Taylor Swift react

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the impossible has happened and i'm back for another chapter!

okay so i'm probably too old for this at this point but honestly who cares. also--i haven't read the books in over two years, but i am a whole lot better at writing dialogue and writing in general, so expect this chapter to be both better and worse.

i might give up halfway through like i have in other ones, but i'll try my hardest not to. we'll see. this writing style is honestly so repetitive it's exhausting. 


*the keeper crew--Sophie, Keefe, Dex, Biana, and Fitz--are teleported into a gray room, with large speakers in the corners.*

Sophie: Oh gosh, another one of these?

Dex: Sophie, what are those? *he points to the speakers*

Sophie: Speakers, I guess? They're for playing music.

Dex: *walks over to them, begins investigating.* They're so complicated, though. That seems completely counterintuitive.

Keefe: Counter-what-now?

Dex: Okay, y'know what, it doesn't matter. Doggo_Gal, what torture is planned for us today?

Me: Torture?! I'm so insulted. Actually, we're listening to the tortured poets department!

Sophie: *groans.* Ugh, seriously?

Biana: Oh, I've heard of that! Isn't it by Taylor Swift? It's human music, guys, I bet it's super good.

Sophie: Not this one.

Fitz: Yeah, why don't we listen to something else? Sophie's the expert on humans, and if she doesn't like it, I bet it's not very good anyways.

Keefe: I'm curious now. C'mon, Fitzster, cover your ears if you've gotta. Doggo_Gal, turn up the beats!

Me: *pulls my phone out of my pocket.*

Dex: Oh, how does that work?

Me: *presses a button, starting with fortnight*

Sophie: Post Malone is so much better than Taylor Swift.

Me: Wrong once again. Everyone else, opinions so far?

Keefe: *frowning* it's very... quiet.

Fitz: Sophie was right. 

Biana: It's nice I guess, but I don't know, I like 1989 more.

Sophie: How do you even know all those albums, Biana?

Biana: *flips her hair over her shoulder* I do my research. Especially when it comes to T-Swizzle!

Fitz: *groaning* please never say that word again, Biana. 

Biana: *rapping* I'm like eight foot four, blonde hair to the floor, you shorties never thought I dreamed about rapping hardcore! I'm so gangsta you can find me baking cookies at night--

Keefe: *absolutely vibing* ...you out clubbing, well I just made caramel delight!

Biana: *high fives Keefe* you get it!

Fitz: Okay, bonding party over. Can we turn on something else?

Me: Well, what vibe are you feeling, Fitz?

Dex: Something less synth, maybe?

Me: It's all synth. The genre is synth-pop.

Biana: See, Dex, I totally coulda told you that.

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