And then we have what ever the fuck this is.
Brendon, I know you dance like a mad scientist, but are you trying to be Doctor Horrible now or?
klgdfsgjflgfkj I want to reblog them allllllll, but it’s not his birthday here yet. >_>
When Brendon is more of an animal than the rug he’s standing on.
Lady in the street, freak in the bed. You know how he rolls.
Is Brendon Urie gonna have to choke a bitch?
And not a sexy sleepover. Like. A sleepover you have with your best friend when you’re seven years old.
At one point, he got homesick and started crying until we called his mom so he could talk to her.
We did that thing where you sleep in the same bed, with one of you sleeping with your head at the foot of the bed.
My hair was longer in the dream. And he definitely braided it.
I mean, are we girlfriends now?
Brendon. Boyd. Urie. You go and play Mercutio in any production of Romeo and Juliet this. fucking second. You play that role with it’s “is he in love with Romeo, OR IS HE JUST FAT?” undertones and you fucking kill the Queen Mab speech, mkay?