#nar c

[lonestarflight]

North American Rockwell concept art of the NAR-161-C version of the Space Shuttle.

Date: 1970s

Posted by Numbers Station on Flickr: link

[silvcrignis]

Also like Claude will bust up into the Fog in the DBD verse to talk to anyone he fucking feels like whenever he feels like, fuck the Entity’s feelings about it, not only can the Entity not 1v1 Lord Chernabog, literal actual long time established & powerful GODS like Loki & Ares have crushes on him, trying to steal that man is more trouble than it’s worth, they’ll tear that Fog apart to get their boy back & booooooy howdy does the Entity NOT want to steal the Mistress of ALL Evil’s motherfucking soulmate. His adopted son is a spawn of the Old One. They don’t want the smoke.

[suntoru]

treated myself to some sephora for exam season 😚

[ranahan]

C, cy, yc—why are they pronounced like that?

I think I’ve mentioned before that the rule is very nearly regular, so here it is. I’ve reproduced Traviss’s original pronunciation guides here (so you can see whether what I’m saying holds true).

c (without y) is pronounced as /s/ before high front vowels /e i/

cerar [sair-ARR]

ceratir [sair-AH-teer]

ceryc [sair-EESH]

cetar [set-ARR]

cetare [set-ARE-ay]

cin [seen]

cinargaanar [see-NAHR-gah-nahr]

cinarin [see-NAH-reen]

cin'ciri [seen-SEE-ree]

cinyc [SEE-neesh]

ciryc [seer-EESH]

mircin [meer-SEEN]

mircir [meer-SEER]

mirci't [meer-SEET]

racin [ray-SEEN]

tom'urcir [tohm-OOR-seer]

ver'mircit [VAIR-meer-seet]

otherwise as /k/

That is, before other vowels:

ca [kah]

cabuor [kah-BOO- or]

cabur [KAH-boor]

ca'nara [KAH-nah-RAH]

can'gal [CAHN-gahl]

carud [kah-ROOD]

ca'tra[KAH-tra]

cuir [COO-eer]

copaanir [KOH-pan-EER]

copad [KOH-pad]

copikla [koh-PEEK-lah]

copyc [KOH-peesh]

cu'bikad [COO-bee-kahd]

cunak [COO-nahk]

cuun [koon]

cuyan [koo-YAHN]

cuyanir [coo-YAH-neer]

cuyete [coo-YAY-tay]

cuyir [KOO-yeer]

cuyla [COO-ee-lah]

du'car [DOO-kar]

du'caryc [doo-KAR-eesh]

ge'catra [geh-CAT-rah]

jorcu [JOR-koo]

ori'copaad [OH-ree-KOH-pahd]

vencuyanir [ven-COO-yah-neer]

vencuyot [vain-COO-ee-ot]

vercopa [vair-KOH-pa]

vercopaanir [VAIR-koh-PAH-neer]

…and in a word-final position:

balac [bah-LAHK]

bic [beek]

ibac [ee-BAK]

ibic [ee-BIK]

norac [noh-RAK]

tebec [TEH-bek]

yc is always pronounced as /iʃ/

aikiyc [ai-KEESH]

aruetyc [AH-roo-eh-TEESH]

balyc [BAH-leesh]

beskaryc [BES-kar-EESH]

burk'yc [BOOR-keesh]

chakaaryc [chah- KAR-eesh]

copyc [KOH-peesh]

dalyc [DAH-leesh]

daryc [DAR-eesh]

diryc [DEER-eesh]

duumyc [DOO-meesh]

etyc [ETT-eesh]

gaht'yc [GAH-teesh]

gehatyc [geh-HAHT-eesh]

haamyc [HAH-meesh]

haatyc [HAH-teesh]

haryc [HAR-eesh]

hayc [haysh]

hetikleyc [hay-TEEK-laysh]

hettyc [heh-TEESH]

hodayc [HOH-daysh]

hokan'yc [hoh-KAH-neesh]

iviin'yc [ee-VEEN-esh]

jagyc [JAH-geesh]

jaon'yc [jai-OHN-ish]

jari'eyc [JAR-ee-aysh

jatisyc [jah-TEE-seesh]

johayc [JO-haysh]

kotyc [koh-TEESH]

kyr'adyc [keer-AH-deesh]

kyrayc [keer-AYSH]

kyr'yc [KEER-eesh]

laamyc [LAH-meesh]

lararyc [lah-rah-eesh]

majyc [MAH-jeesh]

morut'yc [moh-ROO-teesh]

narseryc [nar-SAIR-eesh]

nayc [naysh]

neduumyc [nay-DOO-meesh]

nehutyc [neh-HOOT-eesh]

nu'amyc [noo-AHM-eesh]

nuhaatyc [noo-HAH-teesh]

ori'beskaryc [OH-ree-bes-KAR-eesh]

ori'jagyc [OH-ree-JAHG-eesh (or OH-ree-YAHG-eesh)]

ori'suumyc [OHR-ee-SOOM-eesh]

oyayc [oy-AYSH]

piryc [PEER-eesh]

ramikadyc [RAH-mee-KAHD-eesh]

ret'yc [RET-eesh]

ruusaanyc [roo-SAHN-eesh]

sapanyc [sah-PAHN-eesh]

shaap'yc [sha-PEESH]

shi'yayc [shee-YAYSH]

shuk'yc [shook-EESH]

shupur'yc [shoo-POOR-esh]

sol'yc [sohl-EESH]

talyc [tahl-EESH]

tomyc [TOH-meesh]

tranyc [TRAH-neesh]

tratyc [TRAH-teesh]

tug'yc [too-GEESH]

ulyc [OO-leesh]

urcir [oor-SEER]

utyc [OO-teesh]

verburyc [vair-BOOR-eesh]

verd'yc [VAIR-deesh]

vutyc [VOOT-eesh]

yaiyai'yc [yai-YAI-eesh]

Note that this is still true when yc occurs in the middle of a word instead of the end:

barycir [bah-REE-shir]

besbe'trayce [BES-beh-TRAYSH-ay]

dirycir [DEER-ee-SHEER]

ke'gyce [keh-GHEE-shay]

majyce [mah-jEE-shay]

majycir [MAH-jeesh-eer]

mar'eyce [mah-RAY-shay]

mureyca [MOOR-aysh-ah]

cy is pronounced as /ʃ/

burc'ya [BOOR-sha]

burcyan [BOOR-shahn]

cyare [SHAH-ray]

cyare'se [shar-AY-say]

cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah]

cyar'tomade [SHAR-toe-MAH-day]

mirshmure'cya [meersh-moor-AY-shah]

murcyur [MOOR-shoor]

oyacyir [oy-YAH-sheer]

Ret'urcye mhi [ray-TOOR-shay-MEE]

sheb'urcyin [sheh-BOOR-shin]

sho'cye [SHOW-shay]

tracy'uur [trah-SHOOR]

Exceptions

The above holds true except for some exceptions:

The first is a group of words with a combination of u + yc:

buyca [BOO-shah]

buy'ce [BOO-shay]

buycika [BOO-she-kah]

This might be related to the status of /ui/ as a diphthong in Mando’a & could be a piece of evidence against it. What do I mean? Well, every instance of ⟨uy⟩ in the dictionary, Traviss breaks up in two syllables /u.i/. Could be there’s no diphthong /ui/ in Mando’a? However, I think it’s more likely this is because Traviss gives the pronunciations with an English orthography (i.e. how an English speaking reader would know to pronounce the words), and there’s no diphthong /ui/ in English, so in order to represent those sounds in English, they have to be broken up in separate syllables.

I also think the long /uː/ in buy’ce etc. is likely simply an elision: try going slowly from /u/ to /i/ to /ʃ/, and you’ll notice it’s easier to slip directly from /u/ to /ʃ/. I would generalise it as the diphthong /ʊɪ/ being realised as /uː/ before palatal consonants (at least; maybe others as well).

and:

buyacir [boo-ya-SHEER] /bʊ.ja.ˈʃiɾ/

Which has no excuse for being irregular except for influence on its spelling from buy’ce, so you could alternatively spell it as buyacyir or pronounce it as /bʊ.ja.ˈsiɾ/ (either would be regular).

The other exception to the rule is:

acyk [AH-seek]

The rule for this could be formulated as “if y is the only vowel in a syllable, it’s pronounced as /i/ and the pronunciation of c follows that.” Except for…

tracyn [trah-SHEEN]

Which itself could be analysed as a combination of the above rules: y as an only vowel gets pronounced as /i/, but the consonant in cy is still pronounced as /ʃ/ (in which case it would be acyk that is irregular instead).

It’s the derivations that appear irregular:

tracinya [trah-SHEE-nah]

tracyaat [tra-SHEE-at]

tra'cyar [tra-SHEE-ar]

Tracinya is plainly a derivation of tracyn, just spelled with an i instead of y. Interestingly, in Harlin’s Mando’a tracyn is pronounced as /tra.ʃin/ and tracinya as /tra.sin.ja/. So perhaps it’s acyk which should be pronounced as /a.ʃik/?

I’ve chosen to adjust the pronunciation of the other two to conform to the rule of pronouncing cy as /ʃ/: /tɾa.ˈʃaːt/ & /tɾa.ˈʃaɾ/.

And then:

yacur [YAH-soor]

Idek? I have do idea where this one comes from.

And:

Coruscanta [KOH-roo-SAHN-ta]

which is a loanword and doesn’t count. Although I’d suspect that “Corusanta” might be a fairly common misspelling among native speakers.

Explanation

So why is it pronounced like that? The explanation is something called palatalisation, which is the same reason why c in Latinate words is sometimes pronounced as /k/ and sometimes as /s/.

In very simple terms, the high front vowels and the semivowel /j/ are pronounced such that the tongue is at or very nearly the palatal position. So they tend to pull the preceding consonants to the palatal place of articulation (instead of whichever place of articulation they used to be pronounced at).

So in Mando’a:

c → k

c + high front vowel /i e/ → /s/

c + semivowel /j/ → /ʃ/

Not sure if /k/ is the original value of ⟨c⟩ since this rule doesn’t seem to apply to ⟨k⟩. Maybe ⟨c⟩ had originally another value, which has later changed into /k/?

There will be a second part to this post later, but I’ll break this off here for now.

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter 5 - Behind Enemy Lines

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns that she and R aren't friends

W/c: 4.5k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

Note: This chapter is the last one I had fully written before. So, be prepared for slower updates on this.

It’s late, later than usual, for Melina to be working. The sun had long since set, and most of the scientists in the lab had retreated to their sleeping quarters. The corridors outside were quiet, save for the faint echo of footsteps from patrolling guards.

While Melina remained, she was too dedicated to her work to stop now. She absentmindedly adjusted the cuff of her lab coat as she leaned over the microscope, jotting down quick notes. The faint blue glow of the computer monitor cast sharp shadows across her face, deepening the lines of focus that seemed to be permanently etched into her brow.

Another failed batch. The data blinking back at her confirmed what she already suspected. Still too unstable. Still too many variables. Dreykov would not be pleased.

She sighed quietly, rolling her neck to relieve the settled stiffness. The test pig stirred restlessly in the cage across the room, sensing her presence.

“You’re still awake too,” she murmured under her breath, her voice softer then, almost warm, as if speaking to the animal anchored her somehow. Melina returned to her notes, methodically crossing out dosages and recalculating figures. She was already thinking of adjustments—how to make the serum more precise and eliminate the cognitive dissonance in the subjects' brains. How to make obedience effortless.

The sound of footsteps outside the lab door snapped her out of her thoughts.

One of the junior researchers peered in, hesitant. "Comrade Vostokoff? It’s almost midnight."

Melina didn't look up. "Go. Get some sleep."

"But—"

She cut him off with a glance sharp enough to send him retreating without another word. She didn’t have the patience tonight.

She returned her eyes to the computer screen, squinting at the figures and notes from previous dates, when she heard the door swing open again.

"I thought I said good night," Melina spoke, irritation bleeding through her words. She looked up to see Nora standing there with a notebook in hand.

"I hope I'm not distracting you," Nora stepped further inside, her voice measured, almost careful.

Melina blinked at her, her irritation slightly softening, though she didn’t say so. Nora rarely appeared in the lab at this hour—always observant, always keeping her distance unless she had a reason.

"You should be asleep," Melina said simply, leaning back from the monitor. "It's late."

Nora offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe you'd let me sit in. Watch."

Melina studied her momentarily, weighing whether to send her away like the others. But Nora stood steady under the scrutiny, notebook clutched tightly at her side, eyes flickering only once toward the monitor.

"You’re not here just to watch," Melina said, quiet but knowing.

Nora shrugged, but there was tension behind it. "I wanted to see the new data for myself. The last batch failed."

Melina’s lips twitched at that—not quite amusement, but close. "You’ve been paying attention. This isn't your field of work, Doctor."

Nora didn't answer. Her gaze darted between Melina and the monitor. She swallowed, her fingers tightening around the notebook.

Melina narrowed her eyes, taking in the subtle changes in Nora's expression. She was nervous. Uncomfortable. And Melina could tell it wasn't just from being in the lab after hours.

"Is there something else?"

"You've been away," Nora admitted. "I just wanted to check in on you."

Melina tilted her head at that. For the past month, Dreykov had sent her away on business. The details were confidential, as usual, but Melina had spent much of the month in the field with Widows, working on various projects. She knew Nora would have noticed. She noticed everything.

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" Nora pressed, and her voice was softer than usual.

Melina stared at her. She didn't respond.

"I've met one of your girls," Nora said, and Melina perked up. "She's sweet."

"Yelena?" She asked.

"Natasha," Nora shook her head. "Seems that Dreykov is taking her under his wing."

Melina’s expression didn’t shift much, but Nora caught the subtle way her fingers paused over the keyboard—a faint look in her eyes.

“Natasha,” Melina echoed as if testing how the name felt. She hadn't seen it much since she returned from Ohio. She tried to erase her memories of the girls out of her head. They were better off without her.

Nora nodded, observing her. “She’s sharp. Observant. Quiet, but not out of fear.”

Melina said nothing, returning her gaze to the monitor. The data in front of her suddenly seemed less important.

“You said Dreykov’s taking interest?” Melina asked, voice-controlled.

Nora flipped her notebook closed, resting it on the table. “Yes. I heard them speaking. He likes girls who don’t flinch.”

That earned a slight twitch at the corner of Melina’s mouth—whether it was pride, worry, or something else, Nora couldn’t quite tell.

“She’s too young for that,” Melina murmured, more to herself.

“We were younger,” Nora reminded gently. "How was the field?" She asked, changing the subject.

Melina shrugged. "Successful. He's satisfied."

"That's good," Nora nodded, but she couldn't help how her eyes searched Melina's as if looking for something more.

"How's your girl?" Melina asked, seeing the same look in Nora's eyes that she'd been sporting a few moments before. Nora’s fingers brushed absently over the cover of her notebook, but her focus stayed on Melina.

“She’s still so young,” Nora said, almost an afterthought. “They all are.”

Melina’s jaw tightened slightly, her eyes returning to the screen before she leaned back in her chair. “Dreykov prefers them young. Easier to mold."

Nora gave a quiet laugh, humorless. “And harder to break. Or so he thinks.”

“You shouldn’t care about her,” Melina reminded her. 

They both knew better. Neither had the right to feel ownership over you or Natasha being in the program. The Red Room didn’t permit attachments—it trained them out of you and punished any signs of weakness. Nora’s eyes didn’t waver. “Neither should you.”

Melina’s mouth curved into something faintly resembling a smile but didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I don’t,” she lied smoothly.

Nora nodded, accepting the lie as it was given. “Neither do I.”

Alone. And in this quiet, they could admit what they couldn’t anywhere else: that maybe they did care in whatever fractured, guarded way they knew how.

“She keeps her guard up,” Nora murmured again, softer this time. “Not because of me, but because she knows better.”

Melina's gaze flickered, something unreadable passing over her features. “They all learn eventually.”

Nora swallowed, letting that settle. She glanced at the clock on the wall—far past midnight now.

“I should go,” she said, standing and tucking the notebook under her arm.

Melina didn’t argue.

******

It’s the third time you’d watched that particular movie.

It was practically ingrained into your brain—the overly bright colors, the overemotional voices, the storyline you could recite in your sleep. Another movie you hated. Another lesson you were expected to absorb.

A damsel in distress. A girl too soft, too trusting, too naive. And, of course, a man would come and save her. Always a man.

Your lips moved silently, matching the characters' dialogue before the sound reached your ears. The instructors watched from the side, arms folded, waiting for the moment you slipped up—waiting for the accent to falter, the rhythm to break.

You didn't. None of you did. Not then.

They made sure of that.

Each of you mimicked the sing-song American cadence perfectly, the way your tongue curled right on certain words, the exact pitch of surprise or fear when the girl on screen gasps over and over until it is second nature. Until it was indistinguishable from real.

You glanced sideways at the others, expression carefully blank. No conversation was allowed during these sessions. Just repetition. Watching. Parroting. Learning how to sound like something you were not.

Someone you were not. Your back ached from the folding chair you'd been given, prompting you to stretch a little higher in your seat. You disliked Snow White.

Too much happiness. Too much hope. The girl was too trusting, and everyone knew how that turned out.

You were never allowed to talk about what you were watching or learning. What they wanted you to become. But you did anyway. This was the portion ofthe  class you almost enjoyed. The part where each of you would take turns practicing with a partner—mimicking the lines, the tone, the accent until it was second nature. No one could tell the difference between you and some average American girl.

“Romanoff,” the instructor barked, eyes scanning the room before landing on you. “With Y/L/N.”

You caught Natasha’s gaze across the room as she stood, her face unreadable. You knew better, though. Knew the sharpness in her eyes wasn’t just from the drill.

It felt purposeful. They deliberately paired you two, watching and waiting for something to happen. Rumors flew fast in the Red Room. Word around the compound was Natasha was taking your place and had been since you'd started privately training her.

You stood slower than you should have, weighing it.

And then you spoke before you could stop yourself.

“I’d like to switch.”

The room went still.

A few heads snapped toward you—eyes widening just slightly before they quickly refocused on the floor. No one asked to switch.

The instructor arched a brow, stepping toward you until his boots stopped right before you. "Who do you want instead?” he asked finally, voice clipped.

It was a test. Everything here was a test.

You flicked your eyes past Natasha, settling on a girl two rows over—one who wouldn’t challenge you. One who wouldn’t look at you like Natasha did like she knew the parts of you you’d rather keep buried.

“That one,” you answered simply.

A pause. Too long.

But then the instructor nodded once. “Fine.”

He snapped his fingers at the girl and motioned for her to move. She did, her eyes wide, darting between you and the instructor.

He gave the command, and you started over, the girl beside you stammering as you mimicked the lines perfectly.

You could feel Natasha's eyes burning into the side of your head, but you didn’t turn.

*****

The hallways were always eerily quiet during transitions. No one said a word as they shuffled to whichever classroom they belonged to. The silence was suffocating and suffering, depending on how you viewed it. In a sea of girls, Natasha couldn't shake the irritation in her chest. You had ignored her entirely this whole day. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much.

She tried to tell herself it was just another part of the game they played here—getting inside each other’s heads, testing limits. But it still didn't sit right with her, that moment when you chose another girl. Not because it made her feel insignificant—she wasn’t the type for that—but because you decided to distance yourself. She could see you just a few feet ahead, an invisible space around you, as the other girls tried to keep their distance. Even when you didn't try, they acted like you were the odd one.

"Why’d you do it?" Natasha asked finally, her voice quiet but sharp enough to break the stillness between you two.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you kept walking, gaze fixed ahead as if you hadn’t heard her.

“Why?” she repeated, slowing her pace to match yours.

You glanced at her briefly, eyes flicking up to meet hers, but only for a second before they quickly dropped back to the floor. “Just didn’t feel like working with you,” you muttered, the words half-distracted as if you didn’t mean them.

It stung, though. And Natasha wasn’t sure if you were even aware of it.

“Did I do something?” she pressed, her voice softer now, but there was still an edge to it.

You stopped walking, turning to face her. You were quiet for a moment, staring down at her, before you stepped forward, closing the space between you.

"Why are you still talking to me, Romanoff?" You asked quietly, the words a little too cold, a little too distant. "You're the one who doesn't need my help anymore."

Natasha stared at you. She didn’t know how to respond. "I don't understand what you mean."

"You are so naive," You shook your head.

"Is this how you treat your friends?" Natasha tilted her head. "Is this what friends do?"

“Friends?” The word tasted foreign in your mouth. “What do you know about friends? We don’t get friends here. We get missions.” You bit the word off like it was a curse. “You’re just... another assignment. Another thing Dreykov wants us to do.”

Your voice was colder than you intended. It came out more venomous than you'd meant, but the anger had already crept in. Natasha’s eyes flickered with something—disappointment? Confusion?

But that was the thing you couldn’t allow. You couldn’t afford to care. Not about her. Not about anyone.

“I’m not some charity case, Romanoff,” you continued, stepping even closer to her and narrowing your eyes. “I don’t need you to ‘save’ me. And I don’t need you looking at me like you understand a damn thing about me.”

"I understand that you're afraid," Natasha began.

"Oh, no, we are not doing this here," You shook your head.

"Then come with me, and we can talk elsewhere," Natasha challenged.

You glared at her, not moving.

Natasha rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Fine."

She grabbed your wrist and started tugging you along with her.

"Let go!" You hissed.

"No, because if I do, you'll run away."

Natasha's grip tightened as she dragged you further down the corridor, the other girls parting to let you both through. You glared at them, and they quickly averted their gazes.

You should've pulled your hand free. You should've resisted. But somehow, you let her lead you anyway.

"This isn't necessary," you muttered, trying to pull your hand away, but she gripped tighter.

"It is, though," Natasha insisted.

"How?" You scoffed.

"Because if I didn't force you to listen, you wouldn't. Because if I didn't drag you away from here, people would have surrounded us."

Natasha pulled you into an empty room, glancing around quickly before shutting the door.

"We're alone now. Talk."

You swallowed hard, avoiding her eyes. "Talk about what?"

"About the fact that you're acting weird and ignoring me."

"You really are naive," You shook your head.

"Stop calling me that," Natasha growled.

"What's it like being so good at everything?"

Natasha's face twisted, confused. "What?"

"Being Dreykov's new eye candy," you continued. "Getting the attention you want. Making him smile."

Natasha blinked, trying to make sense of it. "Is that why you're acting like this?"

"Acting like what? You're not my friend, Romanoff. You're competition."

"So this is what you're like," Natasha scoffed. "You're jealous."

"No, I'm not." You denied. "I tried to warn you how he is. I've given you every single tip I could, and you keep running into him. What makes you so special?"

"He's taken an interest in me," Natasha explained. "I can't fight that."

"He doesn't care about you, Romanoff," You spat. "He doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"What are you scared of?"

"You're the one who should be scared," You sighed, settling onto a desk. "He's planning to send you on a mission soon."

Natasha froze. Her mind immediately went to everything you'd warned her about before.

"What do you mean?"

"It's why he's having me spend so much time with you. Why he wants you so close," You explained.

"How do you know this?" Natasha asked. "Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"He wants it to be unexpected, I guess," You shrugged. "It's not uncommon."

Natasha looked up, meeting your eyes. "Have you done this before?"

"His missions," You nodded. "Of course I have."

Natasha swallowed, the words heavy in her stomach. "Is that what the other girls call me? His newest girl?"

"They call you a lot of things," You murmured, averting your gaze.

"Like what?" Natasha asked.

"Like you're lucky, or maybe stupid," You paused, chewing on your bottom lip. "They think that's why you're suddenly getting special treatment. They don't know like I know."

Natasha studied your face for a moment. "And what is it that you know?"

"I know how he gets," You folded your arms across your chest.

"You're always so vague," Natasha sighed. "Why can't you just tell me what this mission is about?"

"It's painful sometimes to talk about," You admitted quietly. "I don't have anyone to talk about it with. I'm not supposed to trust you."

Natasha’s brow furrowed at your last words, the soft confession slipping out before you could bite it back. "You're not supposed to trust me," she repeated slowly. "But you do?"

You stared at her, jaw tight, arms still crossed like armor. You weren’t sure if it was trust, but it wasn’t distrust. You weren’t supposed to let anyone close. But somehow, she kept inching past the walls anyway.

"I don't know," you muttered finally. "Maybe I’m just tired."

Natasha tilted her head, voice quieter now. "Tired of what?"

Of course, you didn’t answer. Instead, you shifted.

"You don’t want to know what his missions are like," you said, voice low and flat. "It’s not something you come back from the same."

Natasha swallowed hard, her hands shaking slightly at her sides. She knew what you were implying. She knew how bad it could get, but hearing you say it...

"You don't think I can handle it?"

"You think too highly of yourself," You shook your head.

Natasha flinched, hurt. She hadn't realized until then how badly she wanted you to believe in her.

"At the sparring session tomorrow, throw it," You spoke after a beat of silence.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, confused. "Throw what?"

"The match. He's watching," You shrugged. "You need to make him angry."

Natasha stared at you, uncomprehending. "I don't—"

"Make him mad, and he won't send you," You said, cutting her off. "Trust me."

"How will I know?" Natasha asked.

"You won't."

Her brows knitted together, frustration mounting. She wanted to shake you. To demand more than half-formed answers and vague warnings.

"You're not making any sense."

"That's the point," You sighed.

Natasha stared at you, her jaw clenching. "You're asking me to lose on purpose," she said like she needed to hear it aloud to believe it.

You didn’t flinch. Just gave a slight nod, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"But why?" she pressed. "Why does it matter if I win or lose?"

You hesitated. "Because if you win, you’ll prove something to him. That you’re ready."

"And if I lose?" she asked, voice sharp.

You shrugged again, but your posture was stiff now—too casual to be real. "Then maybe you’ll get to stay a little longer. Maybe he’ll decide you’re not worth the effort."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, mind racing. She couldn’t piece together why you cared so much—why you’d rather she humiliate herself in front of the others, risk punishment, to avoid catching Dreykov’s attention.

Her throat felt tight. "What about you?"

You blinked, caught off guard.

"If I throw it," she said carefully, "what happens to you?"

For a second, your expression cracked—just slightly. Something flickered there, something too fast to name.

"I can handle it," you murmured, voice almost flat.

Natasha shook her head, stepping closer. "Why are you doing this?"

You didn’t answer, eyes hard as stone now. Guard back up.

Natasha exhaled shakily. "You’re not telling me something."

"You don’t need to know everything," you said softly, but something bitter was under the words. "Just do what I told you." With that, you left her with her thoughts, knowing you were late for your next class.

*********

The mat smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber. The other girl, Irina, circled Natasha like she was sizing her for something bigger. Natasha was quick on her feet, sharper than usual. Every movement practiced was efficient. She was winning, and they both knew it.

But then—

"At the sparring session tomorrow, throw it."

Your voice crept in, steady, certain. It lodged somewhere in the back of her head.

Natasha feinted left and landed a sharp hit on Irina’s ribs. Irina stumbled but recovered fast. Natasha could end this. She should end this.

She didn't.

Instead, Natasha pulled back. Letting her strikes land softer. Slower. Testing.

Her eyes flicked up once—to the far end of the room. A shadow near the door. Watching. Not moving. Just there.

Her pulse kicked.

She pivoted wrong on purpose, leaving her side exposed. Irina didn't hesitate and landed a blow to Natasha’s shoulder, sending her down harder than necessary. Natasha grimaced, letting its weight pin her.

Someone nearby laughed under their breath.

The instructor clapped once. "Again."

She rose, brushing dirt from her palms.

"Make him mad, and he won’t send you."

Irina rushed her, and Natasha braced for the impact. All she saw next was black as the blow she received was hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

"Good," the instructor called. "But she can take more than that."

A sharp kick to the ribs. Pain radiated.

"Better," the instructor commented, tone bored.

Irina smirked, circling her again.

Natasha moved too slowly. She took another blow to the chest, and at that time, her knees buckled. Irina didn't stop.

"I give," Natasha rasped, but the other girl wasn't listening.

Her fists rained down. Once. Twice. Over and over.

"Irina," the instructor called.

But the blows kept coming.

"I give!" Natasha yelled, louder this time.

The instructor intervened.

Natasha curled in on herself, shielding her face, waiting for the next hit. It didn't come. There was a silence across the training room. Natasha didn't move. Didn't breathe.

"Up, Romanoff," the instructor said.

Natasha looked up, and her vision was blurry. The pain was a dull throb in her ribs. Her lungs. Her stomach.

She wondered if that was it. If she’s done enough.

She didn't look for you but knew you were in the crowd. Watching, too.

*******

The girls filed out of the room one by one. The quiet chatter left with them as they discussed the match they just watched. Natasha walked on unsteady feet, hiding the pain behind short breaths as she headed for the door.

She doesn't make it out of the room.

"Romanoff."

She froze. Dreykov didn't look up from the clipboard in his hands.

His voice was clipped. Barely interested.

"Is this what you consider effort?"

Silence stretched. Natasha kept her posture straight, breathing steadily.

"Sir, I-" She attempted to defend herself.

"You had one task. And you couldn't manage that."

Still not looking at her. Like she was barely worth his time.

"You’re not here to coast on yesterday’s results." A pause. "If that’s what you plan to do, I’ll find someone else." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I brought you for training with y/n because I thought you were ready.

Natasha swallowed, a sick feeling churning in her stomach.

"I had a special mission for you planned," He said. "Something that would move you up the ranks. I will send someone else."

"Yes sir," She answered, her voice small.

******

The steam clung to the air, dense and heavy, curling around you like smoke. The shower room was mostly empty—just you, toweling your hair dry, pretending not to notice when the door swung open behind you.

You glanced up at the mirror.

Natasha.

Her eyes locked on yours, sharp, unreadable.

You didn’t even get a word out before she was moving.

"The hell was that, huh?" Natasha hissed, voice low but dangerous. Her fingers curled tight around the front of your shirt, yanking you closer. "Why did you tell me to throw it?"

You stared back, heartbeat steady even as her grip bruised. You could see the cracks—frustration, confusion, maybe even fear splintering beneath that cold mask.

"Let go," you muttered.

She didn’t.

"Answer me first," she snapped. "You knew he'd be pissed. You set me up."

You exhaled through your nose, eyes flicking past her to make sure no one else was listening.

"I didn’t set you up," you said evenly. "I told you how to survive."

"How to survive?" She said angrily. "Surviving by not being able to move up a rank? Because of you, I failed this test. Because I trusted you. Because I thought we were friends. You keep telling me differently, and maybe I should listen. Maybe he was right."

"Right about what?" You furrowed your brows. You pushed her hands away.

"That you're jealous," Natasha answered, her voice hard.

"He said that?"

"You're holding me back because you think I'm better than you," She pressed like she had to say it out loud to believe it. "That’s why you wanted me to lose."

You stared at her, jaw tight, letting the silence stretch a beat too long. Letting her think she’d won whatever argument she thought this was.

Finally, you tilted your head, your voice quiet, calm, and almost bored.

"You believe that?"

"Yes," She nodded. "I do."

You let the words settle for a second.

"All of the other girls were right about you," Natasha shook her head. "You like being his favorite. You like doing his bidding and parading around here like you don't have to follow the rules."

"You think this is about me?" You scoffed. "This has nothing to do with me."

"Oh yeah?" Natasha challenged. "Then why are you always telling me to stay away from him?"

"I told you the truth," You defended. "This is stupid. You believe what you want. Just know if you put your hands on me again, you will regret it." You stepped into her space, taking advantage of the height difference and staring directly into her eyes.

"Fine," Natasha said. She didn't back away. She wasn't afraid of you. It was almost as if she was challenging you. The sound of the door swinging open pulled you apart. Natasha was the first to leave, limping past the girl interrupting you as the girl gave her a sympathetic look.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Natasha ignored her and kept walking.

You turned back to the mirror, eyes catching briefly on your reflection before you looked away. You hated how your face looked when it felt like this—too exposed and raw like the cracks were showing.

You took a breath. Tried to steady yourself.

It was stupid. You knew better. Friends weren’t a thing here. Not really. The girls didn’t like you; they never had. You learned early that it was easier and cleaner. People couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t let them close. Couldn’t take something from you if you never offered it.

And Natasha—she was supposed to be the same. Another girl trained to outlast you, outmatch you. Another person you were supposed to watch, measure, and be ready to step over when the time came.

Except she wasn’t. Not exactly. She didn’t hate you. She hadn’t tried to.

Maybe that’s what made you reckless. Letting yourself think for even a second that she was different. That maybe she could be something to you.

But wanting something like that was dangerous.

So maybe you shouldn’t try. Maybe it was better to shut it down now before it got worse.

You flexed your hands once, twice, before reaching for your towel like nothing had happened at all.

----> next part

[nartothelar]

Nar I am consuming your soul eater au with fervor. I am. Obsessed. It brought back so many memories of first watching anime, soul eater was a favorite and you got me into it again, so I’m finally reading the manga! Thank you!

A question, did Ingo infect Emmet the same way Soul infected Maka? Or similarly?

When emmet breaks out of the madness, I know he’ll feel terrible for hurting Ingo. (suspecting he did in that fight? Not sure) When’s the closest the two have come to dying? I suspect Ingo wouldn’t want to hurt Emmet, and that might be detrimental to him comepletely D:

Anyway I’m just super excited to see soul eater content again lol. I hope you’re having fun making it too!!

Right on the money! So Ingo is actually quite resistent to madness, due to his anti-madness/healing wavelength. Due to the nature of Masika’s poison, it wasn’t something Ingo really noticed (and what with the kishin’s return, the growing madness he might have felt within could be blamed on that)

Emmet on the other hand was susceptible to the poison, causing him to fall into madness/succumb to the poison >:)c

As for the other question, both of them, being conductors on the Death Train, have both had close calls due to the frequent kishin attacks on the train. Nothing too serious tho. Nothing like the injury Ingo has now.

she can float 👍 and masika is actually suppose to be inspired by a purple striped jellyfish!

they usually take turns on who gets to eat the kishin soul if they are fighting together tho they also can fight on their own! :D

they both have plenty of kishin souls to become death scythes but since they don’t want to, they really just eat the souls as a rewarding snack after every fight sksks

[rinrinx2]

Could you do something where reader takes renzo shopping with her and she's at sephora for the last place and she takes him in the Nars section and she tries to cover his eyes so he doesn't see the makeup names and when they get home he blurts a name out from bars dyk what I mean ?

Your wish is my command 🫶

.

Reading is fundamental

Rindou x reader

Warnings: innapropriate language, none really

Going shopping with Renzo wasn't an uncommon thing to do. You and Rindou brought him almost everywhere that allowed children. So, when Rindou had told you that he had business to attend to with Ran and that you would need to take him with you to the mall you had no complaints. It would just be a mall outing for the two of you.

You and Renzo had started off strong at the mall, going from store to store with little fuss. Renzo wasn't really a nagging child and you where forever grateful for that, making your shopping experience a lot easier than most moms with kids.

You and Renzo were continue your shopping journey, as the two of you walked passed Sephora. Stopping in your tracks you decided to go inside, but before you entered you had spoken to the little boy who held your hand with his own smaller one.

"Ren honey, don't touch the things in store" you said in a tender voice warning the young boy to be wary of the items. You knew Renzo was at that curious age were anything shiny he needed to touch, and the last thing you needed was him breaking a foundation bottle and you have to pay for it.

The small boy nodded in understanding, as the two of you entered. you walked passed the various sections in the store, looking at the different lipsticks, eyeshadows, facial lotions and concealers, with Renzo following you. The little boy eyeing all the colourful items but not daring to touch them as to test your warning.

"You think this colour looks pretty on mommy?" You asked the little boy as you puckered your lips at him, watching as he giggled.

"Maybe no" He answered honestly.

"Ouch, didn't realise you were as truthful as you uncle Ran" You replied back putting the lipstick back on its place.

You and Renzo continued walking, deciding to go to the Nars section hoping to find a lipstick or blush, as you were quite fond of their products.

You had arrived in the Nars section, finding where the lipsticks were. You let go of Renzo's hand reminding him of your warning.

"Remember no touching" you reminded him as you went to try on the lipstick in your hand infant of the small vanity mirror.

While you were preoccupied Renzo had taken a few steps away from you, not to far for concern but still a good distance.

Your words played over in Renzo's head.

'No touching'

But you never said that he couldn't read the product names, as the shiny packaging had his full attention. You see as much as Renzo was at the age of curiosity he was also at the age were he could read and thanks to you and Rindou putting him into a prestige school his reading skills was remarkable something that you were proud of.

You looked away from the mirror to show Renzo the new lip colour you dawned, but when you turned you realised the young boy was no longer where you left him. Panicking when you walked around the aisle to find your son holding a box as more panic set in as you feared he would drop the item, but before you could even get a word out you heard the little boys voice.

"DEEP THROAT BLUSH!" the little boy loudly read, as nearly every woman in the store turned their heads looking at Renzo.

"Renzo" you whispered quietly trying to get the boys attention without gaining anymore.

As you continued to walk over towards him you watched him pick up another makeup product, and you watched as his mouth opened and you felt your legs speed up in pacing. Hand out about to grab him when you heard.

"ORGASM BLUSH"

And once again all eyes were on Renzo and now on you.

"Put it down honey, and lets go" you said urging the boy on to put the blush back as you grabbed his hand and went to the counter to pay for your things so that you could leave with whatever little dignity you had left.

You stood at the counter paying for your items while Renzo looked around the shop. You had just finished swiping your card when you felt a little tug on your jacket, when you heard the question.

"WHAT IS BETTER THAN SEX MAS- KAR- RA?" Renzo asked loud and clear.

You gave the cashier a smile grabbing your bags, seeing the young woman pull her face into a tight smile as blush rose to her cheeks at your sons question.

You grabbed Renzo and made your way out of Sephora, mentally noting that you'd never take Renzo there again.

"So, how was your day champ?" Rindou asked the young boy who messily ate his spaghetti.

"It was fun" The little boy replied not even looking at his father as he pulled a spaghetti high up in the air.

"We had too much fun" you said looking over at your husband with that expression that already told him you were drained from today.

"I think I'm going to take a bath after dinner"

"You deserve one baby" Rindou said with a smile.

Rindou looked over at Renzo seeing that the boy was occupied with his pasta not even noticing the two of you as Rindou whispered over towards you.

"And when I put champ to bed maybe I can join you"

You smiled at Rindou's words, as you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and then

"SEX BOMB" Renzo said loud, Rindou froze internally freaking out wondering how his son heard him whisper that to you.

"A bath bomb you should use that for you bath mommy"

.

.

.

Hope you liked it

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[ukgk]

Pocket Ghost (Ukagaka baseware for Pocket PC 2002) ★(download)★ (last update: version 0.05 - 2003/3/23) -the only supported/compatible SHIORI is Satori -dragging and dropping .nar files isn't supported. unzip the .nar contents first and copy and paste the entire folder into the ghost folder. -shrinks the shell size automatically but your ghost will boot faster if you install a smaller shell (e.g: Chisato 50% smaller surface ver. or Chisato 75% smaller surface ver.) - ghost featured in the preview screenshot is Chisato & Gyotaku & Shrine maiden gods (Author: RAIL) Copyright(C) 2002-2003 Hekiun, All rights reserved.

[felassan]

Email from Modiphius:

"MASS EFFECT NEWS! Mass Effect The Board Game and Mass Effect Miniatures are almost here! Commander Shepard, it’s time to suit up—the galaxy needs you again! Mass Effect The Board Game - Priority: Hagalaz is coming very soon! But here’s some top secret data just for you: we’re also releasing a range of high quality resin Mass Effect Miniatures! You can use these miniatures to upgrade the plastic miniatures and tokens in the base game, or field them in any miniatures skirmish game (like Five Parsecs from Home), and they’re great for for miniatures collectors and Mass Effect fans everywhere! Find out more on our Mass Effect blog and get a tease of the miniatures representing the crew of the Normandy, including both male and female Shepard minis (with optional helmets) and Wrex and Tali (with detachable drone)! If you haven’t already, sign up for Mass Effect news here, so you can be among the first to find out when pre-orders for Mass Effect The Board Game - Priority: Hagalaz and our Mass Effect Miniatures launch VERY soon! Until then, stay vigilant. The galaxy is counting on you."

[source: email from Modiphius]

Images of the miniatures (Sheps, Garrus, Liara, Tali, Wrex)

[source]

Info from the associated blogpost:

"Mass Effect Miniatures By Gavin Dady Art by David Benzal October sees the launch of Mass Effect The Boardgame - Priority: Hagalaz. In it, Commander Shepard and their band of loyal squadmates take on a new mission to explore a crashed Cerberus Cruiser on the storm-wracked world of Hagalaz. Within the cruiser they will face many dangerous enemies, from the survivors of the Cerberus crew, native life and even the dangerous captives and experiments that Cerberus were keeping aboard the ship. The enemies are represented by thick, full colour, illustrated card tokens in the game, but Modiphius are also producing a range of 32mm, multipart miniatures to compliment them. As with our previous Fallout and The Elder Scrolls miniatures, these are highly detailed resin collectors miniatures.    In this first phase of miniatures, we are concentrating on the core sets required to build up the forces for the board game. The first of these is The Heroes of the Normandy Alpha. It includes six miniatures in alternative poses for the PVC sculpts from the board game.  Commander Shepard is represented in both male and female versions. Armed with the M-8 Assault Rifle or her M-3 pistol and Omni-blade, Shepard is ready to take the fight to their enemies. Shepard also comes with optional parts to depict them with either bare head or their iconic helmet from their N7 armour. The former C-Sec officer, Garrus Vakarian, has been by Shepard’s side from their earliest days as a SPECTRE and is depicted in his role as one of the galaxy’s premier snipers (arguments about who is the better shot between Shepard and Garrus aside). Garrus is depicted with his signature M-92 Mantis rifle, repaired armour and the scars he gained as The Archangel. Next amongst Shepard’s staunch allies is Dr. Liara T’soni. A powerful Asari biotic, expert on the ancient Prothean race and, secretly, the powerful underworld figure The Shadowbroker. Liara  is depicted initiating one of her powerful biotic abilities, energy crackling around her hand. Tali’Zhora Nar Rayya is the young Quarian that Shepard first met whilst pursuing the rogue SPECTRE Saren. Tali is a gifted engineer and staunch advocate for the Quarian people. She is depicted with her drone, Chatika, who can be modelled attached to Tali’s Omni-tool, or kept separate to act as a marker during gameplay. Rounding out the squad is Urdnot Wrex, the veteran mercenary and leader of Clan Urdnot. Wrex is a powerhouse in battle, utilising biotic abilities, a powerful M-300 Claymore shotgun and, more than once, a well placed head-butt. As well as these miniatures, we are also producing further sets to compliment the boardgame, including Reaper Forces, Cerberus Troops and some of the Priority Threats that you will face as you make your way through the crashed cruiser. These sets are ideal for upgrading the tokens in the base game, or for use in any miniatures skirmish game (like Five Parsecs from Home) or for miniatures collectors everywhere. Look out for special collectors and gameplay bundles available exclusively from Modiphius  when the Mass Effect Board Game pre-orders go live soon! In the meantime, you can sign-up for more Mass Effect news here."

[source]

[lonestarflight]

Phase B Space Shuttle designs.

Cross sections of 4 phase b designs

source, source

[velvetvexations]

Why do you call yourself a narc rather than like nars? I always read narc as snitch/grass and it doesn't fit with how narcissist is pronounced

It's what others have always tended to do and I'm mainly just taking after them. You could always pronounce narc with a silent c, though.

[silvcrignis]

Claude: *is basically the Headless Horseman’s pseudo brother, goes WAY back with him*

Also Claude: *threatens to use his head to get them STRIKES™️*

[insanzee]

Günaydın canlar☕❤️🤍💙🕊️ Dün rb yaptığım yayında zorunlulukdan dolayı ismini etiketleyemediklerim oldu bu paylaşımda telafi edeyim😊

"biliyorum

bir gün bir başka nar ağacının

dibinde yine

bir başka

çocuklar

türkiye'yi konuşacaklar."

Behçet AYSAN

@nesrin-c @llsusll @sirinesirin-34 @delale-delale @fragaria777 @cennetfatma @huzura-kalbim @hazanla @brokenwingfirefly @2528hayat @hayatsahnesinde1oyuncu @yasemin87 @biricik-kk @1demetgul @günay z @gelincik-gelincik @akdnizli-blog @alazebyar @um21sworld @farazaferi @gecegibibirii @hevalxx @leylimatemx @mavimatem @nesrin-bolg @suna22 @perihann

@sezginer35, @datcufan-blog, @yasamsallik,@slovruhum @ihsanperfectlysparklywolf @mcanylm34 @maho0326 @abrahammm @yumuc @asikan

Cansınız, iyi ki varsınız dediklerim, takibe değer gördüklerim ve varsa unuttuklarım.. Sevgiyle kalın,esen kalın✌️❤️🤍🕊️

[postsofbabel]

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[d1rlin]

☆﹔Flower & Spring themed names

Poppy , azalea , iris , aster , flora , abelia , cedar , aspen , daphne , acacius , cordelia , poppy , elowen , clover , willow , sylvie , juniper , amaryllis , sage , rosalie , marigold , maren , cynthia , magnolia , cassia , ione , zephyr , lennox , sylvia , cassiopeia , elara , rosalind , fleur , pandora , rue , linnea , ewan , lilac , aveline , ianthe , florian , Iris , Calla , Flora , Heather , Rose , Zinnia , Aster , Clover , Dahlia , Daisy , Erica , Ivy , Kalina , Lily , Violet , Blossom , Bluebell , Hyacinth , Jasmine , Lavender , Leilani , Flora , Fleur, Floor, Flora , Flora, Flower

☆﹔Flower & Spring themed pronouns

petal/petals/petalself , sprout/sprouts/sproutself , stem/stems/stemself, leaf/leafs/leafself , bud/buds/budself , fleur/fleurs/fleurself , bloom/blooms/bloomself , fern/ferns/fernself , ama/amara/amaran/amaranth/amaranself , bloom/blooms/bloomself , bo/bel/oss/bloss/blossomself or blosself , bud/buds/budself , ca/cam/mel/mellia/camelliaself or camellself , ca/car/carna/carnati/carnationself , ca/uc/yuc/ucca/yuccaself , co/lum/bi/bine/columbineself or columself , dai/daisy/dais/dais/daisyself , do/dog/gwo/gwod/dogwoodself , fir/firs/firself , fleur/fleurs/fleurself , flo/flor/flori/florid/floridself , flor/flora/floraself , flow/flower/flowers/flowerself , frie/friez/freesi/freesi/freesiaself , fu/fuch/uch/uchia/fuchsiaself , ha/hib/bis/cus/hibiscuself , haw/hawth/thor/thorn/hawthornself or hawthself , hy/cin/hyas/hyacin/hyacinthself or hyaself , hy/hys/hyself (hyacinth) , ir/ir/iris/iri/iriself , ja/min/jas/jasmi/jasmineself , je/min/jes/jessa/jessamineself , lil/lily/lils/lilies/lilself/lilyself , lo/lot/lotu/lotus/lotuself , ma/mag/nol/nolia/magnoliaself or noliaself , nar/narc/narcir/narcirs/narcself (soft c as in certain, narcissus) , pe/peony/peo/peon/peonyself , pe/per/peri/peri/periself or periwinkle , petal/petals/petalself , po/pop/py/oppy/poppyself , rho/rhod/rhode/rhodes/rhodeself , rie/orch/id/chid/orchidself, orchiself, or orchself , ro/ros/rose/roses/roseself , rose/roses/roseself , sa/sap/saps/saps/sapself , sy/syr/rin/ringa/syringaself , ti/tul/ul/uli/tulipself , to/mis/misel/miselt/mistletoeself , tul/tulip/tulips/tulips/tulipself , vi/viol/viols/viols/violself (violet) , wi/win/winkle/winkle/winkleself or periwinkle , wi/wist/wis/wister/wisteriaself, wistself, or wisterself , zi/zin/zin/zinni/zinniaself , moss/moss/mosses/mosses/mosself , shroom/shroom/shrooms/shrooms/shroomself , spring/spring/springs/springs/springself , dew/dew/dews/dews/dewself , shine/shine/shines/shines/shineself , flower/flower/flowers/flowers/flowerself , honey/honey/honeys/honeys/honeyself

[whirligig-girl]

ship poll

to make room for the poll i had to get rid of a bunch of ships i wanted to include--Deep Space 9/Terok Nor, the Refit Constitution Class U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 and NCC-1701-A, the Kelvin Timeline U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 and NCC-1701-A, the Sovereign Class. So it's down to just the starfleet hero ships in each tv series.

A few other runner ups i'd liked to have included for their significance: Excelsior class U.S.S. Excelsior NX-2000 (it was arguably a hero ship in Star Trek VI since it's captained by a main character, and it is clearly designed to be The Next Hero Ship even in the movie it appears in), the Infinity (the cloaked temporally shielded ship in Prodigy Season 2), the Enterprise-F (which is an enterprise but has a minor role ultimately), and the H.M.S. Bounty (Klingon bird of prey) from Star Trek IV, which serves as the hero ship for its entire movie.