#limelightsmp

See you in Season 2 where I'm gonna play around with the cherry trees and pink palettes and live my pop-punk princess dreams which I have not revisited since 2005. Y2k baby! Let's go.

I have recently found out that I'm dead (RIPme) and since then I've been searching far and wide for a place to live out my victorian child dark academia ghost ceramics course casper-like fantasie and to my grave (lol) disappointment, I found only one suitable mysterious moist&mossy ruin to haunt in the entirety of the Limelight county, however, as you can see, I wasn't there first. Elder bear couple has alreadly boated into this hauntigly beautiful mansion, arguing that a the Goof Co. social service program has moved them into this retirement home (?!) to enjoy the rest of their lives in this perfect seafront tropical paradise. And they called dibs on the whole thing, how rude! So, you'd think that I respectfully apologised for trespassing and inviding their home and then kept looking for another mansion, right? Like a good lil ghost. WRONG. I moved to second floor of the ruins, because what are they gonna do, hn? It's not like they can climb up the stairs without risking breaking bones and dislocating their hips! News flash, there are no accesible elevators in this ANCIENT RUINS. Also I'm a patient woman, I can wait for a couple of months to outlast them, and then this whole ruin will be MINE. *etheral screeching from beyond the grave* *thunder strikes* It's just a matter of time, my dear roommates.

I was shopping for moss in the city - as one does (aparently not really) living on a deserted island with no natural resources of my own... when I stumbled across a cute, overgrown graveyard (courtesy of Aenay). And as it turns out, I have decieved you all and even myself into thinking I was alive this whole time. Is this some or of postmortem denial? Am I ghost? Am I zombie? I have had a weird cravings recently, ate my weight in cookies and icecream on a few occasions, but that's just my clinical depression celebrating the annual reuninon with her sister, seasonal depression! Or is it? It might not be the healthies choice of a coping mechanism but it is a far cry from eating brains.... Anyway, the point is I need to investigate who killed me. And take revenge, because I'm petty. But first, can you point me in a direction of an abandoned mansion I could haunt? I feel like being dead excuses me from building duties as I can live in somebody's walls now rent free.