Time Twins Drabbles n Such

by Pokedash55, Purplefern

Summary:

A collection of short little Time Twins things that won't get worked into more comprehensive one shots. Quality is not guaranteed though brotherly fluff is!

Notes:

Hello! If you know anything about me or my sister Pokedash you probably know we have a lot of Time Twins stuff! Obviously not all of it is amazing and some of it we just kinda write because, so I figured I'd make a place for us to post the less polished things. Cause hey, more Hands of Time content is more Hands of Time content, right? So enjoy these thoroughly un-proofread snippets.

Chapter 1: Untouchable but not unlovable

Krux hated hugs. Acronix had known this from a very young age, since with as physically affectionate (and energetic) as a person as he was, ever since he could toddle he would inevitably try to latch onto his twin brother, only him to squirm away or throw him off. When he was a little older he came to realize that this meant no and reluctantly stopped, not wanting to cause his twin distress. However he still asked, curious and disappointed, “ Why? ”

 

Of course this was when they were like four, so he only got a helpful answer of, “Don’ like it.” 

 

The young Acronix huffed at that, not really getting how his twin could hate something that he liked so much. But he didn’t want to cause his brother harm, at least, not when he wasn’t intentionally trying to. 

 

Several years later Acronix was working steadily at finding a work around to Krux’s aversion to physical affection. (Partially so he could show his brother some kind of affection but also partially because getting on his nerves was fun.) But it was like the past time user had a sixth sense and just knew someone was touching him, even when he was wearing layers. 

 

“Okay so what about this?” he asked innocently enough, merely placing a firm hand on his twin’s shoulder.

 

“Stop it,” huffed Krux with a scowl, shuddering as he immediately threw off his twin’s hand. Acronix sighed poutily, he had been sure that Krux’s long sleeved shirt would totally make that work. He got sudden inspiration thinking about how their parents interacted with them. With an expression mimicking their father, he said, “Alright, what about…” and promptly thowmped his palm on Krux’s head, giving him a couple solid pats. 

 

Krux continued to frown, but, excitedly, Acronix noted that he didn’t flinch this time! 

 

“Ah, ha! Something you can stand, at last!” he cheered. 

 

“No!” his brother protested, crossing his arms. 

“C’mon, don't lie! You did not hate it!” argued the younger twin back, pointing meaningfully at the older. “Not like other things, anyway.” Grininning, to prove his point he patted his brother on the head a few more times, and, true to the last time, even though he didn’t exactly look happy about it, it didn’t inspire the same gut reaction flinching that any other touch did. 

 

So head pats became a regular thing exchanged between the brothers. Even Krux warmed up to giving them to his younger twin, especially when they got older and Acronix’s vanity only increased. Then they would be fused with ruthless ruffling to annoyingly and affectionately mess up his oh so perfect hair. Krux considered that suitable payback. But as often as the gesture was traded to annoy, it would also be shared genuinely. 

 

It was quite the testament to how much his brother missed him that as soon as Acronix showed up in his museum in the future, the first thing Krux did was initiate a hug. Hesitantly at first, but then gratefully, Acronix hugged him back. He could feel Krux’s hands flinch uncertainly at his back, not knowing what to do with them, but Acronix relished the gesture for how rare it was. The embrace quickly ended, but even then Krux’s hand still rested on his shoulder like he couldn’t imagine letting him go. Though the hug was not repeated, as Acronix stayed in the future (or, for his brother, the present) the affectionate head pats and hair ruffles returned full force as they were before, though, perhaps, Acronix found himself on the receiving end more often. (The age gap now resent between them only served to make the whole thing slightly comical, but Acronix refrained from saying so aloud.) This bond, though unusual, had only become more important to the brothers because of the years dividing them. 

Notes:

I could go into the ending of the season and make it sad but I don’t wanna.

Chapter 2: Alone Time... Together

The Hands of Time were brothers -- twins. They laughed like brothers, supported each other like brothers, fought like brothers, and annoyed each other to no end like brothers. But sometimes the most important moments were spent with either brother completely in their own world in the same room. Acronix practicing a new weapon of form on one end while Krux stayed absorbed in historical documents at his desk, both fully submerged in their own tasks while still subconsciously aware of the presence of the other which only made the task better. It was the closeness of silence, and of letting the other be to their own interests that made the time worth all the more. 

 

The subject, but not the nature of it, changed during the preparations of Krux’s plan for vengeance. At times the brothers would still slip into their own worlds of interests, though Acronix’s had now become more digital while Krux’s were more scientific than historical, but the time would pass by the same is it did before, the tow just doing what they liked in the company of the other .

Chapter 3: Double Krux AU

Chapter by Purplefern

Notes:

Lost in Time AU, because the time travel is such a mess in the finale. I mean, the Iron Doom lands within basically walking distance of Young Krux (they say in canon that he sees the same blimps that Wu does, so he has to be somewhere close by), so what if he happened to see it and then just jumped in? Never really fleshed it out or finished it beyond the basic premise so now I can just dump it here! Yaaay! Enjoy. :)

Krux had scarcely gotten back up after falling out of the Time Vortex before he saw the portal opening once again. He watched, mouth agape, as a giant silver… thing fell out of the sky and landed solidly at the Monastery of Spinjitzu just over the horizon. 

Was this some eldritch time horror meant to punish those who open the forbidden power of the Time Vortex he briefly wondered, looking at its dragonesque form. But, straining his eyes, he quickly discovered it was more metal than creature. And seemed to have an incredibly familiar symbol displayed proudly on its chest -- the symbol of the Hands of Time. He wasn’t sure what this was all about, but had the distinct feeling that he had better find out. Ignoring his bruises and strains from the so recently completed battle against Wu (a fact he tried not to let himself linger angrily on for too long), he shook himself off and started at a steady jog back towards the Monastery he had so recently been shot away from. 

Walking through the front entrance, he butted his way through the crowd of Elementals just as a door opened on the machine, to reveal… his brother? And an older man next to him, but Krux was really good at only really noticing the details he cared about. 

“The--” Acronix barely started before Krux butt in. 

“Brother? What are you doing? And what is that thing ?” he asked, pushing aside a last gaping Elemental to walk up to his brother, though his eyes were lingering on the gigantic metal behemoth behind him. 

“Umm,” Acronix paused, looking over at the man standing next to him with a curiously confused expression. 

Krux had honestly already written off the other man as an unimportant detail, but now that he was being forced to pay attention to it, he studied the man further. But of course, other than Acronix there was only one person who had gold eyes and would be sporting their family’s traditional tattoos. There was nothing else to it, this other man had to be him. But a him that was at least sixty years old. (Though still looking in fighting shape, he pridefully noted.) “ Two of me? Acronix, what in the name of Time did you do?” he immediately accused, crossing his arms tightly. 

“Acronix didn’t do this,” spoke the man -- this future him -- and Krux had to double take at the strangeness of hearing his own voice spoken from another. “I did. Or, I suppose, you did, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“ I did? What are you--” the younger Krux started to ask, but was swiftly cut off by his twin (to which both Krux’s glared at being interrupted). 

“We can exchange pleasantries later. For now, there is an Elemental Alliance that needs to be dealt with?” he huffed, in his familiar Acronix impatience. 

“Ah yes,” Krux’s older self agreed with a curt nod. Looking to the Alliance, who had been watching the odd exchange with flabbergasted expressions he said, “You may have already beaten us once today,” saying so he gestured towards his younger self who scowled in offense, “But that was before we had a legion spawned from the Great Devourer!”

The younger Krux, who had by now settled to be at his brother's side, opposite of his future self, looked both horrified and excited, completely missing as Lightning spoke some nonsense. He instead was looking back over at the metal contraption he and his brother had walked out of, his eyes occasionally darting towards his future self only to quickly look away again. It was just too uncanny of a sight. However Wu’s shouting voice drew his attention back onto the Elementals he despised. 

“STOP!” Wu shouted, “Focus, everyone!” 

“‘Focus’?” the young Krux couldn’t but scoff drily in echo, far too used to hearing such a criticism from the Master of Creation. However, it was an echo in more ways than one, as his future self had reacted much the same way. The two shared a surprised look that quickly turned knowing, and the older Krux, smirking, tacked on. “Indeed.” 

“Commander Machia!” yelled Acronix, a name Krux did not recognize, “It is time!” 

An absolute army of red soldiers poured then from the machine behind them. Krux did not allow the shock he felt to show through on his face, because he knew without knowing the exact details of the plan that that would ruin the display of power. Instead he looked on as the Elemental Alliance was swarmed, crossing his arms and smirking (of course, that went from a disguise to his true feelings quickly, because it truly was validated to watch the self important Alliance be crushed before the might of the Hands of Time.) He noticed his future self doing the same, and decided that now was as good a time as any to clear some things up. 

“So, you are myself from the future, then?” he asked casually. 

“Indeed I am,” spoke the other him, in a voice virtually identical to his own, though slightly more grated with age. “I’ve been working forty years on getting the Time Blades, as well as creating an army from the nest of the Great Devourer so we could go back and get revenge on the Elemental Alliance in our Iron Doom.” 

The young Krux nodded. He knew he would develop some plan of revenge. He was impressed with the scale of it. Not to mention the army he was using. “You -- we -- found the Nest of the Devourer ?” he couldn’t help but get excited at the fact. The Great Devourer was a creature of legend, and he had only heard stories of a possible nest. He thought briefly to check his tone, too used to being judged over his excitement over such things, but quickly reasoned that he wouldn’t be embarrassed by himself. 

“Yes. It was hidden deeply in the swamps in the southwest. I suspect no one ever found it because they assumed it would be in the desert alongside other Serpentine relics such as the City of Ouroboros.” 

“People found the City of Ouroboros?!” exclaimed the younger Krux, unable to even try and keep his voice down in his excitement and shock. 

Acronix had been following the exchange, looking between both versions of his brother with a slanted bemused grin. Leave it to his brother -- both of them -- to be in the middle of battle and start talking about history. “This is so weird,” he spoke aloud, breaking both Kruxes out of their conversation, and pinning him with very similar disgruntled expressions at being interrupted. Looking pointed between them, he smirked and asked offhandedly, “Does this make me a triplet now?” 

“No”

“No!” 

Replied both Kruxes, similarly unamused. 

Acronix chuckled, turning away from his brother(s) to resume watching the battle. 

(Then Older Krux knows that the Reversal Time Blade is around, so he has Young Krux go get it. So the Time Twins win nyeh. :p )

Notes:

Thanks for reading! :)

Chapter 4: Post canon angst

Chapter by Purplefern

Notes:

More things found while file cleaning. Warning: this one is not happy.

If Time was the thread that sewed the fabric of the universe together, then they had fallen through the seams, neither in one patch nore the other, just falling to an unknown end. But there was no end here, nor a beginning. It was forever and no time, nothing but swirling colors, shifting lights, and the howling sound of wind that was heard but not felt. The only thing that could be felt was the other’s hand, where they were joining to avoid being separated again. It was the one thing constant amidst the ever changing lights around them. Even their appearances changed and transformed. Here Acronix was an old man, then a child; Krux was his young self, then a teenager. The Time Vortex took and twisted everything. 

 

In this stimulus free void [absence of stimulation? Void?] Aconix’s mind raced. His thoughts had always been fast and loud, and here there was nothing he could do to escape them. He waved his free arm -- the one clutching onto his twin tightening its grip-- but he felt no resistance. He may as well not have moved at all. His fingers twitched for something to grab, something to hold onto, as they grew and shrunk in size. They moved as though through water, but there was nothing under them. He did not dare move the hand tightened around his brother’s. The Time Vortex and its nothingness was already starting to chip at his mind. To go through this all alone with no anchor would be a torture unimaginable. He had gone through the vortex by himself once before, and even with a known destination it had been terrifying. Worried by the thought, he looked at his brother. Aconix managed a strained grin when he saw Krux was a teen-- looking about the age they had been when they had had to flee their home after finding their parents’ bodies left in the smoldering remains of their village. The memory played with frightening, frantic, clarity and he felt like he was living it again. It must have been some element of the Time Vortex, making the past feel as real and new as if it were happening again. Fear swept through the once future hand of time. “Krux,” he tried to say, looking for reassurance, but his twin’s name was swept away by the roaring around them. He settled for clenching his hand tighter, and sighed as his brother grasped his hand back. Krux, now a young man again while Acronix was now the teen, looked at him and tried to give a watery smile. Even under their current circumstances, Acronix huffed a laugh at his twin’s typically terrible attempts at smiling. 

 

The sound didn’t carry, and the mood was swept away by the whooshing vortex as it swirled on towards everywhere and nowhere. 

It was forever and it was no time at all. There was Nothing. Nothing. Nothing . Acronix’s skin shuddered and itched, needing something to feel, something to touch, something in this void that wasn’t just his own voice in his head. He grasped at the symbol on his chest but even that seemed to be nothing but dead air under his grasp. Onwards they fell, for forever and no time at all.

Notes:

Just a little musing on the time vortex and a less optimistic take on Krux and Acronix's fates post-canon. I was amused by one of my notes for this being "fix it fic by breaking it more". Hope you enjoyed this depressing snippet. (Wait that sounds weird.)

Chapter 5: Stream of Consciousness

Summary:

The solution Acronix finds only reveals more questions

Acronix knew so much and so little at the same time. The internet explained much of his and his brother's plights but modern science could only explain the symptoms. 10+ tabs cluttered his phone and they all said what his condition was , what the brain was doing, what was functioning so wrong, but no one offered a reasonable permanent solution. It seemed modern science was not advanced enough to solve the mysteries of the human brain. It was annoying to know there were all these problems that would seemingly never have a remedy; these issues clouding the mighty Hands of Time would never change. Apparently, they would have to remain a variable that had and would forever stain their lives and there was nothing to be done about it. Even for warriors as mighty as they were. They may have been able to control the very fabric of Time, but even they were helpless against their own neurology. 

 

To think someone as awesome as he could be caused to act so foolish was laughably pitiful. He feared that this disorder, this “Adhd” made decisions for him sometimes. Were his actions truly of his own merit, or were they simply products of what he could not control? Where did the influence end, and his own self begin? He didn’t want to admit it, but the questions worried him. Worried him so much that his mind would try to track down answers, even as he laid down to sleep. It was almost like his own thoughts were a Vermillion warrior to themselves; constantly shifting and reforming and impossible to truly put down, but each time coming back in an altered form instead. In the dead of night he would lay wide awake in his bed, his brain besieged by this unkillable mental warrior. 

 

Just when he thought he had vanquished one it reformed again in a different string of worries. And what about his brother? Acronix had his problems, but at least he could go in a shopping mall with relatively little difficulty, and could speak to others without freezing. The internet had given a name and a face to his older twin’s demon, but offered very little in the ways of how to defeat it. 

 

Was this just how it would be for the Time Twins? Forced as captures of their own minds. As masters of time, they controlled the very fabric of reality. Control Time, Control Everything. It had been their mantra for years but the modern world has proven one thing beyond their control; Their own behaviors. Can one control this “ADHD” the internet so fervently agrees he, the great Acronix, is suffering under? 

 

His mind shouldn’t be concerned about these fruitless questions. He should be resting for the next battle against the ninja, but like always, he was sitting on his cot staring endlessly into the ceiling. His phone layed by his bedside but his eyes were too exhausted now to continue scrolling the endless void of information it provided him. Instead he just laid there and the thoughts creeped in. It was a jumbled void of worries and he could only center his mind when he stared at his brother, sound asleep (on the same sleeping routine he’s had since he last saw him 30 years ago) unlike himself. 

 

Acronix wondered how Krux did it. Went through every day for thirty years without him, knowing and wishing he wasn’t who he was. Why did he choose someone as eccentric as Sander Saunders as a cover? Surely any persona would fool the civilians and it wouldn’t wear Krux down as much. Maybe the cover allowed him to pretend he was normal, even though he frequently remarked how he hated it each day. Why Krux did it to himself Acronix didn’t know. It seemed that before he arrived in the future he knew much more. Or at least he was more confident in his knowledge. 

 

The world had an infinite box of answers, but no matter how long he looked he only ended up more lost, mind rushing endlessly to keep up. Another reminder ran through his head that he needed to try to sleep at least a few hours. He would hate to fall in battle to those pesky kids of Wu’s, unable to secure his brother’s grand ambition. Acronix would do anything to ensure Krux got his way and sometimes that meant forcing his eyes shut, commanding the voices to stop so he could rest. 

 

He’ll get a few hours, he was sure, and coffee could make up the difference. He put the phone back down, not even remembering when he started scrolling again (he was sure he stopped earlier in the night?) and forced his head down with a soft groan.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 5 of Neurodivergent Time Twins Fics