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kpopchangedme · 5 years

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His Taste | Mark Tuan

One night in the JYPE building Mark helps you with a work related problem and you get a bit... overwhelmed by his proximity.

Protagonists: Mark Tuan & You

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: SFW - Idol!verse - Vampire - Romance - [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “That’s it, I’m going to kill him!” + “Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.”

Requested by: Anon

GOT7 | M.list

The only lights on were the corridor ones, and their flickering buzz was deafening... At least to you. It could all just have been your infamous impatience though. Rougher than necessary, you clicked to switch the cameras view, one eye on the monitor and the other on the computer’s screen in front of you. It was way passed 3AM, but these crazy young teens were still training, like they all didn’t have school tomorrow morning.

These days, you had been working security night shifts at JYPE. A musical label and a management company, home to some of the biggest names in modern Korean Pop. Not that you’d care. You stopped listening to music when it stopped being recorded from actual instruments. You weren’t sure whatever was playing on the radio these days could even qualified as such, not when you lived through the greatest eras of Baroque, Classical and Romantic music… Oh, wait. Jazz wasn’t that bad either, at least at the beginning… Fighting back the urge to throw the work computer across the corridor, you hit the Enter button repeatedly, raging. You had to finish this spreadsheet with the trainees’ hours before dawn. “Oh that’s it, I’m going to kill him!” You hated that damn piece technology, hated this shitty job - it didn’t even pay that much - and above it all, you hated th-

“Careful, you should go easy on that old thing!”

You must have lost your mind, because you didn’t hear or see him come in at all. Jerking in your chair, you straightened, too surprised to reply. That was his thing lately, he was one of the only humans who could come and go without you hearing from miles away. He was quiet and discreet, unlike his mates. Raising your eyes to meet his, you tried to ease your obvious irritated frown. Mark Tuan’s lips stretched to his usual dangerous Cheshire cat’s grin, flashing you his unfairly perfect teeth.

Ok, there, a wonderful sight worth this stupid security job. If you had a beating heart, it would probably quicken right then. That was the thing you could get behind about that music industry; these stars were drop dead gorgeous, and this one was no exception. Mark Tuan had a certain thing, a mysterious aura that always kept you on your toes. He was the visual member of his group, his position was a little reminder that Kpop had little to do with the music you were used to.

“What has it done to you this time?” He slowed down by your desk right before the exit door, swinging his large training bag from one shoulder to the other. Even from where you were standing, you could smell the salt of the sweat on his skin, he just finished working on a dance routine and he was probably heading home. He smelled delicious, as if you needed that when he was already looking like a seven-course meal. You felt the burn of your saliva in your mouth, like a little Pavlov’s dog; Mark Tuan walks in and you start thirsting.

“I hate computers. I just can’t.” You played his effect on you off with a groan. “I’ll never get used to them.” Instantly, Mark’ brows creased.

“Where are you from, the 60s?” He joked, not getting how actually funny he was being.

“More like the 17th century...” You replied honestly, and he snorted. Even his snorts were cute, no wonder millions of girls were helplessly pining over him.

“Ah, then you’re pretty well conserved, y/n... You don’t look a day over 25. To be honest, I’m feeling quite old these days...” Mark leaned on the desk. Oh, was he going to attempt small talk today? Unusual. On other nights, he’d greet you and bolt out of this damn building fast, eager to get to his bed after practice. How sweet were those sheets of his, sometimes you’d wonder. “What’s your secret for longevity? I’m curious.”

“Oh, you know…” You offered your best smile, entertained by a reality his humanity couldn’t possibly grasp. “I merely sustain on the blood of the innocents, and consume children’s flesh… occasionally.” He laughed at that, his weird high-pitched cackle. Then the old computer screen glitched, demanding your attention back. It flickered a few times before darkening completely, and none of your slaps and curses managed to revive it. Hours of work gone, just like that. If you were mortal you’d cry from frustration. Mark’s cute laugh died down and he dropped his bag, rounding the large desk to come to your rescue.

“Wait...” He grunted, and before you understood what he was doing, he was already leaning over your chair. Both of his arms caged you, and your eyes rounded, suddenly acutely aware of his warmness and aroma. All senses alerted, you tried to remain in control as Mark worked his magic. He had absolutely no idea what was going on in your mind, or how you were staring at the veins of his hands as they hovered above the keyboard. The warm blood pumping in them was purplish his thin unblemished skin, a shiver went down your spine. If that man tasted as good as he smelled and looked...

“I fixed it.” He announced triumphantly as the desk computer came to life again. You waited for Mark to pulled back but he didn’t, unaware of the danger he was facing. “Sometimes being a complete nerd comes in handy...” The Idol met your gaze, and he must have seen something dark there, because he stopped breathing, holding his air expectedly. You kept staring at each other for a moment that stretched way pass decency before he exhaled sharply, breaking it.

“T-Thanks!” You blurted out, forgetting to be truly thankful he saved your spreadsheet and work for the night. You just hoped he’d pull away. He didn’t.

“It’s nothing…” He hushed, ears reddening. No way. Mark Tuan was there, blushing because at your proximity... Meanwhile you were actively fighting the urge to rip open his jugular. Absolutely no survival instinct.

2.5 seconds. That’s all the time you’d need to have him. You were sure the cameras wouldn’t even catch you. You just needed to push him into the empty closet barely a meter away, far from prying eyes. It’d be so fast and easy that the human wouldn’t even have time to scream. In a second you would be tearing his throat, tasting the salt on his sticky skin and the rich iron of his blood.

Then Mark would be gone forever... But you’d have one hell of a feast.

He was oblivious to your sinister consideration when he finally decided to straighten up. Unfortunately for him, it was too late. Your mind had already gone abysmal black from desire and thirst. Mark didn’t even comprehend what was going on. In under a second he was far from your desk, getting harshly slapped against a shelf in a janitor’s closet. Your nose brushed his neck and he stiffened nervously, catching up on the situation in a daze. It wasn’t like he had never imagined you that way, he just never dreamed you’d jump him. At work, of all places.

“Y/n...” He sighed, struggling to wrap his brain around reality. Were you really kissing his neck, holding onto him like that?

You didn’t react to your name, too taken by him filling all your senses. You could see the tiny hair rise on his body, goosebumps spreading on his arms. You could hear his thumping heartbeat, a far sweeter melody than the buzz of the lightbulbs in the corridor. You could smell his sweat and excitation, feel his warm skin alive under your fingertips. Without meaning to, your tongue traced the shadow of his collarbone. Your eyes rolled into your skull at his exquisite flavour and Mark’s breath caught. It was even better than you imagined, you wanted to bathe in him, make his aroma your new perfume just to have an excuse to wear him. Your mouth climbed his neck following his jugular, it pumped against your lips, tempting, animated. You had absolutely no self-control left, you were too weak. Fine, you’d allow yourself a taste. You didn’t even like this job anyway, you could disappear afterwards, it’s not like you had never done that before. Your fangs grew of their own accord, ready to rupture his artery. That’s exactly when Mark did something that surprised you again, right then. He whispered your name like a secret, wrapping himself around you to pull you closer. You stopped everything, frozen still as his hands explored your back and he pressed a kiss into your hair.

Mark Tuan was hugging you, unaware of how tempted you were to gut him.

“I didn’t know you wanted me like that,” he murmured, and you hadn’t either until he said this aloud. Mark chuckled, closing his arms around your lower back to press you against him. “I would’ve fixed your computer sooner then. Knowing we’d end up like this.”

You curved to look at him, out of it, shaken. He didn’t falter, but he blushed under your dark gaze. You had no idea what you looked like in the moment; feverish, dizzy, obsessive at best. The man simply believed you had thrown yourself at him. Mark didn’t seem to mind at all though, he cupped your nape to tilt your head and he kissed you. Like he meant to do it many times before, but always managed to resist until now. He was still holding back a bit though, you could feel he wanted much more. His mouth opened your mouth delicately, tongue meeting yours halfway. You gasped, immediately craving something else.

In the moment, you forgot what you were doing, your job, and even your name. Mark’s touch was fantastic, overwhelming, everything you could ever ask for.

Only one thing was certain; you were never going to have to hurt him. You were going to adore Mark like that, alive and well. Now everything changed, you were going to keep revel in him, wherever, however he wanted. Empty closets at work or secret dark hotel rooms. It didn’t mattered, nothing could keep you two away now.

When he kissed you, Mark Tuan tasted like he had been yours all along.

GOT7 | M.list

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hamilheros · 7 years

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what do you fall for? (hamilsquad x reader)

Words: 2032

Warnings: cursing, robbery

A/N: @theanonymousanon came up with this amazing idea for this series, and she pulled me @midnightokieriete along for the ride! So without further adieu, here’s our story!

Next Chapter

//the beginning//

The whole world was going to be destroyed. Well, maybe you were exaggerating a bit. It wasn’t exactly the end of the world, but it was pretty close. You looked for your wallet everywhere, and here you were, in this alley way, wondering how your feet took you this far.

You just moved here a few weeks ago. Dragging your bags through the airport and boarding the plane wasn’t that hard of a choice. Back home, things weren’t ideal. Your family was too conservative and were stuck in their own ideas. And you wanted a different life. Being in a small town wasn’t something you imagined for yourself.

So, right when you put on that cap and got your diploma, you were out. Los Angeles was the first choice, but you received a job offer in New York City. You threw your sunglasses and beach bag away and traded it for an umbrella and briefcase.

Your first few days were smooth. Your new boss, George Washington, wasn’t too bad. He was strict and always wanted things in before it was due, but that was fine. Being his assistant was hard, but it was life. You couldn’t have asked for anything better. And you were adapting to the city life pretty well. Even the feline-sized rats weren’t bothering you that much anymore. Well, maybe that was a stretch. The rats were definitely a no-no.

Most days were easy going. Normal, even. But this morning. This was different. You decided to walk to work that day. You woke up earlier than usual, so a nice morning coffee wasn’t a bad idea. As you walked into the shop, you touched your pocket for your wallet.

“Are you kidding me…” You mumbled, looking through your bag for cash. There were only loose change and crumbs at the bottom. You even forgot your…

Wait. You could have sworn you threw your wallet in the bag. You put your bag on a nearby table, and began to search frantically. Your hands came across an empty, almost hollow space. You pushed your hand through.

It appeared on the outside of the bag.

Great.

You needed your morning coffee. You were on your feet all day, and that was the only thing that would keep you awake. You put your bag back on your shoulder, and walked out the shop.

“Now, where was I?” You looked around the street. It was already full of people, all of them navigating around you. You decided to retrace your steps. George wouldn’t be happy that you were going to be late, but, your life was in that wallet. Insurance cards, license, and at least five dollars.

Okay, maybe the five dollars wasn’t that important. But still, you needed that wallet.

You weaved your way through the mass of bodies, glancing at their hands ever so often. Your eyes came across an alley way. Back to the present time.

You were sure you didn’t walk through there. Your countless hours on the internet researching how to stay safe in a big city told you not to go in alley ways. But your fingers were twitching and you really needed that cup of coffee. You emailed your boss quickly, telling him you were going to be late.

You took a deep breath, then began your slow journey into the small side street. It was dark, and right when your body entered, silence enveloped you. You cursed at yourself for being such an idiot, but your curiosity and thirst was overtaking you.

“Don’t die…” You mumbled, crouching down to see if your wallet was underneath the trash can. As expected, there was just candy wrappers and rotting food.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” You heard a voice yell. You jumped, quickly looking up from your spot on the ground. Two men, one with a gray beanie and the other with fingerless gloves were arguing. There was a woman on the ground, looking between the both of them. She was frightened.

Don’t walk over there. Don’t walk over there. Don’t. Walk. Over. There.

You slowly walked over. Every fiber of your being was telling you this was a bad idea, but you ignored it. You were definitely going to be late for work. The beanie man tossed the woman her purse, and she thanked him, running away quickly.

You crouched behind the garbage can, looking between the two men. The taller, darker skinned one seemed to be intimidating the smaller man. You patted your pocket for your phone, hoping you weren’t making much noise.

“Look, man, I’m just tryin’ to make a livin’, aight? Now can ya let me go?” The smaller man said to the beanie. The beanie man pursed his lips, glaring at the small man.

“Promise me you’ll never steal again.”

The smaller man scoffed, so the taller man slammed him against the brick wall. The wall cracked, and the man hit his fist against the rock. It dented. You were too far away to see, but it looked like his hand broke through the wall.

Someone didn’t skip the gym, huh?

The small man groaned, pulling on the other man’s hand. Okay, maybe this wasn’t the time to make jokes. You looked down at your phone, and it refused to cooperate. It was freezing up, and you tried to press the emergency call button. It didn’t work.

“Typical…” You whispered. The alley way silenced quickly, and you looked up. Both of the men were staring at you. Shit.

You stood up, wiping ‘dust’ off your pants, “Oh, hi. I’m just, looking for my wallet. You know, because, it’s lost. Um, so yeah, you can carry on,” You waved for them to continue, “I’ll be on my way.”

Wow. You were pretty casual. Maybe they won’t notice anything strange. You turned around and began walking away quickly. You heard a sigh behind you, and before you could register what was going on, you blinked.

You widened your eyes, looking around you. Wait, how did you get here? You turned around in a circle, taking in the sights. You, you were in front of your office. You glanced at your watch. You were still late, but…

“I took too many sleeping pills last night,” You said, quickly walking through the building. Were you, did you, just imagine all of that? Your family did call you a heavy daydreamer, but you never thought it was this bad. You looked in your bag, seeing your wallet and the hole was gone. Huh.

“Y/N?” You moved your head in the direction of the voice. Your boss was standing there, his arms crossed. You never saw his eyebrows so furrowed before, “Did you find your wallet?”

You nodded quickly, walking over to him, “Uh, yes, yes sir. Sorry, I should be more careful next time, sir.” He said nothing for a few moments, looking you over. He uncrossed his arms, and you let out a breath. Good, he wasn’t angry.

“Do you have the documents from the previous meeting prepared?” You replied yes, taking them out of your bag.

Maybe that whole ordeal really was a part of your imagination. But your couldn’t help your gut. It was telling you it was the truth. George turned around and walked away. You pushed the folder close to your chest and followed him quickly.

Hercules let go of the man, and he ran off in the opposite direction. He rubbed his hands on his pants, cursing to himself. Why couldn’t he hear you there? Either he was getting old, or clumsy. He heard a loud whoosh, and saw Alexander marching over. Alex was wearing his uniform for his normal job. He was glaring at Hercules.

Here we go…

“How could you be so reckless, Herc? That person could have just compromised our whole mission!” Alexander hissed, folding his arms.

Hercules decided to take this lightly. “Chill out, Alex. That, human, won’t find out anything. You could have just told George to erase her mind! Then we won’t have to deal with any of this.”

Alexander shook his head, pacing back and forth, “No. You know how he feels about that, after Martha…” Alexander trailed off. The whole team knew about it, and no one ever brought it up. “Anyway, how can I be sure she’s just going to forget about it?”

Hercules grinned. “I have a perfect idea. We could send in Aaron to-”

“Hell no,” Alexander interrupted, “No way. No. I didn’t even hear the rest of that idea, and I completely disagree.” Alexander refused the thought. Aaron was everyone’s friend, but there was something about him that Alexander didn’t like. He never told Aaron himself, but it was apparent.

“Alexander, you’re being too difficult. Just give him a chance. Aaron’s the only one who doesn’t have powers. He could be useful,” Hercules looked at the hole in the wall, “Besides just cleanup, of course.”

Alexander bit his lip. Hercules thought for a few seconds.

“Okay, how about this. We ask Washington about it and see what he says. Would you give it a chance then?” Hercules pressed. Alexander eyed Hercules but nodded.

“Fine. But this doesn’t mean I like the idea. I’m going to tell George I hate the idea.”

Hercules rolled his eyes at Alexander’s immaturity. He began dialing George’s phone number. He knew he was at work, but this was important. And he was sure he already read your mind.

You were following after George when one of his phones’ rang. He glanced at the contact, and excused himself, walking to a nearby conference room. You walked back to your desk, slumping into your chair. That cup of coffee would do you wonders right now. You closed your eyes, hoping this small break would last forever.

“Y/N?” You opened one eyelid, looking at the woman that interrupted you. Eliza was standing there, holding two cups of coffee. You sat up quickly, grinning at her. She held out one to you, a smile on her lips.

“George is probably running you dry, so I thought you might need something to perk you up.”

You took the coffee out of her hand, “You’re amazing! Thank you, you’re my hero,” Her face changed, but it quickly went back to the carefree smile. You took a sip of the coffee, and cursed.

“Fuck!” You stuck your tongue out. It felt like it was being boiled alive. You looked up at her, and she had a sheepish smile on her face.

“Sorry, I like my coffee hot. I should have warned you.”

You shook your head quickly, “No, it’s okay. I was just overreacting.” You weren’t.

George knocked on the wall, getting your attention. You stood up quickly, hoping he didn’t hear your foul mouth. He and Eliza shared a look, before she waved at you and left. Strange. You didn’t see them interact much, but that look was weird. But you were probably imagining something else again.

“Y/N, I have a new employee coming soon. He’s here to help you with the work load.”

Your heart sunk. “Oh?”

Were you getting fired? You just started working here. Well, you couldn’t blame him. You’ve only worked here for two weeks and you were already late one day. He probably thought you weren’t reliable enough.

George must have noticed the inner turmoil because he shook his head. “No, you’re not getting fired, Y/N.”

What the actual fuck? How did he know you were thinking that? Either you said it out loud, or your face was easily read. That makes sense. He has been in business long enough to read expressions. You brushed your suspicion aside.

He continued, “I just thought that I’ve been giving you a lot to handle. Think of him, as an assistant to you. If you ever needed extra help, he would be there to assist you. Does that sound okay?”

He looked at you. Did that sound okay? It sounded fuck- really, amazing. Your inner thoughts really needed to stop using so much profanity. George cracked a smile, and you cleared your throat.

“Um, yes sir. That would be fantastic.”

He nodded, “His name is Aaron, he starts tomorrow.”

#hamilton superhero au #hamilton series #alexander hamilton #hercules mulligan #lafayette #john laurens #aaron burr #george washington #thomas jefferson #james madison #angelica schuyler #peggy schuyler #eliza schuyler #x reader #wdyff

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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Britney Spears' Greatest Cultural Contribution Is Her Instagram Account

http://fashion-trendin.com/britney-spears-greatest-cultural-contribution-is-her-instagram-account/

Britney Spears' Greatest Cultural Contribution Is Her Instagram Account

In smoky eye makeup and a fuzzy blue bathrobe, retired pop princess Britney Spears belts Frank Sinatra lyrics into her iPhone camera and, as a result, into the broader cyber universe. “I want to be a part of it / New York, New York,” she coos in a video posted to Instagram earlier this year, punctuated by an extra helping of vibrato and a filter that not only douses the performance in a cascade of golden stars but digitally endows Spears with a pair of furry ears and the voice of a drunken baby chipmunk.

“Who doesn’t love Sinatra??” the caption reads.

“Hear, hear!” more than 1.6 million followers implied with the tap of a “like.”

Spears’ lovably erratic Ol’ Blue Eyes impression is not an anomaly. After conquering the world of pop music and enduring a paparazzi-chronicled meltdown in 2007, she has reemerged over a decade later as an unapologetic social media superuser. Her Instagram in particular, a hodgepodge of corny jokes, earnest mantras and inexplicably hypnotic selfie videos, functions like a repository of all the things that make the internet good.

Of course, I am eternally grateful for all of the sonic gems Britney Jean Spears has gifted us followers. (My first concert was Spears in her hometown of Kentwood, Louisiana; I frequently attempt the choreography to “I’m a Slave 4U” when I reach peak drunk and still tear up while listening to “Everytime.”) But when it comes to Spears’ most influential, unusual and profound cultural contribution, I have to point to her multifaceted, sincere and utterly confounding Instagram feed.

I mean it. Spears’ Instagram is rife with the kind of unfiltered millennial soul-searching that can seem overproduced or unapproachable in the hands of, say, Kim Kardashian or Beyoncé. To her 18 million Instagram subscribers, Spears is certainly still the superhuman we’ve come to love, a master of metamorphosis who’s traversed the classic phases of womanhood ― Mickey Mouse Club starlet, precious schoolgirl, snake-wielding sexpot, fame-tainted “trainwreck” and, finally, Vegas icon ― in the early-internet public eye. But now, online and selfie-savvy, Spears is also a mother, patriot, Nietzschean scholar, Christian, yogi, food critic, Hillary Clinton stan, painter, tomboy and girly girl) ― all in one constantly updated feed.

Her social media persona is so enchanting because it complicates, rather than calcifies, fans’ understanding of a star.

Spears’ ability to provoke a pure sense of bewilderment and fascination is a rare feat amid an infinite feed of influencers. In one post, she’s the basic-as-hell girl next door, posting inspirational quotes like “keep the ones that heard you when you never said a word” and milquetoast jokes like “just let me shop & no one gets hurt.” But then there are the posts that don’t fit the mold, like the minion memes, elephant pics, black-and-white images of “antique children” and trippy New Age artwork.

And of course, the true showstoppers: videos of Spears herself strutting, twirling, pouting and teasing. The clips somehow feel spontaneous, even DIY, although they’re clearly cut from many takes featuring multiple costume changes.

Therein lies the allure: Spears does little to cover up the effort behind her montages. Rejecting concerted nonchalance in favor of unapologetic effort, she showcases a sincerity so exposed it becomes vulnerability. For someone who’s been so thoroughly shaped and tormented by a greedy public, Spears’ radical openness feels especially fearless.

I brought up my obsession with Spears’ Instagram in a recent email exchange with culture writer Mallika Rao (also a former HuffPost colleague), who’s written about the mysteries of self-representation online. Spears’ social media sagacity, she agreed, stems in part from her total disregard of self-conscious curation, which allows her to jump from posting calculus equations to providing bikini thirst traps in the blink of an eye.

“Instagram is a brand management tool, even among people branded as ‘creative’ or ‘iconoclastic,’” Rao wrote to me. “Britney does not seem to care for brand management. She uses Instagram as kids once used home videos, to work out fantasies for an imaginary viewer. Her primary beneficiary ― her perfect viewer ― seems to be herself.”

One of the most iconic of Spears’ Instagram posts, uploaded in October 2017, is a video of the multidisciplinary artist painting flowers and swirls on a canvas outside a Versailles-esque mansion I can only assume is her home. “Sometimes you just gotta play!!!!!! 🤓😜💋💅🏻👩‍🎨🎨👯👗👛👒👠🦄🦋🐠🌹💥💥” the caption says.

There are so many things to love about this video: That Mozart’s “Turkish March” is playing in the background; that Spears, perched with one leg on a stool like a flamingo, starts out wearing a men’s button-down shirt over her white pushup sports bra and workout shorts before the vid jump-cuts to an outfit change with a kimono robe; the way she purses her lips in a pensive yet flattering pout before each blessed stroke.

Above all, Spears exhibits almost no artifice while presenting her Art to the masses. Again, it’s not that she’s not trying in her presentation, but that she’s clearly trying so hard. The evidence of her effort is written all over the post, its deliberate staging ringing truer than forced authenticity. The video, described by Glamour as “delightfully bizarre,” quickly went viral, and the Spears original painting ended up selling for $10,000. (For more Spears painting content, check out this equally primo gem.)

Since she was a teen, Spears has lived her life on a stage, perhaps preparing her for our post-Insta reality, in which privacy is a right we’ve all gleefully abandoned. In her book Trainwreck, Sady Doyle describes the impossible tightrope Spears was forced to walk in the prime of her fame. To avoid public scorn, she had to be “virgin and pin-up, wide-eyed innocent and worldly temptress, icon of cool and conservative Christian role model, she would always have to be both and neither, everything and nothing.”

It’s no surprise that this unimaginable pressure made Spears crumble. And as Doyle put it, her suffering became a form of entertainment, plastered across Us Weekly and TMZ. As a result, Spears’ life between 2008 and 2016 was governed by a court-approved conservatorship, meaning her father, sister and lawyer were in charge of her personal and financial decisions.

After staying out of the spotlight and rebuilding her life and self, Spears appeared on Instagram not as a symbol of desirable femininity or calamitous adulthood but as a real, weird person with interests and a sense of humor and a passion for strutting down the catwalk. For Spears, a public figure who was asked to embody the contradictory values of sanctioned womanhood from an extremely young age, this newfound freedom appears intoxicating.

“People are obsessed with Britney’s Instagram because it offers some glimpses of hope,” critic Alicia Eler, author of The Selfie Generation wrote to HuffPost.

As Rao put it: “We re-meet someone we thought we knew until she left in a haze of mystery,” she told me of Spears, “turning into herself and turning notions of fame on their head.”

In yet another classic Britney post, the singer stands alone in her cavernous living room wearing a little black dress and belts “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” using the same affected tone she’s rocked since she was a teen. No one is in the room for the performance, save for whoever is moving the camera around Spears for the full 360-degree view the video affords. Unapologetically, she got all dressed up to perform for Britney, and Britney alone.

“I’ve always wanted to do a performance like this,” the caption reads, “singing in a pretty little black dress, with a simple 360, one take shot! I figured since it was my birthday, why not go for it?! So boom 💥 When the clock struck 12:00, I did it!!!”

For us non-famous normies, social media can offer a space to pretend that things worked out differently. On the platform, friends become followers, not unlike fans; documentation of the most mundane activities suddenly warrants attention and praise. We can use digital space to curate and perform the platonic versions of ourselves.

Spears, who grew up famous and in the spotlight, uses Instagram to do the opposite.

In the words of Spears herself, “Sometimes you just gotta play!!!!!! 🤓😜💋💅🏻👩‍🎨🎨👯👗👛👒👠🦄🦋🐠🌹💥💥.”

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