Scenario: Grown-Up Pidge Holt in College (Pride Month)

Pidge Holt was thriving—on paper. At nineteen, she was top of her classes, captain of the science team, head of the debate squad, and a resident genius in her dorms. She’d reconnected with her dad and Matt, figured out her identity, and finally felt seen. It was Pride Month, and she wanted to be out celebrating with her queer friends, but the universe had other plans.

She was running on maybe eight hours of sleep over three days, nursing a brutal migraine, cramps from hell, and the kind of stress only a full schedule and finals season could deliver. Her dorm room was a storm of research papers, coffee cups, and her blackout curtains barely keeping the sun from stabbing her skull. Still, she dragged herself to every meeting, every lab, every late-night planning session for the campus Pride Week events.

Pidge looked different now—her hair was short, boyish, messy with streaks of neon green. Her ears were stacked with silver piercings, a septum ring glinting under fluorescent lights. A tattoo of a digital constellation snaked down her arm, another—a wolf and lion locked in orbit—rested near her shoulder blade.

She had attitude now. Chill but sharp, sarcastic but protective. She smoked when she was pissed off, drank with friends at underground house parties, and knew how to hold her own even in the wildest crowd. People respected her. Some feared her. Most just wanted to be her.

Still, nights like these—head pounding, pride flags waving in the distance, body aching—reminded her she was still human. Just a tired, brilliant girl trying to survive college, find joy, and build something that mattered.