#buy cheese hamper

[great-british-trading-limited]

What is a good cheese hamper to send as a wedding gift?

Weddings are joyous occasions, and what better way to celebrate than with a delicious cheese hampers? A cheese hamper is a thoughtful and unique wedding gift that is sure to be appreciated by the happy couple.

However, not all cheese hampers are the best ones. It's important to choose a well-selected, well-packaged hamper that includes a variety of high-quality cheeses.

Let's explore the qualities of a good cheese hamper to send as a wedding gift.

1. Variety of Cheeses

A good cheese hamper should contain a variety of cheeses. This will allow the happy couple to experience a range of flavours and textures. The hamper should include cheeses that are well-balanced and complement each other. A good holiday cheese gift baskets typically include a mix of hard and soft cheeses, such as Cheddar, Brie, and Gouda.

2. Presentation

The presentation of the cheese hamper is also important. The hamper should be packaged in an attractive, reusable wicker basket or wooden crate. The presentation of the hamper should be thoughtful, and the cheese should be arranged aesthetically pleasing. The packaging should also be practical, and the hamper should be well-protected to ensure the cheese arrives perfectly.

3. Quality of Cheese

The quality of the cheese in the hamper is also a critical factor. A good cheese hamper should contain high-quality cheeses that are well-aged and flavoured. The cheese should be made by skilled artisans passionate about their craft. The best Christmas cheese hampers in the UK often include artisanal or farmhouse cheeses made using traditional methods with unique flavours and textures.

4. Accompaniments

A good holiday cheese gift basket should also include a selection of accompaniments that complement the cheese. These can include crackers, bread, chutneys, and jams. The accompaniments should be well-balanced and of high quality. The best cheese hampers will often include handmade or artisanal crackers and chutneys, which add to the overall experience of the hamper.

5. Wine Pairings

Buy a cheese hamper with a bottle of wine to make it an excellent choice. You should carefully choose the wine which complements the flavours of the cheese. The best cheese hampers often include a pairing guide, which recommends the best wines for each cheese. The wine should be high quality, and the bottle should be well-presented and appropriate for the occasion.

6. Dietary Restrictions 

It's important to consider the recipients' dietary restrictions when choosing a cheese hamper. Many retailers offer cheese hampers that are gluten-free, dairy-free, or vegan. This is an excellent option to ensure everyone can enjoy the gift.

7. Price

The price of a cheese hamper can vary significantly, and it's important to buy one that is within your budget. However, it's also important to remember that the cheese's quality and the hamper's presentation can impact the overall cost.

The best cheese hampers will often include high-quality artisanal cheeses, handmade accompaniments, and carefully selected wine pairings, which can increase the cost of the hamper. However, a good cheese hamper doesn't have to be expensive, and many affordable options offer excellent quality and presentation.

Good cheese hampers to send as a wedding gift should include various high-quality kinds of cheese, well-packaged and presented handmade or artisanal accompaniments, and carefully chosen to complement the flavours of the cheese.

It's also important to consider the recipients' dietary restrictions and choose a hamper within your budget. Great British Trading Limited can customise a great cheese hamper with these qualities. They are one of the best places to buy a cheese hamper. They have a wide variety which comes in all types of budgets. Get a great deal on your cheese hampers.

[gtzgoblin]

Just had dairy free "cheese" savory on my jacket potato because dairy gives me tummy problems even though cheese was my main source of joy in this fucking diabetic existence. It was nice, so props the chef, but I resent another bodily failure

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you��re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵

[copperbadge]

[ID: The metal door of my dishwasher, buffed to a gentle shine, surrounded by my horrible elderly kitchen cabinetry; it is artistically cropped so you can't see the floor, which desperately also needs cleaning.]

I should have taken a "before" picture but at least I have one to share today! I cleaned the door of the dishwasher, which gets surprisingly dirty over time; I wiped it down with a wet sponge, scrubbed it with Greased Lightning, then dried it and gave it a coating of "household wax" -- in this case Flitz Ceramic Sealant -- which buffed it nicely.

I also made headway on reorganizing the textiles I started with yesterday; all that's left now is to handle the under-bed storage, which gets gross because the cats like to hide/puke/fight under there, so I'm holding off for now. Because I then had a bunch of linens and unpacked winter gear to wash, I did some laundry, which is all drying now, and a benefit I just discovered of moving the laundry hamper to the hall closet is that I can hang the "line dry" clothes on the bar there because the space is more open, instead of using the shower rod.

I did finally get my grocery order yesterday, so while the laundry was running I broke out the tomato paste (do I buy tomato paste in bulk? sure do) and made a big pot of pizza sauce. I still need to unwrap the cheese and the beef and repackage them into more manageable portions to freeze, but they'll be fine in the fridge for today.

I listened to a bunch of short podcasts -- "Unlocking The Secrets Of Super Agers" by Big Brains, "So Your Data Was Stolen" by Planet Money, and "What's Missing In The Immigration Debate" by The Indicator (a Planet Money spinoff). Then just before I finished folding the laundry it switched over to the Billy Crystal episode of Conan O'Brien Needs A Friend, and the highlight of the morning's listening was Conan's genuine frustration that when his assistant's twin sons were infants, he couldn't make them laugh. The fact that his godsons are a tough crowd is endlessly funny to me.

[isaut]

𝒊 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅— f!reader x captain rex. divorcee au.

they're my babies. other fics of note in this series: you should probably leave | starting over. cw: drinking, throwing up, rex being the man of all time, secret relationships

It’s no secret that you drink more during the summer. During the school year, you never have more than two beverages, always reserved to fruity little margaritas with salted rims or light beers. Over the summers, however, with three daughter sized holes in your heart, you fill the craters with dirty martinis and chambord, wine coolers and peach schnapps. 

No one mentions it. Not when you always make drinks for others when you make one for yourself, and not when Rex has mentioned that you’re embarrassed about it. Aware and embarrassed. 

It’s recently that Rex has begun carrying martini glasses in his house, and one that has not gone unnoticed. There’s also no more Kirkland vodka in his house— it’s Grey Goose, which is the kind that is in your house as well. 

The snack platter is nothing like what Rex would ever prepare. It’s obvious that you made it— Chips and shrimp cocktail with cheeses and salamis and olives. It's been successfully demolished, and packs of gushers and cheesy chips have been dipped into instead. 

No one mentions the flairs you’ve begun dropping in Rex’s carefully curated space. 

You finish off your last martini of the night and it feels like a mistake. Setting it on the coffee table, you slowly stand up, excusing yourself to go to the restroom. 

The restroom is on the first floor. You climb the stairs, in favor of the restroom that you are used to using. 

In Rex’s bathroom, you use the soap you influenced him into buying and the lotion he got for you. You pull your toothbrush out of the spot it hides in and brush your teeth. You play with the neckline of your halter top, moving it around to check how tan you’ve gotten since summer began. 

Exiting the bathroom, you take off your shirt, letting it sink into a puddle on the middle of the floor. Rex will be slightly irritated by it, so you pick it up and put it in the laundry basket. In his drawers, you find a tshirt and pull it over your head, bringing the hem to your nose to take a deep breath. 

Shucking off your jeans, you drop them in the hamper as well. You find the one pair of sweatpants that Rex owns that fit you, pulling them on and flopping onto the bed. 

You should get up and say goodnight to everyone. Maybe Rex will come and hold you. 

The door to his bedroom cracks open, and you crack open your eyes to glance over at the sound.

Rex eases his way into the bedroom. His eyes soften upon seeing you, all comfortable in his clothes and his bed. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers, as to not call the attention downstairs to the pet name of choice. The pet name only used in privacy. 

Sitting up your elbows, you tilt your head to the side. “Hi.” 

“What are you doing?” Rex asks, coming over to your side. He helps you sit up all the way, fingers gently wrapping around your hands. 

“I wanted to get comfy,” you say softly, twining your fingers with his. “My jeans were starting to hurt.” 

“I was wondering why you wore them,” Rex says. Normally you’re in long sun dresses or skirts, able to have the breeze flow through you without showing off your knees. “You comfy now?” 

You nod. 

“You coming back downstairs?” Rex asks. 

You sigh. Rex catches your head before it can fall onto your shoulder. You lean fully into his palm. 

“I should… I haven’t said goodnight to anyone. Do I need to go home?” 

Rex wants to tell you that in a perfect world you are home. You’ve already made yourself at home. Instead, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’ll take you home whenever you want.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” you murmur. “I just want to stay here.” 

“You can stay here,” Rex says. He swipes his thumb over your cheek, over the layer of foundation and concealer there. Somehow, it hasn’t begun to separate. “You want to wash your face?” 

You shake your head. “My eye makeup won’t come off.” 

“Oh. I got you something.” Rex stands, heading into the bathroom. He futzes about, you watched him from your lounging perch. He pulls a bottle and some cotton pads out, coming back to your side. This time, he sits directly beside you on the bed.

You eye the bottle. “Is that Mac?” 

Rex shakes the container and then pumps some of the liquid onto a cotton pad, soaking it. He responds as he presses it to your eye, letting it sit there. “I got tired of cleaning your mascara off my bedding.” 

“My mascara doesn’t run,” you protest. 

Rex gently rubs the swab against your lid, taking product with him. He repeats with a fresh pad on the other. And another for your face, his own lips for the remnants of your kiwi strawberry lipgloss. 

“You wanna actually wash your face?” Rex asks. “You’ll feel better in the morning.” 

With his hands on your hips, you diligently and sloppily wash your face. Apply his moisturizer and steal a few kisses. 

Rex shuffles you into bed, under the turned down sheets. He throws the decorative pillows onto the ground, letting you nestle in on his side, the side closest to the door. 

“Will you come back to cuddle?” You ask, watching as he drags over a trash can. 

“Yeah,” Rex promises, pushing down the can of coke and clothing tags in his trashcan. “Will you promise me not to lay on your back?” 

You’re comfortable on your side, arms wrapped around his pillow. 

“I’ll be good,” you promise. 

Rex tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. He presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you need anything else?” 

“No,” you mumble. “I’m going to go to sleep.” 

“Alright.” Rex shifts the trash can, then the bedding. “I’ll be up soon.” 

You nod, eyes closed. The room’s spinning. Your mouth is sweating. Rex leaves the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

There’s approximately three minutes of half sleep, before you’re leaning over the bed and throwing up a delightful mixture of shrimp and olives and vermouth into the trash can. You need to listen to your gastroenterologist and chew your food for longer. 

Forever passes. You slide out of the bed, throwing up again and again, until the vodka is nothing more than bile. There’s laughter from downstairs, shouting. Maybe a game has come out. 

You can’t focus on that. Instead, you stumble from the crouched position over the trashcan to the bathroom, desperately searching for the mouthwash. You don’t see the familiar green liquid. Not on the counter, not under it, not in the closet. 

Frustrated, and with your mouth tasting like your intestines, you head out of the room. Brace yourself against the railing as you climb down the stairs, stopping halfway down when you make eye contact with Echo’s wife on the couch. With a slight hand movement, she squeezes Echo’s thigh, bringing his attention to your. 

Something churns in your gut that they shouldn’t see you like this. 

Rex’s head whips around to see you standing there. He quickly jumps off the couch, drawing more attention to you than necessary. He ushering you back upstairs without touching you, and you go anyways. 

“I couldn’t find your mouthwash,” you announce, louder than you mean to. “I threw up. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Rex says gently, hand on your thigh as he pushes his bedroom door open wider. 

“I threw up in the trash can,” you add on. 

“That’s good,” Rex says. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, leading you into the bathroom. His mouthwash is on the counter, and he pours some into a Dixie cup for you. “You think you’re going to throw up again?” 

“No,” you mumble. “I think… I think I’m okay. I’m sorry I drank so much.” 

Rex shakes his head. You swish the drink around in your mouth. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Rex murmurs. “Did you have fun?” 

You nod. “What game are you playing?” 

“Uno,” Rex says. “You want to join?” 

“I just want to lay on you,” you admit. 

“Maybe drink some water?” 

You nod. Brush your teeth. Wash your mouth again. Head downstairs hand in hand with Rex. 

There’s a resounding applause for your return. You grin, sheepishly, and sit in Rex’s spot on the couch while he grabs you a glass of water. 

“I just had to throw up real quick,” you explain with a smile. 

“Old Ralph and rally,” Hardcase laughs. 

“Whatever that is,” you agree. A bottle of Gatorade is dangled in your face, that you take quickly. 

Rex settles into the space you’ve made for him on the couch, draping your legs over his. Leaning over, he plucks his cards back up from the table. 

“I’m out of luck right now,” Rex murmurs to you. You rest your head against his shoulder, cradling your Gatorade bottle like a stuffed animal. He is out of luck. Nothing but yellow 3s and 7s. 

No one says anything, but glances are shared. Not that you notice. You’re back asleep within moments, Rex’s heartbeat in your ear. 

You sleep through everyone leaving. Sleep through Rex loading the dishwasher and folding all the throw blankets. Almost sleep through his slipping his arms up under you and lifting you up. 

Blinking away, you groan slightly and look around. 

You’re being carried up the stairs. 

“Hey,” Rex whispers. 

“What happened?” 

Rex lays you down in bed as gentle as can be. “You just needed to be around people. How are you feeling?” 

“Tired,” you murmur. “Did you win? Uno?” 

Rex chuckles. “No. Lost real bad.” 

You hum. “I’m sorry.” 

“I was expecting it,” Rex says, carefully getting you tucked up under the blankets. “You should take some advil before you sleep.” 

You groan, pressing your face further into the pillow. Rex roots around in his bedside table, producing the tiny bottle and handing the dosage to you. You open up your mouth for him to place the little pills into. Swallow with Gatorade. 

“I’m going to be so sick in the morning,” you bemoan. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Rex promises, changing into pyjamas of his own. 

“You’re always taking care of me.” There’s a warble in your voice. 

“I enjoy taking care of you,” Rex says. “Someone’s got to.” 

Faintly, the comment hurts somewhere you can’t place. Not because it’s malicious. It’s sweet. It’s been a long time since you were looked after. 

From the bed, you watch as Rex gets ready for the rest of the night. Your eyes slip shut a few seconds into him brushing his teeth. They open again at the click of the bedside lamp being turned off. 

Rex places a kiss to your forehead. “Wake me up if you need anything.” 

“Can you turn the fan up higher?” 

Rex pulls away to do so. He climbs in bed, slipping under the sheets. Slots himself behind you, wraps an arm around your waist, slides his arm under your neck. 

“I love you,” you murmur, bringing the arm around your waist to your chest, holding him close. There’s a lot of other things you want to say, but you don’t know if you’ll ever have the right words to convey them. 

Rex is quiet for a moment. Then, he places a kiss to the back of your head. “I love you too.” 

Your smile is sleepy and satiated. There’s no need to ask Rex if he means it. 

[stardust-swan]

Cottagecore Ideas for Valentine's Day 💐💌🍄

Gifts

💐 Pick a bouquet of wildflowers for your lover. You can pick flowers that have meanings according to the language of flowers which remind you of them

💐 Write a letter or poem telling them what you like about them. You could include pressed flowers or lipstick kisses

💐 Buy them a book of fairytales or poetry. Or Ghibli art books, or a box set of Moomins books.

💐 Knit or crochet them a stuffed version of their favourite animal

💐 Bake them their favourite treats. If you have the time and resources you could make a whole hamper with homemade cake, pie, cookies, jam, cheese, or other foodstuffs

💐 Make them homemade jewellery, candles, or soaps

💐 Get them a houseplant that you can watch grow as your relationship grows

💐 Quilt a cozy blanket that you can snuggle up under together

💐 Give them a delicate tea set with a floral pattern you can enjoy tea with together. Bonus points if you make your own tea blend to go with the gift.

💐 A jar of honey from the farmer's market, or your cottage's backyard

💐 A hand-carved jewellery box for storing their treasures

💐 Seedling starter kit that you can use to plant a garden together

💐 A basket of fresh produce from your garden or a farmer's market

💐 Paint them something special, or make pressed flower art for them

💐 Engrave a wooden spoon or spatula with a pretty pattern

Dates

💐 Go berry picking together and make jam afterwards

💐 Have a picnic with fresh pastries, fruit, and homemade lemonade

💐 Go to a forest or nature park, bring a plant identification guide, and try to spot as many plants as you can. Maybe you could try sketching them too

💐 Lie on a soft blanket and watch the clouds go by

💐 Invite them over for fresh bread, tea, and homemade soup over cottagecore movies or TV shows (such as any Ghibli movie, The Moomins, classic Disney princess movies, and Anne with an E)

💐 Visit a petting zoo

💐 Bake something sweet together

💐 Take a trip to the farmers market and admire the wares. Cook a nice meal with the food you buy there afterwards

💐 Take a pottery class together and make something special for each other

💐 Spend an afternoon thrifting for vintage clothes

💐 Visit a botanical garden and admire the lush greenery and vivid flowers while taking in the fragrance

💐 Have a garden party in your backyard with lots of tea and desserts

💐 Rent a tandem bike and take a ride through the countryside

💐 Spend the day crafting together

💐 Attend a fair and participate in apple picking and hayrides, and try to win your lover a prize

💐 Take a sunset boatride with a bottle of wine or homemade cider

💐 Visit a vineyard and try local wines

💐 Visit a local farm and learn about the crops and animals

💐 Take a cooking class and cook seasonal dishes

[crustyisgettingbetter]

tonight i couldn't brush my teeth, so i used mouthwash instead, and that's enough.

tonight i couldn't wash my face, but i took off my makeup, and that's enough.

today i couldn't clean my room, but i moved most of my clothes out of my way, and that's enough.

today i couldn't mask all day, so i only masked for customers, and that was MORE than enough. (side note, you don't owe masking to anyone, if you feel safe then unmasking is GOOD. i work customer service and often mask reflexively, if i know i don't have the energy, i avoid situations where i would need to mask. ie i avoid looking at customers as i pass them so i don't reflexively smile.)

today i couldn't cook, so i ate some ingredients, and that's enough.

today it was hard for me to do things, but it didn't feel like a bad day because i didn't make myself do those things. i only did what i was able to do to not let it be a problem. i know i can't just not care for my teeth or my skin. i know i shouldn't just let my space be a mess. i know I can't just not eat. but that doesnt mean i need to do those things perfectly.

eating some reheated noodles and sliced cheese isn't as good for me as a full, nutritious meal, but it's better than not eating at all.

putting my clean clothes that were on the floor into a hamper (of all clean clothes) isn't as good as putting them away, but it's better than leaving them where i'll trip on them

i know I can't half-do everything every day. but i have to half-do something most days. very rarely can i fully do everything for a whole day. i brush my teeth twice a day most days (but even then most of the time i can't do the full two minutes). i wash my face twice a day most days. i cook at least one meal for myself most days (at work i typically buy a meal i don't have to cook myself) it's okay that some days, i can't do those things.

you Do Not Ever owe Anyone perfection.

plain text for above:

start pt. (side note, you don't owe masking to anyone, if you feel safe then unmasking is GOOD. i work customer service and often mask reflexively, if i know i don't have the energy, i avoid situations where i would need to mask. ie i avoid looking at customers as i pass them so i don't reflexively smile.) end pt.

i just didn't want to take up too much space on that segment

[uldren-sov]

💋 , 🍳, 📥, 🎭 for Camy please? <3

tyty!! (Sorry again for the delay anon!!) the second part of the ask is below the cut Ask meme here

💋 — kissing

WROW WOW WEE WOW. She's a big fan of a quick, hot, kiss, to leave 'em wanting more, or something slow and smoldering - and there's not a lot of in between. Either way, she's quick to get hands on her partner: carding through their hair, cupping their jaw, drifting up a thigh. She's a pretty good kisser, she'd like to say, and she's quick to slip into that affection and haze of a good kiss especially with close friends or potential hookups.

🍳 — cooking

She's been cooking for herself since she was about 15 since she got real tired of only having like, microwave mac n cheese and frozen meals. So eventually she just asked her parents to buy her what she wants from a grocery list, and when her mom didn't think that was too presumptuous and making too many demands of her/them, she actually started to learn how to cook. By now she's pretty decent at it, able to get creative with some general success and definitely has dishes that she can just knock out of the park.

But baking is beyond her. She ruins most everything she bakes because she's pretty lose with the recipes. :) and then wonders why it comes out bad.

📥 — organization

She's not organized, not half as well as she'd like to be. Everything generally has a place where it should go. But sometimes laundry gets left on The Chair or in The Hamper and plates remain in the dishwasher and used from there. And most other things can be hunted down and found, but anymore with more traveling she's tried to be better about organization, especially with her clothes. So overall she can definitely get better.

🎭 — performance art/acting

The last time she was in acting was in senior year of high school but she gave a really good performance at the time. It was the mix of Seven dragging her kicking and screaming to become more sociable and being a theater kid, that made her as comfortable on stage and as outgoing as she is right now.

In senior year her teacher decided on doing a musical as like, the big senior production and BEGGED Camila (not Camy at that time :) ) to be the lead when she decided on doing Heathers the musical given her singing capability. And well, she had to at that point. It was great training because it forced her to work on her voice and technique and stage positioning and being able to sing well while still moving around and doing stuff as opposed to chorus. (Which she was too shy to try out for)

⌛️ — time management

She's had to get a lot better at time management than she was even just a couple of years ago. She has a calendar now and a day planner (that honestly she only uses here and there) that she has because Oriana got it for her but Oriana reminds her about all of the events and gigs Camy has anyways so what's the point of the planner----

But with all the events she's a part of, all the parties she goes to, all the gigs they have, and the importance of using her time effectively. She's prioritized learning how to discipline herself when it comes to just not wasting time. Up until BOTB she definitely felt that every hour in a 24 hr day had to be better accounted for.

⚽️  — sports

She KIND OF played soccer in high school. Back when she had to focus on boosting her transcripts, she applied to a lot of clubs, and soccer was the only team to really take her. She was on the bench for most of the season, imma be real LOL. Beyond that she's picked up being Oriana's gym buddy and tries to go with her sometimes to kick/boxing classes when she can.

🎉 — hosting parties

She almost CANNOT host parties. lmaoo her apartment is still so small. She's still in the same apartment she had when she moved out at 18 with grant/scholarship money and she does NOT have the savings (that she wants to spend) to move to a better apartment.

Any parties she hosts are only for the band and she's pretty good in making the most use of her space and keeping people entertained while they're there (and she has inflatable mattresses now if people just get too sloshed to go home). She puts in a fair amount of effort to have a good party with friends at her place but she is not on the level of others of, like, maybe planning an outing and a party elsewhere.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 34-35-36

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THIRTY FOUR

Nate closed his eyes for a moment in the dark.

They had the real portrait, for now.

They had the real Grandmother, for now.

They had Koschei, upstairs, for now.

But the first was going to cost them Parker, the second Eliot and the third Dresden, and at that point the cost got way too high for any con to be feasible. "Hardison," he said at last, beginning to move once again. "Endgame."

"Wh- I'm not ready, Nate!"

"Be ready. Sophie, Fedorov, go make sure our consultant stays in one piece. More or less. I need to borrow your bodyguard for a second, Fedorov."

"Oh, sure, give us the easy job," Sophie shot at him.

"Well, you gave him to me," the Russian agreed easily, looking mildly intrigued. "I suppose you're free to take him back. Are you looking for your thief?"

"Parker?" Nate seemed nothing if not puzzled at the question. "No, she's fine. She just got too close to something that fried her earbud which, you know. Inconvenient. No, I just don't want the Blackbird to know Nick exists. Yet."

Nick's grin broadened in delight at that. "Oh, you understand ambushes. I like you."

"That is slightly terrifying coming from you," the mastermind admitted cheerfully as the group split up. "Eliot, the non-negotiable factor."

"Yeah, I got her." The hitter had slipped into the mansion's vast basement without a problem; it was the one place where there were no visible guards. It was a vast, echoing space, a little dusty but overall in good order. He could see plenty of lights over his head when he shone his phone's flashlight up. Several smaller spaces had been partitioned out: a pantry, a cava, a corner full of totes marked 'Christmas', 'Halloween', 'Easter' and so on. It was also one of the few rooms that betrayed the house's age: salt streaked the concrete walls. There was a good reason why most houses along the New England coastline didn't have basements; once you got inland, sure. But where the land had been stolen from the ocean, the ocean was ever eager to reclaim it, one drop at a time if need be.

He'd found the room behind the old cast iron furnace and its piping, which had been disconnected but never removed. It was one of the few rooms that, like the cava, showed signs that care had gone into its construction, the walls solid when he ran a hand over them. Eliot guessed it was a man-cave of some sort. Light came in from under the door, a steady golden glow which he figured came from the glow-sticks the leshy favored. He could hear the rough, gravelly voices of the leshy and the more familiar Russian speech of the humans with them. The light, the hitter knew, was for their benefit; the leshy couldn't fully see in the dark, but it also didn't hamper them. He counted voices, and steps, walked back to the cava and the pantry, prepared his weapon of choice, took off the earbud and the earclip with the mirror shard, and walked right back to the door, knocking jauntily on it. "Tea service!"

The voices on the other side went silent. "We asked for nothing," someone replied.

"Look, man, I just know I have wine, cheese, some of them lil' toast things, a whole spread of jams -"

The door opened a crack. A man stared out, mouth open and ready to take Eliot's head off, metaphorically, until he saw the massive tray and the two bottles of wine the hitter was carrying.

A leshy came up behind the man, growling quietly. It, too, paused, sniffing. Eliot lifted up the tray, where he'd painstakingly smeared every sweet jam he'd been able to find in the pantry, and grinned winningly. Man and leshy crossed a look, and the door opened all the way. Eliot passed the human one of the wine bottles, winked and stepped in. The door closed behind him.

Two broken bottles, a dented tray, an utterly thrashed room and eight unconscious thugs later, the hitter knocked politely on the bathroom door. "Ma'am? You there?"

The door opened a crack. "That sounded very exciting."

"It gets the blood flowing," Eliot admitted as the old woman stepped out. She could've just as easily been stepping down from the portrait, stern and austere, though there was an odd fragility to her that was not part of Sokolov's work. Her silver hair was neatly braided back and she wore an elegantly simple white blouse with little golden mice for buttons, a flaring skirt with a repeating pattern of dancing farmfolk, and a black knotwork shawl. She glanced appreciatively at two leshy embedded into one of the walls as Eliot escorted her out of the bathroom and through the ruins of the room, and then clung to his arm with a small, very ladylike swear.

"Are you alright?"

She attempted a smile. "He has taken much from me," she admitted. "I did not realize how much until he trapped me. Arrogance makes fools of the best of us." She shrugged a little. One of the thugs groaned, sprawled among the wreck of a low shelf and a scattering of movies. Without missing a beat she aimed one of her sensibly-clad feet and kicked him hard enough to bowl him over and knock him out once again. "What now?"

Eliot managed to stop staring long enough to dig in his pocket for the enchanted mirror shard and clip it back on his ear. "I've got Grandmother, Nate."

"Give it to her."

"Got it." Eliot reached into an inner pocket of his dress jacket and smiled at the old woman. "Got something for you, ma'am. I believe it's yours to begin with." He offered her a plain, coarse square of blue fabric, neatly folded, and she stared at it and him in surprise and keen interest. "So, here's the plan."

While Eliot escorted his precious cargo away, mister Alexander Worthington (the Third), drove back up the driveway to the front of the mansion, yelling to all and sundry as well as at the person on the other line that he did not want to be there, he did not need to be there, he had no reason or goal to be there, not with every portrait being a fake and the seller being a con man - and a bad one, at that. He yelled a brief bout of angry Russian into the phone before hanging up and trotting furiously up the stairs. The guards on duty could scarcely believe their good luck, but they were also not about to question it, even when the Brit switched from whining on the phone to whining at them about everything and anything, the portrait failing to be produced, the outlandish nature of the company, the buffet being a joke. Coming in to find the mansion subsumed in complete darkness did nothing to appease him. He was escorted back to the main room and was there all of ten seconds before disappearing into the dark guts of the house.

They had been told, after all, to keep people in, not out. And mister Worthington (the Third) had been invited.

But only Sophie and Fedorov were close enough to the room on the top floor of the mansion to hear when Harry screamed in pain. She went very still with a little gasp; the Russian enforcer instinctively reached for his gun, and she immediately reached out to put a quelling hand over his. "That won't help," she assured him quietly. "He knew this would happen."

"That does not make me willing to let it," he countered tightly, but he drew his hand away.

"We're not going to let it," she assured him. "I need you to wait out here until it's time for you to come in."

"And how will I know when it is time?"

She smiled a little at him. "Parker will tell you," she assured him, and stepped gracefully away to knock on the room's door.

THIRTY FIVE

Koschei stalked into my room surrounded by half a dozen guards and a single floating source of pale green light. One of the guards was tugging Parker's friend along; she looked pale and terrified, and a little angry. Then again, I was probably all of those things myself, I just had more practice hiding them. "Is this how you treat your guests, Blackbird? Who's your friend?"

He didn't seem to hear my taunt. He rushed over, picked me up by the front of the very nice shirt and vest I was wearing, and lifted me up. He was about my height, which made him taller than the average person, and I was sure he had plenty of muscle to pick people up right off their their feet. But I was just tall enough, just heavy enough, that he couldn't quite pull the trick on me. "What did you do, Dresden," he snarled at me, and it wasn't really a question.

Golly, the list was endless, and I wasn't about to give him even one breath of it without a fight. "Getting a little grabby, aren't we? I don't know what you mean."

"I mean my guests are tearing this place apart down there. I mean my associates think I tried to poison them just now. I mean the Dredgers think I've stolen from them! I mean," he leaned closer until we were barely dodging a Soulgaze, him and me, "that it took me three tries to create the bloody light, so what. did you. do."

"To be fair, you did steal from them."

He dropped me like a sack of flour. "Stone," he said, "disarm him."

His head of security moved forward, but it was one of the guards who'd brought me up to the room who sucker-punched me, driving all the breath right out of me and setting the bruise the leshy had given me to red-hot throbbing pain. I went down on one knee but they pulled me back up, which made my bad shoulder really sing, and they frisked me down with ruthless efficiency. By the time someone dumped me back on my chair they'd taken my staff, my wand, both bracelets, my wallet. They even took off my duster before zip-tying my hands behind the back of the chair. Someone put their hands on me and tried to take my pentacle bracelet, and my anger suddenly came flooding back, helping me gather my scattered wits. I saw the guard kneeling in front of me and snapped my head forward. Forehead to nose, not nose to nose, Eliot had told me, and I tried to remember that.

It was a little harder when I knew the nose I was aiming for wasn't there, but the crunch of the glamour nose was still deeply satisfying. The guard staggered and fell back. Heavy hands yanked me back to the seat and I got punched again, but nothing was going to take away my satisfaction. I heard Jessamine make a little squeak of terror, and then someone shoved her in a chair next to me. "Are you alright?" she whispered at me.

"I've been better," I admitted, trying to get my breath back. Someone had tied my thumbs and index fingers together - while magic was a matter of will and intent, most wizards were trained to use tools, words and gestures to focus their power, like my staff, the bracelets. The words I used were mostly nonsense, but they made sense to me. And while I didn't often use my bare hands, I did tend to fall back on gestures when I didn't have access to anything else. Obviously Koschei knew that as well as I did. I started to work as best I could on tightening the zip-tie further; it wasn't much.

Someone caught my head in a rough grip and yanked the earclip off, handing it off to Koschei. "What is this?" he demanded, sniffing it. "Why does it smell fam-" The most painful feedback sound came out of the earclip and everyone in the room cringed. Koschei threw the earclip on the table along with everything else. "A machine, Dresden? Really?"

"Well, you know, any port in a storm and all that." I had to admire the quick-thinking of Alec-not-a-burger-Hardison. I could think of no better way to disguise the little mirror shard than making it act like the piece of technology it definitely wasn't.

"Well. That tells one much about your magic, does it not," he declared scornfully, flicking his fingers. The guards left me alone. Someone brought him a chair and he sat before me, fussing with his robe first, then with the items his goons had taken from me. "Toys." He rolled my wand between his fingers, and then pocketed it, the asshole. "Scraps. You are many things, Dresden, but I hesitate to even call you a wizard."

He hadn't taken the pin on the collar of my shirt, or my necklace. He hadn't caught onto the shirt.

"Now, what did you do with my painting?"

"Portrait."

His magic hit me hard and fast, like talons closing around my heart and squeezing, slow and relentless. The pain was immediate, burning like acid. I've had worse, but I wasn't about to let him know that. I made what I figured were appropriate noises for someone being tortured. Fortunately, I've had a lot of experience on what that sounds like.

"I have had my patience thoroughly tried tonight, Dresden. It would behoove you to indulge me." He let go of me and smiled that grin that made me want to punch him. "Unless you want the young lady to know what it feels like to disagree with me."

"You won't hurt her. You need her." I grinned at him, but I could feel it in my face, it wasn't friendly.

"I didn't do anything," Jessamine breathed, frightened. Apparently I'd done my job so well I'd spooked the angry right out of her. Time to give her back some agency.

"He can't tell his own portrait from the fakes. He n-" The vise closed around my heart and my lungs, boiling venom, crushing harder this time. "Needs you to make sure he's got the real one," I gritted out, teeth bared at Koschei.

"I am sincerely wondering if you are worth the trouble of keeping you alive, Dresden."

"Get in line, you old bird. You think tonight ends with you winning? You've lost everything. You filled this house with fake portraits, and now you can't tell yours from the copies. The Dredgers know you cheated them. Some of the most powerful people in the European and Asian supernatural underworlds think you were out to kill them. I don't know what you were after but man, you're certainly raking up some heavy-duty debts in the process, aren't you? Can't wait to see you try to squirm out of them-"

Unsurprisingly, he struck again. This time his power locked not just around my heart but my lungs, up my throat. I could taste the foulness of it on the back of my mouth, blackest magic. I heard myself scream, blowing air out of my lungs just to try and get some of the foulness out with it. "I will tell them you did it," he declared blithely. "You will not be around to defend yourself, of course."

"Leave him alone!" Jessamine yelled at him.

There was a knock on the door. Koschei let me go and stood up, and I heard him speaking to the guards. There was a sense of wary readiness in the air that made the hair on my arms stand up on end. A guard opened the door while Koschei faced it.

It's hard to explain the quality anyone's talking about when they say that something shines with the darkest light. It's a radiance that both brings details out of something while terrifying you with the sum total of them. It's the light you see from the darkest fairies, the glow around them that replaces the golden, summery haze of their counterparts.

That light, that darkest radiance, filled the door and spilled into the room. The guards all took a step back; Koschei took two and squeaked like a toddler. Fear and cold came in with the woman who stepped through the door. "So this is where you are hiding," she purred in a tone of such menace that I felt cold sweat break out along my spine, and I wasn't even the one she was talking to.

I'd wrought a hell of a Veil, but it wasn't just that. It was the way she spoke, the way she moved, the way she wore it. Sophie stepped into that room and she was Ekaterina Yegorov, an unknown supernatural power, a thing both beautiful and terrible, worthy of Tolkien's every written word.

"Hiding -" Koschei had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Hiding is such a strong accusation, my good lady."

She merely glided in, glancing disdainfully at the guards, who backed away nervously. "Why are you in the dark?" she demanded, flicked her fingers. On cue, the lights in the room -and only in the room- came back to bright and beautiful life.

No one there could make sense of her. The guards didn't even dare look at her directly. Koschei was still trying to figure out what she was; without that knowledge he couldn't shape a defense, a counter. "Hiding," she repeated. "Do you think disappearing will save you? After you tried to kill us all? The vampire down there is already offering a blood price on your head." She smiled. "Perhaps it will do tricks and tell prophecies. A man's head is so much more useful when separated from the body."

"My body is quite useful to me, madam, and I am rather fond of it," he declared tightly.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you stole Batra's pet and cheated the Dredgers. I am becoming hard-pressed to think of someone you have not upset in this house."

"You," he replied without missing a beat.

She stared at him for a brief moment… and then laughed, soft and rich and deadly. "Me," she agreed in a tiger's sated purr. "Though I am no more pleased about that trick with the Witchwell than anyone else."

"I swear on my heart, madam, that was not my doing."

"Whose, then?" She tipped her chin disdainfully in my direction. "His?" When Koschei opened his mouth she added. "Do not lie to me, wizard. You hang from a very thin thread as it is."

"No," Koschei admitted, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that it cost him to do so. "Though that is what I mean to tell the rest of the gathering. But my people have reported that it is very likely the Prince of Thieves is inside the house."

She scoffed elegantly. "Seeking what? Fascinating as all the oddities here are, that is all they are. Oddities. Only the portrait would be worth anything to a mortal, and he would not be able to tell it apart from the fakes any more than you can."

"I believe she is in cahoots with Dresden."

"She? The Prince of Thieves is a woman?" The unknown power facing Koschei mulled on that, seemingly the only thing he'd said that had surprised her, and smiled minutely. "Well, finally the job goes to someone worth the title. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Dresden put a marker on the portrait. A childish scrawl. I believe she's using it, he's empowered her to detect it in some fashion."

"Then use it yourself."

Koschei scowled at me and I grinned the biggest grin I could. "He can't. He tried, and then he realized that he couldn't keep it under wraps because I made it in a hurry and it's sloppy as hell, bleeding power everywhere. Everyone downstairs would sniff it out along with him if he kept it active." There were times when not having a fine touch with magic could come in so handy. "You think he's got a target painted on his back right now? That portrait's gonna be a neon arrow pointed at his head no matter where he goes with it."

She blew out an exasperated breath. "I do not care to wait until you are in pieces or in possession of the portrait, one or the other," she declared archly. "I need access to the gate it hides, and it is a critical matter."

"I am afraid, madam -"

"You should be." She stepped into his space and glowered briefly. "Send your men to bring all the portraits here. You have the foremost Sokolov expert in the room, you have angered a very powerful creature to get her here. Use her, be done with her and start soothing some tempers by handing back what things you can give back. Or do you expect the Prince of Thieves can steal a portrait that size while you're in the same room with it?"

"Even if I did, I could not open the gate for you!" he protested. "I have been unable to recover the key -"

"Oh, the key Vanya promised you?" she interrupted him sweetly, reaching down her cleavage and pulling out the platinum key. "This key?"

Koschei's mouth worked soundlessly a few times. He surged forward but she'd already tucked the key back under the folds of the dress, and she cocked a single brow at him.

He stopped.

She stepped forward, closer, until she could reach out and brush the lapels of the Blackbird's old-fashioned coat. Until the Rosalind diamond just barely brushed the fine black fabric. He went so pale he looked like a fresh corpse. "Have your men gather the portraits. I do not care where. You should not care where, as long as you have her." She nodded toward Jessamine. "I must have access to that gate before sunrise. After that, I do not care what you do, here or anywhere else. I do not care how you deal with your guests, or how they deal with you. I have one care, wizard. It is not a hard one to indulge, not given what I am willing to pay for it, yes?"

She stepped away then, and I saw Koschei reel, as did most people who were ever on the receiving end of Sophie Deveraux's talents.

Someone knocked on the door again. "Oh, that is for me," she told the guards cheerfully, and flicked her fingers at them. "Well, open it."

They obeyed before Koschei could say anything; that's the way with the sort of thug the Russian wizard preferred: not too bright, really good at violence, nearly indestructible but very much keyed to instinctively respond to the authority of the biggest power in the room.

I caught my breath. Parker stepped in, her hands laced over her head, angry and stone-faced, dressed all in skin-tight black. Just behind her, gun leveled at the base of her skull, Fedorov chivvied the thief into the room. "Kate, are you - ah, you did find him," he declared casually.

This was not the plan. None of it was part of any of the plans Ford had explained to me. I was feeling the loss of the ear-clip keenly; the only reason I could tell this was still a plan of some sort was that no one who should be was actually upset.

"Iggy!" Jessamin cried out, lunging out of her chair. One of the guards slammed her back on it none too gently.

"Hey!" Parker surged forward.

"No," the third woman in the room purred, and the thief went down like a puppet with her strings cut.

Ok, so yes, it was a plan of some sort, one I didn't know about, but I still tried to launch myself to my feet all the same. I nearly took the chair down to the floor with me.

Fedorov tipped his gun back, examined Parker, and grinned a little as he holstered it. "Show-off."

"Flatterer," she replied.

Fedorov and one of the guards brought Parker to another chair. They frisked her, found nothing beyond her phone and the non-working earbud in a pocket. "Hands in front," Koschei said when someone broke out the zip ties. "Where we can see them. One should never bind a thief's hands out of sight." He looked daunted and, looking at from his point of view, I couldn't blame him; here was a wizard as deeply attuned to the currents of magic all around him as any I'd ever met. It took that particular awareness to be able to pull off all of the magic I'd seen him work. But he wouldn't have seen anything from miss Ekaterina Yegorov. Not a breath, not a whisper, not a sigh of magic, not one single detectable little thread of energy. She'd spoken one word and the Prince of Thieves had gone down, just like that. The only possible conclusion one could draw was that she was operating way, way out of his league, a house on fire compared to his little candle.

"Thief?" Jessamine squeaked.

"Long story," Parker mumbled.

"Is Isabelle even your real name?" the young curator cried out in despair.

I saw Parker's face crumple with very real hurt. There was crap-all I could do at the moment to help her, and it made my heart hurt just as much, so I did the only thing I could - I stuck to the plan and started laughing. It's not hard; I've done my share of it when staring death or worse in the face. I knew the sound of it, I knew where it came from. I had to force it a little at the beginning, but once it got going it flowed naturally out, along with all the pain and the anger.

"What," Koschei gritted out, "are you laughing at, Dresden?"

"You," I admitted. "You and your best laid plans. You need her," I tipped my head at Jessamine, "to cooperate. The only way you're gonna get that is if you threaten her friend, so you need her," I tipped my head at Parker. "And since she's not about to tell you where the painting actually is, you need me." I beamed at him. "Ain't life a bitch. Just when you thought you finally got to kill someone."

"The night is young," the Russian wizard hissed at me.

"Maybe. But three people already found you, all cozy up here with me. How long until one of Batra's dryads sniffs you out? Or Ying Ying? I'm surprised the Dredgers aren't here already. How many guards you got willing to tangle with Mister Act and his people?" Every word was a blow that Koschei couldn't dodge, couldn't block, couldn't defend against. He'd been left primed for it, and I could only hope I was helping the plan, not hindering it.

"Mister Stone," the Blackbird said at last. "Get your people together and round up all the portraits. Bring them to the boat-house."

Stone did a nearly-visible head count before turning to his boss, his tone dubious. "All of them, sir?"

Koschei paused; his own head count was a little less obvious. "Well, the two in the main room are fakes, those can stay behind. And bring the wizard, I do not trust him out of sight." He clamped a hand on Jessamine's arm and dragged her up, his tone going to utter cordiality. "Mister Fedorov, could I possibly impose on you to bring the young lady with you?" He tipped his head at Parker. "We will further tie her up if you believe it will help."

"What's there is enough," the Russian enforcer declared blithely, moving over to Parker and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. "I trust the lady whose protection I'm under." He grinned winningly at said lady, who beamed at him.

Stone, having finished instructing the rest of his people, moved over to me, closed a hand on the back of the chair and picked it up, with me in it. I knew instantly he was going to be a severe problem down the line; strength is not an uncommon attribute in Nevernever thugs, but Stone hadn't even paused to take a breath or brace himself. He'd simply done as he was told. I looked more closely at him, since I was being given the chance, looking for confirmation; I was pretty sure his clothes weren't painted on, but he hadn't been so close to me until that moment.

The clothes were real, well fitted, custom-made - not surprising, the man was too big to fit in anything off the rack. It was as he shifted to wrap his free arm around me so I couldn't jostle out of the chair that his sleeve hiked up, just a bit. Just enough for me to see that there were no wrinkles where his wrist was bending, no hair, no definition to his knuckles. His nails were engraved - they looked real from afar, but I was less than a foot away.

Well, crap. I started running down the list of any magic I knew that could scratch a golem, let alone take one down, as we left the room and moved through the darkened hallways, led by Koschei's pale light spell. It was a really short list and I didn't have any angelic swords at hand or dragon's blood on tap.

"Let's keep in mind I need to breathe, Stone, alright?" I told him when his arm tightened a little too much over my sore ribs.

"Let us keep in mind that I do not care, wizard," he replied indifferently, considering the chair and tossing it carelessly aside in favor of throwing me over his shoulder, like Fedorov was carrying Parker, except he hung me with my head facing his chest.

"Gosh, who spit in your cornflakes? Is Koschei holding your keystone hostage or something?"

The golem didn't hesitate. "My keystone is my own. The cornflakes, you can keep."

"Oh, hey! I didn't think golems had a sense of humor."

"Lacking one yourself, I see how you would not recognize one."

I wasn't just talking to get him to talk at that point, I was honestly astonished. "You're old."

He did glance down at me at that, as if detecting the honesty of emotion in my voice, and why wouldn't he? I'd never even heard of a golem capable of independent action, or thought. To have one that also had a sense of wit and levity was mind-boggling. "Age and craftsmanship," he admitted.

"And you waste it all working for him."

"I enjoy service. I do not see the point of ethics or morals. The first is for everyone. The others are mortal fripperies."

I wasn't going to win that argument, not with a golem. "But, that aside, why? Why the Blackbird?"

"He promised I would be challenged." The golem looked down at me once more, then ahead once again. "And I have been."

We got out of the mansion with no one the wiser, though it sounded like the scuffle that had started in the main room had spilled over past the bar and into the dinning room. There were just too many disparate powers gathered all together in a single place; most of the time there was no violence between them because their interests didn't cross paths, and if the auction had gone along as the Dredgers had planned, they never would have. But Koschei and his games had made them all linger. The Blackbird had no one to blame but himself for the mess that he'd brewed.

Hanging there, over a shoulder as broad and solid as a rock, I came to an abrupt realization: I'd been there before. Many times, actually. I was either famous or infamous, depending on who you ask, for throwing myself off the deep end and into the thick of my enemies, and hoping I could wade back out. Most of the time I'd managed, but I usually limped out exhausted, bloody and battered, and there were losses, in friendship, in love, in trust, that were so great they were injuries in their own right.

Koschei was a power that should have left me in that kind of shape. Hell, that roomful of people back at the mansion would've probably loved to take me apart one piece at a time. I had no idea what sort of relationship the Jade and Red Courts had, but I'd never met a vampire that would've passed up the opportunity to get a little debt owed to them from another vamp, and I know the fairy twins would have loved to have me on a leash, because that was just a thing with every fairy in my life barring one.

But there I was. Barring the fact I was hogtied, or that Koschei had taken most of my tools away, I was literally brimming with power, relatively in one piece, and what injuries I did have had been tended to. I still had two aces up my sleeve, three if you counted my pendant, which had come clutch in so many occasions that I really ought to start putting it at the top of the list.

I was as good for the fight as it got, and I had the Leverage people to thank for it. For the time to prep, for the research, for the tools, but above all for covering the bases I couldn't. Good as I was at fighting magic with magic, there was still only one of me. With Leverage, it didn't matter if the leshy came at me or someone tried to rob me or if I couldn't make sense of the puzzle pieces, or if they were all to be found in the electronic ether. These people had a phalanx formation that they'd refined to perfection, and they'd made me part of it without missing a step. It felt both nice and terrifying. Imagine what I'd be able to do with a team like them backing me up. Imagine what they could pull off with a wizard on their corner.

But I also knew it was not a tenable situation. It wasn't just Hardison; we were actually working together just fine, him and me. The language and the tools might be different, but we were both doing basically the same job. It was Ford, who try as he might still couldn't quite get to the believing part. It was Sophie, who thought she needed magic to pull off a grift when really, she didn't. It was Eliot, going up against a golem. It was all of them, running into a Burning Witchwell if I'd arrived in Boston a day late.

It was Boston, burning me to cinders and brushing me off her hands without a second thought. A city can't help what it is. I was Chicago's wizard, I knew my city, its moods, its weather, its seasons, the things about it that empowered me, strengthened me. Did Boston deserve a wizard of its own? Absolutely. It had to be someone better than me at self-control. Swinging power like I did in Boston would get me killed sooner rather than later, and it wouldn't even take a bad guy.

I heard the sound of the surf and became aware of the nearby press of the North Atlantic. I'd expected it to be a grounding influence, like Lake Michigan, but instead it seethed with dormant, subtle layers of power, restive and waiting. Then we were in the boat-house, an elegant single-story house done in that marine kitschy style that says an interior designer got paid very well and no one actually lived in the premises. The open wrap-around porch surrounded two sides of the boat-house, reaching for the stirring surf. Off to one side a dock had been partially dug out, lined with rip-rap and attached to the boat-house like an oversized closed garage. There were two yachts docked there, and an assortment of smaller craft pinned against the walls.

Fedorov automatically tried to flip on the light switches by the door, but nothing happened. A murmur and a gesture from Sophie, and the lights were on.

"You really must tell me how you are doing that." Koschei smiled at her as he walked in, dismissing his own light spell and clapping his hands so every door in the boat-house swung open.

"I asked the little voice in my head for help," she told him with a graceful gesture.

He gave her a strained, polite little chuckle. "Mister Stone, take the rest of our guests to the boat-house. If they give you any trouble, drown them a little."

"Hey!" Jessamine protested.

"Oh, no, not you, my dear," Koschei had clamped his hand around one of her arms, and dragged her back to him none too gently. "The drowning bit is just for Dresden and the princess."

"How do you even drown someone just a little?" Parker muttered.

"Not the question to be asking present company," I replied as Stone took a few steps onto the docks, making them groan with his weight, and threw me down onto the boards roughly. I rolled onto my good shoulder to try and protect myself, and Parker got tossed right on top of me, driving the rest of my breath out.

I felt her brush her hands against mine and suddenly the mage-knot binding the thumb and index of my good hand was gone; I felt her press something familiar against my palm before Stone put his foot against her side and shoved her off to one side.

Seriously, HOW?!

I slid my wand up my sleeve, closed my good hand into a fist over my shield bracelet and decided not to question it. Magic is magic.

"Why?" She countered immediately.

"Because mister Stone might actually oblige with a demonstration, and he doesn't need to breathe."

Parker looked up. The golem looked implacably down. "Oh." She scooted to sit next to me as I dragged myself up, and we both leaned against one another. "He's not really gonna hurt Jess, is he?"

"No, he needs her. He may bluff her, he may scare her, but it doesn't profit him to hurt her. He might hurt you to scare her, though."

Fedorov chuckled a little. "The wizard is not being fully truthful with you."

Parker looked up at me, then at him, then at me again. "Harry?"

I hadn't wanted to say it, but the Russian wasn't leaving me a choice. "He might also hurt you to get to me," I had to admit. "Because the only one who knows where the original is, if Stone's people can't find it, is you. And if you won't tell him -" she scoffed pointedly "- the only one who can safely locate it by the marker on it is me."

She frowned. She looked up at Stone. "What if I tell you where it is?"

"Parker!"

"That would -" the golem began.

I kicked at Stone's shin. It was a moot effort; I knew it and he knew it. I might as well be kicking a piece of concrete. Stone bent down, picked me up by the throat, and let me hang there, unable to breathe and my feet a good few inches off the dock, while he continued speaking in the same calm tone. "That would make matters go faster."

"Faster meaning you and Dresden will die quicker," Fedorov pointed casually.

"But he'll let Jess go?"

I kicked at her. I was two lengths of my leg too far, but dammit, Parker!

"Untrue." Stone leveled an even gaze on Fedorov, then shook me a little, until starbursts of blackness began to swim in front of my eyes, the rest of me tingling unpleasantly. Ok, ok, no more kicking. "It profits him immensely to return miss Lochlin to mister Batra unharmed. It profits him reasonably to have the Prince of Thieves, you, owe him a life-debt." He turned to look at me. "The wizard, he almost certainly will kill."

"No! You go tell him I will tell him where the original is, but he's got to let us all go, Jess and Harry and me! All of us!"

Fedorov and Stone crossed a look. The Russian enforcer looked as dubious as he was amused.

"Why are you here?" the golem suddenly asked Fedorov.

The Russian aimed a thumb at the inside of the boat-house. " The lady promised me an interesting night. My safety was guaranteed." The boards where we were all standing creaked and groaned once again, and Fedorov looked down, then up at Stone with open curiosity. "Should I worry her?"

The world was beginning to blur into colors without shape when Stone let my feet touch the ground again. "Mind yourself, wizard," he warned me, and shoved me down. I went sprawling on my back, landing on my zip-tied hands with all of my weight. Stone bent down and picked up Parker by the front of her skin-tight black sweater, and threw her over a shoulder.

"Hey!"

"Mind the wizard, please," the golem told Fedorov. "He has a bodyguard and no one seems to be able to tell me where he's gone off to." When the Russian gestured agreeably, Stone went into the house.

I laid there for a long moment, examining my circumstances, considering my options and mostly just getting my breath back. "You could've let me lie to her," I told Fedorov.

"I could," he admitted. "But I am coming to realize a lie of kindness is no better than any other lie."

"I'm not her uncle."

He snorted in humorless amusement. "No. But you are her friend. Respect what she has given you."

I had no good answer to that, because he was right. Every time I hid something from the people around me, every time I lied or kept secrets, my friends, the people I cared about, those who depended on me, ended up in trouble, or hurt, or worse. And there was a lot worse in my world that hurt or dead. So I just laid there, staring up at the beams of the open ceiling in the boat-house, with nets keeping floats and boards and kayaks and paddles safe.

The door to the boat-house opened again and Koschei stalked out, dragging Jessamine with him. Behind him came Stone and Parker, the golem stepping carefully on the boards of the dock. trying to keep the complaining from the wood to a minimum, not that it helped. Behind them all came the beautiful, deadly woman in the indigo dress, who moved immediately to Fedorov's side. The wizard was back to his tooth-rottingly cheerful self. "It is a promise easily given, easily kept," he assured Parker. "Give me the original, prove that it is the original, and all three of you can leave safe and sound at once."

"Parker, it's a tr-"

Koschei turned and whipped a hand at me, and his power choked the voice right out of my throat. It didn't matter, she was far too quick for it. "What does he mean it's a trap?"

"How would I know?" Koschei replied archly. "You have what you asked for, after all, no?" He spread his arms. "I am being very generous, all things considered. You have stolen from me, after all. I could just pry the knowledge out of your head and be done with it."

I saw her chew restlessly on her lip, but without the ear bud I didn't know if there was an ongoing plan, if she was winging things, if everything was going to hell in a handbasket. Jessamine looked both frightened and mutinous, but she wasn't making a peep.

"You'll let all three of us go. You won't do anything to stop us, or to hurt us."

"On my power I swear it. Provided you deliver the correct portrait to me."

"And you won't have anyone else stop us or hurt us, either, like him, or them." She gestured at Stone, then glowered at the Russian mobster and his companion.

"Ah, clever princess," Koschei smiled. "They will not." He glanced back. "I'm not even entirely sure while the young prince is still here."

"We're still willing to put a bid on the portrait," Fedorov assured him mildly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Unless you have decided not to sell?"

"Oh, no, no, I prefer to keep that portrait as far away from my person as possible."

I wanted to yell. I wanted to scream the obvious trap at her. I wanted to launch myself at Koschei and shake that smarmy, condescending smirk off his face. But he had Jessamine, Stone had Parker, and I was choking on black, poisonous magic. Not to mention I had every reason to believe this was still part of Ford's plan, whatever that plan might be, but without my ear clip or Parker's bud I had no way of knowing if we'd gone off the rails half a dozen death threats back. I was about ready to sell my soul, or at least a kidney, for any information.

That was when Nate Ford stepped out of one of the yachts and hopped lightly down onto the dock, and I realized I hadn't been worried enough before. "Well, you're in luck," he said mildly, a slightly rumpled, harmless-looking man. "Because it's not even on the grounds anymore."

THIRTY SIX

You ever get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, when you thought you knew the shape of your life, the world and everything else, and then one little thing goes out of whack and the entire house of cards comes tumbling down?

It felt a little like that, watching Ford come up on us. Though from the look on Koschei's face, he was feeling a whole lot more of it. "You." For a moment I wished I could pack all the conflicting emotions the Russian wizard put into the one tiny word, but then again that would mean I'd fucked up nearly as badly as he had and you know what? I was good.

"Me," Ford agreed, walking up calmly. "The sensible one, you said."

"I am allowed an occasional lapse in judgement." Koschei was trying hard to stick to that smarmy avuncular cheer but it was cracking hard at the seams.

"Are you? 'Cuz you've piled up, uh, a number of lapses tonight -"

"Where is my painting?"

"A painting," Ford replied, "is just about any sort of paint you put on a medium. Canvas, paper, wood. A portrait is specifically a painting of a person, or persons."

"I am aware of the difference," Koschei ground out.

"Are you?" Nate nodded politely at Fedorov and Sophie. They both nodded back minutely. He gave me a very level look where I was, still sprawled on the boards of the dock. He didn't even glance at Parker, but his eyes lingered on Jessamine. It struck me then: the curator was the only person there not in the con who could link Sophie to the rest of us. Ford was no longer gambling on her being innocent of what was going on; he was outright betting she'd help.

"Sir, I would prefer to believe you sensible a little bit longer," Koschei ground out. "I want my painting back or I will have to start turning you and your allies," he gestured at Parker and me, "inside out as creatively as I can."

The mastermind made vague appeasing gestures. "Ok, ok, no need to get violent. Alright. So, uh." Ford paused to think for a moment; the man's showmanship was flawless and I was absolutely taking notes. "Let's do it this way: you give me proof that you still have Grandmother lined up and ready to go into her cage - uh, your cage. And I give you the portrait."

The silence turned into a nearly solid thing, broken only by the surf outside and the gentle lapping of the waves against the pillars of the dock. "She," Koschei's voice had turned hard and dark. I felt that finally something of the real Blackbird, the creature behind the fairy tales, the real monster, was coming to the surface, poisonous and deadly, "is ready."

"Is she?" Ford said with a deceptive apathy that was nothing but ice under the thinnest of veneers.

Koschei stared at Ford. Ford stared at the water. The Blackbird suddenly shoved Jessamine at Stone and gestured to the surf, drawing up a perfect, thin sheet of motionless water. He spun his hands in a circle, partitioning off a piece the size of an ornamental mirror. He murmured in Russian, then spoke sharply, making the water ripple.

He'd summoned a perfect scrying circle while still keeping me gagged. And he hadn't even hesitated, or paused to gather up his strength or focus his will. I had to keep reminding myself that, no matter what happened, if it came to a throwdown with Koschei he'd be punching down, and I'd need every counter I'd prepared for it.

Koschei spoke twice more, sharper and sharper each time.

Ford rubbed idly at his cheek.

Koschei threw the mastermind a brief, and entirely murderous, glare, passed his hand over the rippling surface, stilling it again before he called out once more. This time, the rough voice of a leshy answered him. Koschei and the leshy spoke in Russian, the wizard's tone growing angrier the longer the conversation went on. In the end he let out a furious yell and the water went flying in every direction when he threw his hands out in a fury. "What," he hissed at Ford, "have you done."

Ford seemed to ponder that question carefully. "You're going to have to be more specific. Last I checked you had like seven plans going off tonight, and I only accounted for four of them. You know, the ones I was interested in." He shrugged indifferently.

"Who are you?"

"I -"

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

The lights flickered and faltered, the glass on the nearby windows of the boat-house's wraparound porch rattled. The yachts rocked uneasily in their moorings. Willing to find any port in a storm, Jessamine pressed a little closer to Stone, who looked down in mild surprise. Fedorov shifted to put himself between everyone else and his companion.

I tightened my grip on my wand. When Stone had thrown me down, all of my weight and all of the golem's momentum had come crashing down on the zip tie with which I'd been restrained. It had snapped. I was loose except for the wizard's peace-knot on the thumb and index of my bad hand.

"She's right here," Ford declared mildly. "I mean, she's been here all along. I thought you'd - well, she was your teacher for centuries, probably more depending on who you ask," Nate sounded politely disbelieving, and vaguely embarrassed, as if Koschei had grabbed the wrong fork at a fancy dinner and were trying to butter toast with it. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

Slowly, unwillingly, the poison green gaze turned to the only woman on the docks that he could not account for.

Ekaterina Yegorov laid a gentle hand on Fedorov's shoulder and spoke in soft Russian, and very much not with Sophie's voice. He dipped his head courteously and stepped back and for the first time in who knew so many centuries master and apprentice faced each other off.

[anonsally]

Days 6-8 of Australia vacation: East Coast of Tasmania

On Day 6, which was New Year's Day, we left Hobart, looking forward to more comfortable accommodations at our next destination.

We started by driving through an agricultural area, including a stop at a farm that produces cheese. We bought some cheese and chocolate at their shop and admired the views and the goat. We made a couple of stops to buy fruit from farm stands (cherries from a place where we just left the money in the tin; apricots and peaches from a more formal farm shop). I spotted a swamp harrier from the car! Another new bird for me. We then stopped for a break in a town called Richmond. It was quaint! We popped into a little craft market, where I bought a hook made from an old fork by an artist going by the name Dr. Spork, and then got ice cream cones on our walk to the Old Bridge. The stone bridge was picturesque, particularly because there were lots of ducks and ducklings around! Some of them were Pacific black ducks, which were new to me. Others were probably domestic hybrids.

The next stop was at Triabunna's Fish Van, where two of the group got crayfish for a late lunch. And then, back on the road to a beautiful eco-resort type place called Piermont Retreat.

After getting settled there, the others went to the resort's restaurant for a 5-course tasting menu. I'm a picky eater and knew it wouldn't be suitable for me, so I had instead ordered a bread/cheese/etc. hamper delivered to our cottage for my dinner. Before eating, though, I set out to explore the property, which was large and included some beach. Besides getting my feet sandy and wet, which I'd been wanting to do for a while, I spotted a bunch of new birds: European goldfinches, a black-faced cuckooshrike, many superb fairywrens, and a great cormorant. My dinner was delicious. And once the others returned from their delicious gourmet meal, we played Codenames.

Day 7 was a very long and full day. We woke up too late to go to the restaurant for breakfast, which closed at 10, but we had plenty of food with us to eat. Then we set off for Freycinet National Park to do the very popular Wineglass Bay Lookout hike. It was only 2 miles, but it was steep; the day was sunny and hot; and Sister-In-Law is still recovering from a flu. But we agreed that it was worth the sweat, because the views from the top--and even the views along the way-- were spectacular. Although I didn't see any new birds (and only 2 birds total), there was a beautiful black snake near the beginning of the hike. We later learned that all snakes in Tasmania are venomous, but of course we are smart enough not to go messing with snakes in Australia!

We decided, as long as we were in the park, to do another (shorter and easier) walk, so we drove over to the lighthouse and did the walk around there. More great views, though also a lot of wind, and I saw Pacific gulls, which have a very prominent and huge beak. I might have also seen a tree martin? I still struggle with swallows and swifts, but Tasmania doesn't have that many birds in those families, and it didn't look like a welcome swallow.

After that, we left the park and made a stop at a winery to do a tasting. I particularly enjoyed their dessert wine.

Next, we went to the town of Bicheno for dinner. Two of us got pizzas and two of us got crayfish at the Lobster Shack. From the deck there where we ate, we could see an islet close to shore that was positively covered in seabirds, including cormorants and terns, but it was so windy that I couldn't hold my binoculars steady enough to identify any of them. I did see a sooty oystercatcher on the beach below, though! I love oystercatchers. This one looked similar to the black oystercatchers we have in California, but I assume it's a different species as the name is different. We then visited the nearby blowhole before taking a walk in town while waiting for our penguin tour. I spotted a New Holland honeyeater! and we saw some of what were presumably burrows belonging to Little Penguins, but it was too early for the penguins to be returning to shore.

We then went to the pickup point for the penguin tour. It was a bit of a wait, but finally the bus took us to the protected area. I felt a bit concerned that perhaps we were disturbing the penguins--the place we went to in New Zealand to see them seemed stricter--but on the other hand, the local penguin population is much higher than it was before they created this protected area, so it must be better than it used to be, and we saw a lot of interesting penguin drama with parent penguins chasing other penguins away from their burrows but the older penguin babies trying to beg food from adults who were not their parents! All of which is apparently natural behavior. The guides only used red flashlights (penguins don't perceive red light) and instructed us how to stand so that the penguins could get past or go between our legs. The penguins were really ridiculously cute. But the tour started after 9pm and we were exhausted by the time we headed home! On the drive back, once we got onto the resort property, we saw wallabies and some other marsupials, and then a brush-tail possum tried unsuccessfully to get in through the open window of the cottage--it was pressing itself against the screen!

On Day 8, our main goal was to enjoy the Piermont Retreat and the surrounding area. It was overcast and cooler. I looked at birds from the deck and also did a little bird walk while waiting for the others to be ready to go. In addition to birds I'd seen before, I also spotted a brown thornbill (I think), a yellow-throated honeyeater (another endemic), a pied oystercatcher, a silvereye, and a very beautiful eastern spinebill.

We went to Kate's Berry Farm, which appeared to be more cafe than farm, but they served delicious scones with lots of berry jams and clotted cream. Then we went into town (Swansea) to scope out dinner options. That took longer than I really wanted it to, but I saw some birds as we walked around, including 2 I hadn't seen yet: a laughing kookaburra and a European greenfinch.

After a quick stop at the accurately-named Spiky Bridge, we returned to the cottage to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the property. Wife rode a mountain bike, the In-Laws took a sea kayak out (only briefly; I would've joined them if we'd done it earlier in the day when the water was calmer), and I did another bird walk, during which I saw some more new birds: gray fantails and hooded plovers. The scenery was beautiful and I found some idyllic spots. Then I went for a dip in the unheated saltwater pool, which was fortunately warm after several sunny hot days. The In-Laws joined me and it felt very vacationy!

We picked up take-out for dinner and then played a game before packing and going to bed, feeling sorry we couldn't stay longer at this lovely spot!

[thedottedi-official]

The Art of Gifting Wine: How to Choose a Perfect Wine Gift for Any Occasion

Gifting wine on any occasion is can be a thoughtful gesture which shows appreciation and solicitousness towards recipient. The gift of a wine to a friend, relative or in the corporate sector also requires some basic etiquette which includes consideration of the occasion, the preference of the recipient, presentation and the quality of the wine selected for the gift. The person who is a wine lover, always consider buying wine as a gift and you will not regret for such gifting decision.

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A pair of Red and White wine can be gifted or gifting a Chandon Gold bottle can be

You can also chose a of Jacob’s creek or a Rosette wine for the same.

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Gifting a red wine, white wine, rose or sparkling wine, there is a availability of wide wine ranges according to the taste, preference, lifestyle or occasion. There is a perfect wine for every situation or circumstances. So after considering the relevance of the occasion, select the best wine gift hamper for the recipient that should be thoughtful and appropriate too.

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Before selecting a wine for the recipient, you must be fully aware about his taste and preference. If you are not aware about the same, then prefer Chandon Gold Bottle wine gift hamper will be the good option.

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There are many types of wine baskets or wine gift hampers available in the market which also includes wine accessories, chocolates, cheese and crackers and much more. So by gifting a bottle of wine or the wine gift hampers you are contributing in elevating the memorable moments of the recipient and create your gifting experience a memorable moment to cherish forever.

Wrap-up

Gifting wine is a popular gifting choice for the people who are wine lovers. At Dottedi you are offered with the amazing wine gift hampers which can be delivered across pan India and ensures that it reaches to the recipient in the perfect condition. Select the best wine gift hamper and add a special taste and personal touch with this perfect and delightful gift.

[buyhampersgift]

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[flowerschristchurchcity]

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Perfect for All Occasions Whether you're looking to buy gift hampers online in Christchurch for a friend’s birthday, a holiday celebration, a new baby, or even a corporate gift, hampers are versatile enough to fit any event. The carefully chosen items in each hamper cater to a range of occasions, making them a go-to gifting solution.

Where to Shop Gift Hampers Online in Christchurch

With the growing popularity of online shopping, there are several reputable stores offering high-quality gift hampers online in Christchurch. Some offer free or affordable delivery options, making it easier to send a thoughtful gift to loved ones near or far. When selecting a store, look for one that offers a variety of hamper types, excellent customer reviews, and flexible delivery services.

Conclusion

The convenience, variety, and personalization options available when you shop for gift hampers online in Christchurch make it an excellent option for any gifting occasion. Whether you're pressed for time or looking for something unique, a gift hamper is sure to impress.

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Beer Slayer: The Best Craft Beers to Try This Season

Beer Slayer is a term that evokes images of a formidable beer enthusiast or a particularly potent brew. In the world of craft beer and drinking culture, a Beer Slayer might refer to someone with an impressive capacity for consuming beer or an expert who can "slay" or conquer a wide variety of beer styles with their refined palate.

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As a persona, the Beer Slayer is often portrayed as a seasoned drinker with an encyclopedic knowledge of beer. They're the go-to person for recommendations at beer festivals, the champion of drinking games, and the one who can detect subtle flavor notes in complex brews. This character might be seen as both admired and slightly intimidating in social drinking circles.

Alternatively, Beer Slayer could be the name of a high-alcohol content beer designed to challenge even the most experienced drinkers. Such a brew might boast a hefty ABV (alcohol by volume) percentage and a bold, intense flavor profile that pushes the boundaries of traditional beer-making.

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In gaming or pop culture, Beer Slayer might be a playful title for a character in a beer-themed video game or a nickname for a character known for their drinking prowess in a movie or TV show.

It's important to note that while the term "Beer Slayer" may sound impressive, it should always be associated with responsible drinking practices and not encourage excessive alcohol consumption.

A Beer and Food Hamper is a curated gift basket that combines a selection of craft beers with complementary gourmet food items. This thoughtful package is designed to provide a tasting experience that explores the interplay between beer flavors and food pairings.

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Typical contents might include a variety of beer styles, from crisp lagers to robust stouts, alongside artisanal snacks like specialty cheeses, cured meats, gourmet nuts, and artisanal chocolates. Some hampers may also feature beer-infused condiments or cooking ingredients.

These hampers are popular gifts for beer enthusiasts, foodies, or as a corporate gesture. They offer an opportunity to discover new flavor combinations and appreciate the complexity of craft beers in relation to food.

Beer and Food Hampers can be customized for different occasions, dietary preferences, or regional specialties, making them a versatile and appealing gift option.

Craft Beer Gifts are thoughtful presents tailored for beer enthusiasts who appreciate the artistry and diversity of small-batch brews. These gifts go beyond typical commercial beers, focusing on unique, flavorful offerings from independent breweries.

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Popular craft beer gifts include curated variety packs, allowing recipients to sample different styles and breweries. Other options might be brewery-specific merchandise, such as branded glassware, t-shirts, or bottle openers. For the hands-on enthusiast, home brewing kits make exciting gifts.

Craft beer subscriptions offer a recurring experience, delivering new and exciting brews regularly. Beer-tasting experiences or tickets to craft beer festivals provide memorable outings for recipients.

These gifts not only cater to the recipient's passion but also support local breweries and the craft beer community, making them both personal and meaningful choices.

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Best Gouremet Products for Kids

Indulging in gourmet products is a delightful way to experience luxury and flavor in everyday life. Whether you're treating yourself or looking for the perfect gift, gourmet products bring elegance and exquisite taste to the table. If you're searching for the best gourmet products online, here are some top selections to consider.

First up is the Kids Gourmet Box. This thoughtfully curated box is filled with delicious treats and healthy snacks, making it the perfect gift for little foodies. With a focus on nutrition and taste, the Kids Gourmet Box & Hamper offers a balanced assortment of goodies that children will love, while parents will appreciate its quality ingredients. It’s a fun and flavorful way to introduce kids to gourmet snacking.

Next, we have the Kids Grande Box: His & Hers, a charming gift set designed for both boys and girls. Packed with carefully selected treats, this box provides a gourmet experience tailored to a young palate. Each item is crafted to offer a mix of flavors, from sweet to savory, ensuring a delightful experience for your little ones. Buy Kids Grande Box for special occasions or as a thoughtful surprise for kids who enjoy indulging in gourmet snacks.

For those who love a bit of spice, the Truffle Hot Sauce is an absolute must-try. Combining the rich, earthy flavor of truffles with the fiery kick of hot sauce, this gourmet product takes your meals to the next level. Whether you’re drizzling it over pizza, adding it to pasta, or using it as a dip, the Truffle Hot Sauce offers an indulgent flavor profile that food enthusiasts will savor.

If you’re seeking the ultimate in gourmet luxury, the Whole Black Summer Truffle is an exquisite choice. Known for its deep, aromatic flavor, this truffle can elevate any dish from ordinary to extraordinary. Shave it over pasta, risotto, or scrambled eggs for a truly luxurious dining experience that will leave a lasting impression.

Finally, the Praline Cashew offers a sweet and nutty indulgence. Coated in rich praline, these cashews are the perfect blend of crunch and sweetness. They make an excellent snack on their own or a decadent addition to a cheese board.

When you’re ready to explore these extraordinary treats, and buy gourmet products online. Whether you're shopping for yourself or gifting a loved one, these products offer a touch of sophistication and taste that will delight any palate.

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Birthday Gift Hampers for Men: Best-Selling Hampers for Him

Celebrating the men in our lives on their birthdays is a special occasion that calls for a unique and thoughtful gift. At Gift Carnation, we understand the importance of finding the perfect gift that conveys your love and appreciation. That's why we've curated an extensive selection of birthday gift hampers for men that are sure to impress. In this blog, we'll explore some fantastic ideas to help you choose the ideal hamper for his special day.

Why Choose Birthday Gift Hampers for Men?

Gift hampers are an excellent choice for birthdays because they offer a variety of items that cater to different tastes and preferences. Here are some reasons why birthday gift hampers for men make a great choice:

Personalized Touch: You can customize hampers to include items that reflect his interests and hobbies.

Variety: A hamper typically contains multiple gifts, making it a versatile present.

Presentation: Beautifully packaged hampers add a touch of elegance and thoughtfulness.

Surprise Factor: The assortment of items in a hamper keeps the excitement alive as he discovers each gift.

Top Themes for Birthday Gift Hampers for Men

1. Gourmet Food and Drink Hampers

If the birthday boy is a foodie or a connoisseur of fine drinks, a gourmet food and drink hamper is an excellent choice. These hampers can include:

Premium chocolates

Artisan cheeses

Gourmet snacks

Fine wines or craft beers

Exotic teas or coffees

Imagine his delight as he explores a selection of delicious treats and beverages, perfect for a relaxing evening or a celebratory toast.

2. Self-Care and Wellness Hampers

In today's fast-paced world, self-care is more important than ever. A self-care and wellness hamper can help him unwind and relax. Consider including:

Luxurious bath products

Scented candles

Skincare essentials

Relaxation aids like sleep masks or essential oils

Comfortable loungewear

Such a hamper will provide him with the tools to indulge in some well-deserved pampering.

3. Tech and Gadget Hampers

For the tech-savvy man, a hamper filled with the latest gadgets and accessories is sure to impress. Ideas for a tech and gadget hamper include:

Wireless earbuds or headphones

Portable chargers

Smart home devices

High-quality cables and accessories

Innovative tech gadgets like smartwatches or fitness trackers

This hamper will keep him entertained and connected with the latest technology.

4. Fitness and Sports Hampers

If he enjoys staying active and fit, a fitness and sports hamper is a thoughtful choice. Items to consider are:

High-performance workout gear

Fitness trackers

Protein bars and supplements

Sports equipment like resistance bands or yoga mats

Motivational books or magazines

This hamper will help him stay motivated and reach his fitness goals.

How to Personalize a Birthday Gift Hamper for Men

Personalization adds a special touch to any gift. Here are some tips to make your birthday gift hamper unique:

Include a Handwritten Note: A heartfelt message can make the gift even more special.

Add His Favorite Items: Whether it's his favorite snack or a book by his favorite author, adding these items shows you know him well.

Choose a Theme: Tailor the hamper to his interests, whether it's cooking, gardening, or gaming.

Custom Packaging: Use his favorite colors or include a custom label with his name.

Where to Buy the Best Birthday Gift Hampers for Men

At Gift Carnation, we pride ourselves on offering a diverse range of birthday gift hampers for men. Our hampers are thoughtfully curated to include high-quality products that cater to various tastes and preferences. Whether you're looking for a gourmet food hamper, a wellness hamper, or a tech gadget hamper, we have something for every man.

Final Thoughts

Choosing the perfect birthday gift hampers for men doesn't have to be a daunting task. By considering his interests and personalizing the hamper, you can create a memorable and thoughtful gift that he'll cherish. At Gift Carnation, we're here to help you find the perfect hamper to celebrate his special day.