#aguardente

[gastronominho]

Tem edição limitada da Wiba! no mercado

Frutada, suave, surpreendente, a Wiba! Lichia é um destilado à base de frutas orgânicas in natura

Frutada, suave, surpreendente, a Wiba! Lichia é um destilado à base de frutas orgânicas in natura A nova aguardente leva sete das variedades provenientes das 26 mil lichieiras da Fazenda Cotiara, em Itaí, foram destiladas calmamente. Dessa collab inédita entre as 19 toneladas fornecidas pela Lichias Britchis e a expertise do alambique, foram produzidas exatas 1056 garrafas da nova aguardente de…

[agroemdia]

Mapa apreende mais de 200 mil litros de bebidas adulteradas

Auditores fiscais federais agropecuários encontraram irregularidades em fábricas de sucos, néctares, vinagre, vinho, aguardente, cachaça e água de coco

Foto: Divulgação/Mapa Em atendimento ao Programa Nacional de Prevenção e Combate à Fraude e Clandestinidade em Produtos de Origem Vegetal, o Ministério da Agricultura e Pecuária (Mapa) realizou novas operações de fiscalização em fábricas de sucos, néctares, vinagre, vinho, aguardente, cachaça e água de coco. A ação resultou na apreensão de mais de 200 mil litros de bebidas adulteradas e…

[digitaisdaslinhastmariapost]

Bem-vindo(s) ao meu delírio, copie, cole, compartilhe, obrigada por divulgar(em) meus trabalhos, visite(em) minhas outras redes sociais.

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[heavenknowsffs]

It's 4°C but we doin a party should i go with pants or knee socks and skirt? The obvious answer is pants but they drag a bit bc i'm short :) but skirt i'll be cold 😪

[tastingforall]

3ª edição da CR&F XO Fine & Rare: a exclusividade numa garrafa

Da região Demarcada dos Vinhos Verdes, surge a 3ª edição da aguardente CR&F XO Fine & Rare. Considerada uma das melhores aguardentes portuguesas, CR&F tem no seu ADN um longo legado com mais de um século de tradição. Esta terceira edição, engarrafada em 2023, conta com apenas 5496 garrafas num packaging exclusivo. Para os apreciadores, já é possível encontrá-la nas garrafeiras de norte a sul do…

[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART THREE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: things go from bad to worse as you can't control yourself after a night of drinking

Warnings: angst and just angst, Javier being a dick, an asshole, a jerk, un hijo de puta, malparido, huevón y cabrón

A/N: Thanks to my anon Mai who gave me this wonderful idea! If it weren't for you this chapter would probably not even exist, so thanks for being so sweet and having the best ideas ❤️ and I hope you guys enjoy this malparido being a dick (yes, I'm very angry with Javier)

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

1.3k words

The walk back to your desk felt worse than any walk of shame after sleeping with some guy. 

You didn't know if anyone had heard your argument with Javier, but you felt humiliated enough to be under the impression everybody knew what had happened and now had their eyes on you. 

You avoided looking towards him, but noticed his desk was empty, he'd left and you would do the same. There was no way you could work after the emotional whiplash you suffered.

You grabbed your purse and walked pass Colleen, rolling your eyes at her nails, thinking about how Javier had complimented them. 

Yours looked much better and probably made that filthy mind think about your hand wrapped around his cock. 

Your options were limited at that moment, if you stayed, you'd have to put up with people at work, Steve's curious glances and there was a real chance Carlos would show up to continue his daily teasing. 

You decided to head into the first bar you found. It looked sketchy and kind of dangerous and you didn't care one bit, you just wanted to pour liquid down your throat. 

And you did it, repeatedly, probably way too many more times you should have. 

But you needed anything you could get a grip on in order to soothe the pain you felt. 

You were so disappointed in Javier you couldn't even explain.

He had broken your heart, he led you into believing you were actually important and meaningful to him, he let you think you two could still be close, without wanting to get into your pants. 

You couldn't believe how naive you were to think a man like Javier would actually be honestly and truly nice to you, of course not. He wanted to fuck you, like your ex did it, like Carlos does and like Steve would probably have done if you'd given him any chance the day you went to check on him to see if he was doing fine after not showing up at work and he insisted you shared a bottle of aguardente. That was when you'd ended up telling him about how you were left at the altar. 

And then he went and blabbered everything to Javier in the first opportunity he got. 

You had no idea Steve was one for gossip, but you also had no idea Javier was only a pig and nothing more. 

You never wanted to look at him again, you didn't even want to give him the time of the day, but at the same time you wanted to go and tell him to his face everything that was stuck inside. You battled yourself about whether you should do it, you knew it was probably a stupid idea but you couldn't let him get away with him and live his life as if nothing had actually happened while you were so hurt.

On your way home, you were so intoxicated you didn't even give the fact you were walking alone late at night in the streets of Colombia a second thought. 

You just wanted to get everything out of your system, if Javier Peña thought he could just throw all that shit at you, he was about to be in for a treat. 

You didn't even know how you got home, you were so into your own thoughts you didn't even pay attention to where you went to and the next thing you knew you were banging on Javier's door. 

You didn't give one single fuck if it was loud or if it would bother any of the neighbors. 

You were so impatient you wanted to kick that door open, and you only stopped when Javier stood right there, looking at you not believing his eyes. 

"What the fuck Y/N?" He asked angrily, shocked at the sight of you, drunk, making a scandal at his door. 

"What's wrong Javi, you're not happy to see me?" You tilted your head to the side and scoffed softly "or do you think you're the only one who can say anything you like?" You went deadly serious and stared at him.

"Can I come in?" 

Javier crossed his arms in front of his chest and cleared his throat

"No, you can't," he said leaning against the door showing your entrance wasn't allowed without having to use words. 

"You don't have the right of doing this to me, you were my friend! Friends are supposed to care for each other! And not ghost each other like you've been doing to me. I am not worthless, I thought you liked me Javier! What has got to you? Have you ever been this asshole or did I stir anything when I kissed you?" You asked angrily and he groaned even more annoyed at your bratty attitude. 

"Y/N, I already told you, the problem is you. You don't know the difference between friendship and relationship, you want to act as my girlfriend all the time. We can be friends on my terms, but I don't owe you anything, I don't owe you Sunday dinners, I don't owe you explanations on where I'm going, I don't owe you anything, Y/N, do you understand that?" 

Your eyes welled up with tears.

"Yeah? I never asked you anything of this sort, you did it because you wanted to!!! You left me little chocolates, gave me flowers, lent me your sunglasses when it was sunny outside! You did all of it! And you know what? Because you liked being treated like a boyfriend!!! You liked when I cooked for you, when I wiped all your blood off you and took care of your bruises, you liked walking on the street with me and having other guys watching us in envy. Everytime Carlos gritted his teeth because he assumed you were fucking me after hours? The muñequita thing, you think I don't know? You just told him I was your muñequita and that's why he kept calling me that crap. How did I go from your muñequita to what we are now?" You blinked some of your tears and stared into his eyes, but you were not satisfied yet. 

"You fucking loved having me liking you, being attached to you, it must've been so good for your ego, all because you are a selfish bastard who can't keep a girl by your side, because all you do is take and feed your hunger and spit it out like it never happened" 

You only realized you were yelling, when you heard footsteps coming from his living room, and an arm snaked around his waist as a woman looked at you with widened eyes and rested her head on his chest. 

"¿Quién es esa, Javi?" She asked in a low voice and your jaw dropped at the realization the prostitute he hired looked a lot like you. 

You both had the same size, similar body type, hair and eye color. 

You shook your head in denial at that disturbing image, it was pretty clear to you it was all about sex, all Javier wanted was to fuck you and you refused the only thing he put all that effort into treating you nicely to get. You swallowed a lump on your throat but then you laughed dryly "I'm the original version, the one he couldn't get his hands on, so he went and hired a cheaper version: you, sweetie" 

You gave him one last glance "you disgust me, Javier. So much" you said and header towards your apartment, but his strong hands grabbed your wrist and tried pulling you to his body. 

"Fuck, wait a little, Y/N" he asked but you got rid of his touch 

"Get off me, Peña" you yelled one more time "don't you ever touch me again, I don't want to even remember you exist outside work, and if I may tell you one last thing, I want you to know Lorraine is so lucky you left her at the altar, because she dodged a huge fucking bullet by not marrying you" 

You faced away from him and locked yourself in your apartment. 

_____

A/N: 😳🪭 ¿Malparido, no?

[momo-de-avis]

Ana eu envio-te este ask para relatar a minha parvoíce e só mesmo pq tou mt bêbada a este ponto

Imaginemos cenário pós churrasco de faculdade, bebi uma garrafa de aguardente inteira sozinha e tenho um copinho de cascas de tremoço na mão. Vou no autocarro, a confirmar que um bestie que desatou a chorar no meio da função está ok. Perco a paragem porque me esqueci de clicar no botão do stop like a champ. Acabo algures em tipo? Casas velhas? Nem sei muito bem mas peço a um rapaz que também saiu na msm estação para me indicar a estação oposta de autocarro enquanto dito autocarro passa mesmo ao meu lado. Perdi a paragem part two electric boogaloo. Vou no meio de nenhures feito filme de terror com dito rapaz que na verdade é um querido não comenta na bebedeira e me indica o caminho para a estação de universidade do metro de Almada

Ligo a uma bestie porque you com medo de ser raptada no cu de Judas, casas velhas e ela está bêbada na casa de banho portanto não serve para nada

Encontro a estação!!!! Vão as duas em direção Cacilhas for no reason mas não me vou queixar

Estou no metro right now a mandar o ask e acho que se o rapaz tivesse sido português em vez de brasileiro eu tinha só straight up morrido lol

Enfim espero que tenhas uma boa sexta quando leres isto lol, está a chover a potes portanto espero que amanhã esteja melhor

Ah arrarais na fct, estou a ver

[acewithapaintbrush]

Saw @sketchnwhatevr newest Bruno and Dolores art, fell into a trance, and woke up to this:

****************************

"Again! Again!" 

Bruno sighs but the smile belies any grievances he might have had with his overactive little niece. 

"Dolores, honey. I promised your Tia to help with dinner." 

Julieta chooses that moment to walk by the door. "No, it's okay, Brunito. I'll manage." 

He turns just in time to see her disappear around the corner, shooting him a wink and a wide smirk. Oh, she is so gonna get that back one day!

"Yay!" Dolores shouts, turns the old radio back on and grabs his hands. "Again!" 

Bruno looks down at his poor abused toes and flexes them a little. Can he really go again? They are starting to tingle a tiny bit. 

But then he looks into Dolores expectant, big eyes and sees her little pout and… well, who is he kidding? Resistance had been a fruitless endeavor from the start. 

"Okay!" he concedes and lifts her a tiny bit by her hands so he can place her feet on his feet. It amazes him how small hers are compared to his own. It once again reminds him that he really should cherish these moments while he still can. She is not gonna stay this small forever and she won't want to dance with her weird uncle forever either. He grins and starts to twirl her around and around. She squeals and laughs and her tiny feet stay firmly planted on his toes which don't even hurt anymore. "One more time!" 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Come on, Tio! One more time!" 

"Again?" Bruno groans, but lets the bride grab his hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You never say no to the bride on her wedding day. Especially not this bride if you don't want your sister to fry you with some of her lightning right where you stand. 

Dolores laughs and twirls him with gusto. She wobbles a little and Bruno can't help but smirk. She pouts at him. "Don't laugh at me! The last aguardente was of bad quality!" 

"Yeah sure. That's what it is." He puts his arms around his tipsy niece's shoulders and tries to keep her steady. They move to the music for a while and Bruno thinks he might be able to steer her back to her husband soon when she suddenly steps on his toes. 

He can't help the little yelp. It's more out of surprise than pain, to be honest. Thank God his mother had insisted on "real" shoes for today and he'd left the sandals at home. 

Dolores jumps back a little. She looks stricken. "Oh! Lo siento! Everything okay?" 

"Yeah yeah. Didn't really hurt. You need to eat more, you are light as a feather." He chuckles and smiles. It's a sappy smile. His last aguardente must have been of bad quality as well. "That reminds me of when you were little. You would always stand on my toes when we danced." 

"I remember.", she says and there are tears in her eyes. Happy tears. "I loved that." 

She doesn't say what she really means. 'I missed that when you were gone.' He is so thankful. 

Maybe it's the alcohol - it probably is the alcohol - but he holds out his hand and pointedly looks at his own feet. "One last time?" 

Dolores hesitates, but - probably also due to the alcohol - not for long. She toes off her shoes and carefully places her feet on his, all the time watching his face for any sign of discomfort. 

But he wasn't lying. She is light as a feather and as he twirls her around and around his feet don't hurt one bit. 

Xxxxxxxx

The next morning is another matter, but no one but his bruised toes and Julieta's healing food needs to know about that.

***********

(I'm not sure if that's a thing elsewhere, but in Germany, when you try to excuse why you are drunk, you say "Der letzte war wohl schlecht" which basically means, "The last one must have been bad quality")

[huariqueje]

O Que Será

Chico Buarque → O Que Será

that they are longing for in the alcoves

that they are whispering in verses and ballads

that they are dealing in the dark of the burrows

that is in the heads, run on the mouths

that they are lightning candles in the alleys

that they are speaking aloud in the bars

that they scream in the markets,

that for sureis in the nature, may it be

what have not sure, and never will havewhat have no repair and will never have

what have no size

what may it be

that lives in the minds of those lovers

that the most delirant poets singthat the drunk prophets swear

that is in the romarias of the mutilated*romarias it's like a

religious cerimony*

that is in the unhappy'spersons fantasy

that is in the prostitute's everyday

in the outlaws, in the helpless

in all the ways, what may it be

what have no honesty, and will never have

what have no judgement and will never have

what makes no sense

what may it be

that all the warnings will not avoid

because all the smiles will challenge

because all the bells will sound

because all the anthems will devote

and all the little boys will run away

and all the faiths will meet

and the same Eternal Father, that has never been there

looking at that hell, will bless

what have no government and will never have

what have no shame and will never have

what have no healty mind

what it is that happens to me

that rottens me inside

that comes from underneath my skin

and ascend my face

and makes me blush

and jump into my eyes betraying me

and push my chest and makes me confess

what there is no way of hide anymore

and what is not right for someone to refuse

and what makes me a begger, makes me beg

what have no size, and will never have

what have no heal, and never will have

what have no recipe and never will have

what may it be

that happens inside of us and it shouldn't

that disobey us, that is a default

that is like an aguardente that not satiate us *aguardente is

a drink

that is like to be sick in a party

that not even 10 god laws will conciliate

not all the potions will reliefnot all the spells, all the alchemy

that not even all the saints, may it be

what have no rest and will never have

what don't get tired and will never be

what have no limit

what it is that happens to me

that burns me inside, may that happen to me

that disturbs my sleep,may it happen to me

that all the shivers come agitate

that all the burnings come stir up

that all the sweats comes wet me

that all my nervous feelings are praying

what all my organs are claimingand a terrible fear makes me implore

what have no shame and will never have

what have no government and will never have

what have not healthy mind

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/o-que-sera-whay-may-it-be.html

[aguardentepordosol]

29 de junho, é celebrado anualmente o Dia de São Pedro.

Esta data é uma festividade típica da Igreja Católica, em honra ao martírio do apóstolo São Pedro, principal líder no surgimento da Igreja Cristã.

A festa de São Pedro é uma das mais comemoradas entre as chamadas “Festas Juninas”.

Normalmente, nesta celebração são feitas muitas quermesses e grandes fogueiras, assim como acontece no Dia de São João.

“Tu és Pedro, e sobre esta pedra edificarei a minha igreja” – Mateus, 16.18 __________________________________________ LEVE O PODER DO MEL PARA SUA CIDADE! 🍯 __________________________________________

[deflagrar-se]

sex., 10:44 PM

Já senti saudade de doer o peito, de caber um oceano de lágrimas em cada olho, de arder a garganta como aguardente, como fogo e pólvora se encontrando. Saudade de o coração pulsar dolorido e todos os sentidos parecerem frágeis, sensíveis. O cheiro do perfume machucava, a música que lembrava a pessoa era como um réquiem. Uma parte de mim morria a cada vez que lembrava o som da voz, o jeito que me chamava, o jeito que me tocava. E essa saudade pode se tornar um sentimento tão concreto, tão sólido, que chega a ser palpável, mas é como segurar uma lâmina afiada e você sequer percebe que está apertando-a por entre os dedos enquanto o sangue escorre.

[agroemdia]

Mapa publica padrão de identidade e qualidade da aguardente e da cachaça

Uma das novidades é a definição da cachaça de alambique e critérios sobre envelhecimento da bebida

Foto: Nivaldo Ferr/Emater/Divulgação O Ministério da Agricultura, Pecuária e Abastecimento (Mapa) publicou, nesta terça-feira (27), a Portaria nº 539, que estabelece o Padrão de Identidade e Qualidade (PIQ) da aguardente de cana e da cachaça comercializada em todo o território nacional. As normas buscam harmonizar a produção e o consumo das bebidas destiladas de cana típicas do Brasil. O padrão…

[domquixotedospobresblog]

Foi tendo um infarto que percebi que ainda estava vivo,me afastei tanto das coisas,das pessoas,que nem notei que o mundo ainda estava aqui, girando em baixo dos meus pés,veio a dor,uma tremedeira,achei que tinha me transformado em uma batedeira,como acredito em reencarnação,me vi partindo e voltando ao mundo na mesma fração de segundo como um eletrodoméstico,logo eu que nunca fiz um bolo, apesar de cozinhar muito bem, sabe como é quando se mora sozinho,tem que se virar nos trinta como diz nosso amigo,oloko meu ,mais do que nunca,orra,bem,já sabem de quem estou falando, continuando a minha quase partida, não conseguia falar,mas via aquele monte de gente em volta,sabia que não eram anjos,dava pra sentir um cheiro forte de aguardente, cachaça para os íntimos, já perceberam que sempre que acontece algo diferente,tem sempre um cachaceiro por perto,se um dia fizerem uma passeata pode preparar que vai ser o fim do mundo,a minha visão foi desembassando um pouco,notei a ambulância chegar,pensei o mundo tá pra acabar,o SAMU chegou bem na hora haha,vi a moça correr em minha direção com o desfibrilador na mão,puta merda,tenho pavor de choque elétrico,tentei dizer,sai pra lá,a voz não saia, fiquei dizendo pra mim mesmo,morre,morre, morre, pedindo para o coração parar,senti um gel no peito em seguida um raio atingiu meu corpo,ouvi o bêbado gritar,mais uma vez, pensei,ah seu filho da puta,aquele segundo veio mais forte,e o bêbado chegou perto querendo fazer boca a boca,senti um aquele hálito de puro álcool,tive até vontade de pedir uma dose, alguém o puxou para longe, graças a Deus,senti um raio ainda mais forte do que os anteriores, sensação ruim,mais tive muita sorte,foi esse que me livrou da morte,agora não me escondo mais, adoro interagir com as pessoas, não quero quase partir para descobrir que estou vivo e forte,mas não posso passar em porta de bar,se ouço alguém dizer mais um, já olho pra ver se não é um desfibrilador nas mãos de um bebum.

Jonas R Cezar

[heavenknowsffs]

Cut my finger and i'm feeling dizzy lmao wtf

[tastingforall]

CROFT VELHÍSSIMA, a nova aguardente da CROFT

Fundada há mais de quatro séculos – em 1588 – e com um passado ilustre, a Croft é uma das mais antigas empresas de vinho. Mundialmente conhecida pelos seus famosos Vinhos do Porto, possui também uma longa tradição de elaboração de aguardentes e brandies, que iniciou com o primeiro embarque para Inglaterra em 1814.  Elaborada a partir de uma selecção de aguardentes vínicas de grande qualidade,…

[leitoracomcompanhia]

O banquete

“Foi debaixo do telheiro onde se guardavam as carroças que puseram a mesa. Nela havia quatro lombos de vaca, seis frangos de fricassé, vitela estufada, três pernas de carneiro e, ao centro, um bonito leitão assado, rodeado por quatro grandes chouriços com azedas. Aos cantos erguiam-se as garrafas de aguardente.”

Gustave Flaubert, “Madame Bovary”; pintura de Albert Auguste Fourié.