#twin womb survivor

[jesncin]

Reunion and Loss. A continuation of Twin in the Mirror and Chimera Twin Constantine, a remix of the Golden Boy arc from Hellblazer.

A story of Two Constantine brothers and the different ways they handled grief after losing each other at birth.

[friendrat]

I feel like I wrote this myself. I have written almost the exact same words more times than I can even remember.

People really don't understand that the "clump of cells" argument hurts people. People who are alive today, not just the babies whose deaths are being justified with it. We are real. Our pain is real, and it is proof that our twins lived and that they mattered.

I love seeing other people experiences and how these lead them to be prolife.

For me personally, one of the main reason is that i am a womb twin survivor.

I was supposed to be a triplet, but when I was 10 weeks in the womb old, my mom miscarriaged my two siblings. I discovered this only in recent years, since nobody even thought of saying this to me, but it lead to having so many explanations for why my mental health had always been not okay since I was a child.

I always experienced grief, sense of loss, loneliness, sadness and I never known why. My mom's pregnancy also wasn't easy and that had ripercussion also on my mental health as well. I am diagnosed with depression, ocd and anxiety.

So it hurts me personally to see people saying that babies are "clumps of cells" until 24 months, that they would remember absolutely nothing of being in the womb and it would never affect them because it's simply not true.

Babies are live being. And they matter.

[friendrat]

Geez... I was just doing some reading on the internet and got a punch in the gut.

This started because I saw a post in a womb twin survivor support group where someone had posted and was describing how they were born with a pin hole in their spine, which sounded very similar to my own diagnosis of Spina Bifida Occulta.

Anyway, certain health problems are more common in Vanishing Twin Survivors, and I thought I remembered that Spina Bifida was one of them, so I was looking it up to see if I was remembering correctly.

As I'm scrolling, one link said, "Spina Bifida a vanishing nightmare." So I clicked on it, and it was a quick thing about how numbers were going down, and they weren't sure why, but part was attributed to terminating affected pregnancies. The conclusion was that if they continued "preventative measures" i.e. termination, Spina Bifida could disappear. Of course! The solution to this health problem isn't to work on an *actual* cure or improve treatments... it's to just kill the people who have it. That will solve everything.

I'm just... I don't even know why I'm surprised. They wanted to kill me then. Of course, they would want to kill me if I was born today. I don't know why I would expect anything else... but it made me so... sad.

You know... I had an older cousin who had a much more severe case of Spina Bifida than I do. And when I say older, I mean he was like my parents' age. He was worse off than me, but he was always smiling. He was always joking with people. He volunteered his time to his local church, he stood by his principals, he helped out people in need without ever asking anything in return... and when he died, the funeral home was packed. There was a line around the building of people waiting to say their goodbyes, and it kept up the entire visitation. People were parked way down the road and had to walk to get there. My cousin was a light in people's lives.

But if he had been born right now, people would just weigh his life based on his disability and determine that he should be killed before his light could reach anyone. But sure... we can eliminate this disorder by killing the people who have it. It's disgusting that people think that way. There's no other word for it.

[wayfarersmoon]

Note to self: don't watch a random show that features a pair of twins (who didn't know the other existed) reuniting when you're feeling down, it doesn't particularly help

[the-heartlines]

bittersweet

rhaegon | {e. 3.5k}

~post-dance & the only survivors~

“look at what has become of us? both of us have lost everything. and now all that’s left of us…is our pain, our grief. you and me.” rhaenyra chokes back a sob, looking at her half-brother. all that is left of her family. her blood.

aegon gazes back at her, not with disdain or rage, but exhaustion, sadness, defeat. with the same dark circles, the same exact look of madness mirrored in her own violet eyes.

he could be mine own twin, she thinks almost laughing at the realization of how much they are alike. the same shade of silver blonde hair, unkempt and wild. she wishes he would say something, anything to stop her mind from racing, stop the madness from spreading through her like poison.

she longs to hear her brother speak, even though she should hate him, want to tear him apart with own bare hands. spill his blood all over the realm, sacrifice him—like her own son’s were sacrificed.

but she cannot seem to hate him any longer, wish to see him dead, his pretty head on a spike. because aegon ii targaryen, her brother, is all that’s left of her on this earth, keeping her tethered to her, tied to her fleshly vessel. and as long as he lives, breathes, is bound to her, she is chained to him as well.

“you and me?” he scoffs sadly, bitterly, pushing salt into the gaping wounds that are still bleeding, that have yet to scab over. 

“yes, aegon,” she says his name softly, trying to use her words as a binding tourniquet, stave the bleeding of the gashes, the cuts, that run deep, with her tongue. she has always been braver than him, never willing to let failure rule her life again.  “we started this mess and we must fix it, or lest—we let it consume us, destroy us. kill us.”

“i do not care, sister. and neither should you. i’ll hand you the dagger myself, while you drink the poison. we can both die together.” aegon retorts, firing back at her with his words, but she sees tears swimming in his eyes, unshed, and it makes her heart seize. her brother has never truly known true unconditional love and affection that one can have for the other. that a mother can have for a son. a sister for a brother. 

she can’t help herself, for she was a mother, is his sister. 

“aegon, do you not think that we have both drank enough of the poison fed to us since we were born? and i will not spill anymore of our blood, it is far too precious now, more than a bloody throne. or valyrian steel.” rhaenyra walks towards him gracefully, as a queen would towards their king, and gently grips her brother’s pallid cold cheeks in her hands, longing to bring warmth, rosiness back to them. 

the siblings have never been this close to one another. this kind of intimate proximity unbidden to them, forbidden by otto hightower’s garbled poison fed to alicent, the same way she undermined, poisoned her first born son with.

aegon looks up at her, his dark glassy violet eyes, still full of unshed tears. he looks haunted, so haunted, older than the young man he is. he reminds rhaenyra of their father, a king of the seven kingdoms, with all the unwanted weight, the burden laden upon him. since he was pushed from his mother’s womb. brought into this world with only this purpose, to be her challenge, her opponent, her enemy.

“we are family, aegon. you are my brother.” she strokes over the divot in his chin with her thumb, eyes drinking in every scar, mark, freckle, every indication that they are related, of the same bloodline.

“half.” 

it’s all he says, spitting the word out like a curse, a reminder of the past, but rhaenyra ignores it presently, taking aegon’s hand in hers and pressing it against her beating heart, right above her full breast, towards his future. she swallows, heart rattling like a drum, not realizing how much she’s missed being touched so intimately in a year.

“feel my heart, brother,” she accentuates the word, hoping each syllable rings true deep inside him; in his spirit. she bites her lip, suppressing a slight moan, when aegon’s hand flexes, nearly brushing her hardened nipple. and she wishes he would. she desires for him to be bold, to be the wrathful dragon, plundering and pillaging, taking and taking, burning her, until there is nothing left. 

but instead his hand remains motionless, stiff, refusing to mold to her flesh like molten fire. “aegon, please, feel my heart beating. the blood flowing through my veins is as much mine as it is yours, dear brother.” rhaenyra guides his hand upwards towards her warm skin, dipping his fingers beneath her gown, letting him feel the heat from her breast. the burning flesh, feverish with want, with desperation.

rhaenyra gazes deep into his eyes, seeing something alight, a spark starting to spread and it emboldens her, so she presses his hand more firmly against her heart, his calloused fingers deeper into the top of her gown, until his rough fingertips touch her hardened nipple, making them both gasp.

“sister,” aegon’s breath hitches and she can feel him shivering from their shared warmth, the closeness they should have had all along. but it’s not yet too late...fate now giving them both another chance to make things right.

“yes, brother,” rhaenyra moans, feeling his fingers curl around her sensitive nipple, no longer able to hold back the desire, the lust that swirls through her like a hurricane, overwhelming and over entrenching. “more.” she says, knowing that word is enough to push him to the point of no return. pushing them beyond containment because they will both lose control in the other. for they are two sides of the same coin of madness. and only they can complete one another now.

and rhaenyra is the key to unlocking everything unbidden in her brother, unleashing it all.

aegon’s lips are on hers before she can meet him halfway, kiss him first. and she understands he needs this, mayhaps, even more than she does. for in this moment, he’s a dragon starved, feasting, devouring on her flesh, his mouth inhaling her in like the sweetest aphrodisiac. her divine taste— a cure, unlike dreamwine or milk of the poppy, for all ailments he’s suffering. more potent and powerful, all consuming, all encompassing. 

and so rhaenyra opens her mouth to him, lets him twist her tongue with his, in another dance of the dragons. aegon clutches the front of her chest with both hands now, tearing her gown downwards to release her heavy teats to his gluttonous, greedy gaze, groping the meat of her tender breasts in his hands.

“oh, fuck,” rhaenyra groans, unable to help the curse, the hiss, that escapes her throat, his fingers prodding and pulling on her pink peaked tips.

“rhaenyra,” her brother growls her name so brazenly, so beautifully. and every syllable reverberates down her spinal cord, through her veins, straight to her core. towards her cunt that is dripping and drenched, desperate to be full and filled, only by him.

“please,” rhaenyra closes her eyes, pleading against aegon’s lips unabashedly, her hands groping the front of her brother’s hardness unashamedly, trying to mold his cock into submission with her hand. “i need you, aegon. i need to be fucked, brother, to be full of you.” she squeezes his cock a little too harshly in her hand, biting down into his bottom lip, pricking and piercing the skin, drawing his blood with her teeth for the first time. the bittersweet coppery twang of it streams into her mouth, coating her mouth. 

it makes them both ravenous, insatiable for one another.

“more.” aegon grinds his groin into the palm of her hand, digging his jagged nails into her nipples, begging rhaenyra for more of her pointed teeth upon him. begging for her to be the dagger, the sharp valyrian steel, that spills his blood. that only she has permission to. for his flesh, the fire in his blood, belongs to her solely now. and it feeds her volatility, the violence beneath her bones that rattles and resonates with both brother and sister. 

she sucks on his bottom lip, soothing it with her tongue, before her hands unlace his breeches frantically, freeing his weeping cock, gripping its girth close in her fist. “fuck, rhaenyra.” aegon jerks up into her embrace, so she closes her fingers tighter around him, tongue dipping into the mark on his chin, before her mouth moves downwards, towards the underside of his jaw. his stubble scratches her smooth skin and it feels sumptuous along her forlorn flesh, long forsaken by the fevered flesh of another. 

“tell me you need me, aegon,” she murmurs into the crook of his neck, his cock perfectly molded and shaped in her small enclosed hand; shielded and sheltered, held steady by her. “tell me you wantme.” her teeth graze over his throat and he swallows, breathing labored, nostrils flared, eyes closed, heart beating erratically, unevenly. her younger brother, lost to every sensation, every sensuous and serpentine slithering of her inexorably entrenching herself into his very soul and spirit. the elder sister taking root in his body, in the very veins, bones, and muscles that twist and tangle her in their intricacy. 

a queen capturing and conquering the king, caged within her motherly wings, her pointed claws, her maw clutching onto him forever. and so rhaenyra bites her dragon again, but harder, harsher, vulgarly gnawing on his wounded skin, his blood flowing into her, flooding her mouth. a primal roar emits low in her throat, and she clings to his jugular, wanting to drain him of every drop. 

“fuck!” aegon yelps, whining, and rhaenyra yanks his head backwards by his hair, running her fist along his manhood, demanding his compliance, commanding his body, his bones to bend, to sway and swing towards her like the branches and limbs of a tree. but not to break him because she needs him whole, sturdy and standing, rooted to her, not rotting from the inside out.

but first she must have his seed, milk it from his lithe body, have it take root deep inside the rot, bringing forth new life; a rebirth.

rhaenyra reluctantly relinquishes her damning hold on him, and aegon whimpers, her hold forever intertwined, interwoven into every crevice and crack, mending, sewing him back together with the scarlet string that links them together, unbent, unbroken.

“brother, sit,” she says hotly, his blood thick and red like pomegranate juice upon her plush lips, pushing him backwards into their father’s seat, with fiery fervor, but not rage, nor hate. running and raking her nails, her gaze, along her brother’s handsome body, she eyes his cock, standing proudly, flushed an angry shade of crimson, weeping, straining, matching the blood staining his neck, his pale chest, his now rosy cheeks. 

and then rhaenyra’s eyes are on his wide, hungry eyes, seeing the beginning of hope, the flowering of spring; lilac staring into deep violet, blooming under a new rising sun. 

she keeps her orbs locked with aegon’s, mesmerizing him, memorizing every fleck of gold that shines brighter in them when she reveals more of her hidden skin to him, tearing the black gown from her curves wholly.

he stares up at her in awe, mouth agape, the sunlight filtering through, haloing her silver hair, encircling her in a golden crown of the most glorious sun rays. a crown to echo the one rhaenyra lost everything for. lost everything to gain this. for she is his now. his savior. his sister. his goddess, his queen, with his fire and blood dripping deliciously from her mouth.

she steps closer towards his shadow, letting the sun touch it, bathe her brother in its luminous light, letting it blind him and bind him to her.

“kiss me,” rhaenyra demands and aegon is ferocious, feral, pulling her towards him, sealing his lips to hers, licking up the blood she extracted from him so exquisitely, so effortlessly. 

“nyra,” he growls, gutturally, his teeth gnawing onto her own lip, desperately trying to puncture it with as much perseverance, persistent on gorging and getting drunk off of her sweetness and blood.

“yes, aegon. yes.” rhaenyra extols, giving him permission, and so aegon does, rupturing through his sister’s pink flesh with his teeth lecherously, extracting her blood, tasting it alongside his. 

“brother, my sweet brother.” she praises, both exchanging breaths, sharing the air in their lungs, the blood of one another, with each other. and rhaenyra descends herself downward, sinking her supple, slick cunt onto her brother’s stiff manhood, engulfing and suffocating him with her heat.

 “sister!” he cries, his head falling back against the cushion, her voluptuous plump body beginning to bounce against his, contouring against his leaner one. 

“oh, gods,” rhaenyra moans, biting her bloodied lip raw, beginning to ride him viciously and wickedly, his cock penetrating her deeply. 

she watches aegon, with his eyes  closed tightly, fists clenched around the arms of their father’s chair. a chair that their father as king occupied daily, commanding the realm, serving his realm,  while rhaenyra kept quiet, bit her tongue, and served her king and his men. 

and now she rides his son—another king upon it. while each submits their body in servitude towards one another, a slave to each other’s insatiable pleasure.

rhaenyra’s peak is nigh, crescendoing inside her like the waves of a volatile sea, rising inside her, the higher the sun sets on the horizon, illuminating both dragons in its golden light.

“finish inside me,” rhaenyra orders, thrusting and rotating her hips into his, hearing him hiss before he latches onto her throat in the exact place she marked him; reclaiming what should have been his since the moment he was born. what should have been hers as much as the realm, the crown, and the throne.

“give me your seed.” she groans, feeling aegon’s hot searing tongue upon her tender and torn throat, licking her wounds. before the waves of pleasure crash inside her, drowning her in a mixture of salt and sea, as tears stream down her face. “give me your son, aegon.” 

this time aegon kisses her softly, with yearning, but hungrily, the curve of his lips sculpted by the gods, shaped to fit against hers faultlessly, immaculately. rhaenyra tastes the iron, the bitterness of her blood, interlaced with the sweetness of him—her brother.

the burning beneath his flesh, his very soul that scorches her, burns brighter and more incandescent than any star or sun. and she’s his silver moon mirroring that luminosity, brilliantly lighting the way towards both of their salvation. 

for targaryens were always meant to burn together—one body, one soul, one heart, one spirit.

she cups aegon’s face in her hands, thrusting her body languidly, longingly, not wanting him to ever leave her.

“i love you, brother.” rhaenyra confesses against her brother’s lips, telling him those three words for the first time, for she means every single word. and the storm breaks, lightning cracking, catapulting both siblings towards the highest and thunderous peak of their lives.

“sister!” aegon’s piercing cry rings out, as the sun sets and shadows engulf them, but they are together this time, tangled and tethered, closer than ever, eclipsing one another. he holds tight to her, hugging her to him, his mouth latching onto her breast, clinging to every piece of her he can clutch.

rhaenyra’s velvet and vice tight cunt selfishly milks his cock, every drop into the warmth of her womb, welcoming him, her king. and aegon selflessly offers himself up, willingly, worshiping his own goddess, his queen. 

and as king and queen, brother and sister, they shall begin anew, as husband and wife.

—

"don't worry, my son. just because your sister is older, doesn't mean you matter any less." aegon laughed, his smile lighting his face up is the most exquisitely, ethereal way.

"valarr." he let his son's name roll of his lips as venerated as a prayer, cupping their babe's silver haired head in his hands with such tenderness, it made rhaenyra's heart swell. "

"a fine name for a prince. one of valor, if i must say, my husband." rhaenyra teases, lightly trailing her fingers over the inside of aegon's wrist, affectionately, causing goose pimples to rise along his flesh.

"yes, wife," aegon breathes deeply, eyeing their other silver haired babe at her breast, nursing contentedly, nearly asleep. “a brave brother for his older sister.” 

rhaenyra laughs, rolling her eyes, “only by a mere minute, aegon.” 

“and they shall be closer than we ever we’re growing up..thank the gods.” aegon places valarr in the cradle next to their bed, then takes their sleeping daughter away from rhaenyra’s breast, placing her next to her twin.

”viserra,” he presses his lips to her forehead, “my sweet viserra. every bit her mother’s daughter.” aegon chants, sighing against her skin, his violet eyes catching rhaenyra’s.

and his beautiful gaze is full of light, of hope, of love.

rhaenyra tries to speak, tries to say her brother’s name, but her throat is thick with emotion, so she extends her hand to him, beckoning him towards her.

and he holds it, intertwining and interlacing their fingers together, gripping her tightly.

”i love you, rhaenyra,” he confesses for the first time out loud, for her to hear, with his own lips. and it’s the most holy words he’s ever said, that she’s ever heard; the sweetest and heavenliest honeyed wine dripping from his tongue.

she pulls him towards her, kissing him to reassure that’s she knows, has always known—luring her sun to her with her moonlight that seeps into every crack and crevice of his soul, healing every wound, sealing every internal cut, a soothing balm for each scar.

“i know, brother.” she cups his face and tears fall freely down her face and rhaenyra welcomes them, for they are ones of happiness, of the utmost joy. 

“sister,” her brother groans into her mouth, glancing down towards her chest, where her rosy tips are leaking onto the her husband’s naked chest. rhaenyra sighs when he cups her swollen teats in his hands, molding his hands with their shape, before he’s moving his lips once more.

“please, mother.” he seeks her permission and rhaenyra relents graciously yanking aegon by the roots of his hair and pushing her dripping, hardened nipples into his waiting mouth.

”yesss, my sweet brother,” she hisses, his mouth moaning, latching hungrily, drinking, needing to desperately drown his lungs in her mother’s milk, just as he has with her blood—their blood. 

his fingers snake between her sore cunt, finding the hidden aching pearl that brings the most exquisite pleasure. for his mouth and fingers know her body, how to expertly draw out her peak in mere moments. and aegon does it hastily, afraid he’ll lose her forever. and so she climaxes fast, hearing him suck her teats fiercely, his fingers furiously dragging another peak from her body.

”no more, please. she begs quietly, trying not to wake the twins, before he does it once more, determined to ruin her extravagantly. and this time rhaenyra bites her lip to keep from moaning her brother’s name aloud. she’s eager for him wholly, wanting him to fill her womb once more, but she knows she must wait, be patient. but nonetheless her body trembles effortlessly, exhaustively, her cunt soaks his fingers and he drains her of her milk, before he finally finishes.

“gods, wife. i will never tire of your sweetness.” aegon collapses next to her, panting and breathless, licking his lips and rhaenyra seals her lips to his, stealing the sweetness from his tongue, wanting to share in the nourishment that feeds their babes.

”well, husband,” rhaenyra yawns, nestling her backside into her brother’s very hard and leaking cock, rubbing her ass against it. “i am exhausted and must sleep.”

”rhaenyra!” aegon hisses, feeling his wife’s hand reach around and encircle around his girth, gripping it tightly. 

“goodnight, brother.” rhaenyra squeezes his head, petting it, patting it, then leaving him without her touch, teasing him. and aegon groans frustratedly, while she smirks knowingly.

because they both know she won’t leave him wanting long, waiting for her, not like she has in the past.

because as brother and sister they belong to one another, like a body belongs to a soul, connected by veins, arteries, a heart. and rhaenyra is the very heart of aegon. and her blood makes his heart beat, with fire, fervency. 

free from the shackles of the bitterness, made whole by the blossoming sweetness; with the burning bond that’s unbreakable between them.

[theramblergal]

For @livingtheparadoxlife, who asked I write something on the twins and Krishnaa after the war.

This is gonna be long and angsty as hell, warning.

Krishnaa can barely look at her youngest two husbands nowadays.

It is no fault of their own, she knows.

But the kalachakra has spun, wreaking untold devastation across every single person, ripping their very souls out of them.

She can barely look at them together for a few seconds before she is reminded by the ghost of what is, what was, and bile rises in her throat and she has to excuse herself, their sad eyes trailing her as she flees, eyes burning.

She gets as far as the next room before she falls to her knees, chest heaving, her insides screaming for breath because every inhale chokes her with the red dust of Kurukshetra and the rank stench of rotting corpses and the metallic tang of blood even though she is hundreds of yojanas away from Kurukshetra. Her eyes do not see the gaudy wealth of the Kurus but the headless and mutilated bodies of her family.

Krishnaa Draupadi—once affectionately called Panchaali, the saubhagya of Prishata's line, is the last daughter of Panchala. The only survivor of the royal family.

She is sonless, fatherless, brotherless—

Twinless.

Dhrishtadyumna.

She cannot think about him without feeling her soul crumble into thousands of pieces, but he is never far from her thoughts.

His luminous eyes, always so full of life, glint at her from a dark corner of the room, but now they are bloodshot, listless, empty, so empty, too empty—

She had always been aware of Dhrishtadyumna through a fire-edged bond in the back of her mind, no matter the distance between them. But that connection had burned to pieces, a choked and whimpering spark being put out instead of the glorious roar of a warrior, leaving ashes drifting in the wind.

They had won.

They had won.

And then they had lost—everything.

Krishnaa had always been blessed with companionship and love beyond any normal person and she had been eternally grateful for it. But there had no one who knew her best but her twin. She had been with him from the first moment her awareness sparked into existence, cradled by the fire's womb, twin sparks in two bodies.

All her secrets, all her tears, all her joy was his—and all of his was hers.

She told him everything, things she'd never tell her husbands.

But he wasn't here anymore.

And Nakula and Sahadeva still had each other.

They were the only two of her husbands who truly understood her bond with Dhrishtadyumna. They understood what it meant to be a twin, more than she could put into words.

But they had always had each other. There was never a moment they were separated. The sons of Maadri had never been torn from the other's side—not through their exiles, their sojourns in other kingdoms, not through the battle.

And she hates that.

She hates that she hates it—hates that she hates her husbands for something so—so small.

(But it isn't small at all.)

She wants to wail, scream at fate: why were they allowed to keep their souls intact when I have burned myself over and over for them and my soul is torn into two—

You have no right to take my twin from me—

The pain is too much, please bring him back—

Please—

Have I not given enough?

A twin is a mirror, a double helix, Dhrishta had said once, orange-brown eyes smiling at her, hand warm in hers—and Nakula and Sahadeva, she and Dhrishtadyumna have always been that. Similar yet different, but always together.

She had stood alone, eyes reflecting the burning pyres of her dead family, clear vision and chin tilted, watching Nakula reach for a weeping Sahadeva—a comfort in a hand reaching in the blind darkness but knowing that they will always reach back for you.

She wanted that—needed it more than anything.

But the one who used to give her that comfort was burning on the pyre in front of her.

They had approached her a few times after that. She would not look at them. Resentment, bitter and sharp, would curdle a vicious poison in her but she could never bring herself to snap at them. Deep down, she was still their Krishnae but that part of her was lost with Panchaali.

She lets out a cry, sharp and wordless, throat choked with a thousand different emotions.

They come to her, rushing to her side.

He will never come back to her.

"Don't—" she whispers, emotions a frenzied storm in her.

"Krishnaa please—we can't see you like this—" Nakula pleads.

"Leave. Please."

"Dhrishta wouldn't want to see you like this, Krishnae.." Sahadeva murmurs.

But they respect her wishes—they always have, even when they don't want to—and leave her.

The sky is perfectly blue; the wind is soothing; the people go about their lives and the world spins on; but Krishnaa presses the back of her hand to her mouth as she weeps alone, shoulders shaking, wondering if she'll ever be able to look at her youngest two husbands without feeling the hollow emptiness of her twin's absence beside her again.

(She never will.)

[jesncin]

ohhhohoho someone else who also understands the untapped potential of survivor twin Constantine (I thought the potential left untapped was so fascinating I ended up making it the base of one of my fave OCs)

Anyways this is a request for the twin less twin John Constantine essay if you actually want to write it. You have a captive audience. Love your guys' art love everything about this idea

ohohoho an essay request?!?!!! Be still my heart, I am so touched that people want to hear more of Johnstantine Survivor Twin stories! I LOVE that the untapped potential became the basis for an OC for you, that is my favorite kind of creativity. Shortish essay incoming??

THE POTENTIAL OF SURVIVOR TWIN CONSTANTINE

I'm still reading through Hellblazer, but I can't help but feel the themes that crop up about how Constantine keeps losing friends and loved ones, how he struggles with commitment, how he keeps them at a distance feels like twinless twin angst to me! It's chasing an unattainable intimacy that can't ever be replicated, and the eternal grief some Survivor Twins go through- that fits Constantine a little too perfectly. John's themes are guilt? Well great, he's essentially assigned Survivor's Guilt at birth as a twin! He's haunted by the ghosts of people he's wronged or caused to die? Well, some twinless twins go through that too! Famously Elvis Presley was haunted by his lost womb twin, and perhaps talked to him when he was alone. Constantine's early bombastic punk lifestyle and eventual desire to live despite the odds (like in his cancer arc) reminds me of the pianist Liberance saying the death of his womb twin fueled his flamboyant lifestyle and "desire to live for two".

There's a lot of potential angst in contrasting Constantine's will to live and him never getting to reunite with his twin because he keeps cheating death. Maybe he wants his twin's ghost soul to move on from guilt, but Goldie doesn't want to ascend because John is all that he's ever known. Maybe Goldie's the only ghost that doesn't blame John for their death (no one should ever blame a surviving twin for the lost twin's death in my opinion, cough!!), and that in itself makes Constantine feel a unique kind of grief. Surviving identical twins talk about how even looking at the mirror brings them pain- because it's a reminder that your sibling didn't get to grow up the way you did. That bittersweet "you survived but at what cost" feels quintessential to Constantine stories.

Constantine Should Be Sincere Survivor Twin Representation Instead Of Another Tiresome Evil Demon Twin Narrative Blink If You Agree

[friendrat]

My son just said that my sister gave her strength so that I could survive. I'm normal about this. It's actually a feeling that resonates with me a lot. I know some vts survivors feel like they somehow killed their twin or that they are otherwise responsible, and I had those feelings too at first, but I know that I would have willingly given my life for hers, so the idea that she was also willing to give her life for me has a small measure of comfort.

[moibakadesu]

EDIT: After I was done and posted this a few more things came to mind, also thanks to my Twitter mood making me think even more about it so as of 30th April there is more in here, waha.

Hiii, it’s me again, and behold, the other day shortly before I went to sleep a new Haruka theory came to me that strikes me as quite galaxy brained, so get ready for:

Haruka and Mirai (the little girl) were meant to be twins

cw for suicide, animal death and things like infant death

So what exactly do I mean by this? Well, that Mirai either died in the womb or during birth. It is not all that uncommon that in a pregnancy with twins not both of them survive, for various reasons. One of these reasons can also be: strangulation by the umbilical cord. 

Isn’t that a “nice” coincidence with the whole strangulation theme around Haruka going on. A twitter mutual of mine even pointed out that this might even be a link to the necklace, sort of like a constant reminder to himself about this.

We would also have another link between the 01&02 prisoner pair, if both cases would in a way revolve around an unborn child.

It would also get rid of some of the contradictions we have with the whole narrative. We see Mirai both at the same age as Haruka, but in AKAA we see her clearly younger than Haruka. So what if that is basically just her “ghost” haunting him? A sort of prenatal survivor's guilt going on?

With how badly his mothers tends to treat him overall she might as well have said things to him like “It is your fault she suffocated” (imprinting that whole picture of strangulation in him deeply) or “I wish it would have been you who died and not her”.

This puts some scenes in AKAA into a very interesting light. My twitter moot that I mentioned earlier once compared the imagery of Haruka stuck in the room surrounded by the dead animals with a ritual that is called "kodoku". It's a sorcery from japanese folklore in which insects (and in some versions also other animals like snakes etc) are put into a jar or confined space with the goal of killing each other until only one survivor is left. The goal of this sorcery is to create a curse that causes misfortune and bad luck. Now what does Haruka always say he causes people, hmmm. And what if this confined space was the womb? I already linked the last scene in AKAA where he is swaying in the fluid with what seems like a wish to return to the mother's womb, the goal to be reborn. So maybe all of this is connected in a way.

Maybe it even is a hint that every time we see Mirai in the MVs Haruka is in some way connected to her, be it holding her hand or with his hands around her throat. Does it point to how they were basically connected in the mother’s womb? Or how she is still haunting Haruka as a constant presence. Probably even more so as the expectations of his mother what he should have been and couldn’t be. I know a lot of people link this to Haruka being transfem, I kinda see it as the opposite actually, him getting this wish of his mother forced on himself, this thought that he might be better and more worthy of love from her if he would be a girl, this is completely for his mother’s sake, not for himself. 

And of course the death of Mirai would not at all have been his fault.

But he would still absolutely blame himself for that, having taken that away from his mother that she wished for so much more than having him.

So I still think that is of course what got him into Milgram. As a big defender of the suicide theory I fully believe that this lead up to Haruka taking his own life, his Milgram “murder” proper.

Another contradiction is the interrogation answer where he answers that his family consists of him and his parents. Well, this could mean he just didn’t include the deceased person. Or that she never properly existed in the first place, never was an actual part of the family. It always struck me as weird that we don’t have more … presence of Mirai in any way, seeing her with his mother, any sort of mention. If she really played such a big role in the Sakurai family life that Haruka had a reason to be jealous of her, why do we not see anything about this?

It feels like I am really on to something here, but as much as this would clear up some contradictions it also adds some … Haruka’s infamous “I can kill anything smaller and weaker than me, you know?” is such a hard statement, but Haruka’s perception of the world is rather special, so it might as well be that we can’t even take this all literally? Maybe it was “real murder” in his mind, even though it didn’t involve a physical present person.

What also got pointed out to me was, that his 3rd anniversary artwork is a very fetal posture, fitting this whole theme as well.

[welcome-tothe-madness]

So upset I have yet to see a kuroshitsuji edit to Brutus, like, ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

That song is SOOOO O!Ciel coded.

I could literally do a lyrics breakdown analysis of how each verse correlates with his backstory.

I've been watching him for my entire life

I hate the air he breathes, his foolish decrees

His words so contrived

And I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

They hang on every breath, cling to his chest

Home to his heart full of pride

Obviously, O!Ciel has been forced into his brother’s shadow, and watch how everyone adores his brother while he stays inside alone with a dog

The oracle told him to beware the Ides

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing

For untimely death or demise

Or am I just wishing I could be like you?

That the people would see me too as a poet

And not just the muse

The oracle could be Undertaker meeting the twins when they were young, foreboding a terrible fate to come. Also, O!Ciel had to face some pretty complicated feelings of being in R!Ciel’s shadow.

Oh, it's not true, I don't wish harm upon you

From birth we've been like brothers of different mothers

Within the spirit of the same womb

May the gods strike me down if I forsake you

Frater meus, you're beautifully made

And to you I'm forever grateful

O!Ciel does not actually wish harm upon his brother, but he does feel immense envy for being born as his sickly spare. But he is grateful to him for being his protector and light

I'll never forget that you showed me to make art

And I know the love you showed me came

From a pure and noble heart

I love you, and if you want, I'll call you King

But why do I lie awake each night thinking

"Instead of you, it should be me"?

O!Ciel knows his brother is kind, noble, and pure, but he cannot help but believe he is the one deserving Earldom

Something wicked this way comes

And as I set to face it, I'm unsure

Should I embrace it, should I run?

What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?

What's more wrong; that I too wish to be great

Or my mother wished she'd had a son?

And even if I can't be the one

Maybe I could at least help make way for him

Until the day that he comes

Maybe my name could also be known

That I helped return good to the people

And restored greatness to Rome

I believe this could be where Sebastian is introduced and O!Ciel begins to grapple with survivors guilt, his own selfishness, and him forever being changed by what happened. He wants to be the one remembered.

My name is Brutus and my name means heavy

So with a heavy heart

I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy

My whole life, you were a teacher and friend to me

Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy

I, too, have a destiny

This death will be art

The people will speak of this day from near and afar

This event will be history, and I'll be great too

I don't want what you have, I want to be you

I believe these lyrics for the most part are self explanatory, but I think this would be a cool part to bring back O!Ciel witnessing R!Ciel’s death (by a dagger), and him reclaiming his dead brother’s name and family ring

I always knew I could be the one

Though I feel the endless pain of being

And I am scorched by the Sun

Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex

My name is Brutus, but the people will call me Rex

That last lyric is the one that feels like the cherry on top for me. “My name is ___ but the people will call me Ciel�� is a good alternative for a potential black butler animatic/edit whatever.

Idk, I’m an artist so I could def be the one to make this happen, but GRRRR I think this song fits him so well it drives me insane I haven’t seen anybody else make the connection

[unwelcome-ozian]

Do you happen to know anything about womb twin survivor syndrome/vanishing twins?

I was chosen to be abused because a cleft in my chin. They said I had the ability to take myself out of it because my brain was more divided naturally. I don't know if there's any truth to it, but when I found out I was a monozygotic twin that reabsorbed the other twin in the first trimester it made me connect to two, and made too many things make sense.

I’m familiar with vanishing twin. 

Here are some links for survivors.

A Blog For Womb Twin Survivors Around The World

My Work with Womb Twin Survivors

Twinless Twin

I hope you find support on your journey. There is no ‘reason’ for someone to be abused.

Oz

*Vanishing twin syndrome is a type of miscarriage that can occur during multiple pregnancies (births involving twins or triplets). It occurs when an embryo detected during an ultrasound can’t be found on a future ultrasound. The embryo stops developing, and its tissue gets absorbed by the mother, or gestational parent, and the surviving embryo(s).

[noodlethoughts]

Since getting over the feelings from the Acolyte finale I've been chewing on an idea for a canon divergence for a while and thought I'd put it here for the writers and artists

So this is years before any Jedi are called to Brendock. I'm not sure of the exact steps involved with the vergence and the twins so I'm fudging some details for plot stuff. I'm going with the idea that the twins were created by Aniseya while still in Korril's womb.

It is confirmed in canon that would take someone immensely powerful in the Force. But what if other parties (Sith) had sensed something of this and gone investigating? It is proven that they'll covet those that are especially strong in the force

Idk if Qimir has joined the line of Bane yet but I'm imagining his wrinkly roommate is definitely involved and being creepy at this juncture

Anyway I imagine the coven would take the Sith showing up about as well as they took the Jedi showing up in the show. There was a fight that killed the rest of the coven; Aniseya particularly allowing Korril to escape the planet while still carrying the twins with an epic sacrificial move (no stabby Sol in this au no sir)

Meanwhile, Sol is a young knight on a solo mission far from the core when he comes across a heavily pregnant but fierce zabrak woman using the force to fight off some mysterious and malicious persuers (raisin had a Sith Acolyte or two perhaps)

Being a Jedi he of course helps her. I'm sure Korril is very suspicious and hostile about another outside force user interfering but by this point she prefers the Jedi over whatever the Sith raisin had planned

Now this is where I got hazy on details

I'm kinda imagining they work together to keep the twins safe, with Korril and Sol even reaching some sort of respectful understanding as they both clearly care for the safety of unborn children. They've been bickering over what would actually be "safe" but they've been working their way towards the temple without any good alternatives since the destruction of the coven. Reaching out with communications runs the risk of being discovered, as Korril was when she tried to reach out to any other coven survivors so they have no backup at the moment.

Unfortunately their final confrontation ends with Korril going into labor after a risky maneuver to protect the twins by cutting off the Sith's head (with Sol's saber after he'd been disarmed in the fight?)

So cue a post battle birthing that ends remarkably similar to RotS. Korril gives birth to the twins, but the battle leading up to it took its toll and now she is dying. She names the twins and makes Sol promise to protect them (and maybe threatens him for old times sake, I can see them having an inside joke over this if they were traveling for a while cuz I'm a sap for enemies to friends)

Ofc Sol vows to protect the twins of his unexpected ally (friend? He wants to say friend but he's pretty sure she would still shank him)

He carries out whatever funeral rites Korril requested prior to her death before heading for the temple.

Imagine everyone's surprise when Sol shows up after being gone for who knows how long without any contact and carrying two very young but powerful infants. That would be a report to the Council that no one would forget for a while

Did I also possibly end the line of Bane with this idea? Maybe so

[friendrat]

I've never been pro-choice, but that one screenshot really resonated with me because while it wasn't Down Syndrome, I had a pre-birth diagnosis of a sort, and everyone in the medical industry (down to the pharmacist) desperately tried to convince my mother to kill me. It's because my mom believed my life was valuable, that I deserved to live, that I am alive today. Even at great risk to herself because she had really difficult pregnancies and had previously been told that if she had another child, it would probably kill her. Even then, she said God doesn't make mistakes and that I deserved live. My mom's example, and my own experience knowing they wanted me dead and I wouldn't have a say, and knowing that they said my life wasn't worth living and I would be better off dead (they were wrong), that's why I'm pro-life.

And the icing on the cake is that my twin sister didn't make it. Her loss has affected every part of my life, and I say this with complete confidence because I wasn't told about her until I was an adult and could look back and see so many parts of my childhood suddenly make sense. I experienced lifelong trauma in the womb. And all those things they said? That my life wouldn't be worth living, and no one would love me, and that I was better off dead? All those things were said about my sister as well, and it boils my blood to think of it. My sister was a person. Her loss was devastating. She deserved to live as much as I did, and she never got the chance. She never had a choice. All those things they said about her were wrong. No matter what she looked like or health problems she had to work through... she would be loved, and her life was worth living. She is the other reason I'm pro-life. Because I *know* that life begins in the womb, and I *know* the impact that even a life in the first trimester can have.

People are joining the pro life movement every day. Don't lose hope 🖤

[multi-royalty]

THE PARASITE

EMILY / GABRIEL MAY - taken from Malignant (2021) and reimagined in the dead by daylight universe. More info below the cut.

Name : The Parasite Other known names : Emily May + Gabriel May , Madison Mitchell , the devil Age : 30+ Face Claim :  Annabelle Wallis

Biography : Emily May was born to Serena May ( 15 ) and her abusive unknown father. Emily was supposed to be born a twin to her brother Gabriel May however due to complications he was born a parasitic twin, meaning two shared one brain. During early child hood Emily began having many disturbing thoughts that weren't her own, but Gabriel's. She was under observation at the Simion Research Hospital where it was decided for to give Emily a better quality of life the doctor's would attempt to remove all parts of Gabriel that they could (all but a piece of their shared brain).

Unfortunately Serena was unable to cope and put Emily up for adoption following the operation at just seven years old, Emily was now known as Madison Lake, (later to be Madison Mitchell after marrying her abusive husband Derek) through out the remaining years of her childhood and adolescence Gabriel's consciousness followed Emily around, still determined to keep control over his host, tries to telepathically force Emily (now renamed Madison) to commit vile acts such as killing her adoptive mother Jeanne and unborn Sydney in her mother's womb, but she is able to restrain herself from performing the deed. From there, Gabriel became dormant and forgotten until a trauma to the back of her head in adulthood. ( caused by Derek).

Additionally Emily had suffered multiple miscarriages , which later revealed to her was caused by Gabriel feeding off the life sources. The bump to her head was a kick start to her down fall. Madison is plagued by terrifying visions that show a dark entity called "Gabriel" slaughtering people in a terrifying manner. (her own husband also falling victim to Gabriel's crimes). Gabriel hijacks her body and embarks on a vengeful rampage on the doctors, his mother, and Sydney Lake.

(Gabriel's weapon, a hand crafted out of a gold trophy)

Gabriel's powers :

Telepathic link

Electrokinesis

Superhuman strength

Superhuman agility

Healing factor

Possession

Expert combatant

THE ENTITIES REALM

(eventually there will be both a killer AND a survivor verse , but for now it's mainly killer focused)

The entity felt sheer opportunity following the revelation of who was responsible for the killings and Gabriel having 90% dominance over Emily meant she had no say in his decision to enter the realm. A promise made to him by the entity that his hobby of killing and destruction would always be fulfilled, while the entity itself reaped the reward of the fear Gabriel would instil into the survivors.

Within the Realm they're known as The Parasite, Emily is wildly unaware of Gabriel's action's during the trials, her visions of the unrelenting dark realm haunt her in every waking moment. While in a trial Emily is manipulated into thinking she herself is a survivor and that she's helping them in trying to escape. Gabriel uses her human presenting body to his advantage, They hold the ability to crouch as a survivor would.

IN TRIAL ABILITIES

The weapon shown above is used for The Parasites basic hit attack , it's sharp and allows them to easily cause deep wound hits.

Special ability : Can leave projection clone's of Emily pretending to perform generator actions. The parasite is able to travel through these clones. A clone disappears once the generation it's latched onto is completed by another survivor , or if a survivor walks through the projection ruining the illusion. When a clone disappears or after latching one to a generator there is a 30 second cool down.

Mori : All survivors bones are snapped and they receive a stab to the throat with the trophy weapon.

PERKS

(will be expanded in time)

REPRESSION : causes survivors to take 25/30/35% longer to heal (both themselves and each other). Aura's are revealed to the killer for the first 20% of healing. Generator's are blocked off for ten seconds when healing begins.

HEX : TELEPATHIC LINK : causes survivors to be blind and oblivious, unable to read aura's within a 48 meter range.

SPACIAL AWARENESS : survivor's that interact with clone projection's have their aura's shown for 5 seconds. If an injured survivor is interacting with a clone, they're given the broken status for 30 seconds.

[pinkopalina]

going to start researching my experience as a sole twin/twinless twin (due to being a womb twin survivor)

[friendrat]

I have a paradox. I have this friend who is an identical twin. His bother has ALS. And I just... it's weird, because I used to be (and still kinda am) jealous of the fact that they got to grow up together, but at the same time, I can't imagine what it would have been like to have had that and then watch my sister slowly lose function of her body and fade away. It's horrifying, honestly. Anyway... please pray for my friend and his family. This is so hard on all of them. It's a horrible disease.