Lauren Hamilton

Lauren Samantha Hamilton is a Martian-born American 16-year-old transgender highschool student. Since she was a little girl, Lauren has always been interested in historical science studies like archaeology and xenoarchaeology. She hopes to start a career with one of those fields after highschool.

Lauren is a petite young woman with lithe limbs, delicate wrists, and a soft, graceful presence that stands out in a crowd more for its quiet assurance than any attempt to command attention. Standing at 5'4", she’s shorter than most of her classmates, but there’s an upright, unhurried confidence in the way she holds herself—head high, posture easy but not forced—that gives her a sense of poise beyond her years. Her face is oval-shaped with gently rounded cheeks, a subtle chin, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks, adding a sense of youth and approachability. Lauren’s complexion is pale but healthy, showing the faintest hint of a sun-kissed glow from hours spent outside under the filtered Martian sunlight. Her skin is naturally clear, but not flawless—she deals with the occasional blemish or irritation just like any other teenager, and faint shadows sometimes settle beneath her eyes after late nights spent reading or writing.   The most striking feature on her face is her eyes—a bright, shifting hazel-blue, their color changing depending on the light or the clothes she’s wearing. They’re large, wide-set, and expressive, sometimes betraying a quick flash of curiosity or mischief even when the rest of her expression is reserved. Her brows are softly arched and well-kept, giving her face a natural frame that suits her quiet confidence. Lauren’s lips are medium in fullness, with a natural rosy tint that shows most when she’s smiling or laughing. Her nose is straight but small, with a slight upturn at the tip that she sometimes dislikes in the mirror but others find endearing. Her hair is light brown and naturally wavy, falling in soft, loose waves that frame her face and cascade well past her shoulders, usually brushing the middle of her back. Depending on the day, it might look tousled or carefully brushed, but it always carries a certain softness that complements her gentle features. When nervous or lost in thought, she often tucks a strand behind her ear or twists it absentmindedly, a habit that’s become second nature.   Physically, Lauren has an androgynous yet feminine build—narrow shoulders, slim arms, a subtle waist, and a hint of curve at her hips. Her chest is modest, but proportionate to her figure. She’s lightly built overall, with her 112 pounds evenly distributed and little extra muscle or fat. There’s a certain athletic lightness to her movements, though she’s never been the sporty type. The way she moves—sometimes quietly, sometimes quick and purposeful—reflects a mix of self-consciousness and easy familiarity with her body.

Lauren has worn girls’ clothing exclusively since she was five, and her wardrobe reflects both her love for classic styles and her desire to carve out a space for herself where she feels comfortable and authentic. Her taste leans toward pastels, soft colors, and gentle patterns, with a clear preference for simple elegance over flash or trend-chasing. She gravitates toward sundresses with subtle details, often floral, that complement her complexion and eyes—favoring light teals, blues, or blushes. It’s not uncommon for classmates to recognize her by a particular favorite dress, with its delicate embroidery or lace edging, or by her consistent choice of white ankle-length boots, which have become something of a signature for her. The boots are practical for the climate, but she also likes how they make her feel a bit taller and more put-together.   Lauren doesn’t always get her look right; sometimes she misjudges an outfit or overdoes the accessories, and she’s had her share of awkward trial-and-error days, showing up to school in something that seemed better in her room than it did in public. Her style isn’t about perfection, but about finding what makes her feel genuinely herself, even if it means standing out or risking a raised eyebrow from a classmate or shop clerk. She keeps her makeup minimal—usually just a touch of blush or mascara—and is more likely to skip it altogether if she’s running late or not in the mood to deal with it. For casual wear, Lauren favors high-waisted shorts, loose-fitting tops, and light denim jackets, all in soft or muted tones. She likes the comfort and the ability to mix and match, though she’ll admit to frustration when finding clothes that fit properly isn’t as easy as she’d like. Shopping can be both a joy and a headache; she loves picking out new things, but there are days when sizing mishaps or unhelpful salespeople remind her how easily confidence can waver.   Lauren’s personal effects are part of her daily routine and, in some ways, her identity. She always carries a small purse that matches or complements her outfit, with just enough space for a compact mirror, lip balm, her cellphone, and the old-fashioned journal and fountain pen she refuses to leave home without. Her journal is filled with sketches, observations, and notes—sometimes about her friends, sometimes about what she’s learning in class, and often about whatever historical or archaeological puzzle has caught her attention that week. Her most prized accessory is a delicate silver locket inherited from her grandmother; she wears it almost every day, running her thumb over the surface when she’s nervous or lost in thought. Other jewelry is minimal: a thin wristwatch that doubles as an astronomical calendar, small earrings, and, on rare days, a simple bracelet or ring.   Lauren’s approach to dressing and her personal effects is, above all, about balancing comfort with self-expression. She values the rituals of getting ready, the tiny decisions that let her assert her place in the world, and the everyday items that feel like extensions of herself. For Lauren, it’s not about being perfect or blending in, but about being unmistakably herself—flaws, favorites, and all.

Lauren Samantha Hamilton was born on Mars on April 22, 2709, to parents Conner and Meghan Hamilton as Michael Jacob Hamilton, their eighth and youngest daughter with seven older sisters. In her earliest years, Lauren seemed an ordinary young boy in most ways—energetic, imaginative, attached to her mother’s apron strings, and always trailing after her sisters. But even before she could explain it, Lauren gravitated toward the world of girlhood: she insisted on wearing her sisters’ hand-me-down dresses, preferred dolls to action figures, and never showed much interest in the “boy” hobbies her father tried to share. The Hamiltons were a close-knit family, but Lauren’s early years weren’t without tension; siblings teased, neighbors whispered, and even her loving parents sometimes struggled to understand what Lauren wanted or why she felt most herself when treated as a girl.   Her mother, Meghan, took the longest to adjust—her Baptist faith left her torn, and at times Lauren felt the weight of her mother’s disappointment in the small silences at dinner or the too-long pauses before saying “my daughter.” Her father, Conner, confused but deeply loyal, tried to meet Lauren halfway, sometimes fumbling pronouns or offering well-meant advice that only made things more awkward. Still, the family never shut Lauren out. The seven older sisters ran the gamut: a couple were fierce defenders, some kept their distance at first, and at least one didn’t speak to Lauren for nearly a year after she started wearing girls’ clothes to school. Over time, though, bonds rebuilt—sisters who had resisted slowly came around, drawn by Lauren’s determination and her obvious joy in her new identity. Eventually, they all pitched in, teaching her the subtle art of blending makeup, swapping stories about first dances, and helping her master the more unforgiving realities of adolescent girlhood. In the process, Lauren’s sisters found themselves with a new perspective on sisterhood itself—learning to appreciate Lauren’s individuality, and seeing their own experiences reflected and reframed through her.   School brought its own challenges. For every teacher who affirmed her name and pronouns, there is another who slips up or looks the other way at whispered comments. The first time she wears a skirt to class, a group of boys snickered and a friend abruptly dropped her. There were months when she eats alone, holding her head high but feeling the sting of every side glance in the cafeteria. Still, Lauren has grit: she doesn’t cave, doesn’t apologize, and finds her circle in unexpected places—fellow outcasts, bookworms, theater kids, and, eventually, a few old friends who realized they missed her more than they cared about fitting in.   As the years move forward, classmates start to grow used to her presence; the novelty wears off, and Lauren’s wit and kindness earn her allies. A few students never warm up, but Lauren focuses on the ones who matter—those who see her as a girl, full stop. Teachers, too, gradually shift; some become champions, others simply stop noticing anything unusual about Lauren at all. These years of struggle shape her into someone who balances resilience with warmth, and she never forgets what it feels like to be on the outside looking in. Academic and extracurricular life pull her forward: history, archaeology, and xenoarchaeology fascinate her, and she’s known for insightful questions and tireless curiosity. Through it all, Lauren’s family remains her anchor, and her sisters, especially, never let her forget that, whatever else happens, she will never face the world alone.

Lauren’s life outside the classroom is about as normal—and as messy—as any sixteen-year-old girl’s on Mars. She splits her time between the familiar rituals of Martian youth: afternoons hanging out at the mall with friends, or evenings at the local library, and weekends soaking up the sun at the beach. Fashion is one of Lauren’s passions, but it’s not just a hobby—it’s a way to fit in, to stand out, and sometimes to shield herself from the stares and whispers she still catches, even after years of “just being Lauren.” She helps her friends pick out outfits for events, but she’s not above a bit of envy when someone else pulls off a look she can’t, or frustration when a store clerk side-eyes her choices or gets her size wrong.   Her circle of friends is varied but not drama-free. Some friendships drift apart, especially when old childhood friends don’t quite know how to relate to Lauren’s new confidence, or when jealousies pop up over boys or social status. Lauren is no stranger to awkward silences or cold shoulders—she’s had sleepovers where the gossip turns sharp, and she’s learned the hard way not everyone who smiles is really a friend. She’s popular, but not universally liked; the “IT Girl” label is a double-edged sword, earning her admirers but also making her a target for petty rumors or resentment, especially from girls who resent her ease in certain social circles, or boys who are threatened by her refusal to fit a mold. Lauren’s love for books remains a comfort and a shield. She can usually be found with a battered paperback or her favorite old-fashioned journal under her arm, scribbling down observations about people or stories she’s reading. Science fiction and history still top her list, but she’s developed a soft spot for messy teen romances and mysteries, drawn to characters who don’t have all the answers—maybe because she rarely does, either. Books aren’t a retreat from life, but a tool for making sense of it—helping her empathize with people she can’t always understand, or offering perspective when real life feels like a tangle of contradictions.   Romance is a part of Lauren’s life, but not without complications. She has never had trouble catching the eye of boys, but dating is never as simple as it looks in the stories she reads. Some boys lose interest when they realize Lauren won’t just nod along with whatever they say, and others stumble over her past or rumors whispered by classmates. Heartbreaks sting, and while Lauren might play them off as “just life,” she fills her journal with every messy detail—first kisses gone awkward, fights over trivial misunderstandings, the embarrassment of being stood up, and the self-doubt that creeps in after a breakup. Sometimes she’s too eager to please, sometimes she says the wrong thing, and sometimes she pushes people away for reasons she doesn’t even understand until much later. She flirts, she makes mistakes, and sometimes she wishes she could just fast-forward to the part where everything makes sense. But even with the missteps, Lauren cherishes the experiences; she treats each one as another clue to what makes people tick—and what makes her tick, too.   Social life for Lauren is never just popularity or loneliness, but a constant balancing act. Most evenings, she can be found squeezed into a booth at “Elysium,” the local youth club, with her closest friends—swapping stories, arguing about music, or just decompressing after a rough week. She likes the feeling of being part of something bigger, but she knows how easily a crowd can turn or how quickly a joke at her expense can sting. Lauren tries not to judge people too harshly—she’s made her share of mistakes, too, and is quick to apologize when she messes up or lets her temper get the best of her. Lauren is involved in several school clubs and activities: student council, theater, and a science club all compete for her attention. She isn’t perfect—sometimes she takes on too much, loses track of her priorities, or forgets a deadline and has to scramble. She gets jealous of classmates who seem to have it all together and sometimes resents the pressure she feels to be a role model or “example” just because of who she is. But even when she stumbles, Lauren picks herself up, asks for help when she needs it, and tries not to let the bad days define her. She’s admired for her persistence more than her perfection, and if she’s learned anything, it’s that life rarely goes according to plan, but you keep moving forward anyway.   Through it all, Lauren tries to stay grounded. She’s fiercely loyal to those she cares about but can hold a grudge if she feels betrayed. She isn’t above the occasional petty argument with her sisters or the frustration of feeling misunderstood, even by people she loves. But in the end, Lauren’s personal life is defined not by easy victories, but by the way she weathers disappointments and finds small joys in ordinary things—another late-night conversation, a new favorite song, or a moment of unexpected laughter with friends.

As the youngest daughter of eight, Lauren has always lived in a house full of opinions, noise, and the ever-changing politics of a big family. Her father, Conner Hamilton, is a Mars-born engineer—a steady, practical man who loves his children fiercely but struggles to say it outright. When Lauren first insisted on living as a girl, Conner’s reaction was classic—awkward, confused, sometimes clumsy with his words or advice. He read up on gender identity and tried to support Lauren, but their relationship has its rough patches. Sometimes Conner overcompensates; sometimes he falls silent when things get complicated. For all his efforts, there are still days when Lauren feels he wishes for simplicity, and she wonders if she’s made things harder for a man who’s always valued predictability. Her mother, Meghan Hamilton, is Earth-born, a home-maker, and a devout Baptist. Meghan’s faith made Lauren’s transition a test of patience and belief. She spent many nights wrestling with scripture and prayer, and for a while, there were uncomfortable silences and forced smiles. Ultimately, Meghan decided that love outweighed doctrine, and she’s fiercely protective of her youngest now—sometimes to a fault, quick to scold anyone she thinks is disrespectful. Even so, old doubts sometimes flicker in her eyes, and Lauren has learned that “unconditional love” doesn’t always mean “unquestioning acceptance.” Their relationship is deeply affectionate, but not immune to hurt or misunderstanding.   Lauren’s seven older sisters make up a universe of personalities, opinions, and sibling alliances. Some were immediate champions of Lauren’s femininity, braiding her hair, teaching her how to apply mascara, and sneaking her advice about boys. Others took much longer, either keeping their distance or struggling openly with the changes in family dynamics. There were fights, slammed doors, and entire holidays where someone refused to speak to Lauren or anyone who supported her. But with time—and Lauren’s stubborn insistence on being herself—the sisters slowly found a new equilibrium. The oldest sometimes takes a motherly approach, a couple still act more like rivals, and the rest fall somewhere between co-conspirator and confidant. They all have their flaws: jealousy, competitiveness, even lingering discomfort on bad days. Yet, the shared history and the reality of growing up together on Mars keep them close, if sometimes only by obligation. Lauren’s sisters, despite the chaos, found their own views on womanhood shifting as they learned to accept her as their sister. For them, Lauren’s experience has reframed family traditions and created new ones—whether it’s letting Lauren take charge of holiday decorations or hashing out sibling drama during late-night kitchen conversations. The bond between Lauren and her sisters is unbreakable, but also far from perfect; they are each other’s biggest critics and fiercest defenders, sometimes in the same breath.   Lauren’s relationship with her boyfriend, Jonathan Dean, is a study in teenage contradiction. Jonathan is the school’s star quarterback, confident in public and sometimes lost in private. He’s been close to Lauren since grade school, and their relationship evolved slowly, punctuated by awkward milestones and a fair share of misunderstandings. He believed Lauren was just a quirky, clever girl from his class and, even after learning about her past, shrugged it off as a typical "tomboy" type of girl publicly, though privately he’s had his own questions and doubts. Their relationship is affectionate but far from fairy-tale perfect. They argue about dumb things, struggle to communicate, and sometimes break up over trivial slights only to reconcile a week later. For Lauren, Jonathan is both a source of comfort and, occasionally, a reminder of everything complicated about growing up different.   Outside her immediate family and boyfriend, Lauren’s network includes a handful of loyal friends, cousins, and an aunt to two nieces and one nephew. Her friendships are genuine, but not always stable. She’s lost friends over rumors, misunderstandings, or the simple drift that comes with growing up. New friendships are slow to form, and trust doesn’t come easy, but those who stick by her know Lauren is fiercely loyal, sometimes to her own detriment. She’s the friend who will show up at midnight to listen, but also the one who can’t always admit when she needs support herself. For Lauren, family and friends are not a perfect safety net, but a web of loyalties, flaws, and second chances. It’s the small gestures—a sister’s unexpected hug, a grudging apology from her dad, a friend defending her in the hallway—that matter most. Even when things are rough, Lauren knows she belongs, if not always without effort. The reality of her relationships is neither spotless nor simple, but rooted in the daily work of loving and being loved by real, imperfect people.

Lauren is, at first glance, a gentle and soft-spoken teenage girl, but it doesn’t take long to realize she’s more complex than that. Her quiet demeanor can sometimes be mistaken for shyness or passivity, but it masks a stubborn streak that runs deep. Lauren is fiercely independent, almost to a fault; she rarely asks for help, preferring to work through challenges alone, even when she’d be better off sharing the load. This trait earns her respect, but it also means she shoulders more than she should and occasionally resents others for not noticing when she’s struggling. She comes across as effortlessly feminine, though not in a way that feels put-on or exaggerated—Lauren’s sense of self is natural, but she’s not above feeling competitive or insecure when compared to her sisters or other girls. At times, she can be sensitive about her appearance or how others perceive her, and she sometimes goes overboard trying to prove herself, whether through fashion, academics, or social life. She has moments of vanity, and is not immune to jealousy—especially when it comes to friendships, attention, or recognition.   Highly intelligent and deeply curious, Lauren has a genuine thirst for knowledge that sets her apart from many of her peers. Her fascination with history, archaeology, and xenoarchaeology isn’t just academic; she loves puzzles, and is drawn to the challenge of connecting seemingly unrelated facts. She tends to obsess over new interests, sometimes to the exclusion of everything else, which can make her scatterbrained or unreliable with day-to-day responsibilities. She’s the kind of person who will stay up all night chasing an idea or filling her journal, then forget an assignment or show up late the next morning. Lauren’s compassion and sense of justice are both real and hard-won. She stands up for others and hates seeing anyone bullied or left out, but she doesn’t always get it right—sometimes she speaks before thinking, or gets so caught up in defending someone else that she neglects her own boundaries. She can be blunt, and her attempts at honesty sometimes come off as tactless or critical, which has cost her friends or made situations more awkward than they needed to be. Despite the challenges she’s faced, Lauren doesn’t wallow in victimhood. She’s resilient, with a dry sense of humor and a willingness to laugh at her own mistakes. But she has her blind spots: she can be judgmental, hold grudges, and occasionally get stuck in a loop of overthinking what others think about her. Under stress, she sometimes withdraws or lashes out, regretting it later but struggling to apologize immediately.   Her drive for acceptance is as much about understanding herself as it is about fitting in. Lauren wants people to see the real her, not just the version that’s easiest to explain or accept. She’s wary of empty compliments and prefers honesty, even when it stings. Above all, Lauren is defined by her persistence—she keeps going, even when things get hard, and tries to turn every misstep into a lesson. For all her strengths and flaws, she is as much a work in progress as anyone else, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lauren’s political views are complicated, shaped by her experiences, her family’s values, and the realities of life as a marginalized person in a society that’s still more conservative than it likes to admit. She leans progressive, especially on social issues—fighting for the rights of people who are misunderstood or shut out, and championing gender equality and fair treatment. But she’s also wary of slogans and sweeping change; growing up with parents who value tradition and sisters who argue every side of an issue, Lauren has learned that real progress is usually slow, often uncomfortable, and rarely as clean as campaign posters promise.   She’s vocal about the importance of education—not just as a way to get ahead, but as a tool for teaching empathy and bridging divides. She’s quick to call out ignorance, but she’s just as skeptical of “radicals” who want to burn down the old ways without offering anything better. For Lauren, patience is more than a virtue; it’s a political strategy. She believes most people need time to adapt, and that forced change only breeds resentment and backlash. This puts her at odds with both hardline traditionalists and those who push for instant transformation. She’s no revolutionary; if anything, she’s a skeptic—demanding evidence, doubting easy answers, and preferring policy grounded in actual lived experience. Her love for archaeology and history bleeds into her politics. Lauren is deeply protective of cultural heritage, especially on Mars, where the past is often bulldozed in the name of progress. She supports strict laws to safeguard historical sites, even when it means slowing development or upsetting powerful interests. This position has gotten her labeled as stubborn or naïve by some, but Lauren would rather fight for preservation and regret it than let the past be erased without a fight.   Lauren’s activism isn’t always popular—she’s been mocked for her “boring debates” and accused of being “too soft” or “too slow.” She’s lost friends over political arguments and sometimes questions whether she’s making any real difference. But she keeps at it anyway, convinced that meaningful change happens in the messy middle ground, not at the extremes. If she’s learned anything, it’s that standing up for what you believe is supposed to be hard, and that being principled isn’t the same as being perfect.