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luvdsc · 4 years

Text

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

sunnybimbo · 7 years

Text

tfw i meant to post this late night but i put it in my queue by accident

ao3 link here

have some garrison trio for hunk’s birthday because B O N D I N G and also i was riding a big sugar high so it isn’t as Epic as i wanted it to be

but it was fun!

It was early morning. Or late night?

It was 4 a.m., about.

Target: Asleep. Probably having a good dream by the looks of those drool stains. His covers half thrown off the bed, and he was near suffocating in his snores.

Perfect.

Lance launched himself from his balcony to Hunk’s, nearly slipping on a clump of ice.

“Toss the goods, Eagle Two!”

Pidge rolled her eyes, but threw the ‘goods’ (an old backpack, stuffed to the brim with… secrets) at him nonetheless.

“Do you even remember how to pick a lock?”

“Uh duh. I’ve watched like… a million spy movies.”

Pidge shook her head exasperatedly. “Your funeral when you set off every alarm in the house.”

Lance flipped her off as she hopped over the banister, joining him on the other side.

Alright. Bobby pin? Check.

Credit Card? Expired, but that didn’t matter.

Spare key to the front door in case he couldn’t pick the lock? Back pocket.

“Let’s do this.” He grinned, cracking his knuckles. The bobby pin was then unceremoniously shoved into the keyhole.

And the door creaked open with the motion. No fiddling with locks needed.

“Huh.”

Pidge just barely resisted smacking her forehead. “You dingus. Rule one of anything ever is to always check if the door’s locked.” She climbed over him, and nearly face-planted into Hunk’s dresser as Lance tripped her.

“Oops.” He feigned innocence, fluttering his lashes at her as she rounded on him.

They began to loudly whisper out an argument. Pidge’s arms crossed, and then she flicked him. Lance gasped, offended.

They were just about to resort to a slap-fight when a loud groan interrupted them.

“What are you guys doing?” Hunk asked, sitting up to rub sleep from his eyes. His bedhead was a thing of beauty, hair framing his forehead like a crown. Or a halo.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good, good.” Lance didn’t bother with keeping his voice down any longer. Instead, he jumped on the bed (shoes and all) and began to bounce up and down excitedly. “Hurry up and get dressed, dude! It’s time!”

Hunk curled up in his fluffy comforter as his eyes drifted shut again. “Time for what?”

“Summertime.”

Pidge pulled on the back of Lance’s shirt, tugging him from his perch. “Don’t you dare quote High School Musical.”

“Pidge, you’re the one who showed it to me.”

“And that was a mistake.”

“Yeah, well - Hunk! Don’t fall back asleep, ya party-pooper. Sun’s shinin’!”

“No it’s not.” Hunk whined, but sat up again as requested. “What are we doing this early, anyway?”

Lance dug into his backpack and pulled out a badly drawn map. “We’re going on an adventure!”

“I swear, Lance, if you don’t stop with the movie quotes I will find every DVD you own and-”

He interrupted Pidge. “Hey, see, I wasn’t even trying to quote anything that time. You nerd.” Lance rolled up his map. “Now, help me get him out of bed.”

The two rounded on either side of Hunk’s bed and flipped the covers off.

Lance shrieked.

“Dude, where are your pants?” He cried, covering his eyes.

Pidge rolled her own again. “He’s wearing underwear, Lance. It’s not like you haven’t seen him naked, anyway.”

Hunk grumbled as he rolled out from under his covers, finally.

“Yeah, well… I know you are but what am I?” Lance stuck his tongue out.

Pidge didn’t grace that with a response. Instead, she jumped on the bed behind Hunk and shoved her phone under his face. “Get up, Oh Yellow One. If we’re gonna beat traffic, we have to leave in five.”

“Where are we going?” Hunk yawned, ambling to the bathroom.

Lance stopped his feet exasperatedly. “I already told you. Road trip!”

“But- why?”

“It’s a secret.”

Pidge tapped idly at her phone. “It’s your birthday, dude. We’re taking you to the beach. You and Lance can spend your day being burnt by U.V. rays and swallowing dirty, salty water all you want.”

“Aw, Pidge. You know I’m gonna drag you along to do all of that with us.” Lance cooed, peeking over her shoulder. “But also, we are a little behind schedule. Our first plan was to kidnap you and shove you in a truck, which would have been a lot faster.”

“Thanks for not doing that.” Hunk said behind his toothbrush. “I’d rather not pee myself on my birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hurry up!”

---

They were stuffed into Pidge’s tiny Punch Buggy and were soon holding on for dear life as she barely kept within the speed limit.

“Hunk, if we die I want you to know I love you!” Lance squealed as Pidge cut between two cars in the left lane, only to swerve in front of another as she overtook it.

“You babies. I’m barely going that fast. Besides, we have to get onto the main highway by 5 in order to really beat rush hour. So hold onto your toes!”

Hunk screamed as it looked like they were about to rear-end someone. Then, Pidge turned at the last second to an empty H.O.V. lane.

“There we go. Smooth sailing from here, probably!”

With a groan, Hunk covered his eyes, shoving his head between his knees. “Oh, no.”

“Projectile, incoming!” Lance cried, flying from the front seat to the back to give him something to throw up in.

---

Hunk did not throw up, but Lance took over as driver as soon as Pidge pulled off at the next exit. She pouted as she climbed into the back. “We were making good time.”

“Yeah, but we’d rather get their late with our lives than on time without any bones.”

“Lame.”

---

Lance, unfortunately, was just as good a driver as Pidge.

“You son of a mother- USE YOUR BLINKER!” He pushed his hand on the horn and held it for a solid five seconds.

Hunk was going to die. He was definitely going to die on this, the day of his birth.

“I swear to all that is holy in heaven… GO! The light is green!” Lance revved the engine. The car in front of him flipped them off and Lance-

“Lance, no.”

Lance hunkered down, shoulder up to his ears as he squinted at the car. Target: sighted.

“Lance, yes.”

The car took off and Lance was hot behind it in pursuit.

They hadn’t even made it back on the highway yet.

---

Hunk sighed, apologizing once again to the police officer as they made their way back to their car. Lance had his arms crossed as he sat shotgun, and Pidge was barely holding in her mirthful laugh at his expense.

Looks like it was up to the birthday boy to actually get them where they needed to go.

“You guys are ridiculous.” He sighed, clipping in his seatbelt. “I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Pidge burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she rolled around in the backseat. “Did you see his face? And the cop, and-” Her laugh evolved to breathless squeaks, and soon the other two were laughing along with her.

“Sorry, dude.” Lance nudged Hunk in the arm.

“No problem. Just remind me to never leave my balcony unlocked again, yeah?”

“Mm… I’ll see what I can do.”

---

Eventually, the other two passed out. Pidge, probably because she hadn’t gotten any sleep that night. Lance, most likely from the amount of food he’d stuffed into himself from the gas station. Seriously, a chilli dog, chilli cheese fries, a bowl of chili, three kinds of potato chips, and a slushie?

Hunk gagged thinking about it. But whatever made him happy?

He was given time to think, though, about his friends.

This was his first real semester away from his family back in Hawaii. Of course he couldn’t just drop money to buy a ticket to visit for one weekend, not when he was drowning in that much debt. But, they’d sent him well wishes through various phone calls and texts, so he knew they didn’t forget. They’d never forget.

But he knew that if he’d been left alone that weekend, he’d probably have fallen into a depression. Lance and Pidge probably knew that, too.

He needed to remember to thank them for thinking about him, later.

---

Rush hour came and went, and they passed numerous car accidents, construction workers, and hitch-hikers.

Pidge slept through most of it. Lance, however, woke almost as soon as Hunk reached a comfortable cruising speed about two miles under the speed limit.

“How’s the time?” His lanky friend yawned, curling his legs up to his chin. How he did that in such a tiny seat, Hunk would probably never know.

“We’ll be there in like an hour.” Hunk hummed, turning down the radio. “Maybe a little over. Looks like some traffic ahead.”

“Gross.”

Hunk smiled. “Yeah. You can go back to sleep though. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Nah… I feel bad making the birthday boy drive, anyway.” Lance fiddled with the radio stations, boredly rolling his eyes as they were stuck on commercial for every single channel.

“Let’s play a game. I Spy? Never Have I Ever?”

“I Spy doesn’t seem like a lot of fun when there are only cars, trees, and you know… highway stuff sitting around us. And don’t you need to drink something for Never Have I Ever?”

Lance threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Details!”

---

They ended up just singing karaoke.

Then some upbeat electronica popped on and Pidge gasped, throwing herself over the middle armrest to turn it up. “I love this song!”

“Pidge, seatbelt!” Hunk shrieked, narrowly avoiding a collision. She blew a raspberry directly into his ear before she plopped back into her seat, loudly clicking her seatbelt.

“I thought you only listened to country music.” Lance says, as if the words physically repulse him.

“Don’t make me bring up your song choices, Mister ‘Naruto Opening 7 Is In My Playlist Eight Times In A Row’.” She huffed.

Lance turned around in his seat, nose high in the air. “I’m blocking you.”

Pidge flicked him. “You love me.”

---

Their impromptu argument ended when Hunk accidentally flipped stations, and his favorite song was on.

This began the karaoke battle to end all karaoke. If they started a band, they would’ve risen to the top mere seconds after their first album dropped.

Traffic was at a stand-still, so Hunk was free to drum his hands across the dashboard. And so he did, not only hitting every single beat, but also able to find the right notes. Or, as close as he could get, on the plastic interior.

Lance was a master of air guitar. And head-banging. But the fact that he actually knew how to play the instrument made it that much more interesting to watch. Especially the way his fingers curled and flicked over the imaginary strings? It was captivating. Lance just had that kind of aura, though.

Pidge was… not as into it as the boys. But she was an amazing singer. Her voice was loud, unafraid, and boy could she hold a note. Hunk whooped every time she reached a high note, and whenever she sped through a rap, the other two went crazy.

It was a hell of a show, and Lance commented as much once they’d slumped back in their seats, voices dead and energy palpable.

“We should do this more often.”

“Only if you pay for my gas.” Pidge griped, rubbing at her throat.

---

They made it within 45 minutes instead of the assumed hour, despite the strange influx of traffic. And the beach was surprisingly empty, despite it being a weekend.

Lance just tugged a bundle of beach towels over his shoulders and raced off into the sand. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!”

Hunk and Pidge shared a look, but they followed suit. Hunk grabbed the cooler, and Pidge grabbed the umbrella and backpack.

It was only about midday, but it was the perfect time to snack and sunbathe.

---

Lance had already flipped out of his clothes, revealing his bathing suit underneath.

“You’ve been wearing that the entire time??” Pidge’s eyebrows shot up beneath her bangs as she pulled her short hair into a tiny ponytail. “Wasn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Nah, it was just like plastic boxers.”

Pidge grimaced, but decided not to comment. Instead, she pulled her bag over her shoulder and left to look for somewhere to change.

Hunk had not brought a swimsuit (since he didn’t really have prior warning). But he didn’t really mind, since he didn’t plan on swimming much anyway. He always preferred building sandcastles to riding waves, anyway.

Lance, however, was probably born for the ocean. It showed, when he dove in and reappeared like a million miles away from where he started in the span of three seconds. Hunk shot him a thumbs-up as he began to fill in a moat for his sand-tower.

There was a quiet peacefulness between them for a long while. Mostly because they couldn’t really talk while Lance was neck-deep in the water, and Hunk shoulder deep in sand. But it was good. Relaxing.

Er, rather… it was, until Pidge rushed back to Hunk on the beach, flipping the beach towel from underneath him and nearly crumbling his sandcastle.

“Woah, woah. See a ghost, Pidge?”

“We have to go now.” She shrieked, face aflame. Hunk shot up, reaching out to place a worried hand on her shoulder.

“What happened?”

Pidge mumbled something into her hands as Lance dashed to meet them, saltwater dripping from him in every direction.

“What’s going on?”

Hunk shrugged. “Something happened to Pidge.”

She made a frustrated noise and covered her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t research this.”

Lance and Hunk shot each other a frightened look. “Research what, Pidgeon?” Lance spoke up.

“This is, uh…” Pidge couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. “A nude beach. As in… full-on… penile action.”

“Oh.” The two pulled back. “Ohh…”

Pidge looked absolutely mortified, and Lance couldn’t stop himself from laughing at her misery. “Aw, Pidge! I already knew this was a nude beach!”

“You what.” Hunk deadpanned.

“Yeah, dude. This part isn’t really used, but yeah. It’s technically all a nude beach.”

Pidge shouted indignantly as she began to slap his arm with her tote bag. “You didn’t think to tell us that?”

“Ow.” Lance whined, hiding behind Hunk, who had honestly given up on them already. “Sorry, Piggy Wiggy. I forgot.”

“Tell that to my retinas. I’ll never unsee that taint.”

Hunk made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat.

---

Despite the… slight disruption, the trio did end up having the time of their lives. Lance was 100% correct when he said that the part of the beach they were on wasn’t used. Throughout the entire five or so hours they loitered around, they saw maybe five other people tops.

Hunk and Pidge joined forces to create the grandaddy of all sandcastles. Complete with a miniature dragon that circled a tower. Pidge mostly did the structural engineering, but Hunk did the design.

Once Lance had had enough of tiny fish swimming up his trunks, he let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

“Remind me to bring you guys in when Keith needs help with his art projects. This is amazing.”

Hunk grinned. “Thanks. I’m probably never gonna get sand from under my nails, though.”

Pidge put the finishing touch on the bridge over their moat and stood with a victorious dusting off of her hands. “Worth it.”

It truly was, though. Four identical towers (with one dragon) circled a large castle that tapered at the top. The moat took most of the eye, and was in a flowing, intricate design that probably should have been researched by professionals with how smoothly it stuck together.

“Looks like a spaceship, though.”

“A space-castle.” Hunk amended. “Sounds like a dream to me.”

Pidge turned up her nose. “Sounds like a hassle to clean. Who knows what kind of gunk gets stuck in a “space-castle” engine. And where does the waste go?”

“Hush, hush.” Lance checked an imaginary watch on his wrist. “We have to get going, so pack up your bags, little children. We’re already gonna get stuck in traffic.”

Pidge snapped a picture of their piece of art, and Lance instantly struck a pose behind it. Then, she took a few more of all three of them together, if only for Lance to post on his social media.

“Rest in pieces, space-sandcastle.” Pidge mourned, before shoving her foot directly through the middle of it. Hunk clutched his heart dramatically, and Lance clapped his hands together, holding them up to his mouth.

“It lived well.”

“May it find peace.”

---

“Did you have fun, though? Birthday boy? Light of my life? Hunky-hunkster?”

Hunk grinned, stretching his arms above his head before he closed the car door. “I did. A lot.”

Lance let out a cheer that Pidge weakly mimicked from her sprawled out position. She’d taken shotgun this time, and her feet were smudging the windshield as she spread them across the dashboard.

“I really appreciate it, you guys.” Hunk shyly spoke up, “I know we didn’t do much but… It means a lot that you spent all day with me.”

“Ohoh, Hunk… don’t think this is the end of it. We have a whole dinner-show combo planned out!” Lance reached up to hook his arm around Hunk’s shoulders. “We may have finagled the dining hall for private use for an hour or so.”

“You did not.”

“Never question what Pidge can achieve.” Lance said sagely, and Pidge shrugged as she nodded along with him. Hunk was inclined to agree.

“Wait, so…”

“Yep! Prepare your butt, birthday boy. The activities have only just begun!” Lance dropped back into his seat. “So, let’s hit the road! I convinced Shiro to put on a malo and do that dance you taught us a while ago.”

Hunk probably would have choked if he’d been drinking something.

“There is no way. Shiro??”

Lance grinned, and Pidge snickered at him.

“Guess you’ll just have to see, yeah?”

Hunk shook his head. “I have the most amazing friends in the world.” Seriously. Hunk probably would have started to cry, if he wasn’t trying to focus on the road.

His two best friends shared a meaningful look, and they winked.

“And don’t you forget it!”

Mission accomplished.

#hunk #lance #pidge #voltron #garrison trio #voltron legendary defender #vld #happy birthday #my favorite paladin <3 #jam writes #long post

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lucyariablog · 6 years

Text

The Murky World of Influencer Marketing: How Non-Disclosure Can Hurt Your Brand

Ever since marketers cottoned on to the potential for social media to drive influential word-of-mouth brand recommendations, they’ve tried to either foster or fake these discussions.

“I heartily endorse this event or product,” says a monotone Krusty the Clown in a snippet of video used to advertise everything from cough syrup to atomic particle accelerators. Krusty’s cut-and-paste approach to celebrity endorsement might be a long-running gag on The Simpsons, but the rise of influencer marketing in social media may mean the joke is getting just a little too close to reality.

Last year, Scott Disick of Keeping Up with the Kardashians fame (don’t worry, I didn’t know either) accidentally revealed to his Instagram audience just how little effort he puts in to his well-paid endorsements by cutting and pasting a little more than he intended:

“Here you go, at 4pm est, write the below: ‘Keeping up with the summer workout routine with my morning @booteauk protein shake!”

Leaving aside the carelessness with which Disick carries out his sponsored activities – I mean, he had one job to do – don’t let it escape your notice that the brand also scripted the post for him. I like to imagine those 12 unremarkable words were the result of a lengthy copywriting process of agency drafts and stakeholder approvals where no one – even Disick himself – noticed that he’s supposedly preparing his morning protein shake at 4 in the afternoon. And, while Disick may have unwittingly disclosed the brand relationship, the intended text contains no such disclosure. The whole exercise is about as authentic and convincing as the president’s hair.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: Social Media Mistakes: What Brands Should Do to Avoid Epic Fails

Whom do you trust?

It’s not surprising that influencer marketing is a popular way for marketers to get their message out. When it comes to trusted sources of information, a word-of-mouth recommendation always ranks highly.

Always a fun time on the @AGT set! Another amazing episode of #JudgeCuts is on tonight at 8/7c! #DontMissIt

A post shared by Heidi Klum (@heidiklum) on Aug 1, 2017 at 11:07am PDT

Even if Dunkin Donuts is a sponsor of America’s Got Talent, should #ad disclosures extend to related social media updates like this? (We think it should.)

We’re also more likely to trust those we admire — the famous, the noteworthy, or the highly successful people who represent qualities and values we might aspire to. It’s why every new book comes with recommendations on the jacket from authors we’ve read, why sports fans dress like sports players, and why rock fans dress like rock stars.

These influencers don’t always have to be mega-stars either, but the right influencer with a big enough audience within the right niche can have a massive impact.

Influencers don’t have to be mega-stars. The right influencer in the right niche can have big impact. @Kimota Click To Tweet

According to the 2017 Edelman Trust Barometer, an annual global survey of trust and credibility, 55% of respondents say, “Individuals are more believable than institutions, and a company’s social media page is more believable than advertising.”

55% of respondents say a #socialmedia page is more believable than ads via @EdelmanPR survey. Click To Tweet

Huzzah! If consumers are skeptical toward brands talking about themselves, let’s fire up the social media machine and find ways to get more trusted and relatable individuals talking about us instead! Let’s take the reasons they don’t trust our own marketing – too scripted and rehearsed, too self-serving and out of touch, too fake – and carry them over into the word-of-mouth space until we sap these trusted individuals of any credibility as well!

OK, I’m sure that last bit isn’t what marketers intend when designing their influencer strategies, but that will be the result if they continue the way they’re going.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The Democratization of Distrust Is Our Biggest Opportunity

When is a social media post an ad?

Some social media influencers, particularly on Instagram, command highly active audiences numbering in the millions. No wonder some brands are prepared to fork out tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars for a single product-friendly social media endorsement. And some are eager to make these paid endorsements appear as naturally occurring word-of-mouth recommendations … anything but a far less trusted advertisement.

shopping

A post shared by Scott Disick (@letthelordbewithyou) on Jul 28, 2017 at 1:28pm PDT

(Oh, and by the way, this includes giving influencers free stuff or any other contra arrangements loophole-seeking marketers might dream up.)

Having had a few conversations over the years with marketers who use similar tactics, I know their defense is usually that the audience isn’t stupid – that it’s easy to detect paid influencer campaigns – so it’s all cool, really, and stop trying to overthink it.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: Ads Are Killing the Web: Are You Part of the Problem?

Are influencers’ audiences ignorant?

When George Clooney visits another stunningly luxurious location and makes a big scene about opting for the pod coffee, we know it’s a paid fiction because we’re in the ad break waiting for the return of our regularly scheduled program. We don’t even need to believe Clooney drinks pod coffee at home for the associations of luxury and charm to infuse our perceptions of the brand. It’s a statement, not necessarily a literal truth. It’s certainly not word of mouth.

So far, so marketing 101.

However, when Margot Robbie posted photos to Instagram of herself in stylish Wellingtons at the Glastonbury Festival (tagging the brand name), her posts lacked the context of a commercial break. While Robbie originally included the hashtag #ad in the post, some eagle-eyed fans spotted that it was deleted soon after and replaced with #glasto. Understandably, her followers were confused; was the original hashtag a mistake or was this really a paid post trying not to be?

Eagle-eyed fans spotted @MargotRobbie’s tweet #ad was replaced by #glasto. Was it a paid post, asks @Kimota. Click To Tweet

Image source

Was it an ad or wasn’t it? People really wanted to know, as this would change how they viewed the content: word of mouth or paid promotion? And the fact that a clear disclosure matters to them proves they do consider one more valuable and trustworthy than the other, which is exactly why some marketers would rather smudge over the whole disclosure thing.

Of course the audience cares about disclosure. If I began name-dropping various social media and content marketing tools into my columns and tweets you’d want to know if I genuinely used the products or if I was just paid to pretend I did. Right? Sorta crucial information when assessing the validity of a recommendation.

Yet, a recent study found that a staggering 93% of sponsored content posted by A-list influencers on Instagram did not adequately disclose the paid brand relationship.

Over 90% of top celebrity #socialmedia endorsements violate @FTC regulations via @mediakix. Click To Tweet

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 9 Strategies for Using Customer Testimonials in Your Content

Can marketing influencers get in legal trouble?

In the United States, the Federal Trade Commission has begun cracking down on inadequately disclosed influencer marketing on social media – particularly Instagram. Earlier this year, the FTC sent warning letters to more than 90 influencers and marketers.

The @FTC reprimanded 90 #socialmedia influencers for inadequate disclosure, says @Kimota. Click To Tweet

There really is no excuse for ignorance either. Did anyone really think there wouldn’t be rules about this stuff? The FTC series of endorsement guides includes an extremely helpful section on social media. Naturally, if you live outside of the United States you should check whether there are any local guidelines or restrictions. But if you follow the FTC guide, you’re unlikely to go too wrong.

If you follow the @FTC guide for #socialmedia, you’re unlikely to go too wrong. @Kimota #influencermarketing Click To Tweet

It’s worth noting that the FTC doesn’t mandate any specific wording or a single method of disclosure as long as the disclosure is clear. And that means:

NOT simply thanking or name-checking the brand

NOT using vague tags like #partner or #sp (would the average person know what they mean anyway?)

… and definitely NOT a self-serving assumption that the audience is “smart enough to work it out for themselves”

It’s up to you whether you tag posts with #sponsored or #promotion or something equally unambiguous; however, in most cases, three characters are probably all you need: #ad.

Three characters are all you need to clearly disclose paid sponsorships: #ad. @Kimota Click To Tweet

But don’t think you can hide the disclosure in a forest of other hashtags and still be compliant. The same goes when the disclosure is hidden behind a link or “more” button, as can happen on Instagram or Facebook. Everyone who sees the post – even a truncated version – should see the disclosure, not just those who click.

This is where some content marketers could come unstuck. Your native advertising or sponsored article might carry a clear disclosure but if the related social media doesn’t you could still be in breach. Anyway, the FTC also has a detailed guide to native advertising that spells out a number of scenarios and how disclosures should be handled.

Sadly, I suspect some of those marketers who most need to understand and abide by these rules are the ones most likely to ignore them. Clearly disclosing influencer posts as paid sponsorships or ads sort of undermines why they’re doing this in the first place.

But instead of tapping into the greater trust created by word of mouth, their approach is actually eroding trust in social media even further.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

An 8-Step Process to Use Influencers to Elevate Your Brand

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A version of this article originally appeared in the November issue of CCO magazine. Subscribe for your free print copy today.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post The Murky World of Influencer Marketing: How Non-Disclosure Can Hurt Your Brand appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

from http://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2017/12/influencer-marketing-non-disclosure/

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gabrielcollignon · 6 years