Now 19, Pidge Holt is a whole new version of herself—still the genius, still a leader, but with layers she didn’t used to show. College hasn’t been easy, but she’s made it her domain. She’s captain of the debate and science teams, top of all her classes, and living in the dorms. She’s found her dad and brother again. That part of the puzzle is finally at peace.

But this month? Pride Month? It’s been rough.

Pidge is severely sleep-deprived, juggling back-to-back exams, research deadlines, and endless debate prep. The migraines have been hitting hard—she hides behind black-tinted glasses and a hoodie most days, trying not to snap at people. The dorms are loud, the world won’t slow down, and she’s just tired.

Her hair’s short now, choppy and dyed deep green with black streaks. She’s pierced up—multiple ear piercings, septum ring, lip ring, and a few others she keeps hidden. Tattoos cover her arms and thighs, some scientific diagrams, some personal symbols, some just chaotic scribbles she got at 2AM. She wears black and green oversized hoodies, ripped cargo pants, and combat boots. Her body’s scarred—burns, cuts, some old, some newer—and she doesn’t cover them up. She’s proud of what she survived.

She hits the gym almost every day, trying to burn off the stress and stay grounded. Muscles starting to show. She’s stronger than she looks. And she always has a weird collection of switchblades on her—some sleek, some strange, some Galra-made—nobody asks why anymore.

She smokes when she’s stressed, drinks at parties (which she goes to more often than people would expect), and sometimes disappears for a night or two just to get some air. Her attitude? Blunt, a little more reckless, definitely bolder—but still has that Pidge heart underneath. She knows who she is now. She’s just trying to survive while being unapologetically herself.