annnnnd, that’s the queue
annnnnd, that’s the queue
Nichelle Nichols (December 28, 1932 - )
“Uhura never had another name during the series. One of the fan writers wrote “Upenda” - which means “peace” in Swahili, I understand — not officially, but in some of their fan writings. And it sort of took hold. But when they were going to do the official history of Star Trek in a published book, the writer called Gene and asked him was “Uhura” her first name or her last name? Gene said, “Well, Nichelle and I never decided.” We always leaned towards it being her last name because it’s taken from the Swahili “uhuru” which means freedom. So it would sort of be like the same as “Freeman.” So he said, “You can make it her last name.” The writer said, “What about her first name? I’ve come up with one in Swahili. It’s Nyota.” Gene said, “I can’t give you that permission because Nichelle and I named her together, and she has rights to that, so you’ll have to call her and get her permission.” So he gave him my number, and he called me and I laughed and was delighted. He said, “I have a name and it’s Nyota.” I said, “That’s quite beautiful. What does it mean?” He said, “It means ‘star’.” I said, “You can have my permission!” So I have since said that her name is Nyota Upenda Uhura, which would mean a free-floating star: “star of freedom and peace”. I like that.” — NICHELLE NICHOLS
Sleeping beauty AU? I can has?
“I’m not doing it!” Scott yelped. “No way! You do it!”
“I—” Stiles shook his head, jittery, and then squared his shoulders and said, “Okay, fine.”
“Fine,” Scott said. Derek slept on, slumped on the floor where they’d found him, chest rising and falling slowly. “Do it.”
“Gimme a minute,” Stiles said. He knelt down next to Derek. “Derek,” he said, pretty loudly, even though they’d tried that already, tried shaking him awake and dumping water over his head and just letting him sleep (“Maybe he just really needs a nap,” Scott had said doubtfully,) “I’m gonna kiss you if you don’t wake up,” he said. Derek didn’t move; his lashes were dark against his cheeks, mouth soft.
“Just do it—” Scott said, from somewhere behind him, “The alphas could come back, they’re probably coming back—”
“Okay!” Stiles said. “Can you—just—turn around or something!”
“I can’t do it if you’re watching,” Stiles said. “It’s weird.”
“Yeah, that’s what’s weird,” Scott said, but Stiles heard him shuffling around. He took a breath—
“Hurry up,” Scott said.
“Shut up,” Stiles said, and leaned forward, touched his lips to Derek’s softly, the space of an exhalation. “It didn’t work,” he said.
“Really?” Scott said. “But the witch said—”
“I know what the witch said,” Stiles said loudly. “It didn’t work.”
“Maybe you didn’t do it right,” Scott said, now leaning over his shoulder, staring at Derek’s closed eyes. “Maybe you—”
“I know how to kiss someone,” Stiles said.
“Did you French him?” Scott said.
“I’m just saying, it sounded—short,” Scott said. “I think you should French him, you know—with tongue—”
“Yeah, I got it,” Stiles said.
“Okay,” Scott said, backing off, hands in the air. “I’m just—I’m—I’ll wait in the other room.”
“Fine,” Stiles muttered. “Fine.” Derek’s eyes moved beneath his pale bruise smudged eyelids, dreaming. Stiles scrubbed his hands down over his knees and took a nervous breath, bent in again, cupped the fine-cut edge of Derek’s jaw in his palm and kissed him awake, Derek’s lips parting beneath his, his hands coming up, fingers in Stiles’ hair, an unreadable flicker of emotion in his eyes when Stiles sat back and broke the kiss.
“Seriously, just put your tongue in his mouth so we can—oh,” Scott said, coming back in. “So. It worked.”
“yeah,” Derek said, voice rusty.