unless they were an ass..
Like this 15-year-old girl; named Pencil.
Pencil. Doodlefon.
She was currently crying in her room; dancing and screaming to Avril Lavigne after the events of TPOT 17.
Avril was basically Pencils idol.
"ALL MY LIFE IVE BEEN GOOD, BUT NOW! IM THINKING WHAT, THE HELL!?" Pencil screeched at the top of her lungy wungies.
"Turn that devilish music off and come eat!" Golf Ball demanded.
The entirety of Pencils team was Christian.
"Ugh, fine!" Pencil huffed, slamming the door shut behind her as she stomped down the hallway. She plopped herself into a chair at the kitchen table, arms crossed and face scrunched up in annoyance. Golf Ball sighed and set a plate of toast in front of her.
"Pencil, we love you just the way you are," Golf Ball said sarcastically, rubbing Pencil's back. "But we're worried about you getting too caught up in those secular songs. They might lead you to hell."
Pencil rolled her eyes but didn't respond, focusing instead on tearing a chunk from her toast. The rest of the team filed in one by one, exchanging concerned glances. Even normally cheerful Yellow Face looked troubled.
"I've been praying extra hard for you, Pencil," Donut said softly. "We all have."
"Loser, dear.. can you pass the sugar over?" GB asked.
"I can do it!!" Yellow Face giggled.
"Thanks, but I asked *him.*" GB continued.
"First of all, Loser's my deadname! Second of all, it's *them.* I'm nonbinary. You know this." Winner groaned.
"No, it's Loser." Golf Ball was also homophobic, apparently.
"I don't care what pronouns you prefer, you're still a guy named Loser." Golf Ball continued, glaring at Winner. "And don't even get me started on that nonbinary bullshit."
Winner flinched at Golf Ball's harsh words, feeling a familiar sting of shame and anger. They knew better than to argue with their teammates when they were in this mood.
"Just...just pass the sugar, okay?" Winner mumbled, looking away. The others seemed oblivious to their distress, chattering on about their plans for the day.
"Winner, you're such a FAGGOT!" Golf Ball bitchslapped Winner.
Winner reeled back from the stinging slap, tears welling up in their eyes. Their mouth opened in shock, but no sound came out. They felt humiliated, degraded, and utterly alone.
"Don't you dare speak to them like that again," Price Tag suddenly snapped, their voice trembling with rage. She slammed her fist on the table, making everyone jump. "That was completely unacceptable!"
"But Taggy, Loser knows he's supposed to act like a man," Golf Ball protested, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her tone.
"Their our teammate, and we should treat them with respect!" They insisted, their cheeks flushed with indignation. For once, her usual timidness had given way to fierce protectiveness.
Golf Ball's expression darkened. "Fine, whatever. But don't expect me to start calling him 'they' or whatever nonsense." She turned to Pillow, who was watching the scene unfold with wide, horrified eyes. "You, go get the Bible. We need to pray for Winner's soul."
Pillow nodded quickly, scrambling to obey. As soon as she left the room, Golf Ball leaned in close to Winner, her voice low and menacing. "You better shape up, Loser. Or else." With that, she stood up and stormed out, leaving Winner shaken and alone at the table.
Winner sat frozen, tears streaming down their face as they tried to process the overwhelming emotions. Fear, humiliation, and a deep sense of isolation washed over them. They felt so small and vulnerable under Golf Ball's cold glare.
Just then, the creak of the front door signaled Pillow's return, Bible in hand. The others gathered around Winner, forming a tight circle. Donut placed a gentle hand on their shoulder while Yellow Face offered a tissue.
"Okay, let's all hold hands and say the prayer together," Golf Ball instructed, her voice firm but slightly shaky. "Lord, we ask that you guide Winner back onto the path of righteousness. Help them reject these sinful desires and find Your love instead."
As the group began to recite the prayer, Winner felt like they were drowning in a sea of judgment and condemnation.