#miscreance

[metalshockfinland]

MISCREANCE Sign to Season of Mist, New Album Coming

Photo credit: Alice Siega Season of Mist is proud to announce the signing of MISCREANCE! The Italian old school death metal stalwarts will release their brand new album, as well as the re-issue of their 2022 release ‘Convergence,’ via Season of Mist! A glimpse of things to come can be found HERE! MISCREANCE comments on the signing: “We couldn’t be happier to officially sign with SEASON OF…

[kimkimberhelen]

MISCREANCE - Convergence (Full Album Stream) 2023

[iphisesque]

does anybody actually care about syllable count beyond me

[spdrvyn]

mr. spider and his journalist

you and miguel are rivals on the surface, but there's an irrevocable bond that exists between the two of you when you read between the lines.

injuries. implied wound patching. fluff. hurt/comfort. suggestive. happy valentines, folks!

The fast-paced and riveting action, joint with the simple adrenaline of describing an intense scene was what drew you to this job in the first place. Journaling wasn't easy, while you were no superhero, you were still somewhat putting your safety on the line to witness two adults in skin tight suits and superpowers throw hands at each other.

In spite of everything, you loved your job.

Your name had reached every single article that average Nueva York citizen could even think to get their hands on, your name befell the mouth of every employee in your building whether it was in praise or malice. You didn't care, all that mattered to you was that you were truly out there.

Although, your workplace wasn't the only area of your life where you were severely disliked. Even as you went out and about to record and detail on the spectacles and heroic gestures in this city, its top vigilante still glared at you with ire through his mask.

He was a spider, you were a pest.

Spider-Man had fought many impeccable foes over the years, battled by a villainous organization that was out for his blood in an almost literal sense. Not to mention that he was hurtling fate's delegated task of protecting a multiverse which each had a different version of this maddening, web-weaving hero.

It wasn't like he could bring himself to actually express his distaste towards you, but it was hard to mask his annoyance when you immediately came flocking to him with borderline intrusive questions about his life outside of his work.

After the precipice of disaster subsided once each fight had concluded, the snippiness of your tone as you wrung out questions brought the crowd of clamoring reporters to a halt.

Miguel had to swallow his intrigue time and time again, he'd tried to acknowledge a long time ago that surely you were just another journalist seeking out to actually making something of yourself. But your passion was the flint that sparked his curiosity about you, it was a weakness. He couldn't allow his poise to be wavered by someone like you.

Someone so eloquent and composed, someone so witty and humorous, letting himself get bested by you would be the biggest blow to his massive ego. It would be nightmarish to even approximate the possibility of Miguel having some sort of interest towards you.

You'd already come to your senses a long time ago.

It was silly, really. Obviously you'd discover these underlying feelings for him, why else would you practically be clinging to his side post-mission? Why else would you publish so many stories and reports about his daily miscreancy? A 5th grader could figure it out.

There was so much you knew, that you really shouldn't have. There were details about his life that have retained in your mind, but you didn't even know his full name.

"No further anomalies, Miguel. I'd suggest checking diagnostics though, anomaly activity in this dimension has been active as of late."

Miguel groans, running a hand across his face despite his mask. "Uh huh, right." He doesn't need anymore on his plate right now, for all he could care, you were probably hiding around in a little corner somewhere.

"So it's Miguel?"

Fuck, he really hated being right. And not having a spider sense, that too. "Ay, mierda!" He jolted, you bit on your lip to conceal your giggles. Seeing someone as big as Miguel get startled out of his mind was a little funny. "Do not keep that detail in your little article."

"What kind of person do you think I am, Miguel?" Ugh, he hated the way you say his name even more. "Tu secreto es mi secreto, no need to worry about it. But if I could get a last name too, that would be-"

"Alright, get away from me."

He still remembered the way you chased after him as he approached the edge of the battered rooftop, clutching at his forearm. You'd pester him for details, the most intricate ones, even when he knew that he could just zip right out of there, you always found a way to make him stay. Every single time.

The stirring way that you were always able to show up after nearly every mission he's had, your very presence emanating even when deep into the crowds of people surrounding the scene.

But you didn't show up this time.

Don't call for backup, he'd insisted. A stupid, moronic decision that was because now he was crawling his way, bloody and bruised, throughout a sopping wet alleyway that definitely wasn't only soaking with just the rainwater.

There was no crowd this time, there was no you to be found. He would have noticed a hundred miles away otherwise, his watch had damaged in the aftermath. Narrowly escaping by a hair, he growled frustratedly as the furious taps of his fingers against the small screen didn't register. His talons took the rear, scratching against the tiny panes of glass and only breaking it further.

At that point, there was no more reason to be angry. What's done is done, he fought his battle, he didn't lose, but he wouldn't consider this a win either.

The nano-fabric, originally designed to be as comfortable as can be for your regular vigilante activities, now felt like it clung uncomfortable to Miguel's skin. Sticky, grimy, and bloody. His chest heaved with the effort to just keep breathing, his large frame now so small as he slumped against the rough wall of the alley.

He wondered what you'd say right now, if he hadn't been caught in this blunder. You'd be asking him, what the anomaly looked like, if they were from a different era, their powers, how did he defeat them? So on and so forth, but your absence was more than enough of a bad omen for his failure.

The sound of your voice wasn't something he thought he'd miss, your annoying comments, your inquisitive glances, that sparkle in your eyes whenever he started talking. All those lovely details he'd lost to snide replies and swift conversation enders, he closed his eyes, it was childish to hold onto hope, but maybe thinking about what you'd say, what you'd do, would motivate him to get up. Get away.

Miguel, I honestly just don't know you do it, you would say with a sarcastic rise in your tone.

Say, how does your suit even work? I mean, I know it's nano-tech, but I'm no scientist of any sort. You'd ask, all while poking and prodding at the technology. A privilege he only allows you to have.

I don't know what to do with you, how am I supposed to help when this thing doesn't even have a damn zipper! The frustrated grind in your voice says it all.

Don't die on me, please. I'm sorry if I'm a thorn in your side, okay? I'll stop, just wake up! Wake up, please. You begged, a desperation sewn deeply with the way you grasped at his bandaged hand.

When did he get here?

His body still hurt like hell, trying to get his neck up straight was like having needles straight into the muscles. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he sees is your eyes. Puffy, swollen, and red from crying, your mouth stuck in a pout, quivering from the amount of sobs that you've let out. Your grip on his hand loosens upon his awakening, you can't hug him without risk of hurting him, so you simply lean in closer.

"You're alive," it's said a lot calmer than the hysterics you were spewing a while ago, a relieved smile gracing your features. "I- I didn't kill you, you're alive!"

The joy rushes into your voice, you're practically vibrating with happiness while trying to fight back the urge to swoop him in your arms. Miguel would, but for obvious reasons, he won't.

"Why would you have killed me?"

"I'm not a science person, how many times do I have to tell you?"

He doesn't bother quipping back, he hums, looking down over at the exposed parts of suits, pushing the blanket you set on him aside to discover that everything was cleaned and patched and stitchedto near perfection. "So you're not a nurse or a science person, but you can fix wounds like no other."

"This is a common book trope, considering how I'm closely tied to a superhero, I feel like being a fixer-upper is a requirement."

"Closely tied?" He says, unamused.

"We'll have to be now! I can't have you scare me like that, I won't ask you any questions for a month as long as I don't see you in any dark alleys all hurt looking." You harumph, you see him press a spot below his ear and all of a sudden-

His mask disengages, fabric disappearing seamlessly as his face is miraculously bestowed onto your gaze. Warm skin from the ambient lighting set to accomodate his hypersensitive senses. Curly and deep brown hair, all mussed from his scuffle. A set of dark crimson eyes that look a beautiful chestnut if you really look from a different angle, you forget to breathe.

"Thank you, but don't get too excited. Consider this a treat for taking care of me," he returns to that sense of stoicism, but your jaw is unfortunately still agape from how awe inspiring he truly is. Now, you'd have to imagine this face every time you even so much as wrote the word spider down.

"I, uh, yeah. Sure,"

This is the first instance he's ever had you so silent. You trekked around your flat for different foods you could feed him, brewing him too many cups of tea to count. You barely even made small talk, it was astounding to him.

He left soon after, the super healing abilities work bound to have started working more efficiently anyway. You bid your goodbyes to him, it was as if you still had the moment of shock written all over your face when he revealed his face to you.

The days that followed were odd, he didn't find himself in any sort of kerfuffle that involved him to be severely injured anymore, but when he noticed you in the crowd, you tended to shy away. You didn't even try to follow him afterward to pester him for details on the battle, there was something so off about it.

So Miguel decides to talk to you about it.

You were idly typing away, contained in a small office from the rest of the room. The chatter from your coworkers were your white noise along with the near silent clicks of your keyboard, the process has you so out of it that you don't pick up on the reflection of navy blue and bright red on your computer screen.

"You," grumbles Miguel and this time, you're started.

"Oh, shock. What are you doing here?" That boisterous confidence you always carried with you had gone mute, all Miguel saw was a drained creative and it made his blood boil.

"Why haven't you been," he doesn't want to say it. Don't make him say it. "Talking to me?"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, quirking your brow up. Miguel disengages his mask again, you'll never get used to that. "I- what do you mean by that exactly?"

"You know, don't you normally- ask more questions? After I take care of business?" Miguel despises how needy he sounds right now. Please talk to me and keep annoying me, for I miss it so dearly.

"I thought you hated that," your voice drops in volume. "I just thought since the thing that happened that you'd want me to leave you alone for a while."

The absurdity of your statement had him reeling, the reason why he didn't die that night was because of your allergy to negligence, how the thought of even leaving him alone would make you sick to your stomach as you so described. Now, you were giving him distance?

"No," he walked even closer to you, cornering you against your desk and causing you to shrink in your small swivel chair. "You don't get it, do you?"

You shake your head hesitantly, it's too hard to focus. You've touched him before, but never has he actually initiated it. He was mere inches away from you, whether you should focus on not looking like a freshly plucked tomato or his handsome face was between you and God.

He lets out an irritated chuckle, the gleam of his canines prominent from the light of the monitor behind you. "Has it ever struck you in that head of yours that I like talking to you?" He places a hand on one of your arm rests. "That I enjoy your sass, your passion?"

There's that funny feeling again, that feeling from when he revealed himself to you. Discovering such a big revelation from Miguel, something you've dreamed of nearly every night, but now that it's in the palm of your hand, you can't bring yourself to think properly.

"But I– I thought that–"

"It's a yes or no question, hermosa. Answer it."

"No."

The back of your chair hits the wood of your desk as Miguel pushes you, he dwarfs your suroundings, his presence much larger now that both of you are in a place so confined. Now that he wasn't "couchridden". At this proximity, you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat.

"Think again," his other hand moves to tug on your bottom lip as he clashes his own against yours, your whole body tenses and for a split second, he thinks he's seriously messed up this time, until you groan into his mouth and that thought is straight out the window.

Your hands map out his body, from the broad shoulders, tracing the muscle connecting them to his neck, then to the soft hair that you've been dying to touch ever since you've laid your eyes upon it. Your fingers ultimately find home in the curls at the ends.

It's almost filthy. His other hand now trailing down to your neck, wrapping deft fingers around your throat and it causes you to arch your back into him.

He uses his grip on you as leverage to separate, left panting and with a memory to use for later.

"We should get dinner sometime,"

"When are you free?"

"Friday. 7PM."

"Okay," and you lean in to kiss him again.

[blaiddllodi]

If she were a kinder person, Sara might take pity on the poor soul underneath all that clamorous armor. She instead chooses to creep up behind it on soundless steps to rap her knuckles against the cold, steely metal.

"Hello," comes the quiet whisper and should the knight in black turn in the direction of that voice, its owner would already be out of view. Then from the opposite side, "Hello again."

Rather than repeating the same trick though, Sara ducks into a crouch, hands resting on both knees as she breaks into a flurry of giggles somewhere low.

"Ehehe, enough of that. I have another trick in mind, but it requires your cooperation this time. Your armor looks near statuesque from afar and I was thinking that if you remained real still that people would walk right past you. Therein lies the opportunity to scare them when they mistake you for a simple prop. Does that not sound fun?"

He thought he might have finally gotten used to the way sound echoed through this blasted helmet, before he heard the gentle echo of a quiet voice - spectral whispers, too unlike and not enough unlike those he already heard - at either shoulder.

Dimitri swiveled in place, then, understanding the trick, anticipated where it might have fallen next, and when he found that ethereal girl where he expected her, he let out a soft chuckle.

"So it is you," he said, almost fond. "I thought that I had seen you here, but it...seems to be your habit to float about in the periphery, isn't it? You did the same, back in the forest, didn't you?"

He would have been lying if he said he had not needed to debate with himself as to whether she was a real person, after that incident.

Without further preamble, without courtesy or niceties, or the little nothings that strained most conversations in his-day-to-day, the girl launched instantly into...mischief? Or the desire for him to enact it for her.

If it had been any other day, at any other time, after any other series of events, and for any other partner, Dimitri might not only have declined, but would have chastised the other for such miscreancy.

But was he not trying his best to fulfill a promise? To...live, as a child might?

If nothing else, he very much needed the distraction, from the swirling mire that his emotions threatened.

Propping a hand on his chin in thought, Dimitri sighed. "You say I appear statuesque, but I have had many people approach me by virtue of the armor - it seems I...made a poor choice. You are thinking that they might pay me no mind if I simply...stand quite still? Like...like this?"

[bathypelagicbutch]

i'm like one of those cheetahs that needs an emotional support golden retriever to get by due to severe anxiety. except in my case it's because i received the wrong kind of attention as a child and it decimated my sense of self worth. also because i have severe anxiety. and because of these issues instead of needing an emotional support golden retriever i need to be called a good girl semi regularly or else i'm filled with the urge to partake in general miscreancy. due to my strong flight instinct and other such cheetah-like behaviours

[metalcultbrigade]

Hellwitch - Syzygial Miscreancy 04/12/1990

[grimowled]

“OH DEAR, I have been caught!”

manacled, not for the first time - but also unmasked, disgraced and powerless, condemned to live among the common denizens of hell for what will probably feel like the blink of an eye, time wise, to one such as he; no wonder his algid terror-in-law had his knickers in a twist, for the great infernal judge is indeed capable of clemency, wrought with a sprinkle of exemplary humiliation: the equivalent of being rapped on the knuckles for a little miscreancy.

—thus it ensures the nobility of hell are kept dutifully in line. and, for an instant’s breadth, the fallen prince’s boundless conscience falls like a feather on the snow, upon the fleeting thought of what his venerable father might make of this delightfully and scandalously unsavoury business.

(besides, the enduring loyalty of infernal legions is not so easily bequeathed to an impostor-in-law.)

so what is a fallen demon prince to do, after offering his bowed and crownless head to the executioner’s axe (a superb performance indeed!), breathless from the musical triumph and ruthless vacuuming of his infernal powers, but to bitterly jest upon his temporary predicament?

·.·★·.·´¯`·.·☾·.·´¯`·.·★·.·

[llamamamarisen92]

Tempers Flaring

In my play through, if I'm romancing Gale I like to think that he hasn't fully forgiven Astarion for holding Tav at knife point... or for casually sleeping with her twice. I think it sets the tone for their... lack of friendship. They don't dislike each other, but it's more akin to siblings who barely get along sitting at a dinner table because it's a holiday...

Anyways... here is a snippet of them getting a bit testy with each other.

SPOILER WARNING FOR ANSUR QUEST IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW!

"Nonsense! Justice should be met out harshly as to deter criminals from further miscreance." Astarion proudly proclaimed as they were figuring out the shadow puzzle in Ansur's temple. Gale scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

Astarion turned a sharp look on the wizard. "Do you have something to say Gale?" Venom pouring from his voice.

Tav pinched the bridge of her nose sighing deeply as she prepared for the two men to battle it out. On the best of days they hardly got along. If she was capable of bringing out their best, they were equally as capable of bringing out the worst in each other.

Karlach chuckled, egging them on a bit. "Yeah Gale, what do you have to say for yourself."

Gale examined his nails taking on an arrogant tone as his eyebrow quirked up.

"I only wish to imply that if his own justice wasn't so… brutal. Perhaps he wouldn't have landed six feet in the ground with a vampires mark in his neck."

Astarions lip twitched. Practically snarling at Gale. "Big words coming from Mystra's chief boot licker."

Gale lazily lifted his eyes in Astarion's direction. Tav recognized the look in his eyes. It was a look he got when he was about three seconds from incinerating one of their enemies. Hastily she cast silence as sparks began to flare in the palm of his hands.

She picked up the picture frame of the man in the cell and placed it on the deciding pedestal. Looking back she leveled both of them with a look that made them both feel like two small boys fighting over a candy bar.

Gale at least had the decency to look down as Astarion rolled his eyes and moved towards the now open dragons chamber. Gale placed a hand on her cheek, an apology in his eyes.

"Don't push each other. We are so close to the end and we just need to survive this. You don't have to like him but we all have to work together if we're going to make it out of this alive." He nodded contemplating her words. She moved in to kiss his cheek accepting his silent contrition.

Karlach was giggling behind them and she followed Astarion into the chamber with Gale, Karlach, and Wyll in tow. Silently praying for as few hiccups as possible as they ventured forth into their destiny.

[twistedisciple]

"You there! Yes, you!" Forsyth marches up to the troublemaker--Griss, he's heard. This man has been causing a series of ruckuses across the ball, and even visiting grief upon Lady Celica! He shall not allow such miscreancy to continue! He seizes the man's hand, hardly taking notice of the flowers blooming on each of their necklaces. "Your knavish actions have visited chaos upon this gathering! I command you to cease at once, or face disciplinary action!"

Is this man even a member of the staff, here? How could Lady Rhea approve such a fiendish individual? No matter; he will either start to behave, or Forsyth will take the necessary steps.

"Command?" Griss whirls on his new critic with a look halfway between amusement and challenge, and boy is he a sight. He cuts the figure of a knight even with emerald cloth in place of armor, his posture straight, a chiding look that would've come straight from the pages of a textbook if there was one on making faces (and Griss is pretty sure there's gotta be at least one, somewhere, that's found its way into this guy's hands). Griss, by contrast, slumps down by nearly a third of his full height, shoulders and neck at odd angles, one arm hanging, the other limp in the knight's hand. He makes no effort to pull away, but a smirk snakes lazily across his lips as a flower blooms from his own vine. That was easy. Now he could have a little fun.

"What're you gonna do if I don't?" he prods, tilting his head and staring up at the knight from an angle. "Gimme a preview of this 'disciplinary action,' if you've got the authority."

[metalshockfinland]

MISCREANCE Share New Music Video for Song 'The Garden'

Photo credit: Alice Siega Old school technical death metal revivalists MISCREANCE will be reissuing their debut album, ‘Convergence,’ via Season of Mist on May 19, 2023! The album was originally self-released by the Italian newcomers in in September 2022. The band is now revealing a brand new music video for the song “The Garden,” which can be found at THIS LOCATION. MISCREANCE comments: “Where…

[kimkimberhelen]

MISCREANCE - No Empathy (Official Visualiser) 2023

[galadriel1010]

News at half past fucking midnight: A variable number of stupid baby cats are currently holed up and refusing to leave the lounge so the door can be locked to prevent dog miscreance. One numpty is hidden behind the sofa refusing to come out. Two others have come and taken up observation positions during her siege. All three may be sleeping in the lounge overnight at this rate.

[idiocy-prescription]

hello officer ? i would like 2 report an act of miscreancy and tomfoolishness

[miscreantahead]

my url is silly because u'd think im warning ppl that i am a nasty little freak full of miscreance and like i am in comparison to like, the elderly neighbors, but, aside from some intermediate monster-fucking community participation, compared to many that linger here i am boring and vanilla as far as the facets of fandom i like/participate in.

but really the url has nothing to do with me anyways it's about patches and hooded knife guys in lower undead burg.