the stars are faded

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE! I come bearing fic. Embarrassingly adorable and fluffy fic--perfect for the season, yes? :D

Title: Maybe You Can Sell Him On eBay
Pairing: baby Brendon/Ryan preslash
Wordcount: ~5,000
Rating: G
Summary: bb!Panic AU. "You know what we should do?" Brendon asks Ryan, eyes getting brighter. "We should get proof of Santa!"
Thanks to: the beautiful chaoticallyclev, fairest in all of beta-land.
Author's Note: Written for redorchids's Christmas Wish Exchange, in response to the prompt kid!fic in which Bren and Ryan try to catch Santa. I hope you enjoy, amyanonymous! ♥

( “But Santa isn’t real!” Frankie folds his arms and glares at them. )

Holy shit, how did I manage to write something that needed a masterpost in the middle of the school year? Oh, right. My unending drive for procrastination. \o/

This has pretty much been my baby for the past four months, and you can't see me, but I'm wibbling a little bit as I send it out into the cruel world. Really, I am. *wibbles*

How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse Recession
Wordcount: 42,000
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer, (background William/Gabe, Cash/Singer, Frank/Gerard, Pete/Patrick/Ashlee)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: You know how Love Actually is pretty much the schmoopiest, most feel-good of all romantic comedies? Yeah, this is kind of like that level of schmoopiness, only worse. /o\
Summary: Office AU. Island Electronics is going down in a blaze of glory, just one more company that's fallen victim to the ruthless recession. Receptionist Spencer Smith and coworker Brendon Urie fight to save the company (and their incomes) as all around them, their compatriots succumb to the wrath of the fearsome Pink Slips.
Unofficial Summary: Really, this story just boils down to three things: stealth!closet-sex, pining, and ~conspiracy theories. Also, Star Wars.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue

Thanks to: chaoticallyclev, my darling LJ-wife who patiently read through this 73-page monster over and over and helped me correct my outrageous sins in voicing and sentence flow. Also to redorchids, who was so amazing in helping me sort out the plot of this story, reading my multiple drafts, giving me suggestions, and most importantly, never giving up on my plotholes. A thousand ♥s to both of you.

He is totally the prettiest member of Panic, y/y? SPENCER SMITH, you should come tilt those hips at me~! ;)

Ugh. I am mad. Frustrated and mad. And also feeling stupid.

I really cannot believe that Miss fucking Venezuela won Miss Universe after giving that completely ridiculous, idiotic answer. Basically, after being asked about barriers women face in the world of business and other leadership positions, she says that there are no more barriers. Men and women are completely equal! CALL THE FUCKING PRESSES, JFC.

Just--wow. I am disappointed, and mad about being disappointed, because, hello, piecesof-reeses, this is a beauty pageant. So, yeah. Ugh. I am just really fucking (stupidly) upset. :\

In other, slightly happier news, I am finally writing again! Kind of. I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be able to finish it. It's a recession comedy, sort of. Although right now I have typed somewhat more angst than humor, but, well, whatever. Dramedy ftw!

Also. It's Brendon/Spencer. Which is a surprise to me, too. But it happened. And my poor beta, chaoticallyclev, is just going to have to suffer through it. (She otp's Ryan/Brendon. Oops.)

Speaking of chaoticallyclev! She's posting an awesome story reeeeally soon, just as soon as she makes all the corrections her beta (me :D) told her to make. It's a He's Just Not That Into You au, and, okay, I kind of despised that movie, but I liked that fic! WHICH MEANS Y'ALL SHOULD GIVE IT A TRY. \o/

So, yeah. Short, sweet update. Who here thinks Adam and Kris should just make out already?

So. Long time no see, el-jay.

Um...oops?

Anyway, I come bearing fic! Labor of love through many long hours, yadda yadda yadda.

Title: You Got A Crew? (I Got A Crew Too)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Brendon/Ryan; background Pete/Patrick, Jon/Spencer, and Greta/Gabe
Wordcount: ~24,000
Warnings: None. Swearing, I suppose.
Thanks to: chaoticallyclev, who cheered me on relentlessly, withstood my whining patiently, and, overall, is just a lovely human being! You are so awesome, bb. ;________;
Author's Notes: Um, I know nothing about hairdressing. And it probably shows. But--it's fic! Given with a healthy dose of crack. :)
Summary: AU. Every June, in the world of Las Vegas hair care, it’s all about one thing: the Annual Services Survey. Can struggling hairdresser Brendon Urie and his coworkers finally win over rival salon Cobra Starship? Shenanigans ensue as they battle it out, all while Brendon struggles to keep his eye on the prize—and away from that cute but prickly reporter.

( Part 1 )

Part 2

( Part 3 )

...
Oh yeah, and totally OT (but relevant in my time of need)--someone needs to talk me out of writing an epic, completely cracky American Idol fic. Stat. /o\ /o\ /o\ I don't even know how this happened, guys, swear.