Our Strange Differences

Thanks, And Sneak Peek

UPDATE: FIRST PART OF NEW FANFIC: LANCE'S FUNERAL OUT NOW! GO CHEAK IT OUT, YA'LL

Whoa, dang son! This story has gotten way more views than I anticipated, like, holy quiznak! Thank you guys! Some of you have been here since the beginning, which is insane! I can't believe you keep coming back here every week to ready my cheesy ass story!

Like, seriously! I looked at the stats, and they blew my freakin mind! There's so many people of different ages reading this, and a lot of people from around the world. Insane distances from where I live like Mexico, Canada, United Kingdom, Australia, Poland, and many more! The internet's crazy!
I never imagined I would have people in my own state, let alone across the globe interested in my story! It's... wow... I want to meet you all 😭

K anyways, this writing process has been so fun, and at the same time stressful. I mean, not really since I wrote most of the chapters in advance, but I still had to edit them when I was really busy, but whateve's cuz it's all finished now.

God, I'm so sick of English! Like, who in the hell designed this trash language? Freaking apostrophes and they're, their, there. Like, WTF?!?! You know what, I'm not even going to edit this part, cuz screw that! You can suck it grammar, no one likes you!

Where was I? Oh, yes. I think I actually improved some on my writing during this, so that's cool. It's kinda weird, since the tone kinda switches in the middle of the story as my skills change. Idk. It's because I wrote it a different times, and kept rewriting my outline. This story was actually going to be longer, but I thought the ending didn't make any sense, so I shortened it. Still, I think it was for the best. Besides, it's already super long as is. Like, holly molly, dude. About 45,000 words! That's like, two times my other fic 0-0. I feel like I'm saying like a lot... Am I officially a stereotypical teen, lol? Naw, I was always a stereotypical teen.

So, anywhodoole, I have some exciting news! Yah my dudes, get hyped y'all! I'm writing another fan fiction! And not only that, another Klance fan fiction! (I know, another one? Haven't you written like, 10 billon?) Fist off, no, only two. And secondly I assume y'all would be interested since you've read this story all the way through, plus this weird announcement. Unless you skipped the story, and just read this part. If that's the case... first of all, why? And secondly... you should read my story, it's pretty excite, dude. ;)

The new fanfic is titled Lance's Funeral. I know, grim. I'm planning on making this fic with longer chapters maybe (or split the chapters up into parts so it isn't too terribly long) as well as more angsty, but at the same time... funnier? Idk, you'll have to read the first chapter to understand.

I don't know when it will come out. Not too soon, but hopefully not too far. Schools starting back up kinda soon (barf). I'll make it work tho, so if you subscribe (winkady, wink, wink) you'll be able to know the second it comes out! Trust me, you'll love it. Unless you don't, then... idk, I'll do a dance of apology. Except, you won't be able to see it, so you'll just have to take my word that I'm doing it. Trust me, I don't lie... well, I don't lie often... well, I do lie, but I promise I won't this time... maybe...

Oh! And I forgot to tell you the plot. Ok, so it's a ghost au. The gang are in college, and Keith's crush/rival just recently died. But, in Lance's will, he leaves a list of specific requirements for his funeral, and... well, I don't want to spoil it. Here, I'll give you the first few paragraphs so you can see for yourself:

***

Keith hated himself for liking Lance.

His limber build, the way he carried himself with shoulders raised and chin held high. The bottomless blue of his eyes, dark and piercing like the sea. His tangled mess of dark brown hair that stood at odd angles, and never seemed to obey Lance's vigorous brushing. His smooth, light brown skin as he crinkled his nose, or batted the sand from his eyes on a particularly windy afternoon. Even his laugh, as loudly obnoxious as it was, Keith adored. And that was the worst part, because, unlike Keith, Lance hated him.

With every word he uttered, an argument seemed to arise. Lance constantly joked and poked fun at Keith, determined to one up him in every way imaginable. So, in all retrospect, Keith had every right to detest Lance in return. But that was the thing: he didn't. Even as Lance stood before him on the worst days - face scrunched and reddened, throat hoarse from the shouting - all Keith thought as he stood stone faced, eyes locked on Lance's chattering lips, was: wow, I really want to kiss this shit-head. And then he was both mad at himself and the world. Mad at himself for imagining Lance in ways he shouldn't, and mad at the world for allowing Lance to be in his life in the first place.

It was torture. As powerful as a lash to the chest, or a hammer to the kneecap. Especially now, as Keith stood above Lance's cold, unflinching, emotionless corpse. The dead boy's bony hands crossed over his chest, shoulders squared atop the white, velvet cushion that rested inside the opened coffin. He wore the best suit and tie money could buy, and had his shaven scalp hidden by a head of hair that was similar, but could never match the boy's old image. The image before cancer. The image before hell. The image before Keith's every being crumbled to dust.

***

Again, thank you guys. You are the best, and all your comments always make my day. Even if you didn't leave any, and just read my story, that's pretty great! I give you all virtual hugs, and I hope your life is splendid. Bye, bye for now. 👋👋👋