Est to pacific standard time

Part II
Don’t
The eerie warning still echoes through my shaken psyche.
It has been about ten months since I last updated the Báthory saga. Ten months and three more disappearances. I am not sure where the dumping ground for the devoured cadavers has moved to, but I am all too aware of where Báthory is the vast majority of the time.
Even though Báthory has not spoken to me again since its warning in the wake of the medium’s grisly demise, its presence has been a constant at work.
When I arrive.
When I hold a Zoom conference.
When I pick up the phone.
Báthory’s inky outline haunts my door when it isn’t off hunting for another stomach-curdling meal. A constant reminder that it is aware of my reluctance to stand idly by while the feeding continues. A reminder that any effort to stymie its bloody feast will be met with swift, intense, and lethal violence. A reminder that my usefulness has expired and Báthory’s patience has limits.
As you can imagine, this has done wonders for my general disposition. My colleagues have noticed my constant nervousness. Students openly comment about my paranoid “vibe” and complain about the ever widening turn around on grades. I have struggled with anxiety before, but this is different. That was general anxiousness about everything that made me frustrated to stand in slow lines or push through crowds. This is a paranoia about something very real. I know exactly what the threat is and what it can do.
But how can I grade in a timely fashion when I still have to be a husband and father at home, then use my old sleeping hours to conduct the research necessary to stop Báthory? Grading is slipped in between meetings and classes during my work day. The few hours between work and “bed time” are to ensure my burden does not destroy my family, and then I browse through online sources for any glimmer of information that could banish this malevolent entity.
Honestly, the late night research hours sometimes work to my advantage. I have moved beyond keeping the scope of research limited to Native American folklore and mythology. I have expanded to any and all strains of supernatural belief across the globe. You know, a completely realistic and manageable scope. I’m not running headlong into a swirling vortex of paranoia and guilt induced insanity, I swear. You just have to have solid, healthy coping mechanisms. The off-brand sugar-free Sour Patch Kids that I devour like a hangry Kronos keep the crazies away. Down the hatch blue raspberry Poseidon.
But, back to how being a night owl researcher has worked to my advantage. Many of the repositories that I contact in search of ancient tomes on mythology and lore are overseas. The time difference means that even though it is the wee hours for me, it is normal business time for some of them. Language barriers be damned, I have Google Translate on my side. Oh, and also the motivation of not wanting to continue being an accessory to appalling murders. That helps me to get my point across the linguistic gaps to these archivists a lot too.
I have already racked up an impressive selection of books of mythology, demonology, and every other topic that could possibly lend some insight to the origins and weaknesses of my shadowy companion. Composed of ancient first editions, reprints, translations, and original copies, the stack has taken over the entire right side of my desk and the coffee table next to the visitors chair in my office. It has been slow going to get through the books. Even when I can locate a colleague that can help with translations, there is often an issue with dialects or other translation hurdles that slow the quest for illumination. Not to mention the probing questions about what exactly my research goals are.
I have spun so many incoherent stevia-fueled lies that I have lost track of what I tell everyone I am on about. The sleep deprivation tends to leave me unprepared for the question and each query receives an off-the-cuff response that never seems entirely satisfactory. It is a good thing I already had a reputation for being a bit eccentric.
Then again, the rumors about how I am linked to the death of that medium might be a more compelling reason for many to lend a helping hand to the rambling, disheveled, wide-eyed professor that storms into their office looking for assistance with analyzing passages of arcane ghost stories.
Keeping my hoard of esoteric books in the center of Báthory’s hunting grounds and conducting my research throughout the fields of prey turned out to be the opposite of a well conceived plan. When prepping a trap for a predator, you should probably not shop for the supplies in its lair.
Keep in mind, I never once claimed to be the Napoleon of monster hunting.
A few days ago I stepped from my office for a quick faculty meeting. I know for a fact that the office door was shut completely behind me, I am a bit obsessive about making sure I close doors behind me. Just be sure that it was fully shut, you will understand why I am emphasizing it here in a minute or two.
After a speedy yet frustrating faculty meeting about details that could have been an email and a shortcut to gather some more snackables, I set off to return to my lair of gothic readings. Imagine my surprise when I found the door ajar.
Imagine my surprise when I entered the room and found the wall smeared with gore and the crumpled body of a student topped with the stump of what had once been a head on the floor.
The bright green collared polo and slacks were still immaculate. His black and white sneakers were as clean as if he was trying them on fresh from the box. The only thing askew was that his neck ended in a still oozing stump and a viscous concoction of skull, skin, brain, and blood was smeared around a rather deep hole in the drywall. This wasn’t the kind of drywall hole a Mountain Dew infused Kyle creates after losing a match on Call of Duty, this was the kind of hole a sledgehammer wielded by someone with a bloody glee in their heart creates.
Naturally, after a brief shocked yelp and unceremoniously depositing my lunch on the floor I called the police. A murder had just occurred in my office. I knew the police could never catch this particular culprit, but what else was I supposed to do when faced with a corpse in my office? Wait for the custodians to take it away with the gummi wrappers and other garbage?
Imagine my surprise when the first responding officer had also been there to question me at the medium’s death. And oh boy, did he definitely recognize me. That stern face was clearly practiced. His face had the round quality of a cheerful baker in a Disney cartoon. Eyes not hardened by years of stress and worry. This was someone who could leave work at the office, but turn on the character while in uniform.
If you are wondering, he did not seem to regard my presence at another death scene as an unwelcome coincidence. His face had more of an “I knew this motherfucker was up to no good” quality to it than surprise or any other reaction. Can you blame him? First I was walking with someone who just happened to start screaming before running away from me into traffic and now one of my students looked like he was trying to spread brain jam on my office wall. He knew I am connected to the deaths somehow.
If only he would believe the truth. If I told him, I would definitely have a Netflix documentary sooner rather than later.
He asked me the normal, if you can call them that, interview questions. We discussed my whereabouts, the identity of the victim, and the timeline of events.
Not buying what I was selling, he decided to pull the security footage. I offered up no objections, the tape would clearly exonerate me. But I also knew it would not provide any evidence he would accept of another, more sinister, culprit.
Just as I had stated, the video showed me leaving my office at the time I had provided. About three minutes later, the student could be seen entering my office.
But how? I know I had shut the door.
Unfortunately, the angle of the camera did not show the latch side of my door, and thus there was no evidence that I had securely shut it. Clearly, according to the officer, I had misremembered. We had both watched the student enter with no resistance. He just pushed the door open. I asked the officer to play back the tape from after I left.
What was I looking for? The shadow that played along the wall toward my door about a minute after I left.
Báthory had set a trap for both the student and myself.
Báthory had had enough of my meddling.
But why not just kill me?
The next part of the video showed me returning, making the gruesome discovery, and calling the police after soiling myself. No evidence of anyone else ever having entered or left my office.
Except for that shadow again.
Releasing me upon my own recognizance, the officer asked if I took one last look at the scene to see if I noticed anything unusual. Aside from the Pollock-esque redecoration my wall had undergone. I indicated to the officer that I did not.
But that was a lie.
About a quarter way down the stack of books on my desk had been a hefty tome bound in faded blue and gilded with dull silver lettering. That book stood out to me among the others due to its age and quality of craftsmanship.
It was no longer in the stack.
That book had the key to Báthory.
You sly bitch.
I racked my brain to remember the origin of that book.
French? Slavic? Uzbek?
I could search through my spreadsheet, find its metadata, and track down any copies if my office wasn’t now a crime scene and everything in it evidence. I would have to find the book itself.
You have overplayed your hand, Báthory.
Now it is a race to the finish. Either I find the contents of that book or Báthory successfully frames me for murder.
Game on.

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I'd say I have a moderate fear of flying. Once I'm in the air I tend to be ok, it's the build up and sitting after boarding and wondering what it will be like that gets me. This'll be my third year going to Florida in the summer and usually the flight there (530am-ish take offs) are incredibly smooth. Both times on the way home (130pm-ish takeoffs) are pretty shakey the whole way back. Are afternoon flights usually worse? This year our returning flight is a 9:30pm take off and I've never been on a night flight. Are they usually better?

Okay my choice of words are valid. To cut a long story short, we’ve only been dating for just under 3 years. His mother lived overseas and has visited multiple times. At first, I LOVED her. Spent many days with her - even without my bf.
However…after some time I noticed her behaviour was very out of line. It always has been - but she ended up moving in with us and well….she ain’t quite my cup of tea anymore.
She no longer lives with us but her sourness has grown. She pretends she likes being around me but I can sense the hate. She makes nasty comments but in a joking way. And my bf defends this.
For example, we took her to lunch for her birthday as a belated celebration (she didn’t even want to see her own son and myself on her birthday because she wanted to be with her friend the whole day) - anyway I digress. At the end of the lunch she asks for the receipt for her gift so she can change it??? And ON TOP of that she leaves by saying “thanks for making some effort to see me”
I have had many hard conversations with my bf about this but this crossed the line. I spoke to him for 2 hours and he still doesn’t get it. OR at least try hear me out.
I’m exhausted. Is this normal?

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(Descriptions of fictional crimes investigated by the story's main Character Max.)
Detective's Fate
It's august of 2008.....
Max is a detective living in Chicago He checks his pistol and puts on his police badge as he walks out his front door.
He has been searching for a serial killer known as the Caller for years and always been one step behind due to the red tape.....
More importantly the chief's lazy attitude towards getting search warrants and actions approved by the courts for raids. Twice Max had good intel on the suspect's locations and photo evidence showing him at the sites.
The department needs more vigilant, caring officers and leaders but no one steps up to do it, instead they just complain about the slow progress and officers. And hinder investigations.
Now Max has decided that it might be time to stop playing by the rules and catch this scumbag.... .... ....
Starting his car Max sets his GPS to the address that "The Caller" was last seen and pulls out of his driveway as the 50 miles of directions pop up.
The killer's nickname being for his signature of calling in as he is committing the crime.
As he drives he remembers his first case, five years ago now..... ..... .....
A woman, Joane Taylor, was found dead in an alleyway after going out for the night. She showed no signs of struggle leading the police to believe she had drank to much and expired from alcohol poisoning.... ...
The death was written off as a "party gone wrong".... That is until several more were found and the coroner decided on a whim to test for other substances.
Once it came out that the deaths were possible murders...
The calls started coming in, almost like the suspect wanted credit before revealing himself....
Then ways of the deaths began changing as the Serial Killer explored his twisted desires searching for his preferred method.
The last case being a young woman found stuffed in a dumpster after the killer apparently got scared off.... Max will never forget it.... .... ....
The GPS finishes and the car beeps its final direction, taking an exit off the highway. Ramps out here are always confusing... Which is funny since he has driven this one for five years now...
The chief says he should sit this one out but he can't... The latest victim 3 months ago.
Marie Spelner, a waitress out on her smoke break talking to her spouse on the phone.
Survived by her husband, no children or living relatives. ....
Max Spelner turns into the driveway of the house he was directed to... Stepping out of the car he walks up and knocks on the door. Looking at the house he knows the family must be doing well if they live here.... Raising his hand to knock again he hears a scream from inside....
A second later the door is answered by a middle aged butler holding a tray with wine glasses on it... "Hello Sir, I'm sorry but this house does not wish to partake in any offers at this time..."
Max calmly says. "I'm not selling anything."
The butler looks confused for a moment before his eyes dart over Max's shoulder seeing his unmarked cruiser and he nods.
Looking past the butler Max sees that a woman is cleaning up after their dog.
"Have you seen this man?" Says Max holds up a picture of the one suspected of being the killer.
The butler gives it a once over before replying. "I'm sorry sir, no I have not." His tone sounds like he is lying... ....
"Are you sure?" The detective asks.
"I would not lie about something like that, sir." He states, his eyes not meeting Max's.
The woman calls from inside "Fletcher, who are you talking too?"
"Some man asking about a killer" he calls back.
"The killer is an inside job!" The woman quickly states.
"What?!" Max says.
"The Killer, it's an inside job." She says again, louder this time. In the same Max also hears a child begin to cry in another room.
"We should start from the beginning, it will be easier to explain trust me." The woman says.
'She seems to know what is going on....
"How do I know your story holds water?" He asks out loud.
"Oh I wouldn't lie. I have been following the case myself and it seems like an inside job to me." She states, somehow sounding hurt.
"Is there anyone else in the house besides you two and the baby?" He asks noticing the baby isn't crying anymore.
"Just Fletcher and I live here, the baby is my cousins but he just stays the night sometimes." She replies.
Max draws his gun and enters the house upon reasonable suspicion of an emergency in progress or suspect on the premisses as the man seems to be deceiving.
While the woman still seems unconcerned that the child is now silent.
He pushes past the butler and rushes towards the area he heard the crying. passes the entryway, the dinning room, and a kitchen before finally finding a child in a playpen.
"There there..." He says in a sing song voice picking up the child. "I'm officer Max, do you know where your mommy is?"
The child just cries louder.
Then he sees the man from the photo walk out of the bathroom, upon seeing him he bolts for the door and Max sets the child down gently then gives chase.
He runs through the house, following the man as he can hear the woman screaming at him to stop but he doesn't."
"Stop or I'll shoot." The man doesn't even break stride.
Instead he runs out of the front door and jumps into his car.
Furious that the man might escape he fires at the car as it drives away.
The back window shatters and he hopes he got his tire, but he doesn't wait to find out as he runs to his car and initiates a pursuit....
He flips on his concealed lights in his cruiser as he reverses down the drive and into the street.
The suspects car is fast but he manages to keep up with it weaving in and out of traffic as people move over for the siren.
As they approach a red light there is heavy traffic in the intersection..... ....
The suspect slams on his brakes and Max's cruiser only just stops short of hitting it. Jumping out the Detective points his firearm at the vehicle running up beside seeing heavily tinted windows.
"Get out of the car and on the ground now!!" He shouts as he moves to the driver's side door.
After seeing no response....
Max throws open the door and the driver is gone with the passenger side open.
He quickly runs to the other side catching the man trying to sneak off tackling him to the ground and then takes his arms putting them behind his back.
Max grabs his radio and calls it in as the man cries.
As he is waiting he hears a noise that sounds like static.....
"Wrong guy moron.. Did you ever stop to think I wanted you close for this one. That I planned everything...Even framing the pothead..... I almost lost interest until you pulled in the driveway... The attic is kinda cramped tho... I think I'll go carve some meat. Maybe graduate to other things to. I'm not sure yet. Lets see if you can catch me before......" A familiar voice says over the radio then cuts off... ...
Max looks at the man on the ground. "Why did you run from me?" He asks.
"Cause I have like 19 grams of marijuana in my pocket." He replies...
"Do you know how stupid that is?! I don't care about that I'm looking for a killer."
Before he can answer Max hears the woman from the house screaming for her life and a child's cries on his radio.
Then from below Max. "He's in the house, he's in the house! My mom and the baby!" The man on the ground says crying.
Max uncuffs him and runs to his car heading back to the house as he lays down rubber on the road... ... ...
As he approaches and pulls into the driveway he notices the front door is open.
"Hold on I'm coming!" Max screams jumping out of his cruiser...
He runs into the house finding the woman's body arriving too late. Moving over to her he checks for a pulse but she is gone, a large gash in her neck.
As he stands up he slips in a fluid but gains his balance and tries not to think about what it is....
He rushes to the room the baby was in finding the play pen empty. He leaves the room searching the rest of the house and still doesn't find the child.
"Where are you!!!" He calls out....
"This is the Callers first kidnapping and the media would eat up the fact I failed to stop the man." He thinks as he blames himself.
Sirens begin to blare in the distance as backup is about to arrive... ... ...
"There's a woman dead and a baby missing! The woman is in the dinning room straight ahead of the front door, Hurry!" He yells into his radio...
Looking over at the mother seeing a piece of paper on the floor.
He walks over to it seeing writing.
"So close... Looks like I'm a kidnapper now.... Good luck finding me.... And... I so enjoyed killing that sweet wife of yours. Might do it that way again. Not to the kid tho....later Max. Ps. This game is so fun.." It says.
"He was here..." Is all he can muster as the team enters.
"He was right in this house and I missed it because her son freaked over weed and ran..." He says as another officer speaks to him gently.
"Don't beat yourself up Detective, it's not your fault. He must have hid before you got her and left after you arrived." The words do little to comfort him "First day back on the job and the killer escaped taking a child..." He says as he walks away.
The chief arrives in his new lexus with a screeching of rubber as he lurches to a halt.
He quickly exits and leaves his door hanging open as he rushes into Max's face....
"I told you to stay away from this case MAX!!!!....(takes a breath)...
"If I catch any flak from my superiors, I won't suspend you.... That'd be to easy. Desk duty and an entry level demotion. The new guy will have a higher rank than you if things go my way.... Now get outta my sight...". "(Sighs)...
"This job is gonna be the death of me..." He says walking away from Max and towards the Coroner's van..... ..... .....
On the way home the detective stops by the store close to his house which is unlike him because he usually follows the same routine.
He nears the front door and he hears a kitchen timer ding loudly from behind him as his car explodes throwing him through the storefront windows as they are blown out..... .....
Alarms around the lot and others nearby create a cacophony of noise. His head pounding as his body aches, Max pushes himself up and collapses as the store manager runs over to him telling him not to move as he dials 911.... .... ....
Waking in the hospital Max recalls the feeling of the Shockwave as he flinches in phantom pain.
"Who woulda thought its like holding a ringing metal bat that hurts your hands but all over and way more intense." He thinks.
He suddenly feels tired and falls asleep.... .... .... ....
The next time he wakes, he sees a breaking news story that Jane Saltani is reporting on....
"Young toddler Accidently Shoots Serial killekidnapper ending his life and Alerting residents in the Area." The news anchor says.
Sighing to himself Max thinks about how crazy that is and laughs.
Tho he really wanted to bring the guy in. He closes his eyes to get some much needed sleep as his door opens.
Max looks up to see a man with a silenced pistol pointed at him.
"Hm. Now they think I'm dead. Funny how they just assume they got the right guy. Just like.... You did Detect... ....." Max hears but then hears no more as his end comes at just over the speed of sound....
The Caller leaves the hair of another intelligent convicted murderer that he obtained in a spot that's believable and quickly leaves.....
He disables the surveillance system and sends a virus out to any device that has received video data from the hospital.
Erasing and corrupting the systems. Leaving a master hackers finger prints on a glass from his home....
"Sorry, no witnesses." He says to the security guard as he fires... ..... ..... .... ....

So I (23F) need to go away on a work trip for a week and have asked my younger brother (18M) to live in my place and care for my two cats. He’s excited because he’s always lived at my parents and it’s like a dorm trial before college in the fall.
Problem is my parents are antsy about him being there alone. Admittedly I don’t live in the best area, but so long as he hangs out indoors and plays video games all week likes he’s planning he’ll be fine. My dad works in the same city and wants to visit him after work, bring him dinner, make sure he’s ok, ect.
The problem I have with that is I literally have one house rule that my dad has failed to follow almost every time he has visited. That one rule is that my cats need to be secured in my bedroom with the door closed before the front door opens. My first cat, I’ve had him for a year now, was either a stray or an outdoor cat before being surrendered to the shelter. While he loves cuddling and being around people, he also desperately wants to go outside, and even now a year later he meows at the doors and windows to be let out. Leaving the politics of outdoor cats aside, I live in a very dangerous area for a cat. On one side of my apartment is a five lane two way road, and on the other side is a four labe road, both being very busy. The back of my apartment is a busy bank. If my cat were to get out and run from being scared, it’d practically be a death certificate.
Even though I’ve reminded my dad of this one rule every time he visits he always opens the front door while the cats are out. I’m vigilant and catch him and remind him, but he always gets defensive and brushes it off as an accident then does it again, sometimes twice in one visit. He often tries to stand there having conversation with the door open. My parents cats have gotten out because of this but because they live in a suburb they’ve always been ok. My brother is a little absent minded and gets absorbed in his video games so if my dad tries this while I’m not there I don’t know if he’ll catch it before my boy can sneak out.
Thus I’ve banned my dad from my place and he’s extremely angry. He keeps insisting that he won’t do it again and that he doesn’t want my brother there alone.
AITA?

Last time I took the whole front and engine out of my car, cops got called on me and came not even 12 hours after I had started. They told me it’s ILEGAL to work on my car, even if it is IN FRONT of my house.
I respect that (even if I find it ridiculous) but I still won’t pay the enormous amount of €€€€ garage charges to do things I’ve done my whole life, and probably do it bad also.
So I don’t want to break the rules, and don’t want to pay my whole salary on mechanics.
Where can I go? Is there a solution? I have my own tools.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this but I think I need help. And I’m sorry if I have any spelling mistakes since English is not my first language. I’m 13 years old and I don’t really feel anything anymore. I’m sad all the time and I hate myself. I cant stand to look at myself in the mirror without being so disgusted. I hate absolutely everything about myself and I’ve tried for 2 years to do something about it, but nothing seems to work. I’m so insecure and I can’t understand how people can even tolerate looking at me or being with me. There is not one single thing I like about myself, there’s nothing positive about me. I’m too scared to talk to my friends or family about this, I just can’t bring myself to because I feel like I’m the type of person who’d never feel this way, that I’d always be happy no matter what. I’m just so tired of feeling this way and I wish I was another person, I constantly compare myself to someone everyday. No matter what I try it feels like I’ll never love myself or be pretty. Compliments don’t mean anything to me anymore. I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. I’m so scared to say this but I don’t feel like there’s much hope left for me. I feel like such a disappointment. And I know people will tell me to get professional help, but I know it won’t help. I know that that’s what best for me, but I just can’t tell anyone. I know things won’t get better because they never have.
If anyone has advice I would really like to know. Thank you for reading and stay safe.

I was just at Family Time Games near the pyramids. A yarn business want under and today only they are selling as much of the inventory as possible at family time games. I got probably close to $1000 worth of yarn for around $90. Most of it is lace weight. If you're a knitter absolutely go check it out.

I am a two thumbs player since beginning of this game. I need a HuD for two finger that would be ideal for TPP.
Ps. All this time I played FPP.
I need help to practice

I'm playing for the first time with no prior info. I did the initial quest for Danse and got invited to the BoS but they really piss me off and I don't like their mission statement (I didn't join). The Prydwen has showed up but I havent interacted with any BoS since completing the first quest. I want to just kill Danse and the other two, but now that theres a giant military blimp in the sky im scared they'll try to track me down and I wont be able to enjoy the game. Does anyone know if killing him will ruin my game? (I dont mind being enemies with BoS, I just dont want to have to deal with them killing me from their silly little drones)

I work at a mid-sized startup, and previously I worked at a hospital for years and the pace of work has always been fast. I can work fast, but I'd rather work more slowly and make sure everything is high quality before shipping.
Are there any industries or companies, in your experience, that move slowly but without being choked with red tape?
I've been in the industry for a long time, but only at a couple of companies and now that remote work is more available, I'm looking to maybe expand my horizons.

So long story short, met my SO as a teenager and have spent half my life with him. House, kids, stable economy etc. everything is great in that aspect. But there hasn’t been any passion or feelings past 10 years. Have been thinking of trying someone else on the side for many years but always the guilt holding me back. Last year it just happened when I met a man online in my position exactly and we talked about 7 months before we met even tho we live less than 1 hour drive away from each other.
So first meeting he just picked me up in his car one night when I was alone and we drove around just talking for hours, felt so natural even tho I thought it was gonna be super awkward. We talked a bit about how things would be settled if we decided to cheat and both agreed on “no feelings or a second partner as a double life, just sex”. He dropped me off at my place again and gave me the best hug I’ve probably ever felt (plus he smelled so good I was 1 sec away from inviting him in).
Since then it’s been 8 months and we’ve hooked up several times. Sometimes hotel, sometimes just in the back of the car. He even agreed last month to come to my house when my SO was away for work in another city even tho he early said that we won’t come home to each other. I got really sick a few months ago and had to go to the hospital with ambulance and ended up really on the edge of not making it. When I had the strength to get on my phone again he was genuine worried and was a really good support during recovery. After that we started to talk a bit more about deeper things and around that point I noticed how I started to develop feelings.. I’ve been too afraid to say anything about it since we agreed on not catching feelings. I’m afraid he’ll “break up” if I say anything, because rn I just wanna meet him and be around him as much as possible even if it means I’m hurting in between for having feelings for him. But I’m also afraid it will go too far that it makes me breaking completely..
I’d never let my feelings ruin his relationship and get in between his family tho. And I’d never ask him to leave his SO because I’m not sure I could leave my family despite this messy situation.
Anyone else in similar situations? How do you handle it? I can’t stop thinking about him and fantasizing about us doing normal couple things instead of sneaking around, and it’s killing me slowly 😅

Sorry if this question has already been asked way too many times before, but a quick search didn't yield any results.
I'm a full-time React dev with 2 years of experience in React and 4-ish as a JS (actually more like TS) dev in general.
I only just started learning Svelte but I have been enthusiastic thus far. Since I'm moving out and will probably be changing employer in like 2 months, I decided I don't need to pursue higher salary, instead I want to try something new. I also learned Golang last year and it would be awesome to get paid working with it.
Will I be able to find a decent job after just 1-2 months of learning Svelte as a React veteran? I am planning to create my portfolio website using it.

Hello, first time posting to this sub. Very excited to attend tomorrowland for the first time (hopefully not the last). I was just checking out artist lineup and am confused with 'Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike vs Timmy Trumpet'. What does 'vs' refer to?