location: festival games area, Rain of Petals Parade
status: open!
Tori Mae wasn't much for dancing and pageantry but she did enjoy the occasional event to people watch. The Springs came alive every spring with the Rain of Petals Parade and the looks of pure joy on the faces of festival goers was a nice reminder that there still was a little magic left in the world, even if none of it belonged to Tori Mae.
She should've listened to Miss Fortune all those years ago when she told her to expect a big change in her life, but truly, she should'a listened to her mama telling her she had no business putting any trust into what that woman had to say. Tori ignored the instructions to steer clear of her tent then, but had made up for it by avoiding it entirely for the last fifteen years. That counted for something, right, Mama?
Instead, she wandered the festival grounds, savoring the smells of freshly baked teats, hand picked flowers, and honey sticks. She greets local artisans with a big smile, promising to make another round to actually purchase something and sends her Pop's regards. He hated missing the festival but promised Tori Mae's mama he'd rest this year and let Tori take care of the shop talk.
Now, she's clad in high-waist denim shorts, a muted golden-yellow floral button down, tied in a knot just above her exposed midriff, and flower suede platform Doc's with a freshly squeezed lemonade (and gin) in hand. Her eyes are trained on the ring in her friend's hand as they play ring toss, or maybe attempt to play would've been a better way to put it. A chuckle escapes from her lips. "So, did'ya ask anyone to dance yet?" She inquires with a quirked brow, bringing the straw to her lips.
🌼 GATHER ‘ROUND, FOLKS! IT’S TIME FOR THE RAIN OF PETALS PARADE!
Spring’s been good to us this year, but the heat of summer’s already knockin’ on the door—so before we trade marigolds for mosquitos, it’s time for one last hurrah!
The Rain of Petals Parade is a long-standing tradition in the Springs and surrounding towns, celebrating the turn of the season with flower crowns and a little healthy competition. Girls from all over will be putting on their best for a shot at the title of Marigold Queen, and rumor has it the competition is already heating up behind the scenes.
But don’t worry—it’s not all about pageantry. Expect horseback riders in marigold garlands, dances in the town square, costumed walkers dressed up in springtime or even as flowers, and fiddlers you can’t help but tap your boots to. There’ll be dancing ‘til dusk and enough glitter stuck in your hair to find it again three showers later.
How It Works in RP
This event will take place from Wednesday through the weekend, and it'll be hosted on the dash—so you can join in however you like. Do a big festival thread, a quick back-and-forth convo—it’s all welcome! This message will also be posted on Tumblr, so we can have two posts to reference!
👑 Marigold Queen Voting
You help decide who takes home the crown!
Send your votes for Marigold Queen to the Journal Inbox! You can vote anonymously, in-character, and near the end of the event, we’ll toss all those names into a random number generator—the more votes someone gets, the more entries they’ll have in the pool.
Got a nonbinary muse who wants in? Just shoot us a message to say so! We’ll make sure they’re counted in the running.
Now go on and grab a handful of marigolds! It’s festival time!!
When you open it, you're greeted by two sharply dressed strangers—one tipping a dark cowboy hat with a grin, the other standing tall with immaculate blonde pin curls that somehow defy the breeze. “Hi there,” one of them says. “We’re with the Bleeding Hearts Town Census. Got a moment?”
** It’s meme day, baby!
This is an optional ask meme event, styled like a good old-fashioned census, that will last through the rest of Thursday and all of Friday (4/18).
Under the read more, you’ll find thirty different...."census" questions, all numbered.
Like this post if you'd like to participate—doing so makes your character(s) fair game for others to send you numbered questions based on the list. Just make sure your ask box is open, and let the wildly personal small-town surveys begin!
Do you have raccoons living under your porch? And if so, how many are too many for you to handle?
When was the last time you gathered wildflowers? Tell us about the flower variety when you gathered them.
What are your opinions on the Goddess? If she whispered, would you listen?
Who in town would you absolutely NOT trust with your bulletin board request?
What is your unofficial job in a crisis? (i.e. do you help put out fires? Or hand out candles during thunderstorms?)
In your HONEST opinion… Does the train actually go anywhere?
Who would you trust to fight a bear for you? Who would you send in as bait?
Have you ever strolled the cemetery late at night? What horrors have you seen? What horrors have seen you?
Do you think you could win in a fight against Dick Scammahorn? Follow-up, how bad would it hurt if you lost?
Which location in town do you think has the weirdest vibe?
Do you consider jam as a form of currency? If not, what substance would you accept, fancy britches?
Ever get the feeling the Springs water is… watching you? Do you ever wave back?
Do you have a library card? Do you need help applying for one?
If someone handed you an ancient ring, would you wear it or pawn it off to a city slicker?
What was the last record you bought at Honky Tonk? If it wasn’t Rumors by Fleetwood Mac, why not?
Have you ever heard whispering in the library basement? Do you still owe it something?
What’s your go-to order at Granny’s? Or are you too good for her food, fancy pants?
If a raccoon in a tiny hat offered you a quest behind Happy Apple, would you accept?
What’s one piece of gossip you’re sittin’ on? Real or not! Really, anything. Please.
Have you ever fake-laughed at one of Granny’s jokes? Do you regret it?
Do you think Miss Fortune, the oracle of Goddess Tellings, can really predict the future? Do you think she can predict the gas mileage on her truck parked behind the studio?
Do you know that plant that keeps watching you? Have you apologized to it?
Be honest– did you start the storm by saying “it looks nice out!” out loud?
What kind of events would you like to see around Bleeding Hearts Springs? You gonna organize them yourself, fancy hat?
Do you think the raccoons are unionized? Should we be worried?
What secret ingredient do you think is in Granny’s famous stew?
Did you hear the rumor that Birchwood Inn is haunted? If not, there’s a rumor Birchwood Inn is haunted. If so, what do you think is haunting Birchwood Inn?
What’s a weirdly hyper-specific job idea you’re convinced the town needs?
Has the Goddess ever given you a sign that was a little too vague to be helpful? Please rank it against the average fortune cookie.
How many farm animals do you have on your property? Would you like one?
Seems plenty of folks around town had a few things they wanted to say. Some sweet, others tragic, and some? Some real special.
Here's what showed up in gold:
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I think you’re cute ;)
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Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!
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The world doesn’t make sense when we’re apart, Bess. I’m never leaving your side again. Pinky swear!
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to Mr. Scammahorn— H.A.G.S.
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To the one who ruined me,
I told myself that I wouldn’t write this year. That I was done with your wicked glances, and over seeing you rub your happiness in my broken heart like salt in a fresh wound. A wound that you caused. But then I saw you at that damned costume walk…Wearing the same dress you wore when we first laid eyes on each other.
We were so young, stupid. Reckless teenagers with nothing to lose. Remember the time we set the gazebo on fire with nothing but that citronella candle? I don’t think that was even the worst thing we got up to. Do you miss those June nights the same way I do?
I don’t expect you’ll write to me this year, especially after last year’s spat. If you do, I won’t read it. I couldn’t possibly! All those words will be is venom. Spitting lies and falsehoods at me while I’m still in mourning…
But if they aren’t, if you feel the summer of love stirring within you as I do…meet me at the Mill tonight. And if you wear that dress, all bets are off.
Tragically yours (until the next petals rain down).
P.S. I saw you took that ring off your finger.
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To the one who still knows how to haunt me,
I wasn’t going to reply. Truly, I wasn’t. I read your letter three times by candlelight and twice more in the dead hush before dawn, and every time I felt I was pressing my fingers into an old bruise, one I’d forgotten I still carried.
You say I ruined you. Perhaps I did! But we both know ruin doesn’t happen alone, and we were just two sparks dancing far too close to the powder keg, and when it blew, it wasn’t just one of us who got scorched.
Yes, I wore the dress. I did! And maybe I almost didn’t, but something in me knew you’d be watching. I could feel the weight of your gaze before I even stepped outside. Call it vanity, or cruelty, or maybe the last dregs of that recklessness we once drank like wine. June always did make us stupid.
I miss all of those nights. Of course, of course I miss all those damn nights wrapped in each other's skin and buried in our bones. I miss your laugh through the trees, the way you used to trace promises into my skin as though you meant to keep them. I miss who we were; before the fire, before the fights, before we turned love into survival.
I never wanted to hurt you, not really. But I’m tired of being the villain in your story, when we both held the pen. Even with all the bitterness between us, your words stirred something I thought long buried.
So I’ll come to the Mill tonight. But I won’t wear the dress, no. If you want to see me, really see me, not the ghost of that girl in tulle and trouble, then meet me as I am now. No more costumes. No more hiding behind June.
I took off the ring. But I kept the lace. Your photo still hides in my closet.
With love that never burned out, just turned to ash,
Yours (for one more summer night)
P.S. If you bring another citronella candle, I’m leaving.
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Be warned: Bugs Bunny is an excellent dance partner!
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As far as brothers go, you’re one of the very best. Thanks for taking such great care of things while I was gone. <3
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under the old oak tree or in the briar house or just sprawled out on the rug…. anywhere is fun with you. i’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.
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Dog still brings your slipper to the lazy boy. Wish you were here, old man.
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Roses are red, violets are blue. Dick Scammahorn is sexy, even when he sends me goo.
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To whom it may concern:
If the sky is blue
And I am too, what are you?
Morning mist, grey smoke.
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the guy behind me is picking his nose as I write this.
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You know what you did. I will bring up what happened at the Blueberry Pageant of '98.
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NOTICE: Someone has replaced the Ring Toss grand prize with a rotisserie chicken. Please return Mr. Fluffles immediately. This is NOT a Golden Message.
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I definitely wasn’t picking my nose. so you can ignore that one
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I know you well, despondency— please save a dance or two for me
wrap me in arms made of soft yarn and pour me out a cup of tea
and when I sip I’ll pray it doesn’t burn me in the third degree
this poem is doomed, I’m just a loon, this loneliness is misery…
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Hey ghost girl— don’t you know by now?
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You danced with me behind the Happy Apple. You had marigold petals in your hair, and smelled like cinnamon whiskey. I haven't stopped thinking about you. If you're real and not a spring hallucination, meet me by the springs this Tuesday at dusk.
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Mrs. Gertie, please stop telling folks I was "cursed by the first Marigold Queen in '74." I just have eczema.
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To the girl in the flower crown:
Fireflies and stars
A bright light never fading
Twinkle at me again.
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Is it so wrong to wish you could look at me the way I look at you? Is it so wrong to want you to want me the way I want you? Is it? Don't tell me.
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will that smoking hot bee please meet up with me after the festival
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If you win Marigold Queen, I will be PERSONALLY investigating the votes. No one claps for you! A baby cried when you walked by! Let's all be honest with ourselves!
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When we’re apart, all I want is to see you again. Let’s go to the woods again soon.
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#NotMyMarigoldQueen
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If you're trying to court me, I make a mean tomato pie.
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Oh, how I wish there was but a way we could rendezvous before Father's summons on the Eve of my betrothal! The Golden Apple only rots in the shine of your everlasting love, but nonetheless, it is a prize you must conquer to win my fair hand. Oh, my beloved, wherever you see my words, know that each has been kissed by lips that yearn for your smile. Dream of me, for I am of you. --Darling
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Hiro Uehara, count your days…
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Your laugh was warmer than the campfire that night. I’m looking forward to the next trip.
On the Buchanan front porch, there's a box with a card that says 'from Ken'. Inside the box, there's a handful of chocolate-filled sweet crust buns. The card reads: Enjoy! There are FIVE buns in this box. Make sure Frankie only has ONE. Love you brother
A loud clattering of pots and pans from behind the Buchanan's door is heard before Frankie is tumbling out of the home, a smear of peanut butter clean across his cheek. His eyes glance down....and a wide smile stretches across his features as he bends to grab them. From Ken! He already knows what they are, a handful of sweet crust buns. If he had it his way, those delicious, flaky buns would all be his, his stomach swelled up three sizes too big like a cartoon character swallowing a watermelon whole. But that capitalized ONE sure leaves a lot to be desired, Frankie pouting to himself for a moment before he picks up one from inside the box, sticking it square into his mouth as he turns to head back inside, before --
The edge of that rug sure comes out of nowhere, doesn't it? Frankie stumbles on the fraying carpet, the box dropping, and sweet crust buns rolling out onto the floor. His eyes widen, mouth still full of bun. How does this always happen to him?! He squats down, ready to pick them up -- but, Biscuit comes barreling through the opened doorway in all his slobbering glory, his comically large paws squishing three of the sweet crust buns in his wake. He body checks Frankie in his war path, the boy falling square onto his ass.
SQUISH.
The final bun...gone to a WWE butt drag. Frankie sighs. At least Frankie only got one, right? It's what Ken would have wanted.
GATHER ROUND, Y'ALL, WE GOT OURSELVES A TOWN HOLIDAY!
That spring afternoon is gettin' mighty warm as our humble town inches towards the dog days of summer, which can only mean one thing...it's Heart of Confection's day! That's right, folks, it's time to break out those aprons and find your favorite, chocolatey dessert recipe for that special someone.
Now, this Bleeding Hearts tradition, like just about any ol' good one, is about love. Got someone you're sweet on? Or, do you simply want to show your appreciation for the folks in your life that make it better? Show this special someone how much you care by baking up a chocolate-themed dessert and settin’ it on their porch. Now, this tradition may have started with the ladies giving the fellas treats, but times are a-changin’ and the folks 'round here don’t mind bendin’ the rules a little. Want to surprise your best friend with some double fudge brownies? Send them with love! Got a neighbor who could use a little pick-me-up? Leave ‘em a chocolate pound cake with a note. Think that cute bartender at the Velvet Stag might be sweet on you? Well, ain’t nothin’ like a batch of gooey chocolate cookies to see where things go.
And don’t forget — it’s not just about the givin’. Keep your eyes peeled for a little chocolate surprise on your porch too. You never know who might be thinkin’ of you this Heart of Confections Day.
It’s the Heart of Confections! For this event, we encourage you all to enter each other’s inboxes with a sweet treat from one muse to another. This can be completely anonymous, or your muse can show up firsthand, and you can spin this off into any thread you’d like! Just a little reminder — it all starts in the inboxes, and the event will only last until Friday.
Anyone else catch that first dance between Josie and Ryland? Or were you all too distracted by Frankie and Tanny?
HOO-WEE!
Now, ain't that sure oh, so interestin'? My eyes were set on the Buchanan's doin' their usual dance, but eagle eyes over here caught somethin' others may have missed with Miss Josie Sutton and Ryland Jennings, dancin' their hearts out!
I sure hate to gossip... but, I'm sure Laurie Sutton won't be all too pleased to hear that his darlin' baby sister is dancin' with a man older than all their siblin's!
With the last petals cast and the votes tallied, we’re proud to crown our very own honeybee, Josie Sutton, as this year’s Marigold Queen! Raised among wildflowers and hives, Josie’s bright spirit and sweet heart have made her a beloved face around the valley.
When asked for a speech, she promptly burst into tears and needed to be lead off the stage by her Dad. That's our Josie!
Here’s to a summer full of sunshiney-golden memories. Be sure to tip your hat to her next time you pass her by!
