I am loud and startling, but you can also sneakily steal me.

In gatherings grand, I hold liquid gold, with a stem and a crown, tales of old unfold. Raised in joy, sparkling in light, bearer of toasts, I dance through the night.

A garden built from bones of glass, keeping frost outside as seasons pass.

If someone threw me at your head, you would do this to avoid me. You might get angry like a cartoonishly-famous one of me, and shout words that rhyme with me.

Gather the scattered stars, unite them into constellations, weaving tales from fragments of the cosmos, crafting a singular story.