📖 for what my muse would write about yours in their diary.
❝ i spent the day trailing mason around like some type of love sick puppy dog. i swear, he’s about to think i’m obsessed with him or in love with him or some other type of heteronormative male-ego bullshit. like, hello!! i want to shoot with you, learn from you, you’re one of the best around. i don’t want to suck your dick!! i mean.. i wouldn’t mind it, i’ve nothing against it, but something gives me the idea that he’s more into… quiet girls. or maybe quiet guys. regardless he’s too brooding for me; all fake deep and pensive like he’s trying to solve the riddle of the world. that might be a photographer thing though… ❞
📷 for what my muse would say to the paparazzi about yours.
❝ mason tyler?? he’s great. good photographer, decent guy. we’ve worked together a few times, i can’t say anything bad about him. he works with my parents sometimes, photographing for fundraisers, which is where we met, and yeah.. nice guy. i don’t have any deep dark hidden secrets about him if that’s what you’re looking for. ❞
📨 for a text my muse would send to yours.
[ 3:12PM ] it’s your fave model!! need assistance on a shoot today?? and i’m not getting you coffee—- i’m talking real camera shit here mason!! make me the next mario testino!! [ 3:14PM ] don’t ignore me. we’re friends. friends don’t ignore friends. friends do tell one another when there’s leafy greens stuck in their teeth, and laugh when they fall down, but they don’t ignore one another. unless you were raised by wolves. in which case, mowgli, my apologies. send my regards to baloo.