#top photo Nikon

[photozoi]

Smol Birb, having recently survived its first bath, celebrates in the honeysuckle.

[israelcastillophoto]

Views from the Top of the Rock….

[waldgeister]

Going sideways - German Woodlands - July 2k23 https://www.deviantart.com/1darkstar1

[ethanrobsonphotographer]

[thatrickmcginnis]

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS Toronto 1990

John Flansburgh and John Linnell - known as "the Johns" or "the Two Johns" (a joke only '80s alt-rock nerds will still get) - met in high school in Massachusetts but formed They Might Be Giants in 1981, when they moved into the same apartment building in Brooklyn after attending different colleges. They built up a following playing clubs in the NYC area, a duo playing accordion, saxophone and guitar backed by a drum machine or taped backing tracks. They had just emerged from what we used to call the indie circuit and released their third album, Flood, on Elektra Records in 1990, when I was assigned to photograph them for the cover of NOW, the big alt-weekly in the city.

They Might Be Giants had proved to be deft hands at self-marketing during their years as an indie acts, putting on a theatrical stage show in NY clubs and running Dial-A-Song on an answering machine starting in 1985. Fans could call a number (718-387–6962) and hear demos or incomplete songs from Flansburgh and Linnell. More than a gimmick, it helped establish the band's identity as creative but unpretentious, produced a compilation album and was still in service until 2008 when they had to retire it and the number. (It was revived in 2015 as a toll-free number, a website and radio network.) The band have written themes for TV shows like Malcolm in the Middle, songs for musicals and won Grammys for their children's albums.

It was still early in my time at NOW magazine when I got the assignment to photograph They Might Be Giants for a cover story, which meant both colour slide and black and white. I have no memory at all of where these photos were taken - probably a hotel room downtown - but I know I brought my single Metz flash on a light stand shooting into an umbrella, and used my Nikon F3. NOW covers were shot to a rigorous formula at this time - the subject squeezed into at most two-thirds of a vertical frame with space at one side and the top for the logo and cover type. It was restrictive and tiresome, but we had just innovated slightly by convincing the paper to drop their unofficial (and baffling) ban on white backgrounds.

I had obviously found the white wall in whatever space where this shoot took place, and got the band to tuck themselves into my frame. Flansburgh and Linnell were more than cooperative - they seemed to sense what I needed to convey the quirky energy of the band, and provided me with more than enough material for the cover layout - a big deal since I still felt very much on probation at NOW at the time. This is the first time these photos have been published since the story ran almost 35 years ago.

[clannfearrunt]

what really, really doesn't translate through photos is how strange the lighting during an eclipse actually is. Finally figured out what it is though - the lighting at like maybe 70~80%ish coverage is remarkably similar to the type of lighting produced by shitty old white LEDs on the brink of death. That's an extremely indoors, artificial kind of lighting, but it happens outside, which makes it really surreal.

RIGHT before totality, the lighting shifted again to be extremely similar to what it looks like when you're wearing shitty sunglasses. You can tell that the color of the light is still white, but now there's a weird dark overlay on top of your entire field of vision. I was distracted trying to look at a bee when it hit, and in the moment I tried to take off a pair of sunglasses I was not wearing so that I could see the bee better. And then I remembered that I'm not fucking wearing sunglasses, and it was because of the eclipse.

During totality it was like actual nighttime, right after sundown where you can still see some of the light from the sun right under the horizon, except without any of the reddish hues you get out of a real sunset + obviously the light is coming from above still. I can't emphasize enough, the hue of the light remains white the entire time. It really is like someone is just dimming the artificial white lights in an interior space. So so cool. I don't know why both my phone camera and nikon adds a yellowish tint to all of these photos.

[miepstheguineapig]

If you ever feel like taking a selfie with your guinea pig but don’t want to show your face, this is the perfect solution! ✨️

I call these the "piggy-on-shoulder" photos. All you need to do is put on a cute top, grab one of your guinea pigs, and that's it. If you’re feeling fancy, you can curl your hair or add a nice hair accessory. 📷

Most of the time, I use my phone as a remote for my camera. With most modern cameras, you can connect your DSLR to your phone, and with an app, you can control the settings, focus, and shutter release button.

For Nikon (the camera brand I use), you can use the Nikon WMU app or Nikon SnapBridge.

If you don’t have this option and need to take the photo on your own, you can still take a photo like this:

✨ Set the focus manually where you plan to stand. You can use a stand-in prop like a chair or broom to set the focus.

✨ Set up your camera on a timer to take multiple photos at once.

✨ Press the shutter release button and RUN to the place where you’ve set the focus, then remove your stand-in object and pose.

This method is a little more time-consuming and not always accurate in terms of focus. So, I’d recommend using an app if you can or asking someone to help you. 🤩

For camera settings, I recommend a shutter speed of at least 1/250. Faster is always better, as guinea pigs tend to move quite a bit, even if they’re on your shoulder. Adjust your other settings accordingly.

If you’d like a blurry background for a dreamy look, aim for an aperture of f/2.8 or even wider. Although this also depends on which lens you’re using, the distance between your camera and the subject, and the distance between your subject and the background. 😊

If you have any questions, feel free to drop them below! 👇

[wasawattpadkid]

Masquerade

Summary: Tonight's prom night at Woodsboro high and the theme is masquerade ball.

Pairing: Billy Loomis x fem!reader

Warnings: ⚠️18+ smut⚠️ fingering fem!receiving, dirty talk, exhibitionism, biting, masks, foul language, dubious consent,

You were excited for prom. Sydney was your date because you didn't want her going alone. Her and Billy had broke up just a week before the event. It was a shitty thing to do even for Billy. The theme was Masquerade ball. Your red rhinestone mask matched the dress your friends helped pick out. Tatum gasped the moment she saw the dress hanging in the shop window. She convinced you the over the shoulder red and white ombre dress would look good with your skin tone. Sydney's black and red dress matched yours to a T.

"Well look at you two!" Stu clapped as you and Sydney posed. "Babe take a picture of me and the girls." Tatum handed him the Nikon camera as she ran towards you both. "Say, "we're getting laid tonight!"" You laughed as he snapped a few photos. "I'm getting drunk, not laid." Sydney said finishing off the glass of wine she stole from Stu's fridge. "I guess that means I'll be the designated driver then." You were the only one that hadn't had a single drink yet. "Not tonight you won't." Tatum kissed her boyfriend before finishing his sentence. "Stu got a limo for us. We are about to be the hottest bitches at Woodsboro high."

Stu jumped out once the limo pulled in front of the building. "Ladies." He held out his hand helping each one of you out. "How the mask look?" He asked pointing to his face. The mask was devil themed having little horns sprouting at the top. Tatum's matched his being more feminine in nature. "I think it looks badass." He stuck his tounge out in celebration. "Y/n can you help me tie mine?" Sydney asked holding up the accessory to her face. "Yeah, hold up your hair for me." Tatum started to walk with Stu telling you she'd meet you inside. "That isn't too tight is it?" She shook her head. "No, it's fine. Are you ready?" Sydney asked picking up on your nerves.

"I am if you are. Let's go have fun." You held her hand as you walked in. The gymnasium was filled with students just standing around talking. There was no way you'd find Tatum and Stu before the night was over. "Jesus!" Sydney exclaimed as someone ran into her. "Are you okay?" You grabbed her arm pulling her upright. "I'm trying to be optimistic." She said through gritted teeth. "Let's just get something to drink and sit down for a bit."

"Sydney?" A girl said running up to you both. "It's Judy! From drama class?" Sydney squinted thinking. "Oh my gosh Judy! I could hardly tell who you were with that mask." Sydney looked over at you having no clue who Judy from drama class was. "You should come over to our table. Randy said he's been meaning to talk to you." Your friend looked at you not knowing what to say. "Go ahead I'm going to go to the bathroom. Powder my nose." You joked. Judy and Sydney went off leaving you alone at the table in the corner. It's where you knew you'd end up anyways.

"It's not as fun as the movies said it'd be." The man spoke taking a seat next to you. "No it's not- Billy!" He was enemy number one right now after what he did to Sydney. The audacity to even show up was insane. "I thought these masks were supposed to hide your identity?" His hair was slicked back leaving the mask on full display. "They are but you had to pick the one that made you look like the phantom of the opera." You scoffed playing with the fabric of your dress. "It's kinkier than the cheap little plastic ones they gave out." His hand sat on top of your thigh underneath the table.

"Billy you shouldn't be here at all let alone talking to me. What you did to Syd was cruel." He smiled like you said something funny. "Would you rather me cheat on her?" He spoke dangerously close to your ear. The music was loud forcing the proximity between the two of you. "What do you mean?" You asked becoming paranoid of someone catching you. "I mean I left her for you." You pulled back looking at him in shock. He rolled his neck popping the bones loudly. "For me? In what world would I want to get with you?" He once again scooted closer dragging a finger down your arm.

You swallowed dryly as his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "Don't play dumb now. I've seen the way you look at me." Your eyes darted to the floor knowing you were guilty. "See. I'm right." His voice was intoxicating and if this continued you weren't sure what would happen. "So? That doesn't mean I want to sleep with you." You snapped as his hand slowly dragged the fabric of your dress upwards. "That's true but I'm sure you want me to help take care of the ache between your legs. The one that's got your hips moving ever so slowly trying to get friction, am I right?" You shook your head.

"No." His hand made contact with your bare thigh making you sit up straight. "We can't." You said as your tried to push the dress back down. "Relax. No one is paying attention to us." You looked around trying to find just one pair of wandering eyes. His hand slid between your thighs causing your breath to catch in your throat. "Remind me to thank the prom committee for the tablecloths. It's a nice touch." His fingers trailed softly up and down your underwear driving you crazier than you already were. "You're a prick. Sydney should have dumped your ass." He pinched the sensitive skin on your inner thigh causing you yelp in pain. "Don't be rude." You looked around praying the music drowned you out. "It's unbecoming."

His fingers started to draw circles over your clothed clit. "You don't have to fight me Y/n, I've already won." Billy's arrogance only made you want him more. "Fuck you. You haven't won anything." He raised his eyebrows with surprise. You were always sexier when you were mad. "Oh really?" He whispered. "In that case get up and walk away." You stayed still letting his fingers continue their motion. "Not so strong after all huh?" You tried to control you breathing as he applied more pressure to your cunt. His hand made it's way back to his lap as he adjusted himself in a more comfortable position. "I want you to slide off your panties and hand them to me." You opened your mouth to protest but he spoke once more.

"No questions. Hand them to me and you'll get them back once we're done here." You looked at the masked man making sure he was serious. His eyes were sharp looking at you like a predator would his prey. Slowly not to make much noise you slid the fabric over your thighs being careful not to catch them on your heels. "Atta girl." He said as he put them in his pocket. His hand found it's way back between your thighs. His index finger ghosted over your clit making you tremble with anticipation. "You look beautiful tonight." He spoke looking at the way your chest heaved with every word he said. "Just shut up and help me."

His hand stopped moving. "That was rude. I think it'd be far more embarrassing for you if I taught you manners in front of everyone don't you think?" You weren't sure what that entailed but you didn't want to find out. "Besides I know you love when I talk you through it. I honestly think with a little more time I could probably made you cum with just my words." You squeezed your thighs around his hand silently begging for friction.

"But time is what we don't have." He whispered before pulling away leaving his hand where it was. "Where's Sydney?" Stu asked looking at you with a grin. Billy began swirling his fingers around your clit enjoying watching you squirm under pressure. "Uhm- She went off to talk to Randy." Stu nodded looking at Billy for a second. "So what are you doing over here with her?" Your hips jerked just slightly needing more pressure. "Just checking up on her. Why don't you go check up on your girlfriend?" Billy hinted and Stu looked between the both of you. "I'll see you after awhile Y/n."

The man walked away leaving you and Billy alone once more. "You did very good." He praised as his fingers slipped down towards your entrance. Slowly he pushed two fingers in making your head lull back. A moan fell upon his ears only and the fact you made those noises for him excited him even further. "I know, I know." He whispered as his fingers sped up. "Billy..." You grabbed his wrist squeezing it so hard it was sure to leave a bruise. He removed his fingers making you whine at the loss. "I want you to move your hips like just you were earlier." Billy said as his two fingers rested right over your clit. You were unsure of yourself as you started to move your hips. "That's it." You moaned as you grinded against his hand.

Your muscles tightened as a pressure within you began to build. "Billy.. I-" The words were slurred barley coming out as English. "I know baby. Keep moving those pretty hips of yours." You held his hand in place as your arousal soaked your thighs. "Are you going to cum? You've already made such a mess it'd be a waste if you didn't finish." It sounded like a threat but he had no intention of stopping your beautiful movements. You bit your lip trying to stop the noises he so desperately wanted to hear. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cried quietly hiding your head on his shoulder. You bit down needing something to prevent you from screaming. "Shit!" Billy cursed in pain. Your legs shook and your whole body seemed to give out all at once.

Billy held you as you fought to catch your breath. "Y/n?" Sydney asked stumbling upon your frail state. "She's wasted. You shouldn't leave her alone." Billy accused his ex girlfriend of wrong doing. "You're right I shouldn't have. Creeps like you take advantage." You blinked trying to come down from your high. "I'm okay I just need some air." You tried to stand on shaky knees almost collapsing. Billy leaned down whispering once again. "Just wait a second." Sydney eyed her ex with nothing but pure hatred. "Go find Tatum I'll walk her outside." Billy said standing up carefully pulling you up with him. You fixed your dress the best you could. The wrinkles would be obvious if it wasn't so dark.

"How about you go find Tatum and I'll walk her out." Sydney argued to Billy's disappointment. "I saw her go into the bathroom I can't really get her there can I?" He seethed trying his best to keep the peace. "Y/n if he tries anything hit him in the balls." You managed a laugh finally being able to breathe. Sydney took off quickly to tell Tatum it was time to go. "This never happened." You said as he walked you to the doors. "It definitely did." He quipped as the fresh air hit your face. "These are yours I believe." He pulled out your panties displaying them for the world to see. You quickly snatched them bunching them up into your hand. "I hate you and I hate prom." You muttered more than disappointed in yourself. Billy dusted off his vest fixing the mask on his face. "You know, I'm just beginning to like it."

[istandonsnowpiles]

My Photography in 2024 by the numbers

📸 Total photos taken

In 2024, I took 18,277 photos, that's about 50 photos a day!

In 2023, I took 23,721 photos. So I took 5,444 fewer photos this year than last year.

Photos taken this year make up 27% of my photography archive, which is 65,814 photos total.

💽 Raw Photo Storage

Photos taken this year take up 677GB.

That's about $9.30 of storage at current hard drive prices (per diskprices.com, $13.75/TB)

In 2023, photos took up 914GB of storage, so we're down 237GB from last year.

Photos taken this year make up 25% of my archive storage, 2.64TB.

💾 Keepers

In 2024, I exported and posted 1,129 photos, about 4.25 photos a day.

In 2023, I exported and posted 1,600 photos, about 4.4 photos a day. So, while I exported 471 fewer photos (about 30% fewer), I maintained my usual posting rate.

Exported photos from 2024 take up about 11GB on top of the 677GB above. JPEGs are far smaller than raws!

🪩 Klout

Flickr

My photos received about 616,000 views, 18,500 likes, and were featured on Flickr's Explore page 19 times. That's up 130,000 views and 4,800 likes from 2023. My most popular photo was The Sears Tower

Tumblr

All but one of my top 10 posts of the year were photos, with I think we need to put more lines up there topping the list at about 1,800 notes.

My top photography post is still my 8 minute long exposure from Lake Placid from 2022, which topped 115,000 notes this year. None of my posts from this year broke into the top 10 posts of this blog by notes.

Electric Phallus Friday remains a thing every week. No, I do not run the daily blog for it. Tho, I bet I know who does. Thank you.

Google Maps

If you're looking at places around DC, or places I have travelled, on Google Maps you might spot some of my photos. My photos have 10.8 million views on Google Maps, with Kenilworth Park and Pudgie's Pizza in Corning NY both breaking a million views each.

IRL

My photo Alone at the Reflecting Pool was a winner in the 2024 Exposed DC photography contest and will be featured in The DC Public Library's People's Archive soon.

⚙️ Gear

Cameras

In 2024, I used at least 10 cameras*:

Fujifilm X-T2 (248 edited photos)

Fujifilm X-E1 - Full Spectrum Converted (99 edited photos)

Fujifilm X-H1 (56 edited photos)

Fujifilm X-T5 & Full Spectrum Converted X-T5 (1,478 edited photos)

Film Cameras, mostly Nikon F3 (83 photos)

Panasonic LX100II (2 edited photos)

Panasonic S5 II (60 edited photos)

Panasonic GX85 - 590nm Infrared Converted (145 edited photos)

Sigma DP2 Quattro (45 edited photos)

Sony RX100 VII (35 edited photos)

This year I upgraded by trusty Fujifilm X-T2 to an X-T5. I had gotten the Fujifilm X-H1, which has the same sensor as the X-T2 (which I love), but with IBIS. An X-T2 with IBIS would be my ideal camera if it existed, but it doesn't, and the X-H1 handling is so different that I didn't enjoy it. I ended up selling the X-H1 and handing down the X-T2 to @dykedotexe.

This year I rented the Panasonic S5 II and Sony RX100 VII, both of which are fine cameras that I probably wouldn't rent again. I would love a high resolution Panasonic S5 body, maybe at CES?

Lenses

For full data, see the Read More

Top used lenses:

Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4

Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8

Fujifilm 56mm f/1.2

Viltrox 27mm f/1.2

Fujifilm 18mm f/1.4

The only surprising entry here is the 16-55mm. It's a standard zoom and the lens I've had for the longest. So, it's certainly my Old Faithful lens. However, I don't think I realized how much I was using it.

My most common lens combos are:

Fujifilm 18 & 33 - I travel with this setup frequently. They're both nearly perfect lenses I feel very comfortable using. Plus, they're fairly small.

Viltrox 27 & Fujifilm 56 - I tend to like longer lenses more than wider, and these two lenses are probably my favorite. So, you'll catch me with this a lot. Tho, it's a heavy setup.

Fujifilm 16-55mm - if I'm gonna be on a tripod or unsure of what to bring, this is the lens. It's big, heavy, and slow compared to all my primes, but I know it'll work. Fujifilm recently released a version 2 of this lens that I might need to pick up based on these numbers!

*in this section, edited photo counts are taken from Lightroom, a difference source than the Keepers section above. The numbers in the two sections are not comparable. Edited photos may not have been exported and posted.

🙄 To Improve in 2025

In 2024, my projects in Lightroom rarely got cleaned up. I still have imports from March that I need to curate and edit. 7,400 photos (40% of what I shot this year) sit in my Lightroom unedited.

This year, I'd like to curate my photos before editing them, separating out the keepers & removing photos I don't want to edit. Of course, they'll all be in the archive still. But, I think this would help wrap up projects rather than letting them sit around forever.

Thanks for all your support in 2024. I'm working on improving all kinds of things in 2025. I'm currently working on my posting system, which should bring some cool things when I wrap up.

Lens usage data

Viltrox 13mm f/1.4 (23 edited photos)

Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 (313 edited photos)

Fujifilm 10-24mm f/4 (41 edited photos)

Fujifilm 18mm f/1.4 (167 edited photos)

@dykedotexe's Fujifilm 23mm f/2 (17 edited photos)

Panasonic G 25mm f/1.7 (145 edited photos)

Viltrox 27mm f/1.2 (179 edited photos)

Sigma DP2 Quattro - 30mm f/2.8 (45 edited photos)

Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 (556 edited photos)

Sigma 50mm f/2 - L Mount (60 edited photos)

Zeiss Planar T* 50mm f/1.4 - F Mount (83 photos)

Fujifilm 50mm f/2 (35 edited photos)

Fujifilm 56mm f/1.2 (194 edited photos)

Fujifilm 50-140mm f/2.8 (28 edited photos)

Viltrox 75mm f/1.2 (61 edited photos)

Fujifilm 70-300mm f/4-5.6 (157 edited photos)

[3terna15unshin3]

time, curious time

1 of 6 ★ 6433 words

masterlist — next

— warnings: alcohol consumption, recreational drug use

“This area’s too dry. Grass looks like hay. It’ll look rubbish to set all the mic stands on it,” You argue.

Matty sighs in defeat. “You never like my ideas,” he whines sarcastically, rolling his eyes in the process.

Your elbow juts into his side, making him groan and then laugh. It’s your turn for an eye roll.

“Do you want my help or not?” you challenge. “I don’t have much experience with music videos, to be fair, so if you'd rather empty your pockets and hire someone professional—”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up. Let’s keep moving,” he interrupts.

You both continue on your path, scoping out locations for a video that the boys want to film later in the week. There are plenty of spots Matty suggests, stopping repeatedly to ask you to capture a certain frame. Though, as he had complained, none of them have been up to your standards. 

By now, you’re used to his constantly fleeting and sometimes messy creativity. You find comfort in it, actually, and feel the most empowered in your own strength as an artist when Matty’s there. Your camera seems the strongest in your hands when it’s pointed at him.

He nudges you to point out one last possible shot. The trees hang hauntingly low and its branches are frail, almost skimming the tops of your heads. Your feed tread over the now slightly greener grass as you come closer and look around in awe. Matty’s right, for one of the few times today.

“Now we’re talking,” you whisper in satisfaction, raising your Nikon to your eye out of instinct.

You back away slightly to get him in frame. From behind, the last hour of daylight shines through the kinks of Matty’s hair, backlighting him. It accentuates the slope of his nose as he turns to the side and looks up at the tree above him. His side profile is one of your favourite things about photographing Matty. It’s strong, but gentle.

He glances back at you after hearing a few clicks of the camera’s shutter. The sun that lights his silhouette contrastingly shines directly onto your face—since you face him—painting an orange glow across your skin.

There’s something that makes you feel like he’s staring. And you’re right, because he is, but it’s a stare that feels good. Not exposing, or perceptive in a way that usually made your heart drop. You almost want to look behind you to see if maybe he was looking at something else.

It’s sort of how he always looks at you, though. Maybe that’s how he looks at everyone, you think, but part of you hopes it wasn’t. That you were an exception. Something outstanding. 

You gasp when Matty suddenly lunges to steal your camera from your grip.

“Gimme this for a sec,” he mumbles. He’s lucky it isn’t hung around your neck as it usually was.

Embarrassment immediately creeps up your neck as he points it at you. You habitually block his view of your face with your hands, and insist, “Stop it!”

“The lighting’s nice!” Matty protests, pushing your hands away.

You replace them quickly to prevent any photo opportunities. “I don’t have space on my memory card for you to fool around, Healy.”

He rolls his eyes, turning the lens back onto himself to take a horrendously close-up picture of his own face. You giggle at the way his wrinkled skin was on display from the weird expression he pulled and the odd angle he held your camera at.

“This is literally our last location. Relax,” Matty points out.

Then, a bird tweets aggressively behind you, so you turn around to look for the culprit. Your eyes widen when it catches you off guard and squawks again, your sight flickering around the sky to try and find it. 

“God, what was that?” you mumble, but when you face Matty again, he has your camera held up. A flash and click tells you that he sneaks a picture.

“Seriously, Matty,” You say after catching him, and his smile falters. The thought of him capturing you candidly makes your stomach flip with anxiety, and he knows that. Since he’s aware, he hands your camera over, in case he’d pushed a bit too far.

It’s the way you’ve been since he can remember; always groaning and uncomfortable to be in a group photo at school or denying his requests to pose for his camera every once in a while.

It grows frustrating sometimes, since it’s hard for him to grasp what you could possibly be insecure about. And, most of the thousands of pictures from the years you’ve grown up together showed everyone else’s faces and not yours, which made him even angrier. But that’s how you wanted them, after all.

This attribute of yours is one of the things most different about you and Matty. He loves having eyes on him—craves it, even. Wants to be seen and understood. But you're an observer, on the other hand. The world is fascinating to you, lighting your urge to preserve and savour its meticulosity. It explains your addiction to capturing it all with a camera. 

The difference makes you two a great team. Though you regret your commitments in moments like these.

“Let’s go before we get shat on by that bird,” you snicker, lighting the mood back up and giving Matty a shove. He stumbles over with a chuckle and the two of you bee-line for where his car was parked. 

By the time he’s arrived outside your building, the sun has set. You yawn after a fairly long day, walking in with Matty and dreading the four flights of stairs you’re about to climb together. The lift in your building is under maintenance and has been for the past few weeks, so you’re used to it. But that doesn’t stop Matty from complaining.

“What maintenance could they still possibly be doing on that fucking lift?!” he puffs as you tackle the first flight.

“I’d rather take the stairs than plummet to my death in a dodgy lift,” you add. 

The second floor approaches. Matty trails a couple of steps behind you and is already audibly out of breath.

“Agree to disagree, I guess.”

You finally reach your level and walk side by side over the creaky floor of the corridor. There’s still quite a way to travel until your flat nears.

“I feel like you can’t really complain about the stairs when you and the guys only live on the second floor. That’s half the amount we need to get to ours,” you point out, fishing your keys out of your pocket as the flat numbers grow closer to your own.

“And what do I do every time we arrive? Walk you up to your flat! Up four and then back down two!” he exclaims. “I’ll complain as much as I’d like.”

You unlock the door and your best friends are sitting on the sofa. Their heads of hair—one blonde and the other raven—turn around to watch you and Matty barge in. 

“And each time I insist that you don’t need to walk me up,” you counteract, bending down to take off your boots. 

Matty stops at the doorway, not planning on sticking around. He gives a wave to Avni and Greta with a small smile, but isn't done making his point to you. “I don’t trust our weirdo neighbours. You should thank me, honestly.” 

“Fine. Thank you for always walking me up. Happy? Now please leave. You smell like dirt from when you laid down on that pile of gravel,” you say, waving him off and grabbing the edge of the door to let him out. 

“I wanted to see if it looked cool,” he defends, then pulls you in for a hug goodbye, and pecks your temple before you back away. He begins walking back down the corridor to the stairwell. 

You call out, “It didn’t!” and watch him throw both of his middle fingers up in response. 

The door closes and you bolt the lock. You sigh, ready to collapse into bed. But before you have the chance to, Avni motions for you to come sit on the sofa. And though there are many places you’d rather be, you oblige, sinking down into the cushions between her and Greta.

“Come on, talk to us! We haven’t seen you all day,” she nags, nuzzling the side of her face into your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” agrees Greta. “I thought you were going to be back after your shift?”

“I was going to be, but then Matty picked me up and brought me dinner as a bribe to scout music video locations with him all evening. I was hungry, so I accepted his offer,” you explain.

Avni shrugs. “That’s a fair deal, I guess.”

You begin to stand up, thinking that what you’ve given was enough to satisfy your flatmate’s curiosities, but Avni’s hand yanks you back down. 

“But wait,” she starts. “Everything’s okay, right?”

There was worry in her voice that confused you. “...Yes? Why would it not be?”

“Oh,” she lets go of a breath she seemed to be holding. “I just saw Matty hug and kiss you before leaving so I thought he might be comforting you, or something. I don’t know. Forget I asked,” Avni finishes with dismissal. 

The three of you chuckle casually and they finally allow you to get up. 

“Doesn’t he usually do that? I feel like that’s always how he bids any of us goodbye,” you say, walking around the sofa to head to your room, but pause to hear their answers. 

“I’ve known that bloke since he was pre-pubescent and never has he just casually kissed me without reason,” declares Avni, raising an eyebrow suggestively and making you shake your head in annoyance. 

You know what she’s trying to get at, but you don’t want to talk about it. You never want to talk about it. Avoidance really is your best friend.

She’s convinced she sees something there—and though you secretly wished there was something, the idea of attempting to do something about it makes you want the ground to swallow you up. You could barely admit it to yourself, let alone another soul, or Matty.

Plus, you really are convinced that it’s just a you thing, not a you and him thing. That you just need some time to get over it, even though it’s been nearly ten years. How could it ever be a you and him thing?

Thankfully, Greta’s big ego and her pestering lighthearted crush on Matty shuts down anything Avni is trying to insinuate, when she says, “He’s kissed my cheek plenty of times,” as if it’s obvious.

You glance back at Avni, and as you expect, she’s giving you a look that screams, ‘Of course Greta’s just said that…’ 

“There you go,” you point to Greta and end the conversation, acting like she helped prove your point. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I work the morning shift so I should be back early.”

They respond tiredly and continue watching the telly, not concerned about the late hour like you are. Neither of them have an early morning to worry about, so you won’t be surprised if you hear another film begin when you’re about to shut your eyes. 

Avni is a full-time student about to finish her degree—which her parents fund for her—so she only works here and there, doing integrated jobs within her program at the University of Manchester. The only time she sees the early hours of the day is when she’s been hunched over a computer through the night, writing a paper about something you don’t understand. Since it’s the weekend and Avni’s free of class, you assume she’d sleep in.

On the other hand, Greta is like you, and opted out of A-levels and uni once completing GSCEs. She’s never been all that interested in studying, so after working as an associate at the Space NK back in Wilmslow, a position opened at the Manchester location and she stuck with it. In perfect correlation with the rest of the group also moving to the big city. 

At this point she’s a manager and is earning quite a lot—certainly more than what you make at the cafe—so her working hours can be unpredictable. But since the store never opens earlier than 10 o’clock, Greta’s rarely a morning person either.

You wake up at a concerningly early time to make it to Cafe North for 6am. It doesn’t open for another two hours, but since you’re desperate for as many shifts as possible, you take on any position necessary. This morning, your position was baker. 

It’s not a strong suit of yours, and you were only hired as a waitress, but the cafe being known for its fresh pastries made the morning shift annoyingly important. So, you often find yourself trudging in at the crack of dawn to cover for your coworkers when things come up and your boss needs you.

Cafe North helps pay your bills, since doing freelance photography work in Manchester isn’t quite enough to live comfortably. Work seems to be slowing down as the year goes on as well, so your only consistent clients are the up and coming local bands. You photograph their shows even though they barely make enough for themselves, let alone to be able to pay you fairly. 

The reason you frequent the music scene is due to the growing popularity of your favourite band—the one that happens to be made up of some of your closest friends—so of course you photograph every one of their shows. Though you refuse to let them pay you, being at their gigs leads to plenty of more work, so you manage.

Thankfully, you leave your shift at the cafe with your newest paycheque in hand. So, you stop by the bank on your journey home and deposit most of it into your savings. It’s what you do every time you get paid, and the guys sometimes make fun of how frugal it makes you. 

Their teasing persists when you walk into the pub to meet them for a gig. A morning shift and a night out all in the same day is usually a bad idea, but you run home to nap for a few hours and have tea with Avni before showing up, so you hope it isn’t a completely terrible night. 

“Come on, mate! One cocktail?! It’s Saturday night, get pissed with us,” begs Ross, who has already downed a few pints.

The seven of you; him, Matty, Hann, and George, along with you and the girls, squeezed tightly into a booth to commit to your normal routine. If the guys were playing at a pub, you’d come a couple of hours before the show to have some drinks and chat shit. If they weren’t, you’d come to some pub anyway before heading to the venue. Beer was a part of the equation either way.

Weekend shows always brought the whole crew out. The audience had more bodies and their set had a bit more length. Smaller shows sometimes had your flatmates opting to stay home—busy with school and work or just not in the mood—but you never missed any. 

You like to say you’re forced to, in order to keep the band’s Facebook updated with stills of every set, but truthfully, you never want to miss a show. You’d rather be in the crowd with your eye glued to your viewfinder than be anywhere else.

“I’m a classy woman,” you declare sarcastically, sipping your espresso martini leisurely. “Plus, I just got word that my application is being processed, as of a few days ago. Gotta save up for London if I get it, can’t be draining my bank account at every night out.”

“It’s always about London. Blah blah blah London, blah blah blah internship. Fuck off,” he drunkenly spits at your face. You laugh, not offended in the slightest since you’re used to his bluntness.

“By ‘fuck off’ he means ‘we hope you get it’, by the way,” Greta reassures you after flicking him up upside the head. It made Ross wince and whine but the alcohol in his system makes it hurt less. 

It also apparently makes his reflexes slower, as you’re able to easily steal the glass from his hand to take a few large gulps to spite his comment. Ross’s jaw drops, newly offended, and moves with haste to snatch it back from you—though it’s now almost empty.

“You deserved that,” says Adam, chuckling and enjoying his full pint.

“Thank you!” you say and then clink your martini glass to his in solidarity. The rest of the group then add on and cheers you as well, leaving Ross to walk to the bar and fetch himself another beer, sulking.

“Can I just say, I’m not gonna pull a Ross and tell you to fuck off about London, but Gret can speak for herself about this whole ‘we hope you get it’ narrative,” George clarifies. “At a happy medium I will be happy for you but also very upset that you’d be leaving us.” 

You smile at his sweetness through the fear that everyone might actually be upset at you leaving Manchester. It was hard enough to break the news that you were interested in an endeavour so separate from them. The sheer distance made it even worse. 

Which is why you lied. 

The internship Ross mentions is really in New York, not London.

Well, it could have been in London if you wanted it to be. ELLE Magazine has headquarters in both cities, and there are plenty of UK internships you qualify for. But, the program that calls to you is for international study—they provide housing for a year-long position (which is a paid one, thankfully), and you feel that the scene in New York is more exciting than anything in your home country. So, you apply. 

But, change has always been difficult for you to accept; growing up and sticking to the same people, fantasising about the same career and carrying around the same camera. You enjoy your life being that same you. 

And up until you discovered the internship, you planned to be just that. You like Manchester. You know Manchester. It’s comfortable, and has everything you need to make it in the industry. But so does New York.

The idea ignites a flame in you. Nobody would ever describe you as spontaneous, or as confident, or as a dreamer. You always feel diligent. Compliant. Following through with the plan that you’ve always had. But you want to be outstanding. Unpredictable, for once. Reaching for something so big that it’s scary.

You lie because you’re scared. What will people think of you if you fail? You think about telling the truth to the people you’re closest to and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

How they probably think that you don’t have it in you to follow through with it. That you’re a good photographer in Manchester, and won’t compare in America. That you’ll be broke and back in England within months. A two and a half hour train ride of shame back from London sounded much less frightening than an 11 hour flight back from America.

Of course, they’re actually lovely about the ELLE internship. They have so much faith in you—maybe more than you have in yourself. But they don’t know that you’ll be packing up and moving 5 time zones over. And their loveliness doesn’t put your crippling anxiety to sleep, and doesn’t stop you from creating and keeping up with the London lie. It’s your safety blanket.

“Just think of it like this, George,” you begin. “Coming down and visiting me will give you guys an excuse to play some gigs and show all of the big London labels how badly they need to sign you.”

All four boys groan at the mention of record labels. They’ve been working their asses off trying to get attention from them and it hasn’t gone very smoothly so far.

“If the sad little indies in this city won’t bat an eye at us then I doubt any fancy London ones will give a shit,” complains Matty with an eye roll. 

“For a man with such a big ego you can be so pessimistic,” Avni responds. 

You’re sitting across from Matty, so you use your knee to shove his. Though his tone is confidently spiteful, you can tell that the band’s struggle to get signed sometimes gets to him.

He looks up at you since you gain his attention, and the two of you share a small reassuring smile. Matty’s knee shoves yours back. It softens his expression. 

“I’ve got a multi-faceted personality, Avni,” he defends.

She raises her hands, accepting his statement as a fine enough rebuttal. 

“At least the place is pretty packed tonight,” Ross interferes. 

Everyone looks around and surveys the busy nature of the pub they’re about to play for. Ross has a good point, and the group’s excitement grows with the realisation. They could tell the energy would be great.

With the mention of why they’ve arrived in the first place, the four boys take note of the quickly lessening time before their set would begin. So, they finish off the last drops of what sat in their glasses and eventually begin to prepare. 

It’s not long before you’re in an uncomfortably crouched position, waiting for them to come on and begin their first song. Gret and Avni stand behind you, drinks still in hand and chatting away. You adjust the settings on your camera, making sure to up the exposure to accommodate the dark pub lighting. 

Small cheers and woops erupt from a few of the patrons who are familiar with the boys, and you raise your camera to your eye when the set begins. Every time it settles on Matty, you almost feel a sense of relief to have an excuse to watch his every move. 

It paralyses you, how natural his body and mind present themselves through the music. You watch him through the haze of cigarette smoke that floated in the air, seeing his hands dance up and down the fretboard of his guitar. They move with urgency and make pretty sounds. His eyes close when he sings and you find yourself missing the brownness of his irises when they are, sighing in solace when they open back up.

You have to remind yourself to photograph the others. They’re naturals on stage as well—and you can’t deny their talent—but they’re humble in nature. And Matty isn’t. He makes the perfect frontman; overtly confident and spilling with an amplified arrogance. It’s so easy to capture him and have the photos ooze magic. You aren’t sure if the magic comes from you or from him. 

When you’re satisfied with the amount you’ve taken, you relax to enjoy the show, quietly singing along to the lyrics to your favourite tracks. Your friends chat here and there but you stay engaged with the performance. You chase contact with Matty’s eyes, which are usually scanning the depth of the growing crowd, and have to suppress your smile when you succeed, stealing his attention for split seconds at a time.

And as quickly as it begins, it’s over. You detach yourself from your camera and carefully place it back into the bag that slings over your shoulder. Applause rings through the pub. 

Everyone sticks around for a couple of hours after the show, as the boys ride on what’s left of their post-performance adrenaline—but your eyes droop with tiredness and they can tell. Clearly, the nap you took after getting back from work wasn’t enough to keep up with your friends. 

“Falling asleep on us, are you?” notices Avni, poking at your cheek, sufficiently drunk. 

You smile softly and try to shake some energy into yourself. “Not anymore,” you say, embarrassed that they can see through your attempts to hide the fact that you’ve been up for nearly 21 hours. You’re even too knackered to sip on your drink, and the copper mug sits full of a concoction of Moscow mule remnants mixed with melted ice in front of you. 

“Quite the grandmother tonight, Y/N,” Hann teases. 

You don’t tease him back because you can tell he just cares, and will probably suggest that you make your way home, knowing his sensibility. “Can’t help it. Been up since 5.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, 5 in the morning?! Doing what?!” asks Matty, who sat between you and the edge of the booth. 

“Going to my job, Matty. Have you heard of those? Jobs? Or have you not, since you’ve never been able to keep a real one?” 

The whole table ‘ooo’ at your burn and Matty shakes his head in disbelief. 

“In my humble defence, I have been helping George deliver for Flame and Wok and they do pay me now. So yeah, darling, I have,” he defends matter-of-factly. “You know, I slept for 12 hours last night. Maybe more. And for some reason I think I’m just as fucking exhausted as you.” 

You turn to him, confused. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to one-up me with how tired you are or if you’re bragging about how much sleep you got.”

“I’m trying to point out that you’re a trooper for still being up. And am also insinuating that I am very unusually tired and willing to leave if you come with. If everyone else wants to stay,” he clarifies.

Oh, you think. He’s just being sweet. 

“Thank God someone finally offered. I’m dying here,” you whine. “You lot keep having fun for me, alright? I don’t want to start being known as the buzzkill.”

Matty scooches sideways to stand up and you do the same, slipping on your denim jacket. 

“Oh, you will,” confirms George. You flip him off, and he laughs. “I’m joking. Get some sleep, love.”

You smile at the fact that underneath the sarcastic humour all of your friends share, is a synonymous deep care for each other. You’ve really lucked out. A sudden sadness pangs your mind when you think of the fact that you might be leaving them. You wipe it away before it can settle.

They all mutter farewells while you lean down to peck Avni on the cheek. You repeat the action for Greta, and then you and Matty begin heading out.

“See you at home,” he calls, waving. Everyone waves back, and then returns to their slurred banter and cold drinks.

He holds the door open for you and you step into the chill late night (almost early morning) air. You follow the pavement towards your building and walk side-by-side.

“I need to meet Wade before we get back, by the way. If that’s okay with you,” Matty admits. “He’s just waiting for me on the corner of Spears.”

Wade is Matty’s dealer, who regularly supplies him the weed that everyone often smokes together. At one point, you try to figure out a way to somehow split the cost by seven, but since Matty and George have a much more intense fixation than the rest of you, they agree to just pay for it themselves. 

So, you’re complicit, and follow him a block past your flat to where Wade was waiting. You’re retrospectively thankful that walking an extra block is the trade off for free weed.

It’s quick; you both throw a casual ‘Hi, mate,’ to the dealer and a few seconds later you’re already turning back with your arm linked in Matty’s, who had the small baggy tucked into his pocket.

You climb the dreaded stairs together and reach your floor. It’s mostly quiet between you, due to your energyless states, but before you come to your door, you mutter, “Thank you for leaving with me, Matty. I know you would rather have stayed.”

“Don’t be silly,” he responds, “I know I’m crazy, but I actually am knackered. I should be thanking you for giving me an excuse to leave.”

A smile is shared between you and you unlock your flat, sighing in contentment at the lessening proximity from you and your bed. “You’re right about being crazy.”

Matty rolls his eyes, and you send him a look that tells him it’s okay for him to head to his flat. That you’re all good and safe in yours. But before he leaves, he stops to say one more thing.

“You really should rest up. I know everyone likes taking the piss out of how much you work—especially tonight—but it really is a lot. And I get that it’s for a reason and you’re saving up or whatever. I just hope you know that we won’t be offended if you don’t come and take photos of every single show we play. It’s okay to miss them, really. You’ve seen it a million times over. If it means you can avoid 20 hour days and draining all of your energy.”

“I like coming to your shows. I don’t feel like I have to. I just want to,” you insist while taking off your boots. “But thank you. I appreciate it. ‘S very sweet.”

He accepts your answer with a gracious nod and briefly wraps an arm around your shoulder to press his lips to your cheek, then turns to find his flat. You watch him walk down the hall and finally close the door when you hear his footsteps bouncing in the stairwell. 

You have to suppress the giddiness you feel bubbling up and convince yourself that you’d feel the same way if any of the other guys had walked you home and said what he’s said—though you know that isn’t true.

Now washed up and in bed, you check your phone one last time before shutting your eyes. You see a message from Matty.

matty: Wanna to try out the stuff I picked up earlier?? It’s a new strain, needs opinions. I’ll be home all day tmrw just stop by x

y/n: beautiful 

y/n: ill text when i leave x

You think about how nice a joint sounds after the long day you’ve had. So, you agree, and fall asleep soundly.

But when you wake up the next morning—far too early—to the scariest email you’ve ever received, you’re even more in need of a smoke. Because you’re about to have a panic attack.

You’re moving to New York.

You reread the congratulatory words maybe 30 times before you can bear to look away. Tears of both happiness and fear threaten to spill from your eyes, but you blink enough times to make them disappear.

The kettle is whistling in the kitchen and you can hear it from your room. It’s probably Greta. You wonder if she boiled enough water for you and Avni to make cups as well, since you’re usually up by now. You can pick apart two sets of footsteps. They’re both up. 

What if they can hear that you’re up? What if your thoughts are so loud that they can hear those, too? You quiet down your quick breathing and hide yourself and your screen beneath your covers. Just in case.

You’ll have to start packing soon. Book a plane ticket. You’ve never booked a plane ticket by yourself. What if it’s hard? What if you can’t find your passport? You get up and rummage through your bedside table to find it. It’s exactly where you left it.

Eventually, after hiding out and panicking for what seems like a couple of minutes but is actually many hours, you let yourself cry. You let it all out in heaving sobs. The girls don’t hear you or question the fact that it’s past noon and you’re still in your room. They assume you’re catching up on sleep. But you’re wide awake.

You think about how bad you’ve been wanting this. You want it so bad. You would never be able to forgive yourself if you let your fear ruin it. 

So, you compose yourself. Wipe your eyes dry and sniff up the snot. Get dressed, plaster a normal smile on your face. You ask Greta and Avni if they want to come to the boys’ flat with you for a smoke. You tell them that Matty’s got a new strain he wants you to try. They agree after asking if you’ve had a good night’s sleep. You lie and say yes. 

y/n: heading over now

y/n: and bringing the others if u don’t mind

You need an excuse to have everyone in the same room again. An opportunity to tell them the news. You’re not sure how long you can go before it eats you alive. 

matty: Course

matty: Door’s unlocked

Matty doesn’t mind, but is weirdly disappointed to know that it won’t just be you and him. He calls Ross, Hann, and George out to the lounge to let them know that everyone’s coming, to act like he meant for it to be a group thing all along. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so the boys don’t question it.

To be fair, hanging out one-on-one wasn’t out of the ordinary either. He’s just worried that you might find it odd for him to like it better that way, versus seeing the other girls. So he keeps that part to himself.

Everything’s normal when you arrive. Matty explains that the joints you puff and pass are supposed to give you a more concise high. Less scattered but definitely less alert, and maybe more focused. He thinks it might be good for writing, or something. You’re not sure. You just inhale and let it happen and then think in circles about how to start mentioning what you need to mention. It blares at your conscience. 

Thankfully, at the perfect time, Avni asks you a question about the cafe. Which you know you’ll have to quit soon. It’s the perfect segue.

She’s complaining about accidentally volunteering to organise an event for her colleagues before winter break came along. “Thought I’d just be setting up the place but now I’ve got to plan the whole program of honourees and even sort out the catering.”

“Catering? Fuck, that’s fancy,” sneers Ross.

“Right? I think I’ll plan it at an odd time so that I can just get coffee and pastries, or something,” Avni lazily says, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Does the cafe do catering? Like big carafes of coffee and tea?”

“We do,” you answer with hesitance.

“Oh, gorgeous! Would you be able to ask your boss to sort me a few? So I can use some of my budget on other stuff?” she asks.

Your heartbeat quickens. Now’s your moment.

“I would, but—” You cough and bite at the skin on your fingertips to stall. “I—Um, I won’t be working there anymore. In December,” You finally sputter out.

Everyone’s in their own little world as you hang out; George busy mixing something on his laptop, Greta bringing over her latest crochet project to finish (hoping she doesn’t get too high and fuck up the pattern), the others making casual conversation and enjoying the company. But they stop when they hear the words leave your mouth, and there’s a moment of eerie silence when the gears in their heads grind to figure out what you mean.

“Have you been sacked?” asks Adam. You shake your head no. “...You’re quitting?”

You nod slowly, searching for some sort of release in each of your friends’ expressions, hoping they figure it out before you have to say it on your own and out loud, since you haven’t done that yet. But nobody says anything, and you can’t bear any more silence. 

“I got the internship.”

A sense of shock blanketed the room before Ross finally jumps out of his seat to tackle you in an embrace. You grin, a wave of relief hitting you, and flipping the morale in the October air on its head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! How long have you known?!” he screams in your ear, and you wince at the volume, though you can’t help but giggle with joy as your friends erupt in praise.

He climbs off of you and you stand so that everyone can have their turn wrapping their arms around you.

“I got the email early this morning and have not been able to function since,” You explain. “Genuinely had a panic and hid underneath my bed sheets for about 3 hours before I could face the fact that it’s actually happening.” 

“We have to celebrate! I should go get a bottle of champagne. Someone come with me, please. Balloons? Streamers? Do you want a cake, love? I can get a cake,” Avni rambles, dragging Greta up from her seat and heading for the door.    

Your cheeks hurt and your head spins. 

“Please, Av, you don’t have to do all that,” you argue. 

Matty’s the last to hug you so he leaves one of his arms draped around the back of your neck, standing close. He leans his head sideways and your temples touch. He leaves his head there. 

“Please, Y/N,” Greta copies you. “You deserve it. None of us work tonight, why can’t we party?!”

“This buzzkill narrative is really catching up to you,” George buts in. “And don’t you want to spend time with us before you leave? There’s not much time left, you know.”

Your cheeks finally relax, and you’re brought back down to Earth. Fuck. He’s right. The room falls silent as they all make the same realisation. 

You feel your nose get fizzy with emotion. You can’t move on and let them celebrate you without telling them the truth.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s also one more thing you should know. About the internship,” you start nervously. 

Everyone looks you in the eye but you can’t dare to meet anyone’s stare. They sense the lighthearted and energetic mood shift, and their mouths fall flat. Why are they not smiling anymore? But there isn’t anything left for you to do besides explain yourself.

“It’s with ELLE Magazine. They have a head office in London, and I applied through ELLE UK, which is why I said the position would relocate me there. But, in my offer, they gave me the option to intern there, or at the headquarters in New York.” 

Your breath shakes as you inhale.

“And after some thinking, I’ve decided to choose New York.”

[warizoh]

Hi! I think your photos are so pretty and they remind me of a dream I had. I wanted to ask what camera you use (unless it’s just a phone) and also, I noticed your subjects seem pretty specific, so I wanted to ask why you like taking photos of those said specific subjects. Thanks!

Hey! Thank you 🐸 Really appreciate the feedback

I’ve mostly used two Nikons and sometimes phone cameras. If you wanna know the exact version of the Nikon you can click in the top right corner of a photo when you’re on tumblr in a browser.

I guess I used to feel the most alive while I was asleep and dreaming before. That felt more real to me than waking life. So one purpose of my blog was to connect that reality with my waking state. That’s the vibe I’ve been trying to connect with on the blog through my photos and art. And actually in the past year I’ve been starting to experience that reality in my waking state A LOT… especially with my boyfriend who I incidentally met through tumblr…

[petermorwood]

An old article, but amusing regardless.

First it was James Lileks and the Gallery of Regrettable Food. What were the photo editors on these cookbooks thinking?

I'm well aware the colour quality of old pictures degrades and yellows, to their detriment, but IMO the images on that website can't have looked very appetising even when new.

There are ways to assemble variegated foodstuffs on a plate that looks attractive, and then there are these.

Dimly-lit meals for one and Sad desk lunches are yet more shuddersome antidotes to lovingly-photographed food porn erotica (porn would be messy close-ups of eating it).

However, despite what the article suggests, food photography doesn't need "the highest-spec kit while dangling from light-fittings for just the right angle" to look good.

*****

Using a phonecam while out with your friends in a crowded pizzeria isn't going to give the best results, but then neither is a joyless packed lunch on a rainy Monday in February, even if shot with a $33,000 camera like this Hasselblad, and full studio lighting.

@dduane's hobby site European Cuisines (down for maintenance) did just fine for years with a Sony W17, a compact digicam with a superb Zeiss lens.

Here are Sony shots of an apple upside-down cake made with Beauty of Bath apples from our own tree (they really are pink all the way through) and a quiche Lorraine just out of the oven.

After a while I got a second-hand Nikon D40 DSLR; the money saved on second-hand let me afford an excellent lens, a top-of-the-line flashgun and that neat little flash which is so much better than the camera's built-in one.

Here's the Nikon's take on last year's roast-goose-and-all-the-trimmings Christmas Dinner, as well as bacon (corned beef is the Americanised version) and cabbage for St Patrick's Day.

Now we're mostly using HTC U11+ smartphones whose cameras are not only top-notch but have excellent low-light capability.

This is good, because our lighting has always been mostly natural daylight with occasional flash and reflector-screen assistance.

Here are U11+ images of soda bread done in a cast-iron casserole or Dutch oven, and Geflügelragout (a stew of roast chicken with red wine and lemon) with saffron-pumpkin noodles.

This has become Brightwood Vintner's Chicken in the Food and Cooking of the Middle Kingdoms project, and why not? It's delicious! Here's DD and U11+ in action, and the noodle close-up she was shooting in that pic.

None of the food we shoot is "styled" for photography with varnish for glossiness, paint for cream, machine oil for honey, microwaved cotton-wool for steam and lots of other cunning but inedible trickery.

Our stuff is all for eating - so much so that getting "photograph the food" and "eat the food" in the proper order can sometimes be a struggle.

Like these crumpets, for instance.

You would, wouldn't you?

I nearly did, giving DD conniptions because she hadn't photographed them yet, and the Kerrygold butter was melting Just Right...

In a choice between shooting Have To Eat images and Want To Eat ones, we'll stay on the Want To side of the fence, and if people looking at those pix also Want To take a bite out of their screens, we're getting the job done.

And we're not hanging from the light-fittings to do it... :->

[starrysurrealism]

Beautiful photos. What are you shooting with?

Hey I realized I didn't answer this! Thank you for liking my photos. I shoot with a Nikon D7500, which is by no means the top of the line. Any photo without a poem is shot with my phone's camera (Samsung Galaxy S22+).

[takenbyme]

Nikon Photo Contest 2024-2025 promotional image

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Towering Cloud Over The Arabian Peninsula

An astronaut aboard the International Space Station took this oblique photograph looking toward the Arabian Peninsula while orbiting over South Asia. The countries of the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and a small portion of Bahrain frame the western coastline of the Persian Gulf (Arabian Gulf). On the Qatar Peninsula, the capital city, Doha, and the industrial port city of Ras Laffan are visible as dark patches along the coastline. In Saudi Arabia, the city of Al Hufūf (right side of the image) and the neighboring Al Hasa Oasis are visible as shades of dark green and gray.

The tall, narrow cloud in the center of the image, casting a dark shadow, is a cumulus congestus. These towering cumulus clouds form as warm, damp air rapidly rises, indicating a high-altitude atmospheric instability, and can develop into cumulonimbus. This oblique photo from the vantage point of space provides a unique view of the cloud structures (this astronaut photograph provides a more detailed view).

Small cumulus clouds are visible around the base of the tower cloud and can act as precursors to cumulonimbus clouds. Because the cloud line has formed at the shoreline, the wind is likely blowing onshore (from the lower left to the upper right). The process of cloud formation begins when the air is heated as it flows over the land surface, moving with the direction of the wind.

Sunglint is visible atop Persian Gulf waters on the lower right side of the image. This phenomenon is captured when light from a surface (like water) is reflected directly back towards the astronaut observer aboard the space station. At the bottom right of the image, waves are visible on the water surface, while at the top of the image, the atmosphere divides the horizon of Earth’s surface from the vastness of space.

Astronaut photograph ISS071-E-675996 was acquired on September 19, 2024, with a Nikon Z9 digital camera using a focal length of 140 millimeters. It is provided by the ISS Crew Earth Observations Facility and the Earth Science and Remote Sensing Unit, Johnson Space Center. The image was taken by a member of the Expedition 71 crew. The image has been cropped and enhanced to improve contrast, and lens artifacts have been removed. The International Space Station Program supports the laboratory as part of the ISS National Lab to help astronauts take pictures of Earth that will be of the greatest value to scientists and the public, and to make those images freely available on the Internet. Additional images taken by astronauts and cosmonauts can be viewed at the NASA/JSC Gateway to Astronaut Photography of Earth. Caption by Wilfredo García López/Jacobs-JETS II Contract at NASA-JSC.

[towerofglass]

top pic: take AA batteries. all but the right two power on with old batteries. gonna try fresh ones on the others.

middle pic: pretty sure i have a nikon battery in the mail that will fit

last pic: all have their proprietary batteries and looks like i could charge with DC power?

bonus: strangers' photos and usable storage for most of these.

a few of these take old ass weird memory cards that i'll have to track down.

i went too far. i always go too far. just couldnt pass them up.