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#The Music Factory
frobby · 6 months
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rhythm gamers will be like "u gotta play this song it's so fun" and the song in question gives u carpal tunnel syndrome
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twixnmix · 5 months
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Talking Heads photographed by Andy Warhol at the Factory in New York City, May 1976.
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I could write about how capitalism is ruining our society by privatizing everything, including self-expression and art, and, in this case, theatre, going so far that you not only have to pirate broadway shows but have to give them weird vague titles in order to keep them up on the internet, and the fact that this makes it so difficult to find these videos for people who don't have the needed knowledge about these tricks.
Or I could just laugh about the funny silly titles bootlegs get
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Feel free to add more titles
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Cborle universsssseeeee
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I’m pretty excited about this one, doing different poses with characters interacting is a bit outside of my comfort zone but I didn’t have too much trouble
(I’ll be doing one of these for Andrew Rannells toooo)
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basiatlu · 6 months
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Rush
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by @mono-chromia & @basiatlu
‘He’s not kissing me, but I can taste him. He’s not kissing me, but his tongue touches mine because I meet him halfway. He’s not kissing me, but I am kissing him.’
It’s one thing to let yourself want the things you want, and another to let yourself have them. Draco does neither, but a lot can change in a single night.
A story about being queer and being shameless, about feeling out of place and falling into place. About finding your people and letting them see you, no matter how uncomfortable.
word count: 10.5k
✨Read on Ao3✨
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ginger-lime · 7 months
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Constance design inspired by the 80's Strawberry Shortcake!
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searchsystem · 6 months
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North & Peter Saville / Factory International / Factory Works / Album Cover & Vinyl / 2023
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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 days
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(content warning: heavy angst, SI, despair, and some body horror) Link felt sick.
He’d done it. He’d found one of their graves. He knew if he lingered here too long it would give his position away. He knew if Ganondorf took control at any point from here on out, he’d find out his daughter could be found, could be resurrected and controlled like Link was.
It was an accident. He had been looking for sword shards and had stumbled upon this place, nondescript as it was. Hemisi had never been one for flair, unlike her father.
He couldn’t do this. He refused to let his beloved be corrupted like he’d been. Link would rather die a thousand deaths, would rather burn in the magma of Death Mountain, than let Hemisi feel the agony and torture he felt when Ganondorf used his dark powers to bend his will.
Death Mountain. Death Mountain.
A thought crept into his head, dark, twisted, sickening and horrifying but efficient. It came from his heart, a desperate desire encased in love and fear, sharpened into clarity by his crumbling mind.
With trembling hands, Link picked up the urn. Gerudo more often than not burned their dead. The desert was not a forgiving place in general, and bodies rotted quickly. It was the quickest and cleanest way to lay them to rest. Link wasn’t sure Ganondorf could work with just ashes, but considering he’d managed to resurrect Link from likely dust—given how long it had been, he was surprised there had been much left of him—he wouldn’t put it past him.
Link walked for a long time. There was no way he could teleport with the gloom - it would give everything away. He ducked around canyons, hid behind monster camps; he knew the layout of a majority of the Depths like the back of his hand by now. He certainly knew this area.
In the distance it was brighter. Crimson glowed, a dichotomy of innocence and foreboding in comparison to the purple dim glow of the gloom everywhere. Link made his way towards it, feeling the air growing stiflingly hot. He didn’t have any elixirs to protect himself. He didn’t care.
The lava’s heat made the air swim. Link was already sweating, his footing growing unsteady as his lungs screamed in protest. He felt like he could breathe fire at this point. He still didn’t care.
This is the only way. He can’t resurrect what no longer exists.
May Hylia forgive me. May Hemisi forgive me.
I’m so sorry.
Link was close now. The lava was beginning to make the area unbearable. He nearly dropped the urn with as much his hands sweat and shook. He grimaced as a fiery wind tore through him, his skin blistering, his nerves crying for relief, his mind screaming to accomplish his goal before it was too late, his heart begging to join his beloved in this fate.
He was close enough now. Flames licked at his feet, snapping hungrily at his clothes. He took a breath.
He threw the urn into the fire.
The old clay shattered immediately, and the precious ashes it contained couldn’t even be seen in the lava’s voracious hunger. Every last piece of Hemisi disappeared in a heartbeat, as if her memory being erased were simply an afterthought.
Link threw up.
The force of it made him fall to his knees. His head was spinning, and the dirt here was more hot coals than soil. He didn’t have it in him to scream, even though every fiber of his being was doing so. The rancid smell of bile was only compounded and worsened by its cooking in the heat, and Link heaved again.
A scream finally did tear out of his throat as his hands started to smoke.
Leaping to his feet out of instinct, he tried to scramble back, but he wanted to move forward.
To hell with the sword shards, to hell with Hyrule and Ganondorf’s plans for it, he wanted to go home, he wanted to see her—
He was so tired. He was so lonely.
Link stumbled ahead, tears dried before they could ever leave his eyes. The lava was so close, it wouldn’t take much longer before he—
A hand gripped his wrist, cold and clammy, a blessed relief to his skin, but his mind screamed. Link gasped, trying to run, when another hand grabbed his other wrist, and then his body froze up. Cold, dark energy snaked around him from head to toe, except on his forehead, which burned. Link felt his breath stop, his muscles seize, and then, with agonizing effort in each move, he slowly turned away from the magma. A gloom spawn was directly in front of him, easing him away as he walked with it, his mind and heart screaming and flailing and kicking despite his body placidly going along with the beast. The sword shards were warm in his pouch, a comforting kindling fire in an ice cold abyss, and he almost felt himself hesitate despite Ganondorf’s control.
But no. It wasn’t enough.
His head exploded with pain as he fought the puppeteer, as he tried to break free, but he couldn’t. He never could. Unconsciousness was pulling fast, but he’d lose control entirely if he gave in.
Just do it, his mind whispered. Just let him win. What difference does it make now? He can’t hurt her.
Link was so tired.
Just give in. Let him guide you, go along with it. Let him take care of you.
Link was so lonely.
Let him love you.
He couldn’t stop himself from getting sick again, dark control or not. But since his body was no longer his own, he continued to walk, though his steps stumbled to a halt as he vomited. Gloom spread under his feet, easing the burning from earlier, and Link was pulled under.
When the darkness faded, he was back in the Center, the focal point of all the dark energy, and he heard footsteps rushing towards him. The world was spinning so dizzyingly he could get sick again, but miraculously he didn’t - either that or he just had nothing left in him.
The icy puppet strings that infected his muscles receded, leaving him with a pounding headache and body wide shivers. His knees buckled just as Ganondorf reached him, catching him.
“Link, what were you thinking?!” his fa—abuser demanded, voice shaking. “Why were you over there?”
He’d been playing his role so well. He’d been distracting Ganondorf, helping him in smaller ways, gaining his trust. He didn’t want to do it anymore. He just wanted to die.
“I’m tired,” he whimpered, the tears beginning to fall.
Ganondorf held the boy with trembling arms, but his grip tightened as Link fell apart. The child had no more words to say, only convulsing with full body sobs as Ganondorf gently picked him up to support him better. Link gripped his tunic, quickly soaking it with tears, and the demon king found himself at a loss of what to do.
The image of the boy laying in his arms, bleeding and crying and dying flashed through his mind, and he held him tighter, swaying back and forth.
Ganondorf didn’t understand what had happened. Link had been fine, hadn’t he?
His cries clearly indicated otherwise.
He felt his anger start to swell, an automatic response as his heart screamed, as he felt it race in terror at what had almost just happened. He didn’t like feeling afraid and out of control like this, so desperate to try and fix something that he couldn’t just fix. He bit back a snappish rebuke, channeling his anger into energy as he started to walk around the chamber, holding Link close, so close, he’d almost lost his boy—
For once, he didn’t know what to do.
This was why he had placed his magic in the boy. This right here. Because he’d done this before, this was how he’d died before! He’d sacrificed his life to save that pathetic excuse for a king! Why did the child think he could just throw his life away like this?! Did he not realize how important he was?
Ganondorf again found himself fighting his anger. It wasn’t particularly easy, as he usually just let it out, but years of parenting had taught him some self control.
This place was taking a toll on the boy. He needed to fix that, to help him. He channeled his rage into power, reaching up above into the Surface, feeling the swell of the Blood Moon like a high tide pushing on to land. Gloom gathered around the pair, and he made it take them above.
The air was suffocating a moment as they moved, and then it cleared substantially. A breeze blew, cooling the Gerudo’s hot cheeks, and he took a steadying breath. The smell of cherry blossoms and sweet honeysuckle saturated his nose, too unfamiliar to be comforting but pleasant enough. But for Link, it would mean the world. He’d taken them as close to Kakariko as he could manage. He hoped it was enough.
Link’s sobs hitched and paused as he felt the change in atmosphere, and he peeked his puffy eyes out from the folds of his guardian’s tunic. Ganondorf swept a hand up and down his back as he gazed around in wonder and confusion, a glimmering hope shining in his eyes for a moment.
When he looked upward, red eyes matching the moon perfectly, his face fell.
“W-what—what are you doing?” he asked shakily, eyebrows pulling together in worry. “Stop it, you’re going to hurt everyone—”
“My power is slowly growing. This is not hurting anyone.” Ganondorf assured the boy. “When the time comes we’ll take what is ours.”
Link wiggled feebly in his grip. “No, why can’t you just—stop—”
Ganondorf frowned, tightening his hold. “We had nothing but the harsh sun and winds, while Rauru sat on every resource this bountiful land had to offer. The only way he offered aid was through a vow of fealty, yet he did not have the strength or impetus to rule. Everything about Hyrule is a disgrace - a people who think peace is a more palatable option to the point of laziness and stagnation, an over bloated land full of weak fools! I am a true king, Link, and I will rule this land properly. Nothing will stop that.”
Link’s energy drained out of him, and Ganondorf brushed some hair out of his face. “You’ll see, child. When it’s all over, you’ll see how much better it is. Just trust me.”
Link closed his eyes, crying once more. “Let me go.”
“Link—”
“Let me go.”
“No,” Ganondorf said firmly, placing a hand on the boy’s cheek, demanding his attention. “You’re my boy. Your life isn’t a waste, you’re not destined to be cast aside and forgotten. You’re a prince, and I am never letting you go.”
Link watched him, some kind of yearning and desperation fighting the dull look in his eyes, those eyes that used to be so bright with fire and determination, that used to reflect the blood moon beautifully. Ganondorf felt his heart break a little at the sight of it, and his hand shifted to behind the teenager’s head, pulling him forward so he could kiss his forehead. The magic he’d imbued there was a promise of protection, and he would ensure this boy was safe, even from himself. Link trembled under his hold, and he heard him sniffle.
Sighing, he let the boy sink into his embrace once more. “I love you, Link.”
The young boy’s cries carried on the wind, filling the blood stained land. The demon king swayed back and forth, soothing him with gentle hushes. And in the distance, a Hero perked up at the sound of crying, pausing from his meal and grabbing his gear to investigate.
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brutal-planet · 3 months
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For a moment, I kinda forgot to be sad.
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dykeseesgod · 9 days
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chocolate guys :-)
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francisg · 9 months
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my updated catcf designs if you remember me drawing these you get a members discount they are very different but the same (to read more about each one go to my Instagram @moongatti) I CANNOT be bothered explaining more here
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twixnmix · 10 months
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Marc Almond and David Ball photographed by Andy Warhol at the Factory in New York City, 1982.
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aamakel · 2 years
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friday was good actually and we were all fools for hating it
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webwizkid · 3 months
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teavee, gloop, salt
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ponysongbracket · 11 months
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Brony Music Bracket: Finale!
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youtube
youtube
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springbon-t-art · 1 year
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i loved this! <3
Thanks for the requests by those anons, @ilovetheajolotes , and  @creeperfox21 i hope you like them :D
PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY ARTWORK
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