SPX is available on Bitvavo as of today
2024.11.28 17:53 Potential-mani SPX is available on Bitvavo as of today
 | Already bought a batch today ↗️🌕 submitted by Potential-mani to spx6900 [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:53 Defiant_Carob_5846 Do depressed/boring/sad/passive guys have a chance with girls?
Do guys with the above mentioned negative qualities also have a chance in dating? What can they do to improve their chances? And what kind of hobbies/social meetups should they pursue to increase their chances of meeting a girl?
submitted by Defiant_Carob_5846 to ask [link] [comments]
2024.11.28 17:53 DeepDown467 Warum ist der Film "Rubinrot" bei Amazon als Horrorfilm gelistet?
Weil der so scheiße ist?
submitted by DeepDown467 to Laesterschwestern [link] [comments]
2024.11.28 17:53 mc0908_ 2024 rewind?
 | does anyone know if there’s gonna be a 2024 rewind like this one? Im an Apple Music user so this is the closest i get to a Spotify rewind 😭😭 submitted by mc0908_ to lastfm [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 abjinternational Infrastructure 2024 Foundations Associate (1Z0-1085-24)\ TEST
 | submitted by abjinternational to FreeUdemyCoupons [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 abjinternational Infrastructure 2024 Foundations Associate (1Z0-1085-24)\ TEST
| | submitted by abjinternational to udemycoursedaily [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 abjinternational Infrastructure 2024 Foundations Associate (1Z0-1085-24)\ TEST
| | submitted by abjinternational to udemyfreebies [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 Less_Negotiation4558 Calorie estimate?
 | It was my brother’s birthday and I just wanted to know how much calories does this approximately have? submitted by Less_Negotiation4558 to caloriedeficit [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 thisbitbytes Thanksgiving National Dog Show
 | My foster-fail Barbie (3YO) is here watching her first annual Thanksgiving Dog Show and this TV hound is a BIG fan! Do you guys watch the Dog Show on Thanksgiving? And do any of your hounds love to watch TV? My two male greyhounds never noticed the TV. Happy Thanksgiving to the Reddit greyhound family! submitted by thisbitbytes to Greyhounds [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 kenyweri Can anyone guess the year Elon was officially declared public enemy?
 | submitted by kenyweri to TeslaLounge [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 RKlehm [Mankind Diaspora] - Chapter 14
![[Mankind Diaspora] - Chapter 14](https://b.thumbs.redditmedia.com/JxzNrpA45GMd3DywDTgE9WEW9wvmul9vYMBOkaDTvVM.jpg "[Mankind Diaspora] - Chapter 14") | [The Beginning] [Previous part][Artwork] https://reddit.com/link/1h21mh6/video/tena7pgoko3e1/player Chapter 14 – The battle of the Brando Cluster Every maneuver we executed was met with a methodical response from the Overseers. In the vast void of space, a rendezvous between two ships isn’t a given, it’s a negotiation, one that only happens if both parties agree on a time and location. A single burn could nudge the trajectories enough to turn the closest approach into a separation of thousands of kilometers. Yet, for all their tactical brilliance, the Overseers were trapped by their own strategy: they had no way to return. Eventually they would have to yield and accept an encounter, otherwise they would just waste all their delta-v and drift away in the void. “Jal-Gabon, extend your burn by 4.36 seconds. Over,” Cirakari’s calm voice carried authority as she issued her orders. “Jal-Gabon burning for 4.36 seconds. Copy,” came the commander’s prompt response. And, as expected, the Overseers promptly responded. “Thermal bloom detected,” Tài’s voice cut in. “Overseer interceptors preparing primary burn.” Cirakari’s hands moved across her tactical interface. “Jal-Gabon, Thunderborn, adjust lateral vector.” With that, another set of calculations landed on my station. The numbers cascaded across my console; delta-v calculations, fuel consumption rates, thermal signatures. Not that I was personally crunching the numbers, my job was to feed the right data into the software and ensure it spat out something actionable. “Cira,” I said as soon as the simulations were done, “by my estimates, we can afford two, maybe three more long burns.” “I was expecting that—” “Enemy course change,” Tài cut in. “Fred,” Cirakari turned to me, “can we keep chasing?” I glanced at the readouts. “They’re already overshooting the Brando Cluster by thousands of kilometers.” “What do you mean?” she asked, but I could see her face behind the visor already processing what I was trying to say. “You said they’ve never avoided confrontation before, and now they’re acting like they don’t care about their original target. Maybe—they’re trying to drain our delta-v reserves to survive a direct encounter. If they succeed, they could launch a suicide run on the Broodmother itself.” “Even if that’s true, we have no choice but to pursue them,” she replied. “If we hold at the Brando Cluster, they’ll get a free flyby toward the Broodmother. If we protect the Broodmother, Brando is doomed.” “Not necessarily,” I countered. “If we coordinate with the Broodmother, they can adjust their orbit to align with a defensive position that encompasses both the Broodmother and the cluster.” Cirakari frowned. “That would effectively put the Broodmother on a combat trajectory. If the Overseers get past us, both the Broodmother and the cluster would be at risk.” “Yes, this plan only works if we contain the Overseers at all costs.” Silent lingered on our internal comms, suddenly broken by Cirakari communication via the tactical channel. “Admiralty, this is Peregrina. We have a new plan.” ✹✸✶✸✹ Rather than continuing the pursuit, we used our remaining delta-v to position ourselves so they had only two choices: accept our encounter or drift irretrievably away. After a few more maneuvers on both sides, we zeroed on an encounter. The closest approach would bring us within 10 kilometers from each other, scheduled for four and a half hours from that point. Later, we named this tactic the “mating net,” borrowing from chess: a strategy where pieces work in harmony to trap the opposing king in an inescapable checkmate. Convincing the admiralty to adopt a name tied to an ancient, obscure game in a world where chess had long been forgotten wasn’t easy. But in time, they came to appreciate the elegance of the concept, and its fitting symbolism. https://preview.redd.it/d0gwiofqko3e1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=bbefe9819667aa368e80b69b6b0d4a274b02f4b7 The interceptors appeared on the tactical display, two sharp crimson points slicing through the void. “Range: ten thousand kilometers,” Tài reported. Cirakari straightened, like a predator poised to strike. “All units, update ROE. Set hammerlock range to one thousand kilometers. Assign two missiles per enemy vessel and one per incoming missile. Acknowledge, over.” A chorus of acknowledgements crackled through the comms. “Next: update EMCON. Effective immediately, restrict to direct beam communications and passive sensors only. Active radar is authorized only if an incoming missile breaches one hundred kilometers. Acknowledge, over.” “Understood,” came the synchronized replies. The interceptors were closing in. If we failed to contain the Overseers, they would have a clear shot on both the Brando Cluster and the Broodmother. Each a vital piece of the TRAPPIST-1 war effort. We traded delta-v for a single point of failure. ✹✸✶✸✹ “All units, this is Jal-Gabon, we are hammerlocked. Firing at will.” The voice came over the comms. I felt my guts knot and my jaw tightened, this was it, no longer a simulation, but a real fight. The first missile volley from Jal-Gabon lanced through the void, completely invisible for us on the Peregrina; we could only rely on the orbital diagram in our consoles. The enemy ships reacted instantly, splitting apart and facing the incoming trajectories. Each Overseer Interceptor had four front-facing laser point-defense; the two missiles for each ship that the Jal-Gabon launched had no chance of ever hitting them. The detonations lit the darkness, brief flashes of light as soon as they entered the enemy's effective laser range. “Miss,” came Jal-Gabon’s report. “Expected,” Cirakari replied coolly. “Jal-Gabon, hold your fire, wait until all of us are hammerlocked.” Peregrina surged forward, following Thunderborn as we tightened the noose. My screens flooded with alerts: proximity warnings, radiation spikes, debris trajectories. We were waiting for the Münster hammerlock when Cirakari spoke. “Missiles detected, six contacts vectoring for intercept, designation hostile,” she informed as the six dots lit up on our displays. “Thunderborn, you’ve got four inbound; Peregrina has two. All units, synchronize point-defense coverage.” The early missile exchanges were more of a probing strategy than actually meant to cause damage. Each side was interested in measuring the enemy’s efficiency. “They’re setting us up for CQB again,” Gulliver muttered, his tone laced with frustration. “What makes you so sure?” I asked, glancing at him. He sighed. “They always do this. At long range, we’re on basically equal grounds, we can hit them with our missiles and rely on synchronized point defense to intercept theirs. But once we’re in CQB, everything changes. They’ll save the bulk of their payload for when we’re packed too tight to coordinate effectively, and that’s when they’ll try to overwhelm us.” “Gulliver,” Cirakari cut in sharply. “Still no viable firing solution?” “Best we’ve got has less than a 10% hit probability,” he replied. “That’s good enough. Upload the solution to the attack group.” She switched to the tactical channel. “All units, override ROE. Fire immediately using the uploaded solutions, then hold your fire and await further orders.” My display lit up with a chaotic storm of forty-eight missiles with erratic and inefficient trajectories. Gulliver claimed it was meant to complicate the enemy’s use of anti-missiles, though I wasn’t entirely sold on his theory, especially when the two enemy ships launched an identical barrage in response. Despite my doubts, Gulliver’s firing solution proved effective. Most of our missiles slipped through their anti-missile defenses, dodging the initial wave of countermeasures. But as they closed the distance, the enemy’s point-defense systems came alive, systematically taking down each missile of our offensive. Out of the twenty-four missiles loaded onto each Freedom-class frigate, only six remained in our magazines. I turned my attention to the readouts, searching for any sign of advantage. While we lacked detailed knowledge of the enemy vessels, physics doesn’t lie. Their radiators were reaching maximum theoretical temperatures. “Their radiators are at 4000 Kelvin—they’re overstressed,” I reported, keeping my voice steady despite the tension. “At least this wasn’t a complete waste,” Cirakari replied. ✹✸✶✸✹ After our attempt to overwhelm the enemy with missiles, the battlespace fell eerily silent. Both sides drifted, facing each other as the distances shortened. Conserving the remaining munitions for the inevitable chaos of CQB. “Incoming coilgun signatures,” Tài reported. “They’re charging primary magnetic coils. Estimate penetration capability at seventy-three percent against standard hull plating.” I cross-referenced the data against our modified engine configuration. The jettisoned liquid oxygen reserves had reduced our mass by 17.3%, giving us marginally improved maneuverability. Every fraction of a percentage point mattered here. “Coilgun discharge imminent,” Tài announced. “Estimated time to first projectile: seventeen seconds.” The universe seemed to compress into those seventeen seconds. All of Peregrina’s probability algorithms flickered across my screens, each potential trajectory was a mathematical gamble of survival. The enemy’s coilguns streams of molten tungsten flowing directly at our location. The first volley arrived. I was slammed hard against the right side of my seat as Peregrina executed a violent evasive maneuver. A split second later, my vision blurred, and my head throbbed painfully as blood surged upward—negative g-force was a bitch. But we made it. The first volley missed, threading past us like death itself grazing the hull. “Evasive sequence alpha,” Cirakari commanded. “Minimum RCS adjustments. We burn only when absolutely necessary.” The Peregrina shuddered as our coilgun spat their three tungsten slugs. The capacitors couldn’t handle more than a triple burst, and at slower velocities than the Overseers' advanced systems. It made hitting the target more challenging, but their ships had an unavoidable weakness: oversized radiators, necessary to sustain their energy-hungry systems. And that’s precisely what we were aiming for. “Heat sink at sixty-three percent capacity,” I reported, darting across thermal management controls. “Redirecting coolant flow to compensate for coilgun heat.” Gulliver’s voice came through. “Tactical suggests the Overseers are probing our formation. They’re not committed to a full engagement yet.” “They’re learning…” Cirakari muttered. The battle wasn’t just a physical confrontation, it was an algorithmic chess match, played out across thousands of kilometers with computational reflexes that measured response times in nanoseconds. Another volley. Another near-miss. The dance continued, mathematical precision and technological brinkmanship. And we were just getting started. “Missiles detected!” Cirakari shouted. In CQB range, the rules changed entirely, what would’ve been minutes at long range was now a matter of seconds. Point-defense alone couldn’t handle it. In a desperate bid for survival, we emptied the magazines of all the Freedom-class vessels, releasing a barrage to intercept the overwhelming wave of enemy missiles. The Overseers focused their fire on the Thunderborn and Münster, and while we managed to intercept most of the payload, five missiles slipped through. “Damage report?” Cirakari barked. “Thu$#erboRt is crip$le_, they#hit oVr fuel tank—” came a garbled, glitch-ridden voice over the comms. “Jal-Gabon, do you have visuals?” Cirakari demanded. “The Thunderborn is split in two,” came the grim reply, “cut straight down the middle. Emergency power’s all that’s keeping her alive. The Münster’s frontal plating is gone, and all signals are silent.” Reality hit me like a hammer. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the memories of my rescue surfaced. The silent weight of that moment wrapped around me like an unyielding vise, and I could feel my heart pounding furiously, echoing in my ears. “Fred! coolant temps rising,” Gulliver called out. “I need more juice to keep firing.” “I see it,” I snapped, already rerouting the heat load. The ship was groaning under the strain, but the systems held steady. Now with only two active ships, the interceptors broke formation, each one focusing on one of our ships. “Jal-Gabon, engage the lead,” Cirakari ordered. “We’ll cut off the straggler.” The distance between the ships closed faster than our brains could comprehend. The closest approach was mere moments away, and every passing kilometer increased the weapons’ accuracy and deadliness. The Jal-Gabon fired its volley. “Confirmed hit,” Jal-Gabon’s captain reported. “Target is crippled but still active.” Before Cirakari could respond, our automatic evasion system jolted the Peregrina in an erratic maneuver, but it was not enough. Just like during my rescue, the sensation of being hit by an Overseer barrage was like standing under a flimsy aluminum umbrella while molten metal rained down. Each impact reverberated through the ship, the sound traveling through the hull and into my seat, before reaching my ears like a heavy thud from deep inside the ship. Fortunately, this time the ship wasn’t pressurized. We were all sealed in pressure suits, ready to avoid the mess of patching up a hull breach. And, as expected, the breaches came in plenty. Red hot glowing holes opened all around us, creating our own star deco. “Fuck it, Fred! The temps again, I need to fire this thing!” Gulliver shouted over the comms. “We're losing coolant pressure. I’ll need to repair,” I yelled back, already unstrapping myself from my seat. Using my arms as a slingshot, I shot toward the rear bulkhead, my body tumbling through zero gravity until I landed, awkwardly, on the uneven surface. “Hold it, Fred!” Cirakari's voice came through. I reached for the nearest handle I could find, gripping it as my arms felt ready to rip from their sockets. The pressure suit’s reinforced joints were the only things keeping me in one piece. Luckily the system's automatic response preventively sealed the pipes, but Gulliver was not so happy with the Peregrina’s caution. “For all that’s holy, I need to FIRE! We're gonna miss the closest approach!” Gulliver’s voice crackled again. I secured myself against the bulkhead and pulled up the diagnostic interface on my suit’s forearm display. The coolant system schematic flickered to life; a crimson web of warning indicators cascading across the holographic readout. Two primary coolant lines had been compromised: a twelve centimeter puncture in the secondary return line and a critical fracture at the junction where the main distribution manifold connected to the coilgun’s heat exchange system. “Thirty seconds to closest approach,” Gulliver’s voice kept the pressure. I grabbed the emergency repair kit. The first priority was sealing the primary. I located the fracture point, a spider-web of microfractures radiating from a central impact point. Standard hull-grade ceramic composites had splintered like glass, tearing down all the thermal blankets. “Fifteen seconds!” Cirakari’s voice was a razor-sharp command. I fumbled for the micro-welding tool, a sleek device that adjusted atomic structures to bond materials at a molecular level. I spread a powder over the surface, and applied pressure with the tool. The result was a temporary seal, strong enough to withstand high-pressure coolant. “Ten seconds!” Gulliver’s voice was pure tension. The secondary repair required a different approach. I injected the high-pressure ceramic sealant directly into the twelve centimeter puncture. The material would expand, crystallize, and form a plug more resilient than the original hull plating. “Five seconds!” A final diagnostic sweep across the coolant system. Pressure stabilizing. Flow rates returning to acceptable parameters. Heat dissipation curves nominal. “FIRING!” Gulliver’s shout coincided with a massive tremor that rattled through the ship, threatening to throw me from my precarious position. The repair held, but barely. “Hit! Target neutral—” Gulliver’s report was abruptly cut off by a sharp evasive maneuver, followed by another hail of molten slugs tearing into the hull. The comms went dead for a moment, then Cirakari’s voice broke the silence. “Damage report?” I snapped back to reality, pulling up the display on my suit’s forearm. “Multiple warnings and system logs, but everything’s still nominal.” She turned to the tactical channel. “Jal-Gabon, report.” “Second target neutralized. One friendly casualty. We've taken heavy damage and lost two external tanks.” A brief, fragile sense of relief spread through the crew. The immediate threat was over, but the tension didn’t lift. I let my body float, hands trembling from the adrenaline. The battle was done, but we still had three crippled ships to rescue—and no time to waste. submitted by RKlehm to redditserials [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 valsy6969 Dodge Durango SRT 392 AlcHEMI 2024: lusso e potenza
 | submitted by valsy6969 to MaxMania [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 Repulsive_Anxiety781 [s2 spoilers] Is Vi the real Jinx ?
I’ve been wondering this for a while but what if Vi is actually the real jinx portrayed in the series. She’s actually the one that gets everyone around her killed or hurt. - she got Jayce in trouble because of the job she wanted to do and brought her sister and friends along with her and this the whole hextech conflict - She’s the one behind that plan that got Vander in odds with everyone in Zaun, and gave the opportunity for Silco to betray him. By extension, she caused the death of Benzo too. - She’s the one that fuel Powder’s desire to prove herself to her. “One day, you gadgets will work”. Poor Powder was so excited to tell her sister that her monkey bomb finally work. Damn. - She got close to Caitlyn and then? She got kidnapped by her own sister and her mother died. - How she handles the situation with Powder, how she was refusing to accept that she changed ; caused Powder to fully become Jinx at the end. - The whole mission in the vents was jeopardized because she hesitated to kill Jinx , thus allowing Sevika to make the escape. - Vander got killed ( again) when she got involved again. I could say, too, that Isha died because Jinx wasn’t able to run faster to her because Vi was holding on to her. But that would be reaching, lol. - Let’s not forget that the reason why an entire AU exists where everyone is happy is because she died. - Once again, Jinx would’ve survived if she left Warwick alone and jumped to the other side. I may be forgetting some things but that’s what I was thinking about. I want to make sure that I’m absolutely not blaming or hating on Vi. She’s actually one of my favourite characters after Jinx. They’re both flawed in different ways, that’s what make them so interesting.
submitted by Repulsive_Anxiety781 to arcane [link] [comments]
2024.11.28 17:52 m4ximalekr4ft ich_iel
 | submitted by m4ximalekr4ft to ich_iel [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 InteractionFlimsy668 Help(Car Won’t Start)
Got ready for thanksgiving, and went out to start my car, only for it to not turn over. When I put the key in, all the lights, and dinging came on like normal, but when I turn the key, my car just makes a repetitive clicking sound. Does anyone know what the issue could be?
submitted by InteractionFlimsy668 to jetta [link] [comments]
2024.11.28 17:52 Majestic_Ad8402 Reached MG as a solo MM player
 | Are these stats good? I do fill other roles if theres too much mm in the team. submitted by Majestic_Ad8402 to MobileLegendsGame [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 ComprehensiveDate591 What is your greatest or strangest Nintendo "Hear me Out" character?
 | submitted by ComprehensiveDate591 to casualnintendo [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 littlea_adderall Alison Brie
 | submitted by littlea_adderall to All_The_Celebrities [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 iasadcms01 Dean Norris in Gattaca (1997)
 | submitted by iasadcms01 to No_Small_Parts [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 RoboDrunior Guess who's occupying various administration buildings on PlutoTV right now?
 | Happy Thanksgiving! submitted by RoboDrunior to lebowski [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 kf1035 Moose can run on water
 | submitted by kf1035 to interestingasfuck [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 jondthompson Been sick for a week (central states contract)
I got sick on Saturday with a virus other than Covid. Been coughing and sneezing up stuff all week, including today. I haven’t had a punch at all this week but have called in. If I don’t go in tomorrow (due to being still sick) do I risk losing my health insurance? I’m a PT loader btw.
submitted by jondthompson to UPSers [link] [comments]
2024.11.28 17:52 mitkoboga Is anyone still hyped about this movie?
 | submitted by mitkoboga to Spiderman [link] [comments] |
2024.11.28 17:52 CrystalWind1111 2025 Christ Update: The Great Awakening and Rise of Peace |
submitted by CrystalWind1111 to AwakenNOW [link] [comments]
2024.11.28 17:52 gin-casual Other half asked of if I wanted to just sit in the bar while she makes a wreath at the local vineyard. First trip out with a deck.
 | submitted by gin-casual to SteamDeck [link] [comments] |