Cretaceous - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Prehistoric Planet finally gives us the True Rival to the Tyrant Lizard King and it’s NOT a Dinosaur.
Woah, it’s the horny ones
Ceratopsians, because yes. Why these two specifically? Idk, just chose two random ceratopsians. Did I ever mention how much university can suck by the way?
Flappy lads. Idk, I figured I’d draw these three since it seems people constantly disagree about each of their statuses regarding each other.
Additional flappy lads. They flap. You screm. They kebab you :3
Not art, but just a fossil I really want people to see because I like it. This right here is the holotype of Dawndraco. To my understanding, it’s either its own thing, pteranodon, or geosternbergia. So yeah, it’s a massive can of worms. Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful fossil in my opinion, and I love visiting it as often as possible.
The Heat
My kill attracts flies and buzzards, skittish pterosaurs that fly like twisting columns of exotic color when I gurgle. My laughter is a booming hiss felt in ones chest.
The heat is intense. Syrupy air swirls with dust. Far away thunder rumbles with electric laughter, lightning flashes snapping intensely in bruised purple shadows. I yawn, letting a familiar flying creature clean each of my enormous, obsidian teeth.
Herds down river grumble this way or that, some species so mighty their steps gently rock the ground beneath me. I don’t mind. Not at all.
Not at all.
What came before?
Do you ever wonder if strange things existed before humanity did?
Did dinosaurs look up into the sky and see UFOs; bizarre constellations of soundless, moving lights glinting, pulsing, throbbing? Did a lone Triceratops huffing and puffing it’s way through tangled, mossy Cretaceous undergrowth ever happen upon a sunny woodland clearing in the humid afternoon, and see through quiet, calm eyes a strange silvery creature on mechanical tripod legs? Did it’s snorting, three-horned and colorfully frilled face startle the small pilots who arrived on this foreign vessel?
Did cursed or haunted places exist? Did prehistoric life sense some places were touched by rot, by negative feelings which could turn the air dark, oppressive? Phantasmic possibilities and harmful predatory shadows that would dance and stalk angry twilights like the poltergeists and phantoms of today?
Were there ever any mysterious leviathans and behemoths, vast creatures with impossibly rare numbers, living in their hidden lairs, old as time?
The Sun is setting. Insects hiss, unfamiliar birds whistle and warble, and stranger things clack their angry beaks in eerie canticle. Far away comes thunder, a haunting song from leviathans like walking mountains, behemoth and graceful. They bask in the evening glow. I walk. Step. Step. Step. My talons leave marks in the wet, softly gripping muck. Step. Step. Step.
The water whispers. Babbling and gentle. Summer air turned sickly sweet with the scent of far away volcanic ash— mountains are being born, hot with slag, magma pouring down a thousand rocky facades. A distant catastrophe. My footsteps are wet on pebbles and silt, claws sinking slightly at each step. Step. Step. Step— pause. Wait. Sounds upriver. Splashing water, the heave of heavy and muscular forms, honking notes— opportunity. My footsteps quicken.
My belly is full. Overextended. I rest in the shade as the noon Sun rides up into the sky, a blue expanse haloed by unflinching light. It warms my feathers, graces my scales. I doze near the carcass. Flies swarm in countless, singing droves, and they pick at my teeth, cling near my flaring nostrils and slitted eyes. I smell mammal scent— tiny, fragile. Hear minuscule hearts racing in pumping terror as they scuttle around my bulk. Beat. Beat. Beat.
This muck— it smells foul. Ash is failing like black, blanketing snow. It turns the world into a bizarre, dreamlike place, coats everything in suffocating bleakness. Like night coming down from the horizon in razor-sharp fragments. My breath comes in heavy, exhaustive fits. In— stutter— out. In— stutter—out. My stomach growls, furious, empty. Fire burns, close, a screaming and pulsing wall of incineration, alive with a thousand, thousand lapping tongues that turn everything into crisp death. Have to keep moving.
The volcanoes are far away now. At night, just barely on the horizon, they blister bloody and unsettling in the distance. Ash does not fall from the sky. This place smells of frost, and stone. Rocky hills rise up into the sky, stark, banded in the colors of deep time. Whiteness caps the highest, furthest peaks. Curiosity glimmers in my mind like something shiny. Interesting.
spinosaurus!! aka the best dinosaur ever