baby, i'm new wave

killjoy exclusive sideblog to glasshcldhigh

[deadasadisco]

been dead as a disco with a foot in the grave : independent multimuse sideblog for the Danger Days universe. mv canon-adjacent, heavily headcanon based, not comic compliant. mostly playing in hannah's sandbox. written by andi, high school aged when the album came out. hope you enjoy that math. follows and asks from @glasshcldhigh. characters are entwined; unless otherwise discussed, threads with me are canon for all of my muses, here and elsewhere. pickerwheel of all killjoy muses here. other places to find me : multi - mazie - reapers - killjoy crew muse list and information : one thing that you missed though, baby i'm new wave

[mothercains]

CHARLI XCX as herself in the moment (2026)

[ru5t]

  Back and forth. The conversation about it -which, really, the fact it's a conversation and not an answer outright-- goes like passed pliers. Back and forth. Glitch paces on Tech's shoulders, mrrping and chrrping like a little old madman mumbling under his breath. Tech appears unmoved by both. In fact, her eyes are fixed on some middle distance, a shade preoccupied though not utterly vacant. In a distant sort of way, she makes a note of the little knot of pain forming between her shoulder blades. From tensing them, she thinks. Then thinks she ought to relax them. But nothing happens. Forces beyond her control or maybe just past the reach of her fingers keep it burrowed there. She scrubs at her eyes instead, brushing away a bit of sandy grit she finds in the process.

  “Maybe y'oughtta let me?” It's been. Not such a long time but a long time since she went around on her great pitching scheme. It worked then, though, why shouldn't it now? It might even be easier, pitching something real instead of the idea of it. MAH says Glitch, managing to sound like he's agreeing. Tech reaches idly to flutter her fingers at him, prompting the little orange cat to press his face into her hand. “I know they don't know me but. Maybe that'll be a good thing.”

  And she can get a better grasp on what it is she's gotten herself so tangled in. See it face to face, names to more than nothingness and air.

[deadasadisco]

Twin grimaces grace their expressions. “Coyote don’t like new people comin’ into the enclave,” Strike explains. “Not ‘less you’re plannin’ on stayin’. An’ she ain’t left since b’fore the fence went up. That’s part’a what makes talkin’ her ‘round hard. She hasn’t seen how things’ve changed.” Strike taps her lips contemplatively. “Gar’s thing is he’s crazy paranoid ‘bout the City, so it’s not like an early warnin’ system’s gon’ be a hard sell, if A can get him to agree to it.” As long as Aqua continues to be on board. “Coyote’s the biggest hurdle, an’ I dunno that we can get you in front’a her.”

Synth picks at the tape around one finger, avoiding both their eyes. “I mean… there is someone who might be able to—”

“You gon’ ask her?” Strike interrupts, knowing exactly who they’re talking about. With a sigh, Strike turns to Tech again. “Aqua could get you in, get you an audience, and get you back out, if y’think you can tolerate each other that long.” She shrugs. “’Yote trusts her. Prob’ly ‘cause she knows what A’s capable of.” Better than almost anyone, second only to Garrett. Even Sin—Even Vel didn’t know the true breadth of Aqua’s capabilities the way the enclave’s matriarch did.

[ru5t]

  People fatigue. It's impossible for her to say why it's only come over her now -maybe she only just noticed- but the feeling bleeds up around the edges of everything, spilling over. Pressing on all of her nerves. Tech suddenly wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole in the ground and disappear from every possible line of sight, evaporate from anyone's thoughts. Not to stop being or to be invisible, but to just. Hit a button and have herself to herself for awhile. A couple hours, maybe, to listen to the radio and work on one of her projects. And nobody could call her or speak at her or touch her or even think about calling or speaking to or touching her. Or messing with her projects or discussing her with someone else or. Or or or.

  Tech shifts in place. Shut ups, she doesn't say, are for fuckwits who waste air. She didn't have to like Aqua, or the things she said, to hear what was worth hearing out of it. She could tune out the rest.

  “An' I'd love to know what, exactly, the important things are, bein' that they're all shiny-like.” She doesn't like the way he smiles. Impossible to know, for now, if it's worth minding or just extension of the desire to duck out. “Are we trading, or are we both goin' home disappointed?”

[deadasadisco]

Something in his grin shifts, softens. He likes her. She reminds him of Aqua, a bit, back when she was still Star; the way she bites, her impatience. She’d changed when North died—they all had—became less volatile, but more violent. Maybe not the best shift she could have chosen, though he understands why. He understands more about her than she realizes.

Sin shrugs lazily. “Direction we want to take the crew. Direction we want to take the Flats. We’ve spent more than enough time closed up in our hideaway. And we have a few things on offer, too. It’s not Whiskey Flats for nothing.” He winks at Tech. “A might not agree with me on every decision, but she wouldn’t be a good second if she did. It’s good to be challenged sometimes, make sure I’m doing things for the right reasons.”

He knows from experience that if Aqua sets her teeth against this project, it’ll be over before it starts. He’s fairly sure, though, that she wouldn’t refuse just because of whatever little tiff she’s having with Tech. He’s aware she’s having second thoughts, which makes him itch to get things moving before she can change her mind properly.

[ru5t]

@deadasadisco ( Cosmic ) //> Can You Keep the Beat?

♫ Up to the Roof — Blue Man Group ft. Tracy Bonham

  The Tavern is a difficult place to find a piece of personal space that isn't either up for sale or already occupied by someone else. Tech had tried a couple corners, but none seemed... and she thought. Felt. .. She'd done enough disrupting, here, recently enough. The need for escape drives her, as it so often does, up. Up up up, up and out. Unsure what she expects to find at the top of the place, but hoping it's nobody else.

  The tops of most buildings are more or less the same, she's found. Rusted vents and sand-shredded blocks of equipment. Rain-worn, in the city, the way that never seems to stick to the fronts of the buildings. Sometimes they hid interesting secrets, but most of it is usually useless. Air control components with no coolant or power to propel them, water intakes attached to dry tanks. This roof, at a glance, is no different. A bunch of nothing and no one, plenty of space for her to find the edges of the earth, trace the ragged line of the distant desert with her fingertips. Space to prance endless circles with her eyes fixed on the dizzy blue, a frantic murmur running around her like stars around a cartoon concussion.

  “I look upon you from a distance, all growing things need my assistance, and though I cannot run or walk, you time my movements with a clock.”

[deadasadisco]

“The sun.”

Her voice is small, like her; curled up tight and tucked into the shadow of abandoned equipment, easy to overlook. Usually, her nightmares can be chased away by Rickie’s comfort and Rocket’s strength. Sometimes, it takes Goldie’s gentle mothering. Rarely, on days like today, she needs the desert heat to burn away her terror before she can even consider returning to sleep. The roof is the only place she can scream and wail without disturbing anyone inside.

Cosmic shrinks, somehow, wilting even further. Her bright hair is tied in a messy knot to keep it off her neck, stray strands plastered to her skin with sweat. She’s been outside perhaps longer than recommended. “Sorry,” she mumbles, scrubbing her face with the shoulder of her shirt. She hadn’t meant to answer out loud and draw attention to herself. “I can go… or, if you’d rather be inside, Pol—she’d be workin’ the bar right now—she might let ya use her room ‘til shift change.”

[deadasadisco]

open.

She’s in street clothes; jeans worn through at the knees, mended with brightly patterned fabric and embroidery, and a dye-splattered and -stained oversized shirt. Two French braids meet in a single plait down her back, keeping her hair safe from the experiments she’s doing. The pergola out back is usually for smoking, but Cosmic’s the only one outside right now. Without any makeup, she looks even younger than her professed sixteen years.

Cosmetics surround her, arms covered in swatches as she searches for the right shade. It’s meditative for her, mixing and measuring and making minute adjustments to find the shades she wants. She probably won’t even use the color she’s working towards, but the idea wormed itself into her head and wouldn’t leave her alone. Maze’s girl (Kobra’s girl? That part was… unclear) was so incredibly striking, even more when not covered in blood. Cos needed the perfect shades ready, just in case she ever got the privilege to paint that face.

“Aha!” A quiet note of victory as she studies the swatch of pink on her skin. Perfect. The sound of an approach draws her eyes up, and she offers a small smile. “Door to the Lounge’s unlocked,” she offers, certain she’s not the target of attention.

[ru5t]

  Another day. Another day, maybe, all of this catches different. Hits one of those oh so many fragments she's always fighting with just right and ricochets into connection. Of course she can't say as much to present parties, but, another day. Maybe it exists somewhere. Somewhen. This day feels like the universe has taken her for a dead horse in need of beating.

  Silver Sinister? Its worse than Lady Toothpaste herself, and the margin is not narrow. Tech might even have to start just calling her Aqua, honestly.

  “Does that work?” she wonders, voice flat. Does it work for him, rolling up with that I'm-so-neglected-and-you're-so-cool one/two punch and a slick fucking smile and- her nose wrinkles. It does, doesn't it? She forgets, until she remembers, how much pickier she is than... most of the desert. Other people had their ways of dealing with loneliness and letting things work is most of it. She's never been all that inclined to be permissive. She looks him over, not even pretending to hide the travel of her eyes.The word sticks in her mind, slick. Some might say shiny, painted as he is, but. There's something else to it. Tech juts her chin in the direction Aqua left— “Why's she the one doin' the yappin' if you're the one they tell me's'in charge?”

  Terrible choice of mouthpiece, it maybe doesn't actually deserve to be said. It definitely begged the question: Is it a choice?

[deadasadisco]

Work? He frowns, like he’s not sure what she’s referring to. To him, everything he’s said is a simple fact; though she is a very giggly, affectionate drunk, Aqua does tend to be pricklier with him when she’s had a few. It traces back a while, even before their current tension, even before North’s death. And, Tech’s Web is making true something he’s been working towards for well over a decade at this point, fighting against Coyote and North every step. Finally, something Coyote doesn’t have a solid argument against, just her preconceived notions of safety.

He doesn’t react to her eyes raking over him, well-accustomed to most people wanting a better look. It doesn’t really fit with what he’s heard of her, but he’s never minded being someone’s exception. Not that he’s interested in pursuing anything; she’s not his type.

“I see you’ve never tried to tell her to shut up,” he says, lips curling into a faint grin. With a shake of his head, he says, “She likes ‘yapping’ more than I do. Likes people more than I do.” For all of his ease, interacting with people has never been his favorite. Unlike him, Aqua enjoys meeting people. It’s part of what makes her such a valuable second. “And we agree on the important things. She won’t go against me.” He’s certain of it. Grin settling more fully on his lips, “Though I am very interested to learn how you managed to get under her skin so fully.”

[zendeyas]

Zara Larsson makeup by Sophia Sinot – Midnight Sun Tour

[64127]

72' Chevelle 💚🔥

[deadasadisco]

Strike has tattoos on both upper arms, simple sigils. On her left is a symbol for protection, on her right one for strength. North did them when Strike was still young. Coyote has the same ones, though they're faded and worn away, due to their placement on her palms.

[deadasadisco]

I got secrets in my pocket And I'll pass 'em out if anybody wants to try I got all this information but I keep it to myself 'Cause that's how I survive

[deadasadisco]

.......... failed step one.

[deadasadisco]

i think even coyote called edda 'grandmother'. part respect, part the witch was just that fuckin old. i don't think her son was her son, yk, but they'd fallen into that relationship, a pair of survivors from the Old Country. he turned out to be. mmmmm. and she may have had a hand in his death, once col joined them. between edda's honey-lemon-witchery and col's warm-meal-hot-company, they established connections fast. edda's first language was telemark norwegian, which she taught to col, goldie, tack, and pet. tack still defaults to it when she's at the tavern--she learned it right alongside english, so her english comes with a slight telemark accent. rickie learned some, but nowhere near the level of fluency like the others. it does mean a lot of the tavern staff knows incidental norwegian, and they tend to use it for alerts over radio.

[deadasadisco]

thinking about hair styles at the tavern

[deadasadisco]

despite his best efforts, vel has never liked sin, and he doesn't understand why. it drives him mad.

[deadasadisco]

resists the urge to redesign cresendo to match this venue instead

[deadasadisco]

thinking about annie stumbling across someone-not-tavern-staff backstage, first thing in their 'morning', before cosmic's woken up to do her makeup. the way annie's so self-conscious of her facial scarring that she immediately hides her face when she realizes it's not one of her crew—even if it was her crew, she'd probably hide, but at least they already know why.