This Drizzy and Breezy fight is already turning into a pop-culture mofo. Not only does it provide tons of internet red meat for the blogs , the Twitter , and... ummm... us , but it's also enthralling . The proof? One need only to point their browsers towards Drake and Chris — a fan-fiction tumblr — which imagines the, let's say, "heartbreak," that led to Thursday's early morning fisticuffs as hilarious nail-biting pop-literature. The story unfolds like a rosebud in early spring, with a plot that forms like the dawn's foggy mist, building up like the morning dew, and finally cascading much like waterfalls do.
A choice passage:
"Drake then took a break from his sewing and he grabbed his moleskine. He started writing words. These words then formed lines, then verses. He had what he believed was a hit pop song and then, simply exhausted from expending so much energy into crafting a vision of a pop song, he passed out. It was then that he was visited by a siren in his dreams. A siren who he knew he would have to record the song with. It was his own Gatsbyan way of sending a message out to Chris through the airwaves. His eyes suddenly blinked open. “Chris,” he said, his throat parched, “I wish I could have this moment 4 life.”
"Gardens, picnics, early morning walks across the Golden Gate Bridge, early evening screenings of Honey starring Jessica Alba; Chris had dreams of leaving celebrity and his successful music career behind him. He had dreams of buying a beautiful apartment on Mission Street and jetting off to Singapore or Dubai on holiday during the colder months. On this morning, as he surveyed the mess of his hotel room—a side effect of one of his substance-induced temperaments, he recalls—he knew that it was time for a change. It was time to grow up. It was time for something new.
It was then that he hazily recalled a lingering stranger at the club the night before."
And one mo':
One morning, Chris opened the door to his seaside mansion where he was recording his next album, and found that there was a woman who had had several hit singles standing on his doorstep, clad in red lingerie, the sunlight accentuating her curvaceous figure. The thought of any company was exciting to him, but any onlooker—perhaps a fly on the wall of that particular foyer—could describe to you how quickly that glint in his eyes dulled, how that excitement faded from his being, how that smile turned into a frown, upon seeing not Drake, dressed up in a sharp suit, and reaching out to entwine Chris fingers into his own, but Rihanna, pouting, saying, “Okay, so how’s this going to work?”
No spoilers here, but you can see where this is going.
It's a tumblr blog, so remember to start on page 2 and read the posts in the correct order (unless you're hardcore into Memento ). Get your read on by clicking HERE .