Luisas Being Luisas. Multiverse Because Idk

Luisas being Luisas. Multiverse because idk

Canon: Oh, hello newbie, what happened to you?

Broken ladder: Uhmm... I lost an arm??? In case you don't see it?

Cursed, not impressed: F...rssst ti...mm?

Broken ladder: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???

Canon: That's Cursed Luisa, her body kinda turns into a stone

Broken ladder: WHAT THE FUCK??? Ah... Are you okay??

Cursed: N...ope 😊😊

***

Fastened: Can I stay with you for a couple of days? Wax wants to beat me for restoring the miracle. What's up with her?? There's no way it would ever cause any harm

Cursed, appearing out of nowhere: 🙃ar...e yoou su..rr?🙃

****

Worship: WHERE'S MY SISTERS I HAVEN'T SEEN THEM FOR THREE MINUTES WHAT IF THEY ARE DEAD???

Swap: I DUNNO ABUELO, I'M SORRY, I'M GET READY FOR A THREAT

Worship:

Swap:

Swap: Sorry, it's old instincts.

****

Garish: I'M SAYING, THE PLAN IS BOUND TO FAIL

Swap: SO BREAK THE FLOOR IS ANY BETTER???

GTBG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU WON'T SHUT UP I'LL BURN YOU TWO

****

TTO: You need therapy.

Other Luisas:

****

Fastened: I remember that time I saw the cracks, I wanted to fix house in a normal way, lmao

Garish: Pff, I made a fucking lot more during my wecid time!

****

Wax: I swear! I will put an end to the curses!!

Canon: Have you gotten Cracked's stash again?

I'm Nour Alanqar, and reaching out to you during a time of unimaginable hardship. I am 26 years old, married to Ashraf Ismail, who is 32, and together we have three beautiful children: Hussein, 6, Rajaa, 5, and Youssef, just 10 months old. Our lives have been turned upside down by the devastating war in Gaza, and we desperately need your help.

My daughter Rajaa is a radiant beam of sunshine, bringing boundless joy, warmth, and love to everyone she meets.

On a dark night at the beginning of the war, our area was subjected to massive bombing. The explosions reached our home, forcing us to flee into the night, running amidst periodic explosions and searching for survival. We made our way to southern Gaza by morning, seeking refuge in Rafah.

This is our home, filled with our memories and moments of joy and happiness, now reduced to rubble. Its destruction shattered our hearts.

In Rafah, we found shelter in a crowded warehouse filled with strangers, all of us struggling to find basic necessities like food, water, safety, and cleanliness. Despite these challenges, we were again hit by direct bombardment. My husband was injured in the shoulder, and the scene around us was filled with blood and corpses. The cries of my children in those moments still echo in my head.

A fragment of what it once was, and now, what it has become.

We moved several times to places described as safe, only to face new tragedies. During this period, my precious daughter Raja contracted hepatitis, adding to our suffering.

It was incredibly difficult for me to endure these disasters, especially as I was in the process of giving birth. Youssef was deprived of proper breastfeeding and the necessary nutrition for his age. Hussein's right to education and a safe childhood have been cruelly taken from him.

My baby Youssef, whom I clung to throughout the war, running with him through the rubble of shattered homes to escape.

At an age when Hussein should have been enjoying his childhood, all his rights were taken away from him.

Our situation is dire, and we need your support to rebuild our lives and provide a future for our children. Your kindness and generosity can make a profound difference. Your contributions will help us secure safe shelter, access to medical care, and the basic necessities of life.

Please, consider helping us during this critical time. Every donation, no matter the size, brings us one step closer to safety, stability, and a chance to rebuild our lives.

gofundme.com

Donate to Rebuilding Live: A Mother's Plea for Hope and Safety in Gaza, organized by Nour Alanqar

Hello, I'm Nour Alanqar, and reaching out to you during a… Nour Alanqar needs your support for Rebuilding Live: A Mother's Plea for Hope

Camilo: I wish Luisa was the one to have Belén as a second name. This way we could not only use Isas for Luisa and Isabela, but also Bels for Luisa and Mirabel. Or even for three of them.

Cold sisters:

Isabela: Which one of us should hit you?

Isabela: I remember the time before my twin-prima was born... It were the dark ages

Dolores: We're born twenty-three day apart

Hay que partir y construir su propio futuro

It wasn't getting better. She wasn't okay. She was broken and torn apart.

TW: Suicidal thoughts

Alma gripped her down, half sitting in the bed. Her heart kept bouncing back-and-forth, cracking inside her chest. She felt bad. Awful. A viscous feeling crawled inside her bones. Sick and pained agony that knotted her organs. It was dark. The solid shutters were closed tightly, not allowing the dark light to push inside the room.

There was a bitter taste on her mouth. Cold fingers stuck into her heart, squeezing it. The juice was coming out, disgusting and broken. Just like everything. Lifeless finders held her lungs tightly, not allowing her to breathe.

People had said the pain would go away. Like the paint washed off in the clean water. But it didn't work. Alma only felt this water getting more and more dirty. But her soul still was bedraggled. Torn like an old dress that could only be used as a floor rag. She remembered Pedro standing in front of her. Just one second ago. And then it all disappeared. Torn, broken. Never to be repaired. If you try to stitch it together it would just be torn at the seam even worse than before. If she closed her eyes, she could still see that river. She could feel a rough shore underneath her. The grains of sand digging into her arms. Feel her own screams tearing her throat

It wasn't getting better. It was never getting better. Something inside of Alma, something essensual for her to live wasn't here. It would never be here. Stains grew under her skin. Like a bunch of worms that couldn't stop wriggling. Always here to remind of the pain that ripped her brain in half. Claws that smashed her scull, squeeze out her eyes.

She didn't save Pedro. She allowed him to die. Was she any better than these riders that broke peace in their hometown? No, no. She really wasn't any better. Maybe even worse. They didn't know what a wonderful person Pedro was. But Alma knew. And she didn't stand up for him. She should've been dead. She should... Alma was worst ib everything. She was torn. Broken like that candle that she wanted to smash against the ground. But it didn't help. Of course. It always was here, never even melting. It was so hard to even look at it. Let alone rememver the meaning. A wedding candle that tied Alma to a useless piece of a thread. It strangled the tip of her finger, threating to chop it off. Cut into the meat.

Alma dug her nails into her wrist, so hard that the small patches of bruises grew from the pressure. She couldn't do this. She couldn't do this. She was wrong, she was broken. Shattered. She didn't feel better. She couldn't let go. The pain would never let her breathe. Never let her be Alma again. It was here, always here. Pedro's dead voice would never leave her head. Nightmares would never let her go. These when she saw her dear Pedro being slashed. Where no matter how fast Alma ran, she could never get closer to him. She could stand one hand away from Pedro, and it would be the biggest distance in the world.

She should be dead. She deserves to die. She's an awful mother, wife. An awful person. Pedro would be alive if it wasn't for her. Alma could've saved him. But she was too selfish. A coward that allowed him to die. It would be so much better if she didn't exist. Maybe go out amd drown herself in a lake. Heavens knew she would faint if she tried to stab herself (like Pedro was). But water at least held some symbolism too. It would be so much better for everyone She was an awful person. She was a broken plate. A stabbed cocoon of a dead butterfly. Maybe she wasn't even alive. Just a breathing corpse that rotted inside.

She should've been dead, she should...

Alma froze as somebody pulled her by the sleeve. For a second she felt her heart stopping.

"Mamí sad?" Julieta looked up at her. Both of her siblings were still asleep. But she was an earlier riser, already awakened before the sun could even come out.

Alma let out a shaking breathe. What was she thinking about? She wanted... She almost... How could she even think of leaving her kids alone? Make them orphans? God... She was a really bad mother. What if Pepa had found her body? What if Bruno didn't sleep for days because of nightmares if Alma wasn't here to wipe off his fears?

"It's okay, Julita." Alma pat her daughter's head, blinking back the tears. She couldn't die. She had to be dead, but she couldn't die. Her keds needed a mother. Their community needed a leader. Why was Alma so selfish to want an escape? She had to pay for the sacrifice. To make sure it wouldn't be spent on nothing. "Are you wake up already?"

Alma wasn't supposed to be alive. But she couldn't die either. As long as her kids connected her to the ground below. Tying her tight. It wasn't good. It didn't fix anything, but it was a reason of why Alma couldn't just die. The pain wasn't going to set her free. Allow her to inhale in a full chest. But she had to survive. Today and all the days after this. No matter how hard it was. Even if it felt pointless. She had to survive. For Julieta. For Pepa. And for Bruno. They didn't actually need her. But they didn't realize it yet. And Alma couldn't just torn it from them. Even if anyone else would be a better mother that she is. They were too young to understand it.

Alma wasn't supposed to be alive, but she must be alive. For their sake.

Antonio: Is murder illegal?

Camilo: No

Dolores: Depends

Isabela: Yes, and that's exactly why I'm doing it