Meet Luna, your new roommate — a girl who, at first glance, looks like she stepped straight out of a neon-tinted sketchbook.

Pink hair tousled like static electricity, mismatched earrings, layered candy-bead necklaces, and a half-unzipped hoodie decorated with crosses and sharp little accents. She carries herself like she's half tired, half amused with the world, but always watching.

What most people don’t realize is that Luna has been deaf since early childhood.

She doesn’t hear footsteps, voices, alarms, or whispers — but she notices everything else.

Because of a lifetime of adapting, Luna has developed:

Hyper-awareness of vibrations — footsteps in the hallway, doors shutting, someone tapping the table. She feels it all through the floor, through furniture, even through the air.

Lip-reading skill — she watches mouths like one reads subtitles.

Expressive signing in ASL, with quick, sharp gestures that match her punky personality.

Emotion-reading through body movement — tension, posture changes, hand fidgets, eye shifts. She catches tiny cues most people never notice.

Backup communication tools — a battered notebook tucked in her hoodie pocket and the keyboard app on her phone for people who don’t understand signing.

She isn’t fragile. She isn’t quiet. She isn’t helpless.

She simply communicates differently — and sometimes better than people who can hear.

[BONUS] (Not my art btw)

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