#and to noisemaking (sing)

[deprivedmusicaljunkie]

Me when I don't listen to anyone who doesn't mess with To Noise Making (Sing)

tonee, i am taking this opportunity to rant about the overlooked middle child of the album, tnms.

the entire thesis of wb! as an album has always been (imo) to live your fullest life because 1) there is still work to be done and 2) because it’s FUN. tnms is the biggest piece of evidence in regards to that second claim.

tnms says that all art is worth creating—not because all art is good, but because art can be relished by the creator. this song throws away the concept of perfection and replaces it with something way better: joy. especially coming from a musician who had just suffered such an iconic chart topping hit like tmtc, tnms means a lot because it’s giving, not only to himself, but to all of us, the permission to create for the sake of creating. not art for the sake of perfection or marketability or even originality. just art for the sake of art, because creation is one of the most human things in the world.

also, not to mention—the distorted voices in the last chorus belong to SEAMUS HEANEY and samples of children singing? that is amazing.

[carlyraejepsans]

unreal earth is far from my favourite of hozier's albums but I don't think any other song of his has ever touched my heart as abstract (psychopomp) has

[unikittybigbrightworldau]

@askthechronoverse tags that I’ve made for some of my characters:

Spike - ⌈all the rivers will sing along⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈the musician⌋ (see this post)

Marcella - ⌈ready to know what the people know⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈the adventurer⌋

Sgt. Wolf - ⌈i’m a one woman army⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈the knightess⌋

Master Cupid - ⌈buy a big diamond ring for me⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈the romantic⌋

Pheasala - ⌈we can go crazy and then pop⌋ ⋆❈⋆ ⌈the noisemaker⌋

And here is what their ask cards would say:

Spike - I hear the rocks and stones echoing my song

Marcella - What’s a fire, and why does it- what’s the word- burn?

Sgt. Wolf - Instead of running away, I should be making you stay

Master Cupid - You can’t handle a heart like mine

Pheasala - Shake it up and make it fizz!

[voidthescribe]

I work in an office setting, but I also talk to myself a lot, which means I will catch myself quietly saying, “that’s company policy, baby, bada-bing-bada-boom, I’m walkin’ here” and only then recall that my door is open and people can theoretically hear me

[smallfisheyes]

it's silly, you know, but you have to try it. may the grapes work.

nanami kento can’t find you when the clock strikes midnight.

there was a ruckus, the release of fireworks outside (who permitted fireworks on school premises?), and cheers of happy new year. itadori toots one of those awful noisemakers. tuna mayos and hugs are exchanged. as planned, nanami maintains a wide berth from gojo, recalling his attempts at a sloppy kiss the previous year. it is a new year; the year of the snake.

but you are nowhere in sight.

why does nanami's belly feel like it's sinking? he smiles, but there is an ache at the centre of his chest. his eyes flick left and right, the festivities unfolding before his eyes. the school had been decorated by the students with the funding of gojo's shiny black card, reds and golds streaming along the walls. stuffed snakes (inumaki's idea) were thrown haphazardly onto the ground. the remnants of the party games from earlier scatter the table-clothed tables.

in your stead, shoko meets nanami's eyes. he nods, giving her a brief hug, sure to grip her just below the shoulder and just above the waist.

"happy new year," he mumbles. shoko smiles. it is politeness exchanged with a colleague and friend, but this is not how he pictured his first interaction of the year (and with whom it was shared).

kento had planned it down to the tee: your favourite wine, no more than two whiskeys, arriving just after you to seemingly rescue you from forcing yourself to yap about things you did not care about (work) with a person you could not care less about (gojo). kento was meticulous, more meticulous than he was at that awful firm he worked at in his early twenties. he had to be. the moment must be perfect. you deserved a wonderful evening. yet, there was a variable he forgot to consider: he couldn't find you.

"ah, nanamin," shoko hums. kento steps back, offering his full attention. there's that awful look on that face of hers, one that dates back more than ten years. the teasing one that reminds kento he is nothing but a lost junior; a silly, unkowing little boy with punk bangs. one that is about to be berated by the scary bobbed girl with a cigarette habit.

a force seizes his lungs, halting their movement. may the berating begin.

"are you looking for someone?" shoko teases. that tone. how grating.

"what gave it away?" no frustration laces kento's voice, only soft desperation.

shoko stacks her hands together and brings them to the side of her face. she tilts her head, her voice sing-song-y. "nothing, just that look of yearning."

kento huffs in frustration. his fists curl in impatience. "where is she, shoko?"

shoko steps to the side, an evil scientist revealing her latest experiment.

when kento sees what is behind her, the world tilts just right.

there you are, under the table, crouched and feral. kento draws back at the sight of you: a monkey, primitive and on the hunt for food. in quick succession, large and luscious green grapes were thrown into your mouth. you were a chipmunk. you stuffed your face full of grapes before you even finished chewing. 

you were always a wonder.

shoko's voice is soft, her note of contentment complimenting kento's sudden leisure at the sight of you. "happy new year, nanamin." she pads away.

kento makes a note to gift shoko a red envelope the following day.

there you are; his little star. kento moves, crouches, and parts the red tablecloth.

"you never told me you liked grapes."

your grape-a-thon veers to a halt. absolute horror stills your chewing. you have at least five grapes in your mouth. 

kento smiles wide. a rush of warmth washes over him. he could squish you.

this too much attention from a too handsome man. you turn your head away to fend off the rush of blood to your face.

"they're soh exsensiv hare," kento makes out between your voice and the grapes. you chew rigorously, averting your eyes. you hold a hand in between your wobbly mouth and kento’s eyes, falsely creating a front to maintain your dignity. "tha’s why you don seh meh eaving them. gofo saeh he woulv give them tah me."

kento bristles. he would get grapes for you anyday. command or none.

"may i join you?"

you chew a little more in thought, grimacing as you swallow. kento tries hard not to watch your throat, but he can’t resist. 

“of course.” you’re sincere. you’ve gone shy. his heart aches. he wants to make you get bashful like this every day.

you scooch over to make room for large and long nanami kento to sit beside you under the table. he’s still wearing those winged shoes you love, but opted for a white knitted sweater that makes you wonder how soft it is. you almost reach for kento’s arm, but you draw back. you’re under the table eating grapes for a reason. you deflate. five more grapes to go.

“you don’t need to be under here with me,” you reassure kento. kento looks like a stuffy that got pounded into a too small toy chest. his neck cranes and his bottom is awkwardly sat in a cross cross. you smile. you want this to last forever. 

“i can’t let you be here alone. it’s new years.”

you wring your hands together. you need to eat four more grapes. “thanks, kento.”

you eat your grapes now, but slower. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. weren’t you supposed to eat all twelve grapes before midnight was over? you glance over at the clock. it’s already too late. 

you open your palms: four beautiful green grapes, grown and harvested in japan. when you arrived here, you hadn’t realized fruit was a luxury. fruit is difficult to grow. the majority of land is ill-suited for fruit. 

four wasted beautiful grapes.

“that’s enough grapes for tonight.” kento gently takes your hand and rests them on his own. he cups yours, creating a shield. his hands are warm. they’re so much bigger than yours. “you never needed them.”

“yes i did,” you insisted. 

kento shakes his head. “no. you don’t need any of that nonsense.”

your frown is deep. your eyes are in a different place. kento cups your hands more firmly now. “you never needed the grapes, darling.”

it’s instinct, the little “no” that forms on the tip of your tongue. it takes a second, another, to realize the precious thing kento had called you.

darling. YOU. darling?!

suddenly, you’re the one gripping kento’s hands. “what did you say?!”

kento shakes his head, patting your hand. “you make this difficult.” 

“you! you called me–” you guffaw like a fish when kento nods a tired affirmative, like it was obvious all along. “please don’t lie.”

kento’s eyes turn icy. “i would never lie to you.”

your lips wobble pathetically. you hate this man. he makes you silly and makes your heart beat too fast. he makes you want to turn away and stare all the same because he is too handsome. too kind. so him. and you had always wanted him. but the yearning? you never expected it to be returned.

“nanami kento, were you always on tiktok?”

kento throws back his head and laughs. you stare for too long. you’re allowed to now. “i have three wonderful students.”

the year of the snake will be a wonderful one.

you leave the remaining grapes for gojo. he needed them more than you.

i can't stare at this anymore please take it as it is. happy year of the snake everyone :) hissss

[samreich]

TONIGHT on MAKE SOME NOISE! Mimi von Schack and Maame-Yaa Aforo join the Noisemakers’ Guild alongside longstanding member Vic Michaelis; “This Quicksand Is Really Sorry It’s Gotta Do This To You"; and a “Make It Sing” instrument we’ve never seen before! You won’t want to miss! 🥳

[sweetsbfreex]

out of bounds

summary: Bucky can't imagine life without you.

pairing: Thunderbolts!BF!Bucky x Superhero!reader

wc: 1876

-

A YEAR AGO

“What about Indian?”  You grunt, raising your knee to collide with your opposition's head. He sways at the move before you grab your throwing knives aiming for his chest. 

“No baby, we had that—“ Bucky throws two punches, “We had that two nights in a row this week.” 

“You weren’t complaining then.”

“I just can’t say no to you now can I?” He smiles charmingly before sending another agent flying across the room. 

“Okayy,” you sing, trying hard to ignore how attractive that was, “Italian? You like Mr. Catteano’s ravioli.” 

“Is that what you want?” He walks closer to you. 

“I think so? Oh wait,” you swing around him, throwing  stars at the running agent. One in each leg and another right in the throat, but it misses.

“That was cute,” Bucky smirks. “Something distracting you sweetheart.”

“No I’m perfectly fine,” you huff. Launching yourself in the air before sending a breath stopping kick to his chest. 

You look around the room to see everyone on the ground, “I think we’re good here.” 

Bucky places a finger to his ear, “Walker? Are we all finished here?” 

“All clear, Yelena has the sphere, you both can head to the quinjet.” 

“Understood.” 

Bucky steps beside you, drapes an arm over your shoulder, and steers you both towards the exit. 

“How about Caribbean?” You propose excitedly, you guys haven’t had that in a while. 

“Oh yes, let’s do that. Will you place the order on the way there?” 

“Yes,” you go to push back a piece of Bucky’s hair when you notice you’re missing something. “Shit. My bracelet. I think I dropped it in there.” 

You go before he can say a word, running back in as he walks after you. He hated to say it but these missions really did take it out of him. 

“Doll, Would you hate me if I said I might actually be craving Indian?” 

“James..”

It doesn’t even take a syllable for Bucky to detect the whimper in your voice.

“Y/n!” 

In the room, he’s met with you stood against the man from earlier. 

“Hey!” He dashes to you as quick as he can watching you struggle against the man’s restraint. 

“An eye for an eye.” The agent seethes.

“No!” 

Without a thought Bucky grabs the gun from his holster. It’s 2 shots to his head and two bodies hit the floor. 

He’s by your side in an instant, one hand cradles the back of your head from the icy, hard floor. The other goes to his earpiece. 

“Walker! Yelena! I need medics to the console room. Now!”

“Heard.” Comes through Walker's voice. 

“What’s going on?” Yelena asks, running towards the room. 

“Y/n— fuck!” He hates this. “Y/n’s been stabbed, hurry!”

It looks critical and feels even worse as you gasp in air. It stung but at the same time you could barely even feel the twisted bruise in your chest. 

“James,” you whimper. “Fuck, this hurts,” you cry.

“It’s okay,” he hushes you, his thumb rubbing over your temple. His free hand presses into your bruise. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

—

A YEAR LATER 

Bucky did not want this party. He would rather stay in bed and watch television. But no one would take no for an answer. Not Sam, not Yelena, and especially not you. 

The tower is decorated with all of his favorite things, and as endearing as it was he was not in the mood for any kind of festivities. He turns 108, so what. 

He shrugs his jacket on and a spritz of his favorite scent: Chanel Eau Fraîche and another spritz of his cologne.

He sighs, grabbing his door handle and not even within five seconds of him walking out he’s faced with an array of overly cheerful faces. 

“Happy Birthday!” Is cheered and the sound of a noisemaker fills the tower. 

Shuri, Fury, and Peter even came out for the occasion. Yelena walks over with glittery blue eyes. 

“Happy Birthday Bucky,” she smiles, placing a party hat with the words birthday boy sprawled on it. 

Sam stands beside her with a cake in hand. “Happy birthday, bud.” He claps him on the shoulder and at the same time everyone springs into the happy birthday song. They all cheer at the end when he blows his candles out. 

“Haha” Alexi laughs his deep grumble, picking Bucky up off the ground, “Happy birthday, you know, you are like brother to me. May your life be filled with many, many well wishes.” He kisses Bucky on the cheek. 

“Dad!” Yelena groans. 

Bucky just smiles and says a thank you. 

“How about a shot!” Joaquin whoos in holding the special asgardian concoction to Bucky.

“To Bucky!” Everyone cheers. 

… 

Fuck. Bucky can barely think straight. But he was in desperate need of a breather from everything. He doesn’t know how many fake smiles, laughs, and interest he could give to them. It was just all too much. 

“Y/n..” he walks away from everyone until he hits the end of the  hallway. It’s dark and almost quiet. Everyone else is an echo as he slides down until he’s sat with his back against the wall. His head hangs between his knees.

“Bucky,” he swears he hears your sweet voice like a whisper in his ears. 

“I need you,” he finally breaks. He’s been dreading this day ever since you passed. Birthdays were a special thing to you, and you made sure Bucky got to revel in the same feeling. He never cared about birthdays until he met you. Until you surprised him with a homemade cake in bed and a party of his favorite people later in the night. At those parties, you stuck by him like glue. Always by his side teasingly calling him ‘birthday boy’ until midnight struck. 

That’s when he officially started looking forward to birthdays. And now you’re gone. But your clothes are still in his closet, your perfume still sits on his dresser, your shoes are in the exact same spot you threw them in that day, he still keeps your pillow beside his. He refused to move anything out no matter what his therapist said. 

—

A YEAR AGO

“Bucky!” Yelena finally makes it through the threshold faced with Bucky and you on the floor. Bucky’s kneed against you, his forehead connected to your shoulder and an arm splayed across your body to hold your hand. His body heaves while yours lies still. “Bucky?”

“She’s gone.” He doesn’t move when he declares this, his voice steady and doleful. “She’s gone..” he lifts his head, red rimmed eyes looking into Yelena’s green ones. 

She walks over slowly to the two, placing a knee on the floor as she looks you over trying to keep herself together for Bucky’s sake. Gently, she places her hands to close your still eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks softly.

Bucky looks at your face one more time. His nose has pinkened and his chin trembles. He looks at the red eyeliner you put on this morning to match with Yelena, the lips that would never speak those soft, endearing pet names again. He looks at you and realizes there’s no way he could live without you. There’s no life if you're not by his side.

He’s been through hell and back, but he’s not sure if he can overcome this. 

—

A YEAR LATER

“Please come back,” Bucky cries.

He’s a defined mess. A grieving mess. His hair has grown out to what it used to be. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was fighting, and if he wasn’t fighting, he was drinking the day away. 

“Hey Buck.” 

“Bucky,” Yelena and Sam are each by his side, he feels her hands against his cheeks lifting his head. 

It’s crowded in the hallway as everyone looks on concerned. 

“I need her Sam, I can’t do this without her.” He goes on drunkenly. 

“Hey, you can feel this for as long as you want, but y/n would’ve wanted you to celebrate with family.” Sam says. 

“Bob!” Bucky calls, disregarding everything and everyone, he holds his hand out. “Please, I need to see her. I can’t…” he begs inconsolably. 

“What?” Yelena whips her head around, “I thought we stopped that, you let him go back in there?” 

“I— He wouldn’t let me say no, I’m sorry.”

She huffs before turning to Bucky, “Bucky we talked about this, it isn’t good for you. Y/n wouldn’t want you to cope like this.”

It wasn’t a great memory, living that same day. But it wasn’t always terrible. He likes the beginning: getting to see you kickass so confidently. He loves getting to see the smile on your face that day and the love in your eyes when he teases you. 

God, He misses you more than anything. 

“Please Bob, please. Just this one time. I need to see her. She should've been here today.”

It takes a second before Bob speaks up, “I uhh, I’ve been working on something. A more positive side of the void.”

“Bob..” Yelena speaks with uncertainty.

“I can do this,” Bob says and clasps Bucky’s hand. 

…

“The hell is going on,” Bucky looks around to see his bedroom, but he’s in the same outfit. It’s not the console room like it usually is.

“Bucky?”

His heart drops because it couldn’t be possible, not in this way at least.

“Y/n?” he turns and it’s you. He chuckles to himself when he sees you dressed in his henley. Your fresh out the shower with your hair in two plaits. “It’s you?”

“It’s me.” You answer.

After that, he rushes you. You're in his buff arms in seconds and your feet are off the ground. He places his head in the crook of your neck.

“I miss you,” he breathes out. “This has been the hardest year of my life.”

“I love you so much,” Y/n whispers and pulls away, her hands frame his face. “I love you and I want you to try and be happy, yeah?”

There's a beat of silence.

“Bucky?”

“I don’t wanna talk about that right now,” He states. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you that day. This should’ve never happened, not with me standing right there.” 

Your arms are sat on his shoulders and one hand carts itself through the nape of his head. He hasn’t felt that sensation in days, he could shudder at the familiar feeling. 

“You were there for me everyday we were together. There is no one else I could’ve imagined spending the rest of my life with,” you smile up at him. 

He sniffles at your words. 

…

On the other side everyone watches Bucky’s relaxed face. 

“What did you do?” Yelena asks Bob. 

“I’ve been working on a positive spin on uhh “the void”. It’s the same but a more structured positive memory. 

“Whatever it is seems to be working.” Sam chimes in. 

Sam had never seen Bucky so low before and that was saying something. Something in him shifted after losing Y/n. He thinks about the day of the funeral and how empty and sunken Bucky looked. He just hopes whatever this was what would help a little. 

-

I hope you enjoyed this story, please don't forget to reblog and comment thoughts if you did <33

[postpunkindustrial]

Pink Noises: Women on Electronic Music and Sound by Tara Rodgers

Get it from my Google Drive HERE

Pink Noises brings together twenty-four interviews with women in electronic music and sound cultures, including club and radio DJs, remixers, composers, improvisers, instrument builders, and installation and performance artists. The collection is an extension of Pinknoises.com, the critically-acclaimed website founded by musician and scholar Tara Rodgers in 2000 to promote women in electronic music and make information about music production more accessible to women and girls. That site featured interviews that Rodgers conducted with women artists, exploring their personal histories, their creative methods, and the roles of gender in their work. This book offers new and lengthier interviews, a critical introduction, and resources for further research and technological engagement.

Contemporary electronic music practices are illuminated through the stories of women artists of different generations and cultural backgrounds. They include the creators of ambient soundscapes, “performance novels,” sound sculptures, and custom software, as well as the developer of the Deep Listening philosophy and the founders of the Liquid Sound Lounge radio show and the monthly Basement Bhangra parties in New York. These and many other artists open up about topics such as their conflicted relationships to formal music training and mainstream media representations of women in electronic music. They discuss using sound to work creatively with structures of time and space, and voice and language; challenge distinctions of nature and culture; question norms of technological practice; and balance their needs for productive solitude with collaboration and community. Whether designing and building modular synthesizers with analog circuits or performing with a wearable apparatus that translates muscle movements into electronic sound, these artists expand notions of who and what counts in matters of invention, production, and noisemaking. Pink Noises is a powerful testimony to the presence and vitality of women in electronic music cultures, and to the relevance of sound to feminist concerns.

Interviewees: Maria Chavez, Beth Coleman (M. Singe), Antye Greie (AGF), Jeannie Hopper, Bevin Kelley (Blevin Blectum), Christina Kubisch, Le Tigre, Annea Lockwood, Giulia Loli (DJ Mutamassik), Rekha Malhotra (DJ Rekha), Riz Maslen (Neotropic), Kaffe Matthews, Susan Morabito, Ikue Mori, Pauline Oliveros, Pamela Z, Chantal Passamonte (Mira Calix), Maggi Payne, Eliane Radigue, Jessica Rylan, Carla Scaletti, Laetitia Sonami, Bev Stanton (Arthur Loves Plastic), Keiko Uenishi (o.blaat)

[gremlins-hotel]

Post headcanons abt Arthur and his first baby you coward, you fool. The audience arrived, we are here, yet you stay silent upon the stage.

(Just joking ofc, tho id give you a kidney if you gave us some hcs abt their early days <3)

I know it's not a headcanon, but I hope this will still be satisfactory. A moment between a new father and his first son, to whom Arthur wishes the world.

“You coddle him,” came Rhys’ voice, blunt and teasing.

Arthur waved his brother’s words away. They were meaningless like wayward flecks of spume against the broad side of a ship in the face of the treasure held tight to his chest. Sleepless nights, tears, and the terror of the unknowing life. He had watched his son like a hawk for years, and the boy now grew blessedly stronger. Each time little Alfred grabbed his finger, the babe’s grip was vicelike, and Arthur knew the little chubby squish of pain was worth all his toils.

Alfred burbled up at Arthur, seeing his father’s watchful eyes glimmer, a mostly toothless smile scrunching his small face with joy.

Heart squeezing and eyes wide, Arthur knew he would endure it all again as long as that babe was laughing. Hugging the heavy bundle tighter to his chest, Arthur bounced the boy gently as he fiddled with a pocket of his coat. Life was difficult when one-handed, but he hated putting Alfred down. The troubles a baby could get into with any degree of autonomy he did not wish to imagine, not after famine and disease and blood. Alfred seemed determined to bind the world with his gums if his father allowed him, in any case, and to grab it without hesitation. There were dangers on the floor that the boy approached fearlessly. That determination. It was a good thing to have, Arthur knew, but woeful for life still so seemingly fragile.

A faint jingle answering his seeking fingers told the man he’d found his quarry. Arthur whisked the trinket from his pocket in a closed fist, the toy’s chain hanging from between two fingers. The near-sterling silver rings tinkled prettily against one another as he shook his fist above Alfred’s head. Curiosity lit the deep skies held in his son’s face like stars and Arthur couldn’t keep the soft smile from turning the corners of his mouth, shaking the chain again. Skies and stars indeed, for he had never observed someone to watch the heavens so closely at such a young age. Silently he praised the boy’s curiosity; one day it might have its questions answered if Arthur had anything to say about it. He would give that lad the sky and the seas.

Short, squishy fingers reached up for the chain, seeking the noisemaker with excitement. Arthur raised it away from his baby’s reach and took delight in seeing him try again. So he played the cat-and-mouse, jerking the prize just inches from Alfred’s grasp when he waved his hands skyward. Alfred laughed uproariously each time the toy made its metallic clinking and at seeing the smile on his father’s face. Arthur opened his fingers to reveal the rest of the shining silver toy and raised it to his mouth. One end was a sweet little whistle, which he blew quietly in the face of the babe. A high, windy note spiraled out into the air between them and Alfred laughed again, his entire face bright and bold. It made the boy redouble his efforts.

Arthur finally acquiesced, lowering his hand enough for those ferocious fingers to grip the tiny silver rings and tug. Once more Alfred’s burgeoning strength shot a bolt of pride through the man’s chest. With reluctant fingers he allowed the toy to drop into his son’s happy hands. Little curved talons, blunt by youth, curled around the moon-bright metal like a hunting bird content with its catch. The babe brought the whistle end to his soft mouth and immediately made to teethe on the silver. Tiny puffs of breath made the whistle sing and stutter, and Alfred’s eye glimmered happily, gazing up at Arthur as though he’d hung the heavens. Quickly he slobbered on the toy, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel enraptured by his son, drool or not.

Having forgotten the watching eyes beside him, it was Rhys’ voice that broke his reverie. “You ordered the coral, after all? No measure too small.”

Arthur blinked, looking up and away, then back to the toy in his son’s burbling mouth. The opposite end of the whistle had a stub of red, red coral from lands far away, polished to a beautiful shine. It was worth it to him. Anything to keep winding spirits and the fey away from his boy who had already suffered enough. No measure too small.

“Someday he will not need it, I hope.”

[deprivedmusicaljunkie]

me when i think it’s time to take a break from listening to music but to noisemaking comes on

[mylight-png]

Not really sure how to celebrate Purim this year, no one around me does either, everyone I've asked said this year they just haven't been able to decide or buy a ticket for anything. They're arranging a lot of parties and the parade like normal...but nothing is normal. I feel guilty to celebrate and guilty not to celebrate. I just don't know what the right thing to do is? What would the hostages want? What do the families want? What do the survivors want? What would the ones we've lost want? I know there's no right answer, nor just one answer and any decision is valid. But it all just feels so heavy this year.

At first when I got this ask I wasn't sure what to even respond. I could only think of the hostages and broken families, and what Purim must be like for them this year.

Trying to celebrate the most joyous holiday of the year seems daunting right now, but we are a persistent people. I've shared this quote before, but very soon after Oct 7th some of the student board members of my school's Chabad said this in a speech, "If we don't dance, they win."

We do not go on despite everything happening right now, we go on because of everything happening right now. We dance because so many wish we couldn't, we sing because so many seek to silence us, we shake our noisemakers in hopes that someday we will drown out the names of those who still want to destroy us.

Purim is a hopeful reminder that we have faced hate and violence before, we have fought back before, and we have won before.

I celebrate Purim with a heavy heart, for I cannot even begin to imagine the pain of those who cannot celebrate with all their loved ones this year. But I still celebrate Purim because if we don't dance, they win.

And I refuse to let them win.

May the hostages be returned home and may we defeat those who wish us harm as we have before.

[s0da-phant0mmm]

SPNNASH 2024 BIRTHDAY TRIP

I WENT TO SPNNASH FOR MY BIRTHDAY, HERE ARE MY PHOTO-OPS, NEXT POSTS WILL BE MY MERCH AND THE VIDEO CLIPS I GOT

photos -

Our picture with J2 - I want to preface that the headbands and the noisemakers were clean! I opened them in a panic while in line. They are so nice, Jared talked with me as much as he could with how face paced the line was. He gave me a high five, wished me a happy birthday, asked how old I was turning, literally just being so nice when he didn’t have too. I wish I got to talk with Jensen but it was just too fast 😭 my friend got to be in a Jensen choke hold so ig she’s winning AKKAKSJD

Our picture with RSJ, also so nice. He was easier to look in the eyes because he’s not a mile taller than me. I feel kind of bad because I think we caught him on his way out to welcome people on stage for panels- but nobody said anything and he had a conversation with me. Gabriel is my favorite character so this meant the world to me, I saw him a few other times throughout the con, but this is the time I payed for it lol.

Our selfie with DJ Qualls on karaoke night. ALSO SO NICE. LITERALLY THEY ARE ALL SO NICE. MEET YOUR HEROS ESPECIALLY IF THEY ARE FROM THE SPN CAST!! He has a vision for these selfies and he’s literally so diva I love him so much. I knew he was 6 foot but I was not expecting him to be that tall, I was barely up to his shoulder. Later when we were singing Don’t Stop Believing he came over to our little circle and sang with us.

MY FRIEND WON DJ’s WORLDS SHITTIEST GAME SHOW THE NEXT DAY TOO of course she picked the jumping tip, and of course he signed it. We saw him so much he’s basically our best friend JAJSJJDDK no I’m kidding but he’s so amazing, if you ever go, go meet him

And last but CERTAINLY not least, our pictures with BABY ‼️‼️ the best character on the show, she’s so beautiful and it was such a blessing to be able to meet her AND be in the front seat AND mess around with props. I wish I was better at posing because my friend had a VISION with the grenade launcher and then I’m Also There. I’m so happy though, I can die happy

Did you make it this far? Did you know I’m making a Supernatural OC? You can find her on my page, feel free to ask about her! (please ask about her i crave to talk about her)

[david-goldrock]

Purim Play

Tzil Tzil - sound I have a bonnet and a tassel No man shall stand up from his place A Purim play begins

La la, la la La la la la la la La-la, lalalalala, La, la-la la la

One, two, three I am Achashverosh A golden wand in my hand And a crown on my head

All of us have, all of us have A crown on our heads Each one of us Is Achashverosh

Queen Esther I am And a golden floral headband I have Do you know who my uncle is? Mordechai the Jew

(This verse caused 2 separate common mistakes in the minds of generations of Israelis - the correct way to say Queen Esther is "Malka Ester" but most of the people who heard the verse heard "Malkat Ester", and Mordechai was not Esther's uncle, but rather cousin)

All of us have, all of us have On our heads, a floral headband Each one of us Is queen Esther

I am Mordechai Teal is in my clothes Hamantachens and noisemakers I brought to my kids

La la, la la La la la la la la La-la, lalalalala, La, la-la la la

And I, too, shall sing I brought a knightly horse I shall enride in the city streets (to make someone else ride, and to put an action into it, probably to lead the horse) Mordechai the Jew

La la, la la La la la la la la La-la, lalalalala, La, la-la la la

[mysimsloveaffair]

Maia shows Tami how to blow a few times, but little Miss Independent doesn’t need the help. Tami successfully blows out her candles on the first try. I pull out my noisemaker and sing.

Wade: *singing and making hella noise* Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Daddy’s princess! Happy birthday to you!!

[misfitprose]

Watching people have fun while I am off by myself eating and pretending I know them...hey, it's like a real party!

Sad Matt with his broken popper. "I broke it..."

Doing Omar a heckin' bamboozle with the noisemakers. One day the cast will say, "Did you see Larkin? We finally added him for you!", and Critters will go NUTS trying to figure out which guy it was and if he spoke or not. It'll be the back of some guy's head in a crowd scene lasting three seconds! TALIESIN WITH THE HAT! XD Laura's on the bar, is she going to sing, too? The hat is making it's way through the crowd. "Iced tea", huh? Now Ashley's on the bar. Boy, private parties with these guys must be unhinged.

Obligatory Omar worshiping.

Whatever they're drinking has really got Matt going. He'll be on the bar by the end of this! I'm surprised it took an hour and a half for a balloon to get popped. I agree: DISCORD PIGS HAVE TOO MUCH POWER, AND YOU HAVE MADE A MISTAKE! Great party, guys!

[sashaisready]

New Year with Bucky - Drabble

Wrote this fluff in the early hours when my baby was having a new year’s rave and keeping me awake 😒

Some references to smut..

Bucky isn’t particularly fussed about New Year’s Eve, he hadn’t celebrated it for so long that it’s just another day to him now. And he’s not very impressed by the amount of drunks out on the streets…

You tell him that a new year is exciting because it’s a chance to start afresh, wipe the slate of the previous year clean and begin again - to do better. Be better. There’s so much hope and promise as the clock counts down. So much potential. He smiles wryly at this and presses a small kiss to your hairline. He loves how you see the world. And he can’t deny that a fresh chance does sound nice. That’s all he ever wanted. And he was lucky enough to get it with you.

“Fine” he grumbles. He exasperatedly blows on a party noisemaker and lets you put those novelty glasses with the year on them over his face. He sits calmly as you giggle and tenderly move a strand of hair from his face. “But I’m not going out” he protests, although the look in his eyes softens as he watches you beam. He’d do anything to make you smile like that. “That’s okay” you agree. “We can have our own party right here”. Alpine offers a meow in agreement. 

You have dinner together, sharing the chopping and prep in comfortable silence. Bucky absentmindedly wraps an arm around your waist as he stands at the stove, lost in his task. Metal fingers tickle the skin of your hips and you nuzzle into him, perfectly content in that moment, a moment of bliss in your small kitchen. 

After dinner and half a bottle of wine, you both flop onto the couch with Alpine and watch TV for a while. Bucky’s constant touches and caresses finally get too much and you squeak as he lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom and giving you one final memory of the year.

You pant and cry out and fist his hair, laying back and letting yourself catch your breath as he grins and watches you smugly. You only realise the time as your phone lights up on the nightstand. You hastily start the countdown in bed, in the safest place on earth - wrapped his arms, your cheek pressed to the furnace of his bare chest. “10…9…8…” you whisper in unison.

“Happy new year!!” He kisses you and you kiss him as you hear your neighbours drunkenly sing Auld Lang Syne through the walls. You curl up into him and he holds you tightly. 

You reel off a couple of your New Year’s resolutions as he strokes your hair, the usual stuff. Small things you’d like to achieve, do better at. “You’re already perfect, Doll” he mutters gruffly, his lids growing heavy with fatigue.

“What about you, Buck? Any resolutions?” You whisper and he turns to look at you, his brilliant blue eyes studying you as he quietly considers your question. 

“To spend more time with those I love” he replies earnestly, giving you a chaste kiss. “I’m off to a good start”.

You smile back and tell him you love him, as sleeps takes you both and pulls you into the new year.