#leaf hound

[jt1674]

[rastronomicals]

4:34 PM EDT April 28, 2024:

Leaf Hound - "With a Minute to Go" From the album Growers of Mushroom (1971)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: British Heavy Psych, Old School

--

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

CULT EARLY '70s HEAVY ROCK FOR REAL ONE'S ONLY -- RIGHT UP THERE WITH ZEP, THE SAB, PURPS, & THE ROOSTER.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on CD package design for "Growers of Mushroom," the 1971 debut studio album by English hard rock band LEAF HOUND, remastered and re-released on CD by the UK's Repertoire Records in 2005.

EXTRA INFO: Consisting of all original material, it is the only album by the band's original line-up, and has been noted as pioneering the then burgeoning UK hard rock and heavy metal sounds. The album has also been hailed as a key component in the birth of stoner rock.

Source: www.discogs.com/release/3584137-Leaf-Hound-Growers-Of-Mushroom.

[ninkennohara]

[pokedcheck]

caber immediately covering his head when he's on the ice brother has been through it all 😭😭😭

[lesdeuxmuses]

Acrimony - Tumuli Shroomaroom (Leaf Hound Records, 2007)

[musesbonesdcrystalstodough]

Information - relations and sexuality (and gender identity for 2)

Rosie and Ice are twins no matter which timeline you speak to

They are siblings with lava and yahveh.

There is a valid reason there isn't 2 timelines for lava

Rosie is bi

Ice is also bi, but male leaning in preferences

Void!Yahveh is pan with no preference

Amaryllis is bi

Soda moth is trans fem and bi

Syrup Song is trans masc and gay

Vanilla Rose is straight

Syrup Song and Soda Moth are siblings

[rastronomicals]

7:33 AM EST December 7, 2023:

Leaf Hound - "Stray" From the album Growers of Mushroom (1971)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: British Heavy Psych, Old School

[vinylspinning]

Ainigma: Diluvium (1973)

Taking their name from the Greek word for "enigma," Ainigma was a German three-piece from the small Bavarian town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, whose "career" ranged from 1971-'74, and produced this sole long-player from half-a-century ago.

Its musicians were seventeen-year-old Willy Klüter (vocals, organ), his fifteen-year-old brother Michael (drums), plus Wolfgang Netzer (guitar, bass, also fifteen), and their inexperience is obvious on 1973's Diluvium (Latin for "deluge").

The album consists, by and large, of neoclassical heavy prog that appears to have been recorded in a cluttered garage -- and that's close enough to the truth, as it was captured at the Garmisch parish hall, instead.

Still, this was better that than the boys' regular rehearsal site in the Klüter family basement, which happened to be located underneath their dentist father's home practice, and must have therefore subjected his patients to a racket fit to rattle their fillings!

Like, literally!

Luckily, Ainigma did benefit from adult supervision during the album's recording, as they convinced the affluent Dr. Klüter to hire one Franz Forth -- a Munich-based engineering intern with the Bavarian Broadcasting System -- and a pair of two-track Revox machines.

With all this in mind, one can't help but admire the trio's precocious, if unrefined talents, as it explodes with boundless enthusiasm via domineering Hammond organ (*), surprisingly distorted fuzz guitars, muscular drums ... and pretty terrible lyrics.

And yet, all three cuts found on side one -- "Prejudice," "You Must Run," and "All Things are Fading" -- feature their fair share of memorable moments, even if these were clearly inspired by the likes of Uriah Heep, Stray, and especially Atomic Rooster.

Side two houses the 18-minute-long trip of a title track, complete with a clumsily punched-in drum solo and other technical issues relating to the bass, lead and background vocal overdubs, which don't always mesh with the backing tracks for lack of an equalizer and other common tools available in most professional studios ... but not the parish hall.

Evidently, Dr. Klüter's generosity had its limits, and the members of Ainigma were so dissatisfied with the sessions' end results that they only pressed about 500 copies of Diluvium (**) and then sold them at a discount on account of its shitty sound.

Mama Klüter, likewise, eventually grew tired of driving the teenagers to local gigs, so the band's prospects and resolve gradually dwindled and, after briefly hiring a bassist to flesh out their live shows, Ainigma called it a day sometime in '74.

So, what's the final verdict?

Well, I've heard much better examples of under-funded, under-rehearsed German heavy prog, but I've also heard a lot worse, so give Ainigma and Diluvium a half-dozen virtual "spins" and you too might be tempted to invest in a physical format.

* Although Willy's liner notes amazingly suggest he only secured his first Hammond a few years later and got by here with a Farsifa on these recordings!

** In case you're wondering, the rear sleeve's cryptic acronyms, ARC ALP, stands for "Ainigma Record Company, Ainigma LP Stereo, and its product number of 151715 reflected the boys' ages at the time of recording.

More Early ‘70s Heavy Rock & Prog: Atomic Rooster’s Death Walks Behind You, Birth Control’s Operation, Bodkin's Bodkin, Budgie’s Squawk, Clear Blue Sky’s Clear Blue Sky, Deep Purple’s Fireball, Eloy’s Eloy, Los Dug Dug’s Smog, Estus' Estus, Focus’ Moving Waves, Frumpy’s Frumpy 2, Hammer's Hammer, Hard Meat’s Hard Meat, Head Machine’s Orgasm, Highway Robbery’s For Love or Money, Jethro Tull’s Aqualung, Jerusalem’s Jerusalem, Jody Grind’s Far Canal, Kahvas Jute’s Wide Open, Leaf Hound’s Growers of Mushroom, Murphy Blend’s First Loss, Scorpions’ Lonesome Crow, Stray’s Stray, Stray Dog’s Stray Dog, Tapiman’s Tapiman, Tempest’s Tempest, Thundermug’s Thundermug Strikes, Tiger B. Smith’s Tiger Rock, Toad’sToad, Toe Fat’s Two, Trapeze’s Medusa Uriah Heep’s The Magician’s Birthday, Warhorse’s Warhorse, Wild Turkey’s Battle Hymn, Wishbone Ash’s Argus, Zarathustra’s Zarathustra.

[prismit]

oh yeah, had a dream that i got access to like a super early beta demo of a gen10 pokemon game. the New Battle Gimmick Bracelet was seafoam green like the pokemon home strange ball, but i couldn't tell you what the actual gimmick was lol.

i do remember finding a shiny bellsprout-like thing (regional form/fake?) and i think it was already affected by the gimmick, kinda like the static tera pokemon in sc/vi. but it added so many visual effects to the beginning of the encounter that it took almost the entire 30 seconds of a switch clip to record from the start of the encounter to the shiny sparkles lmao

[hellsdogs]

❛ what a coincidence that we all happen to be here at the same time in the exact same place. ❜ ( hiro 2 kimura ... friends? )

"Now, look at who's showing late to the party." The placed is filled, a crowded establishment owned by the Inagawa-kai, a place filled with both members of their own syndicate and the Yamazaki clan who are back in town. Sake down the tables, yaki nasu and beef to go with. Loud, messy and jolly. Right next to Kimura, two hostesses with her eyes hands all over him, as usual. Kimura points at the couch facing his own as an invitation for Hiro to come have a chat in his booth, well not exactly just his, some of his closest brothers from Inagawa are here as well. One of the girls naturally stands in order to serve Hiro a glass too. "Haven't seen that or you since Hanahaki." Hanahaki, that hostess bar that got raid by the Matsushitas, a bloody gun fight in which both Kimura and Hiro found themselves caught 6 to 8 months ago. That memory still lives fresh in Kimura's mind, the two men were clearly outnumbered and had to play it smart while waiting for back ups. That's what he likes about Hiro, he's smart - Kimura was happy to have him by his side, knowing his own dick and gun weren't gonna save them that night. The Matsushitas are gone now, decimated by Yamazaki-clan themselves. "Haven't gotten yourself shot ever since?"

[daycourtofficial]

Blood moon in Autumn

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 1.3k | warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

Summary: fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series, however this can be read as a standalone. @writingcroissant actually gave me the idea for this so everyone say thanks Tori 🥰

Death was imminent, you were sure of it. Every fiber of your being ached, the pain emanating from your lower abdomen through the rest of your body. It felt like someone was stabbing you with a rusted, dull knife, the blade carving out your insides slowly at their leisure.

You heard your bedroom door open and close, footsteps coming towards the bed. You groan in greeting as the steps get closer.

“Just leave me here to die, Er.”

A soft chuckle makes its way to your ears, despite the layers of blankets you are burrowed beneath, the blankets not offering you the comfort you so desperately crave.

“You’ll be remembered for even in death, your flare for the dramatics never faltered.”

You push your face from the blankets, allowing your face to be seen. You scowl towards your mate, his smirk making you want to push him from the window. You take in the sight of him - he had changed into more relaxed clothes since you saw him last. Gone is his formal jacket, a deep red velvet with golden leaf embroidery. The garment would make anyone look like court royalty, but on Eris it made him look positively radiant, as if the fires of Autumn truly originated from him, as if the apple orchards and the crops found their nutrients from him. You loved when he wore it, your fingers tracing the fine embroidery along the lapel as you would straddle his lap, grinding softly-

You groaned, the idea of moving so much making you nauseous and slightly dizzy.

Now he wore a loose, billowy shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual brown trousers covering his toned legs. If it were any other day, you’d devour him. Any other day, you’d pull him directly into bed, pushing his clothes off of him, neither of you leaving bed until you slipped his shirt on to grab the two of you some pastries.

Instead, the sight of him made you slightly annoyed - he seemed fine as he set down a tray on the table next to you. He was fine this morning when he rose, having to tend to some things before returning. You were dying, and he was perfectly fine. You groaned, shifting to sit up on your elbows. “What’s this?”

“I believe those of us who leave our beds call it ‘food’.”

His smirk disappears at the pillow that hits his feet. He sends you a withering glare that just makes you scoff. “That could have hit the tray of coffee I made for you.”

You perked up at the sound of coffee - you were sure the warm liquid would at least distract your insides. Or at least provide you some comfort.

You’d take anything at this point.

“Did you make the coffee? Or did you just prepare the tray?”

“What difference does it make? Coffee is coffee.”

“Well, if Jora made it, then I aimed perfectly for your feet.”

“What if it was my coffee?”

“Then I would have aimed for the tray.”

He gives you a withering stare, his fingers halting their movements. “Now that’s no way to treat your mate who lovingly made you coffee.”

You squint your eyes, “if it’s my mate that’s making the coffee, it’s more of an assassination attempt than love.”

“You wound me, my love.” Despite your grievances, he continues preparing your cup exactly as you like it.

“Is the wound fatal?”

“Perhaps.”

“I shall pay my respects at your funeral, then. With my next husband.”

His eyebrow quirks as he rests the cup on your side table before he rounds the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets on top of you. He crawls in behind you, his body heat causing you to melt.

“Next husband?”

“I will get lonely. Besides, the hounds need a male’s touch. They’ll grow soft under me.”

“And who is this next husband? Is he capable of this?”

Before you can ask what ‘this’ is, he slides his arm around your waist, his palm lying flat over your lower abdomen, his fingers spreading across your skin. Your skin began heating under his touch, and you moaned at the relief he provided you.

“If he’s not, he’s not worth it. Perhaps one of your brothers will be capable. Lu, maybe?”

Eris growled at the teasing, your friendship with Lucien a constant sore spot for him amidst his rekindling relationship with his youngest brother. He hated to admit it, but he seethed with jealousy watching you interact with Lucien, the way your conversation would flow easily.

A life of regrets and Lucien takes several of the top five spots.

“Lucien would make a terrible husband. You’d never see him - he spends all day brushing his hair.”

“I like a well-groomed male.”

“The noises his eye makes would keep you up all night.”

“I think you’re getting us confused. The whirring would soothe me to sleep.”

He buries his face into your neck, mumbling, “you are not marrying Lucien.”

“Alastor, perhaps?”

You clutched onto Eris’s arm, the heat providing you some relief. You nuzzle your head into his bicep, and he blows out a hot breath, “if I die, and you are unable to continue alone, marry outside of my family, leave my brothers out of your marriage pool.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.

“Not Azriel.”

You huff, “well if I can’t have a Vanserra or Azriel, I’ll stay alone forever.”

“I prefer that alternative.”

“I will rule Autumn alone. Just as Beron would have liked.”

You spin in his arms, pushing his shoulder down so he’d lay on his back. You crawl on top of him, laying so every inch of you is touching him in some way. Not an inch of space exists between your bodies. You poke his ribs, urging him to start heating up. He ignores you, so you start tugging on the bond between you two.

“Patience is a virtue, don’t they teach that in the war camps they call villages?”

“I’m dying, I think the Mother can forgive my lack of virtues.”

He huffs, but starts warming his skin to better provide comfort. You groan, laying in silence with him for several moments, the heat a comfort to the constant pain.

A few moments later you roll, your back laying across his chest.

“Ah,” you sigh, the pain in your lower back lessening at his touch.

“You’re spinning like game over a campfire.”

He rests his hands on your lower abdomen, the warmth making the stabbing pain into a dull ache.

You sigh at the contact, practically melting at how he soothes your muscles.

“I want to go bathe but that requires movement and leaving this bed.”

Eris laughs into your hair, but you hear the water running in the bathroom. You groan just thinking about how soothing the water would feel on your joints. You breathed out slowly through your nose, preparing yourself for the trek across the room.

You rolled off of Eris, and before you could get off the bed, Eris moved from behind to in front of you, his feet landing softly on the floor.

“Care for a ride?”

You nod, and his arms sweep you up.

“I think this is my preferred method of travel.”

“Perhaps this is how you will tour Autumn, hm? I shall carry you throughout the lands.”

You laugh as he sets you down, helping you remove your clothes. He must be warming the air somehow, because you don’t feel the chill of the air when your clothes are completely off. He helps you into the water, which you melt into immediately. You close your eyes, laying back in the tub, the porcelain a nice surface to lean against.

You’ve completely forgotten about Eris’ presence until you feel him nudge your shoulders forward, his lean body slipping behind you into the tub. His legs stretch besides yours, and you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“There’s no way my next husband will be as helpful as you are.”

He breathes out through his nose, “I fear you can only marry down from here. A pity, truly.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader

Thanks for reading 💕

[fruitytrollroll]

postcanon dusknoir trying to turn over a new leaf and be Kind but the sableye won't stop hounding him. what's the plan master dusknoir?? do you want us to spread more rumors of your courageous and noble spirit, your daring dungeon exploits??? and he's like no... in fact, i have been unkind to you. I'm sorry for the way i treated you. i will make an effort not to harm you or exploit you from now on <3 and the sableye are so confused they start wailing and crying and dragging themselves inconsolably across the ground... clinging to his tail and crying tears of gemstone grist... master dusknoir won't hit us any more??? doesn't want us to get stronger??? doesn't want US??? master dusknoir is ABANDONING us?? master dusknoir HATES us?? oh!! cruel world!! heartache!! agony!! this is the worst day 😔

[daeniradraconis]

The Leafs Legacy - Auston Matthews

Okay, so @tonyspep you gave me the sweetest idea with your comment! I know you were hoping for a more gentle Auston teaching his daughter to skate, but I thought the first game could be way more exciting! Hope you still love this take though!

So, here's daddy Auston being the proudest coach at his baby girl's first game. A few Leaf players make an appearance too. It's all about the fluff and cuteness! I just needed to write something like this today to make myself smile, and I hope it does the same for you! 💕 For more fun: masterlist❤️

—-

The arena buzzed with excitement—a lively mix of proud parents, devoted fans, and an entire section filled with Toronto Maple Leafs players, all gathered to witness history: the very first game of the newly established Leafs Girls' Program. And at the heart of it all, standing tall behind the bench in his team-issued jacket, was Auston Matthews—head coach of the future generation of hockey stars.

You still remember the promise Auston made when Clara was born. At the time, you thought he was joking about starting a Maple Leafs girls’ team, but that stubborn fool never let it go. For nearly a year, he hounded the directors and senior managers, relentless in his mission. You’re pretty sure they only gave in just to stop him from spamming their inboxes with proposals and cornering them with passionate speeches. But now, seeing the pride in his eyes as he watched his team, you knew—he had won.

From the stands, you held little Auston Jr. close, his tiny Maple Leafs onesie making him look impossibly adorable. At just three months old, he had no clue what was going on, but nestled in your arms, surrounded by the bright lights and the roar of the crowd, he was completely content. And in that moment, so were you.

You and Auston had talked about having more kids after Clara turned one, but life didn’t unfold as expected. Months turned into years, and despite your best efforts, nothing happened. Eventually, you both quietly let the topic go. But then, just as you were getting ready to settle into your life as a family of three, at nearly 36 years old, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—a miracle.

When you told Auston, he cried like a baby, overwhelmed by emotion. And to be honest, you were a hot mess too, crying and laughing at the same time.

You may not have ended up with enough kids to fill a hockey team, but you were surrounded by love—cherished by your little ones, who meant the world to you. The small moments of chaos and laughter, the sleepy snuggles, and the endless hugs were all you needed. And as for Auston, he never let you forget, that he was right about one thing: you were an absolute smoke show MILF.

But then, your attention naturally shifted. You glanced over at the ice, where Clara stood, her little figure tiny against the rink. She wore an oversized Leafs jersey, her pink and purple helmet snug on her head, and her tiny hands gripped her stick with surprising confidence. She looked so small out there, but the look in her eyes? That was all Auston. You could see the fire, the determination—just like her dad. In that moment, you knew she was going to make her own mark, and maybe even take after her father in more ways than one.

Auston paced behind the girls on the bench, hands on his hips, barking out encouragement like he was coaching a Stanley Cup Final.

Mitch, sitting right next to you, burst into laughter, nudging William. "Oh my god, look at him," he snorted. "He’s gonna lose his mind before the game’s even over."

William grinned, shaking his head. "I’ve never seen him this hyped, and we’ve played playoff games with him."

The rest of the guys joined in, chuckling at Auston’s visible excitement. Your heart swelled with warmth. You knew how deeply Auston loved his team, so seeing them here—supporting him, even if they were absolutely going to tease him about this later—meant the world to him.

You laughed along with them, bouncing little Auston Jr. in your arms. "He’s ridiculous," you said, shaking your head. "But you all know you’re going to be just as bad in about two seconds." You shot them a teasing grin, but Mitch and William both shook their heads in disbelief, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

And sure enough, the game finally started.

"Alright, ladies! Keep your sticks down, eyes on the puck! Clara, get ready!" Auston called out.

Clara looked back at her dad, giving him a firm nod before turning her attention to the faceoff. You couldn’t help but smile—she was only five, yet she carried herself with the same intensity Auston did before a big game.

The puck dropped, and the game was on.

Clara skated forward, her tiny legs working overtime as she chased after the puck. The other girls scrambled in every direction, but somehow, she managed to gain control. She took a few unsteady strides before taking what could only be described as the most adorable shot attempt ever. It wasn’t the hardest shot, and it wobbled a bit, but it went straight into the tiny net.

The arena erupted into cheers.

Auston lost his mind.

"YES, CLARA! THAT’S MY GIRL!" he shouted, jumping up and down. He turned to the Leafs players in the stands, waving his arms wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! GOAL SCORER GENES!"

And as you predicted, Mitch and Willy shot up from their seats, cheering like maniacs.

"Future first-liner!" Mitch called out, clapping his hands.

McMann grinned and joined in. "She’s got her dad’s shot. Go, Clara baby!"

You shook your head, laughing as Auston continued his excited antics on the bench. Clara, meanwhile, looked up at her dad, her little face beaming with pride beneath her helmet.

She skated back to the bench, nearly tripping in her excitement, and Auston scooped her up the second she reached him. He lifted her high in the air, twirling her around.

"You did it, baby girl! First goal of many!"

Clara giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Did you see, Daddy? I scored!"

"I saw!" he beamed, pressing a kiss to her helmet. "And I think that means ice cream after the game. What do you think?"

Clara gasped, her little eyes going wide. "With sprinkles?!"

"With all the sprinkles in the world," Auston promised, setting her back down on the ice. "Now go get another one, superstar."

She grinned and skated off, ready for her next shift.

Back in the stands, you turned to the guys beside you, only to find them still on their feet, cheering as if Clara had just won the Cup.

Mitch was cupping his hands around his mouth. "SIGN HER TO AN ELC RIGHT NOW!"

William was whistling, and Bobby nodded approvingly. "She’s a natural."

You smirked. "And here I thought Auston was the only one who’d lose his mind over this."

Mitch turned to you, completely serious. "Are you kidding? That was ELITE."

William grinned. "We should be scouting her already."

You just shook your head, laughing as they continued their proud-uncle act. Meanwhile, Auston stood at the bench, hands on his knees, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his daughter—eyes filled with pride—like she had just scored the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Final.

Little Auston Jr. stirred in your arms, and you glanced down at him, brushing a soft kiss against his tiny forehead. "Looks like you’ve got some big skates to fill, little guy."

The game continued, filled with more adorable chaos, but in that moment—watching your husband on the bench, your daughter on the ice, and your newborn son in your arms—you knew one thing for sure.

This was happiness. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—and more.

Note: ELC = Entry-Level Contract. An ELC is the standard contract given to rookie players entering the NHL, typically when they're signing their first contract after being drafted.