#dj doc

[ainkilimanjaro]

How the DJ wreck shop with the beatz then come from behind the mixer, and chop it up with the crowd? I dunno, but DJ Doc did it!! He knew he had unleashed beatz in his repertoire, and didn't warn us. Watch out for what he's bringin'!

Dj Doc rocked the crowd at the "Med Call Concert" featuring King Iso & Taebo Tha Truth in Tulsa Oklahoma last night. Nothin' but love for the energy, and excitement this gentleman brought. Watch out for what this dude is working on.

Much love.

Ain Kilimanjaro LLC

#BroughtTheBeatz #NoNeed4Headphones #BeatzStillBumpin

[discoholicmusic]

🪩 playing LISA: The Painful as Widdly 2 Diddly 🕗 8p ET: https://twitch.tv/discoholic (fair warning, this game can get disturbing)

[mediocre-squid-lyrics]

I NEVER POSTED MY TIDAL RUSH LYRICS????????????

tidal rush - dj octavio ft callie vs marie ---

I really, really thought that our bond would be true I really loved you I’m really, really caught, oh, caught up in this truth That you never knew

I’m a fool, but of course If I could soothe the wounds I impart I’d say unlike the tide, you reside Close in my heart

I never, never knew just how much I failed you That I left you behind I never, never knew just how much it hurt you I fear that I’ll find

That I’m cruel as the tide Too foolish to see what I now know I’ll try again, tell you that I love you so

I’m reaching out for you, can you hear my melody Calling out your name? I need you to know how much you mean to me Fixing my mistake

(Can’t you see I don’t need your help? You’re just a liar, liar, liar You never knew me! Just go back to wherever you came We aren’t the same.)

When you’re back and you’re home We’ll find happiness and a fresh start We’ll try again, maybe then We can restart

(Memories of a broken heart I’ve found my fire, fire, fire, fire It burns and it seethes I hate you, leave me to The life I’ve managed to claim!)

Grieving and alone, I’ll look for you No matter what it takes

(Left me in the dust Can you blame me if I feel a little hate?)

Have we begun to fade?

It hurts, but if it’s true that you’re leaving And you really want me to go…

(Just let… leave me alone! What do I think? I remember everything It’s all so much and what he told me was a lie When you’re here, the burden feels more light)

Can you hear my voice? The pull of my song The swift tidal rush Through all the noise, can you hear my message: I love you so much!

Although it’s been so long And it’s weakened our bond I will still stay Together, the pressure Of fame fades away

[thatgayoctopus]

I did the thing :)

[allthegothihopgirls]

oc lore goes crazy because what do you mean this guy started off as a failed lab baby and now he's planning an assassination attempt on an eldritch god????

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 22 / 31 * DUDED-UP, EGG-SUCKIN' GUTTER TRASH 」

September 12, 1885

“Coffee, Mister Brown?” Maggie asks, looking back over her shoulder.

“Please, Emmett is fine. And yes, thanks.”

“Alright, Emmett. I’d offer you sugar, but we’ve run out of the stuff two days ago, so I hope you don’t mind it black.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ve been trying to get myself used to drinking it black.” The bitterness will be exactly what he needs for this conversation.

Seamus walks into the room just as Maggie hands a steaming cup over to Emmett, roughly scraping a towel against a patch of dirt caked onto his neck.

“I thought I told you to wash up before you came and joined us.” Maggie sniffs at the air and makes a face. “You smell worse than the animals, Seamus.” Shrugging, Seamus drapes the towel over the back of the nearest chair and settles down opposite Emmett. A thick cloud of uncertainty has followed Seamus into the room, crackling with a palpable energy in the air between them.

“And keep Mister Brown waiting?”

“Emmett,” he offers again, to which Seamus nods.

Caught by the weight of the imploring look in Seamus’ eyes, Emmett half-considers dispensing with the story he’d created to lay the truth out on the table before them, consequences be damned. It would be nice to bring them into the secret as well, have two more people with whom he could be more open around and not worry about accidentally slipping up and revealing something he shouldn’t, but he had agreed to pay the price for his knowledge the very first time he travelled through time and now the consequences were his to suffer.

Telling them the truth would be an additional burden he didn’t feel right saddling either of them with.

But some variation of the truth with the temporal aspects of the story carefully redacted? They deserved that much.

“So, what is it you came all this way to tell us, Emmett?” Maggie settles into the seat beside Seamus, pushing a cup into his hands.

Seamus’ thoughtful prayers at the funeral had been twisting a proverbial knife in his gut and he feared that if he left it a moment longer, his subconscious would find a way to make physical wounds in its place.

Better late than never would have to do.

“I’d meant to come sooner, but with everything happening, I’m sorry, time just got away from me.” Seamus nods, the irony lost on him.

“Those haven’t been easy things you had to deal with these past few days.”

Even faking a death was a messy affair. “No, but they are related to why I’m here. I actually came to talk about Clint.” The name immediately strikes a chord with both of them, Seamus leaning forward in his seat with a peculiar expression on his face that Emmett can’t quite place.

As if he’d been expecting that name to come out of his mouth.

While that opens the door for a number of very interesting questions, Emmett keeps his train of thought on one singular track, sipping at the hot coffee to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Particularly, about his supposed death.” Maggie starts to look at him with that same disapproving look he’s seen on countless faces in his own time. He can’t say he’s surprised.

It’s Seamus, however, whose face he finds himself unable to look away from.

“Clint wasn’t on that hijacked train when it went into the ravine. Believe me, I know how it sounds—crazy—but that story about him trying to stop the robbers was just that. A story.” One he’d run through over-and-over with Clara until it sounded believable enough for the general public who would forget about it the moment the next thing caught their eye.

“I told Marshall Strickland how Clara and I saw the train go over the ravine. That Clint had heard word about a robbery happening on-board the train and planned to intercept them before they could do any real harm, but he wasn’t able to stop the hijackers from plunging the train into the ravine.”

The Marshall appeared to accept it with minimal questioning despite the disbelieving scowl permanently etched onto his face. Clint Eastwood had already become a local hero—to say he died a hero’s death in an attempt to uphold the law and protect the innocent would be a fitting, poetic end, one that involved minimal scrutiny on the Marshall’s part.

“But the truth is, that didn’t happen. Not like that.” Seamus remains a thoughtfully quiet enigma, near impossible to read, and Emmett sips at his coffee, grimacing at just how bitter this cup seems to be. “The train fell into the ravine, that’s for sure—the wreck is still there—but Clint didn’t go with it.”

Maggie, quiet up until this point save for the expression on her face that had grown more and more disbelieving with each word, finally speaks.

“Now Emmett, you’re really sittin’ here expecting us to believe that all that was made up? Do you take us for fools?” Maggie’s tone is sharp. “Or are you just tryin’ to spare our feelings, seeing as how it was no secret we were worried for Mister Eastwood? In which case, I’ll tell you we need no coddling. We’ve faced Death before and come out of it. This will be no different.” Maggie reaches for Seamus’ arm, squeezing tightly.

“No, I don’t think that. I told you it would sound crazy, but everything I’ve said so far is the truth. Clint left town that day and I used the train wreck as a cover story to protect him in case Tannen or someone else came looking for him.”

“So, you’re telling us he’s alive, are you?” Seamus sounds both dreamy and sceptical, torn between whether he should allow himself to believe it or to join his wife in saying what Emmett knows. That when you think about it, it sounds too unbelievable to be truth.

But Seamus doesn’t look surprised. Confused, maybe, thoughtful, certainly, but this is the very same expression he has seen countless times on Marty just before the kid says something profound and wise, well wiser than his years, that cuts straight to the heart of the matter in ways Emmett himself would never have considered. A sixth sense, for lack of a better word—an perceptiveness and awareness that attunes him to the world around him with special attention paid to those close to him—that is always immediately followed with some comment about perceived non-intelligence that makes Emmett want to pull his hair out.

Marty might not have been book-smart in the way he was, but he was clever and wise, an almost perfect reflection of what he sees echoed here in Seamus.

“Oh, Seamus, it’s a fine tale, isn’t it? The hand of God comes down to stop Clint from getting on that train and those bandits get what they deserve while Clint lives out a happy life elsewhere?”

Seamus only shakes his head, looking at—through—Emmett, straight to his soul. “It is quite the tale, but I don’t get the feeling that he’s lying, Maggie. Just look at him—that’s not the face of a man who came here to sell us a story just for our sakes.”

Maggie nearly throws her hands up in disbelief. “Another of your feelings, Seamus! Honestly, I don’t know what to make of these half the time. You really believe that?”

“Aye, I do. Same way I believe that there’s more here that Emmett’s not telling us.” Emmett blinks, stiffening in his seat. “I think it’s all more complicated than that.”

Swallowing, he looks down at the ripples spreading across the surface of his coffee. “No—you’re right. That is the truth, but it isn’t the whole truth. The whole truth is, frankly, even more unbelievable from your perspective.”

Seamus and Maggie exchange a glance of a thousand unspoken words before Seamus smiles, his tone light for the first time that afternoon. “We’ll be the ones to decide that, Emmett.”

[marcmarcmomarc]

Cars: el videojuego

Personajes jugables

“El Rayo” McQueen: Sergio Gutiérrez Coto

Tom Mate: César Filio

Sally Carrera: Rosalba Sotelo

Doc Hudson: Héctor Lama Yazbek

Ramón: Gabriel Pingarrón

Flo: Simone Brook

Sheriff: Francisco Colmenero

Chick Hicks: Carlos Becerril

Wingo: Ricardo Tejedo

Darrell Cartrip: Idzi Dutkiewicz

Strip “El Rey” Weathers: Jorge Lapuente

Conde Espátula: Héctor Estrada

Sólo minijuegos

Luigi: Salvador Nájar

Boost: Eduardo Giaccardi

DJ: Yamil Atala

Personajes no jugables

Guido: Raúl Aldana

Mack: Arturo Mercado

Sargento: Héctor Lee Vargas

Fillmore: Eduardo Tejedo

Lizzie: María Santander

Mia: Yadira Aedo

Tia: Romina Marroquín Payró

Estornudos: Héctor Alcaraz

Fletcher: Héctor Lee Vargas

Gerald: Gabriel Pingarrón

El Guapo: Dafnis Fernández

Papo: Rafael Sigler

Tommy Joe: José Antonio Macías

Buford: TBA

Cletus: Jorge Ornelas

Lewis: TBA

Judd: TBA

Zeke: Carlos Hernández

Vince: Mario Filio

Sonny: Germán Fabregat

Barry: Pedro Ruiz

Lenny: Salvador Reyes

Descomunal: Mark Pokora

El Lisiado: Eduardo Garza

Tractores: Steve Purcell

Aikens: TBA

Guenther: TBA

Joltsen: TBA

Lee Jr.: TBA

Suregrip: TBA

Hollister: TBA

Riley: TBA

Turner: TBA

Bashman: TBA

Buck: TBA

Zeb: TBA

Cortland: TBA

Medford: TBA

Henderson: TBA

Masterson: TBA

Banks: TBA

McCoy: TBA

Clarkson: TBA

Turistas (Minivans): César Garduza

Turistas (Sedánes de los años 70): Héctor Emmanuel Gómez

Turistas (Camionetas): Annie Rojas

Turistas (SUVs): Eder La Barrera

Turistas (Hatchbacks): Karina Altamirano

Turistas (Sedánes modernos): Luis Leonardo Suárez

Turiatas (RVs): Kevin Adrián

[ainkilimanjaro]

2nd time seeing Taebo Tha Truth and Dj Doc on tour. Outstanding shows gentlemen 💪💯!!

#2024ILLdrenTour #StrangeMusic

[triptychofvoids]

Hey doc! I was wondering, do you like rhythm games? I personally do because of how similar they are to stimming (sometimes) but I know they aren't everyone's jam. (And my favorite side order pallete is DJ octavio's!! What's yours?)

-☎ anon, asking because I got hyperfixated on pjsk a bit ago.

unfortunately i cant give you my opinion on that because i dont think ive ever played a rhythm game before. youre welcome to tell me about it though!

[hourcat]

Oh, are you doing a trick or treat thing? I hope it's not too late for me to join in! Trick or Treat! ^_^

TINA!!!! trick or TREAT bestie <3 it is NEVER too late

for you...i am going to unearth my eternally-unfinished hanahaki au....dj x eli....my last ties to nfl rpf rn </3

“Hi,” Eli says, sounding exactly the same as he always does. Daniel can picture him exactly like this, perched at his kitchen counter or on his couch or back at Quest, one hand clutched at his knee. “You alright?”

Daniel wants to laugh even though nothing over the past six hours has been funny. What the fuck does Eli think he’s going to say? “You probably know the answer,” he says flatly. It’s like Eli is pouring lemon juice on his open wound, keeping him locked in this one moment of the worst night of his professional life. He loves Eli, loves him hopelessly and earnestly and against his better judgment every single day, but right now he just—he just needs Eli to leave him alone, just needs to get home and unwind and spit up some gnarly looking flowers into his toilet until the unease in his chest settles.

Eli chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, I know.” He pauses. “Listen, I know you want to get out of there and everything—” he clears his throat, and even in this half-hearted irritation Daniel is feeling towards his mentor, the instinct to cling to whatever comes out of his mouth next is undeniable. “I just—I wanted to call and check in, and, y’know.” He clears his throat again. “Remind y’that I’ll always be here for you. You know?” He hesitates once more, although Daniel can’t fault him because, what? Any lingering frustration has dissolved in an instant. His head is practically spinning. “I’m in your corner, you can talk to me about anything. Especially—especially the football, since I’ve been around the block, but even outside of that—don’t let this eat you up, Danny.”

Danny.

The flowers inside him are thriving off of Eli’s words, how honest and gentle and kind they sound in his ear, he can tell. Daniel thought the cold of Green Bay had numbed everything inside of him but now it’s all fire inside, it’s every feeling all at once. “How am I supposed to do that?” He finally manages, voice coming out as a whisper. His throat feels scratchy with emotion—and with the greenery in him—and he knows it’s going to take a long time to recover from this, even with whatever Eli suggests to him next.

“Well, first, y’come talk to me. I’ve been there, I know exactly how y’feel—more than anyone else, I get it. And I know you, Daniel. I know how you work, how you prepare, and I know how you think. And you gotta know that this—” Daniel pictures him gesturing wildly, like he’s in front of a whiteboard drawing up plays. “—this ain’t your fault. I know you think it is, and y’re gonna keep thinking it is even though I’m tellin’ you it’s not, but it’s not.” There’s more emotion in his voice than Daniel has ever heard—passion, stress, understanding, care, kindness, all there littered in his words. “So you come talk to me, Danny, y’hear? I don’t care how often you need it, we can run it play by play ‘til I know you get it.”

Daniel doesn’t even realize he’s crying until it’s too late. “We just fell apart, E, I don’t—I just—” He can’t finish his sentence, grief seemingly closing his throat. I wasn’t good enough, how could I not have been good enough when everybody needed me most? He wants to say it. He wants to ask, and he really wants to keep listening to Eli tell him sweet (albeit untrue) things.

He wants to, but he can’t. Because it’s not grief that has him unable to breathe—it’s the Hanahaki. He coughs once, twice, to try and dislodge the blockage, but it seems like it’s bigger than it ever has been before, and it’s not—it’s not working—

“Daniel?” Eli asks, voice tinged in concern. If only he knew. “Daniel, what’s—are you alright?”

Daniel can’t answer. He keeps coughing, body desperately trying to purge the green from his body as he doubles over, but it just won’t budge. Again, again, again, back aching from the force, he coughs to clear his throat but nothing changes.

“Daniel?” Eli’s voice is fainter in his ear even though the phone hasn’t moved—or has it? The corners of his vision have begun to blur. He heave-coughs again, bending still further over to try and simplify the path for the blockage to tumble out into a mess on the wooden floor, but nothing comes up and he’s starting to get dizzy. The pain burning in his back is beginning to fade in time with the way his vision has started to lose focus. Is he still coughing? Daniel isn’t entirely sure. He’s not holding his phone anymore, either, which can’t be good, but he’s not sure where it went. Maybe he dropped it. I’ll just grab it, he thinks, and reaches out to feel for it, but the world spins and suddenly he’s on his back, staring up into the bright lights burning above him.

Like the stadium outside. Like the sun this morning. Like the light he used to hear about in church as a kid.

Daniel can’t hear anything anymore. Maybe his coughing spell has passed, he realizes hazily. It’s such an exhausting thing, to suffer from this kind of sickness—it always drains Daniel when he gets out from underneath the heavy foot of his Hanahaki. All it takes is a quick nap to right him, though—he’s so warm, it’s the perfect time to rest his eyes—

[summerof94]

[thesoundofmadness]

did they remix what is love. they already did I'm blue da ba de m. what else will they do next

[djpurple3]

i really wish i could get over my published fic MUST be finished fic anxiety bc these smallishslab moments in this fic are far too much fun for only me to witness

[morerogue]

DJ Brown by ukimalefu