#cryptime

[aconstantallegory]

fun sketches to get me out of a potent art block

[aconstantallegory]

family photo :y

[aconstantallegory]

practice writing but with both time and tarrant, both of them being cryptids lol

we were sitting about in the living room of time's castle, one of the notable rooms across the vast beyond of the cold rest. tarrant made himself comfortable by the fireplace and read a novel with ease, despite the book in his hand being upside down, and time himself tapping away on a typewriter on his latest edition of recalled and now-recorded history. as i sit nearby also silent with my phone, i'll tell you a few things i've noticed about them.

tarrant's eyes, aside from their emeralistic shine, also seemed to be sparkling with iridescent shimmer - the light from the fire reflecting off of his irises as if they were of polished prisms. the markings on his face changed in colour to reflect the feelings that he felt (surely from my observations, his ever-changing vibrance suggested it was a very thrilling story) and his hair resembled and rolled like a cumulus cloud at sunrise. he decided to wear a fit that seemed to be inspired from the 80's, or something like the tack of a bowling alley floor or bus seat coverings, but the abstract shift of his wear made it hard to define without getting muddled up. at least he spared the observer from headaches. i'll have to ask him what the book was about next time i have the chance, and what book it was exactly - his decorated fingers covered up the title.

time, the esteemed ruler of everything and all in between, sat humbly as he relayed his grand knowledge onto inked paper. the strange thing i've noticed about his stance is that he always seemed to cross his legs in spite of balance, and twisted them even so as he sat, just like how i did and continue to do. the apple never fell far from the tree, even if the branch was grafted on. there were no wrinkles upon his face except strange grooves like the lines of tectonic plates, and whenever he scowled from an unprecedented writing mistake, his bony teeth seemed to poke out menacingly. there was no fear induced from them, for despite (or fitting for) his status he had a just and understanding personality. he did not wear his usual exaggerated garb, but something much more casual with a similar color palette. it allowed the glow of the grand clock to illuminate the paper.

i never really understood the significance of family until i found it right here, laying calmly about with an atmosphere described as the warmest, kindest feeling imaginable.

[aconstantallegory]

style practice with all 3 of us w differing techniques n how they show character...

unsure what were looking at though tbh

[aconstantallegory]

cryptids and somebody with a camera

[aconstantallegory]

cryptarrant actually originated from him being my imaginary friend and just pasting on him the ability of becoming real at will from the love imbues life trope

also as far as i know hes like 70% fabric and stuffing too just another addon

[aconstantallegory]

kinda ironic if 2/3 of a cryptid hunting group are cryptids themselves isnt it

[aconstantallegory]

cryp(time/tarrant) but with a 'royal' aesthetic - they bear clothing fit for monarchs, but it's all tattered and warped even, cryptime's covered in barnacles and seaweed, smelling of salt and bilgewater, slightly petrified and cracked like tectonic panels - cryptarrant's own clothes overall looking like many wings of all kinds layered over eachother, littered with moss and mushrooms, some parts transparent in a way that light passes through him too

both have courts, both without people, the primordial ocean and the ephemeral flora