#nerds in space

[markscherz]

Meet the seven new frog species we just named after iconic Star Trek captains!

Artwork by A. Petzold, CC BY-ND 4.0

At the right time of year along rushing streams in the humid rainforests that stretch the length of Madagascar's eastern and northern mountain ridges, otherworldly trills of piercing whistles can be heard.

Are they birds? Insects? Communicator beeps? Tricorder noises?

No, they're little treefrogs!

Boophis janewayae. Photo by M. Vences, CC BY-SA 4.0

Until recently, we thought all of the populations of these little brown frogs across the island were one widespread species, Boophis marojezensis, described in 1994. But genetics in the early 2000s and 2010s showed that there were several species here, not just one.

Now my colleagues and I have shown that they are in fact eight separate species, each with unique calls!

These whistling sounds reminded us so much of Star Trek sound effects that we decided to name the seven new species after Star Trek captains: Boophis kirki, B. picardi, B. janewayae, B. siskoi, B. pikei, B. archeri, and B. burnhamae.

Photos of all new species described by Vences et al. 2024. CC BY-SA 4.0

I subtly and not-so-subtly built some Star Trek references into the paper, but probably the best one is this one:

'Finding these frogs sometimes requires considerable trekking; pursuing strange new calls, to seek out new frogs in new forests; boldly going where no herpetologist has gone before.'

— Vences et al. 2024

There’s a real sense of scientific discovery and exploration here, which we think is in the spirit of Star Trek.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that there are at least two Trekkies amongst the authors (including yours truly). As fans of Star Trek, we are also just pleased to dedicate these new species to the characters who have inspired and entertained us over the decades.

On a personal note, this marks a milestone for me, as it means I have now described over 100 frog species! I am very pleased that the 100th is Captain Janeway's Bright-eyed Frog, Boophis janewayae (if you count them in order of appearance in the paper)—she is probably my favourite captain, and I really love Star Trek: Voyager.

You can read more about the discovery of these new species on my website! You can also read the Open Access paper published in Vertebrate Zoology here.

[tossawary]

I just know in my heart of hearts that in "Star Trek" at one point, there was some moral panic somewhere on Vulcan (among the uppity sorts) because Human culture was "infecting" the local youth with their overly emotional, destructive, unproductive, frivolous, and uneducational ways.

And what was actually happening was that a bunch of Vulcan kids got really into 23rd-century "Minecraft" or something.

Small Vulcan child @ another Vulcan child: (in a tone that sounds flat to Humans but angry as hell to Vulcans) "You have compromised the optimization of my fortress. I am having an emotional urge to blow up your house... in Minecraft."

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Of course we know that Eddie is the big fantasy nerd, with his love of D&D, he was probably an avid reader of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, and almost definitely made Wayne sit through numerous re-watches of The Wizard of Oz as a kid.

But when he gets together with Steve he realises that Steve 'the hair' Harrington isn't quite the meat-head jock that he remembers him to be in high school.

Eddie was flicking through the channels looking for something for them to watch when Steve comes in holding a bowl of popcorn in his hands as he scoots up close to Eddie.

"Hey, go back a minute, I think I saw something good." Steve says, tapping Eddie on the arm.

Eddie flicks back the channel and it lands on a re-run episode of the original series of Star Trek.

"Man, I used to be obsessed with this show as a kid." Steve says, throwing back a handful of popcorn. "Never missed an episode."

"Wait, you wanna watch Star Trek?" Eddie asked, raising his eyebrows at Steve's admission. His boyfriend was a secret geek.

"Yeah it's a good show. I think I even dressed up as Captain Kirk for Halloween one year. " scratch that Steve Harrington was a full on nerd.

"Sure, we can watch this." Eddie smirks, settling back against Steve.

"Hey, Eddie, did you ever watch that show about the alien in the time-travelling police box?"

It appears that the nerd-levels ran deep with Steve.

Eddie shakes his head at his boyfriend.

"Always watched that one too, actually, I still do." Steve smiles. "My grandma knitted me the long multicoloured scarf for Christmas when I was younger."

"Stevie, why didn't you tell me you were such a science fiction nerd?"

"You never asked."

Eddie might have been the fantasy lover between the two of them, but when it came down to it, Steve was most definitely the sci-fi geek.

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[divineturtle]

LOVE it- I could really use some more TOS-level tomfoolery tbh

...I'm actually kind of shocked that Star Trek has never done a Gulliver's Travels pastiche where they get to a planet and everyone is giants.

Like, yeah, that's goofy as hell, and they would have only ever tried that on TOS. But they didn't.

It must have been a basic budget issue. They did an episode where they went to a Mafia planet. One time Spock had his brain kidnapped and McCoy drove his body around like an RC car. They were not better than the idea of Kirk, Spock and McCoy getting trapped in salt shakers.

Apparently The Animated Series did one where there was exactly one giant, and he made a giant clone of Spock. But that's not the same thing.

[hawkp]

I was listening to an interview that Alexander Siddig did with Trek Geeks and this man said that he stayed up so late playing video games in the 90’s, and was so tired all the time on set, that the producers staged an intervention and were like “We’re going to support you no matter what your answer is but: are you on drugs?”

[cattrek]

what is julian texting our favourite simple tailor?

[zipper-vhs]

i need to actually finish the 2012 i draw leo to much for not having finished the show 💀

[spirk-trek]

i really needed to post this art on its own because it just became one of the most important things in my life

artist is alice petzold, drawn for the seven new frog species named after star trek captains (please go to the post to hear the sounds they make, it's so worth it, please please please)

read more about their discovery and habitat here :)

[the-witchhunter]

So Lucifer Morningstar, the fourth of the fallen, (retired) ruler of hell, the Devil himself, is a character in DC comics, appearing in the Sandman comics, his own solo run and various other comics

He is absurdly powerful

The thing is, Lucifer still has access to his Divine power, unlike other fallen angels, and is actually more powerful than other angels

What does this mean?

Lucifer was the guy that shaped the matter to create the stars, an ability he still has

Enter one Danny Fenton

“Omg(oh my ghost) I’m a HUGE FAN of your work”

Just Danny fangirling over the literal Devil because of stars and space

[hazieash]

Star Trek Lower Decks S4 Ep2 is iconic for many reasons and the workout attire is one them

[1nk-ling]

They're watchin "Space Heros", because of course they are.

A fandom where the snuggle pile is so loved and prominently known that it has an official name?! LET ME GET MY CHOMPERS ON IT!

[failedgrailknight]

Some ds9 sketches from when I first started watching the show! Office comedy of the century

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik flies. Ghost pines. Price... considers.

cw: hints of a future polyamorous relationship.

“Whit's he daein'?” Soap asked, folding his arms and legs as he watched Nik in the near distance.

Price looked up from the report in his lap, roll up twitching between his lips. Nik was pacing back and forth, fists, hands and arms moving in rhythmic, practised motions in front of his chest, by his hips, occasionally twisting behind him. But there was no opponent, only the imaginary one in Nik's head in the shape of the jet he was about to fly. “Shadowboxin.”

“Aye, ah c’n see tha’, sir. How come?”

Simon shifted on Price's right. He had been watching Nik with a palpable hunger. Even with his mask, the intensity of his gaze was hard to miss. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost husky. Like he was wading out of deeper, warmer thoughts. “Trainin’ exercise to practice his spatial awareness, coordination, and muscle memory before gettin’ in the cockpit. That thing ain’t his Black Hawk. Whole different animal. Second fastest jet in service.”

“That thing? S’massive. Na wey it kin shift. He'd ‘ave more fun in an F-15.”

The Foxbat was the size of a World War II heavy bomber — nine feet longer than an Avro Lancaster, two and a half feet taller than a B-24 and with a gross weight almost twenty-seven thousand pounds heavier than a Boeing B-17. Price had seen old black and white photographs on Nik's phone of Soviet technicians servicing the damn thing; they’d looked like toy soldiers scurrying around in its shadow.

The ride in the MiG-25 was a gift from Laswell as a thank you for Nik's help on a black op. Not even Price knew much about it, but it had to have been gnarly for her to pull this many strings. The Foxbat was fully fuelled and Nik's flight plan had been filed. Nik was going to throw that tank of an aircraft around the skies like he was twenty-two again, and he'd been vibrating with excitement during the walk out.

“Big man, big plane,” Simon murmured, “and he's got’a special attachment to it, even though it's a bit shite.”

Price plucked his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ash onto the concrete by his thigh, considering Simon closely. There had been a change in him recently, especially around Nik. He spent a lot of time watching Nik - all out staring, as Simon was prone to do - standing close to him during briefings, finding reasons to talk to him in down time. He was flirting without realising it. Price knew why. Nik had told him about the hair incident, and asked whether there was any possibility of enticing Simon into a little more.

Honestly? Price had laughed at the time. ‘Better chance of gettin’ a gobby off of Makarov’ had been his exact words. But now that he had watched Simon around Nik for a month, he wasn't so sure his initial assessment was accurate. Even now, his body was enticed towards Nik. His arms were folded but his posture was open, upper back against the wall but hips in Nik's direction, his feet spread, shifting and twitching like there was something bubbling beneath his skin.

“Oh aye? Why's he so keen on it then?” Soap asked, giving Simon the side eye. The sergeant wasn't thick; he'd seen it too.

“Foxbat scared the Americans shitless during the Cold War. They got these spy satellite photos showin’ that beast, engine intakes the size of small cars. Big wings, potential for more maneuverability ‘an the F-4 Phantom II. But a pilot called Viktor Belenko defected and showed her to be a dud. Wife divorcin’ him, disaffected with communist society. In 1976, he left his sortie and went to Japan. Landed at Hakodate, overran the runway, shut down with only thirty seconds of fuel remainin’. Handed ‘em a brand new Foxbat and a fockin’ trainin’ manual to dissect.”

Simon rattled it all off without pause, and Price had to fight his grin to keep his expression passive. Well, that bloody well confirmed it. Simon had hyperfixated on the plane that Nik treasured. There were probably several more encyclopedias worth of knowledge on the damn thing in his head, ready to use with Nik later. That was how Simon tried to connect with people; shitty jokes and learning about them through what they loved.

“‘Ow the fuck d’ye know all that?” Soap asked, smirking. He'd sussed it too.

“I read,” Simon said dryly. “Try it some time.”

“Och, baltic, sir.” Soap sniffed, head tilting the other way. “So, he feels some kinda kindred spirit with Belenko.”

Simon shrugged. “Maybe. Or he's a fockin’ plane nerd and flyin’ that thing would be like the old man wankin’ over those Nortons at Bletchley Park.”

“Yeah, wondered when it'd be my turn,” Price growled, rolling his eyes.

“At least it dunnae need a drip tray and a prayer to stay together, eh?”

“Ya tolkin’ about Price or the bikes?” Simon's head lolled to the side as he spoke, tone rife with wry amusement.

Soap cackled, and Price slapped the folder closed in his lap. “Olrigh’, can it, ya muppets.”

“Aye, sir. Ah, look, mus’ be his slot.”

They watched the Foxbat taxi down the runway under the direction of the flight crew, their exaggerated hand gestures and bouncing completely alien to the three soldiers sitting by the hanger but clearly recognisable to Nik, who made a hand gesture in return before he looked forward.

Price returned his cigarette to his mouth, leaning back to watch Nik climb the jet as the flight crew assembled. Time to take off. Nik bounced a little on his toes before he hauled himself up to the cockpit, shoving the headset and helmet on, aviators still in place because Nik was absolutely permitted his cornier foibles. This was a dream come true for him. Laswell had outdone herself.

Price grabbed the ear defenders nearby and chucked another set across to Soap; Simon was already prepared. The engines roared into life, making the air shimmer with heat and power, and the big jet accelerated down the runway, leaving the tarmac in one of the smoothest take offs Price had ever seen. Well, of course it was; it was Nik after all.

The Foxbat disappeared above the clouds quickly and Price glanced over at Simon. He didn't move until the grey smudge reappeared against the open skies further to the east. The jet rolled and banked, ascending almost vertical for a stall turn that made even Price's belly do a little flip. It shot back past the hanger, the sound of its engines lagging behind its visible position as Nik pushed it hard. Price wished he could hear Nik whooping and rambling in Russian; air traffic control were probably feeling a little uneasy.

Simon never dropped his chin. He remained stoic, his arms folded, but his mind was up in the clouds with Nik. They both were. The difference was that Price knew he would be unzipping that flight suit later and enjoying everything underneath, whereas Simon would deprive himself for fear of being hurt, no matter how much he wanted it. Price hummed, stubbing out his cigarette. Perhaps it was time to indulge Nik’s curiosity, and his own carefully managed and suppressed feelings. Simon wasn't the only one who had denied the obvious for self preservation.

Eventually, the flight had to come to an end. Nik brought the Foxbat down gently, the landing gear screeching against the tarmac briefly as Nik negotiated the short runway. He taxied back round to park her almost exactly where he had pulled away from, and Price smirked as the cockpit popped open and a jubilant Russian bounced up with a roar of triumph, big arms in the air.

Ghost stooped down to his bag and Price heard the tinkle of glass as he removed his ear defenders. Simon clutched four empty glasses in his big hands and jutted his chin at the Foxbat as he glanced down at Price. “Comin’?”

“Lead the way,” Price said, grunting as he rolled to his feet.

“Ey, where's the liquor?” Soap asked as he followed.

“Mechanics used t’ call this thing the Flyin’ Restaurant,” Price said. “The air-conditioning relies on evaporation of distilled water an’ about two hundred and forty litres of pure grain alcohol. She's still got some’uv the brew in her tank."

Soap’s nose wrinkled. “Ye hae tae be jokin’. Yer gonnae drink outta the feckin’ jet?”

“Abso-fockin’-lutely,” Simon said.

Nik greeted them with all the energy of an excited puppy, gesturing at the jet and spilling in and out of Russian and English like his brain was struggling to come down from the sky. His face lit up further when he spotted the glasses in Simon's hands, slapping the lieutenant on the shoulder with a surprised, booming laugh.

The air crew left them to it and Nik did the honours. It helped that the small bowsers used to refill the air-conditioning system had conveniently placed spigots to tap the Foxbat-shaped keg.

“Poyekhali!” Nik said before he knocked back his mouthful of Foxbat bloody moonshine. Soap choked and coughed on his, and Simon grunted in discomfort.

Price grinned, toasting his own. “Za zdorovye, comrade.” He took a deep breath before downing the lot. Oh it bloody burned.

[confessedlyfannish]

DC x DP Writing Prompt 4?? 45?? 2,321?? HUT!!!

"So you eat ectoplasm," Flash says hands clasped and index fingers pressed against his mouth.

"Ayup," Phantom says, punctuating with an obnoxious slurp of his goopy ectoplasm. "Does a not body good."

"But the place you come from is made of ectoplasm."

"Ayup."

"So you are literally eating the fabric of your universe?" Flash says, voice rising in pitch.

"No, the fabric of the Infinite Realms is space-time, same as Earth, well not the same," Phantom says, scrunching up his nose. "Earth is more cotton, The Zone is kinda stretchy...huh, like spandex. Neat!"

"But you're eating up the matter that makes you you--" Flash says, hands waving.

"Dude, everything you are was once a star," Phantom says, waving a hand at all of him. "Every last bit of you and everything around you. Star. Now replace it with ectoplasm, and we just cut out all the middlemen."

Flash watches him guzzle up the last bit looking faintly green himself. "That still kind of sounds like a justification for cannibalism."

"I promise to never eat you," Phantom says with uncomfortable emphasis, suddenly solemn. He stares at Flash without blinking until Flash, deeply unnerved, backs out of the room.

"Not funny," Batman says, flipping a page in his newspaper. "He was supposed to be on Watch Duty."

"Now Batman," Phantom drapes his tail across the man's shoulders and lets his fangs elongate and multiply.

"W̵̢̛͓͉̼͔͉͖̖̥͍̪̲̥̯̞̝͎͔̩̹̙͌̽̐͜ͅh̵̨̠̳̖͔̬̭̟̗̠̹͕̟̮̬͓̺͙̊͛͒ͅo̶̧̢̡̨̨̦͚̼̞̫͈͚̤̜͉̰̱̭͙̣̼͙̱͚͓͐͌̒̋̇ͅ ̵̡̡̰͙̠̦͙̼̘̪͈̻̟̙̳͚̤̮̖̱̎̐̀̇̾͛͊͛͊̈̋̈̋̿̍͑̔̏̎͑̒͗̚͘͝͠͝ͅs̵̡̹̣̗̼̙͓͖͉̒̃͋̂̄̄̈́͋̾̈́̀̎̉̓̒̇͐̎͊̚͝͝a̵̡̧͔͍͍͙͔͖̮̦͚͍̖̲͖͖̻̍͊͆̊̿́̿̅́̈͠͠͠i̴͙͙̾̌͊̓̂̌̒͒d̶̨͚̳̟̲̻̤͇͖̞͙̹̯͙̟͓͙͇͖̺̺̎͊͐̏͌̌̅̄́̏̽̓̃͂̓͜͜͝ͅͅ ̵̧̢͎͔̜̮̼̻̫̗̼͙͍͔̺͎͐̍̈́͜͜͜I̵̢̢̛̙̤̳͈̮̜̩͇͕̠̻̫̳̟̤̭͙͖̓̾̓̇̈́̂͒͂͌̍̎̅̑̇̔̇́͌͜͝ ̵̛̣̮̩̩̞̯̻̱̻̳͍̞͙̗̤̗̥͔̭̥͒͒̌͗̿͐̓̇̈̔̌͒̋̑̽̇͜͝ͅẁ̷̧̮̳̗̗͍̠̦̃a̸̡̧̛̛̺͈͍̟̣̫̺̟̗̥̲̻̥͔͔̲̱̣̩̠̖̰̿̋̄͆̀͋́̐̈́́̈́͌͆̅͂́̈́̓͗́̇ş̵̨̨̨̛̛͔̦͚̦̝̺̯̗͓̼̟͙̼̩̣̺̠̭̘͂̏̓̋̓̋̇̏͊̃͊͊͋̊̑̀͌̂͋͐͘̚͜͝ ̶̢̧͍͓̹̘͍̱̬̜̙̮̖̒̃͊̀̀̓̈́̆̀͐̇̿̀̇̿̆̔̂̈́͘͠ͅͅj̵̯̱̇̈́̌̈͌͆̋̑̇̋̎̐̈̇̓͘͘̚͝o̷̢̙͎̹̰̟̳̼̠̖͉̦̘̺̙͑͂͑̌̉͗̑͑̉͌͜͜͠͝͠ͅk̶̈́͋̈̈́͘��̡͇̀̂̈́̽̾͌̂̾̊̑͠ḯ̸̢̢̢̞̱̦͙͖̱̙͕̞̮̫̱̣̤̥͍͍̫̗͔͙̞̘̓̂̄͂̿̉͒̈̍̅̍̅̍̏̋̕͘͝͠͝ͅņ̴̛͉̲̮̫̩̙̠̯̤͚̠̥̳͈̝͇́̂͑g̶̛͎̻̟͍̯̪̺̬͍̲̱͇̪̩̰͆̓͊̃̅͗̆̈́̊̈́͘?"

Batman lifts his head from the newspaper silently.

"Ugh, fine!" Phantom says, throwing his hands up. "I'll take next watch."

"Hn."