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Dream SMP has a visit from a goddess
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“Hey, nothing wrong with a bit of neurosis. Fear keeps you alive, right? Better to have too much than too little.”

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“Mm,” she hums, noncommittally. She has another bite of her burger. She doesn’t think she likes this Wilbur person.

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“Bit of a bold claim coming from you, Soot.”

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“Hey, I’ve changed, haven’t I? I’m a new man.”

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Is every sentence this person says loaded? It really seems like it!

“I think I’m missing a lot of context,” she muses.

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“Wilbur Soot over here” —Quackity gestures in Wilbur’s general direction— “was dead. For months. So, not the best person to get advice from about staying alive.”

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“I’m alive now.”

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“Sure. Not because of anything you did, though.”

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“You were dead?” she asks, suddenly interested. “And Dream brought you back? What was that like?”

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“…Bad. The afterlife, it runs on a different timescale, right? One day here is one month in limbo. It’s personalized, too—for Tommy it was just a void, right, no color, no feeling, almost total sensory deprivation other than the sound of my voice. For me it was a train station. Except the train never came. Until, thirteen years later, it did.”

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“… shit. I’m so sorry.” Burger nibble. “… I might be able to bring back the dead. I’ve never tried it. It’s just Jschlatt that’s still dead, yeah? I’d like a proof of concept, but I also don’t want to bring back an evil overlord or whatever, and the whole thing seems politically charged, but. If he’s suffering, that… changes things.”

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“Schlatt and Mexican Dream, yeah. Honestly, the thing I’d be most worried about with reviving Schlatt is that he’ll just drink himself to death again and then you’re in the same situation as before.”

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(Quackity goes stiff at the mention of Schlatt.)

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“Mexican Dream? I thought my only option for mad resurrection science was Schlatt.” She looks at Quackity and winces. “And I get the impression he sucked?”

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“Yeah. …He’s my, uh, ex, I guess. But it’s not like I never dabbled in mad resurrection science, so, hey, go wild.” Quackity leans back, very deliberately casual. “Dunno who this Mexican Dream character is.”

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“Hm. Guess I’ll need to ask around, then. But time’s stretched out, in the afterlife? So I suppose I can’t be as careful as I might like.”

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“You might just be swapping people around, anyway. Hey, Big Q, any other ghosts around?”

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“Not that I’ve met. Or, Schlatt, I guess, but he was still in limbo.”

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“Swapping people around? Like they’ll go immediately kill each other if they share the same air, or what?”

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“No, that’s not— I had a ghost running around up here while I was dead, and now he’s in that train station instead of me. It’s one or the other.”

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“What? No. That’s dumb. Who says it should be one or the other? What if no one has to suffer at the train station at all?”

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“Look, if you can make that work, I’m all ears, but please— please don’t send me back there. I’m begging you, man.”

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“Absolutely not,” says Yvette immediately, and with passion. “Absolutely not. I’m fretting about not getting everyone out fast enough, even though it might legitimately be unsafe to bring them back. I’m not putting someone in a time dilated hellhole just because I like someone else more.”

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“…You don’t even know me.”

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“Nope. I don’t. Why would it matter? You’re a person.”

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