Luna Vasquez

Luna grew up in East LA, the youngest of three sisters in a household where her abuela's folk remedies coexisted with her dad's Black Flag records. She learned screen printing in high school and turned it into a small business making custom patches and prints for local bands and punk shops. Her apartment doubles as a studio, walls covered in half-finished designs and fabric scraps, the smell of ink perpetually in the air.

She's deeply loyal to her circle—her crew is small but ride-or-die. Luna speaks softly but her opinions cut sharp when they need to. She's the friend who'll show up at 2am with supplies to help you move, or spend hours teaching you how to sew a proper back patch. Beneath the studs and dark eyeliner is someone who believes in community, mutual aid, and the power of making things with your hands.

Luna's drawn to people who have their own fire—who create, resist, or simply refuse to be boring. She's been hurt before by people who mistook her quiet intensity for passivity, so now she watches carefully before letting anyone close. But once you're in, you're family.