#i think this is a pretty decent showcase of what my entire playlist feels/sounds like LMAOO

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[youredreamingofroo]

shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals >:)

AGSH THANK YOU GUYS 😭😭😭 ( @alientown and @bouncytrait ) ILYYY THIS IS SO SWEET

anyways here's some songs from my fav 500+ song playlist LMFAOOO

1, Real Fellas by Frizk 2, ROCK THAT SHIT! by asteria 3, Drifting by Good Kid 4, Delicate by eli. 5, Veldt by Brakence

(here's two extras cuz two extra ppl asked me <;))

6, Fajita! by Roe Kapara 7, bigassbearman by ericdoa

[justice4harwin]

Light’s Corruption-Chapter VII

Summary: With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty.

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Rating: 18+ (better safe than sorry, u know)

Anyone fancy a playlist?

As usual, the tags are in the comments; if you no longer want to be in the list or wanna be added, please don’t hesitate to let me know :)

Click here for chapter VI

Chapter 7: Within the Palace's Walls

 Dear General Kirigan,

Dear General

Dear Kirigan

Dear Darkling

"Ugh!" Alina let her face drop on top of the paper, not caring if the ink got into her face, and groaned, loudly and at length. "Why?!" She asked into the nothingness of her room.

She had no reason to write to him. She knew he must've had frequent reports of the ongoings of the Little Palace, so she had no other excuse except to admit the truth, which was that she craved his attention, even if he was days away.

This was so pathetic of her; letting go of a life-long unrequited love just to fall into the arms of the first man who complimented her, even if she did feel a strange pull towards him.

What she needed was time for herself. Yes. She had finally said goodbye to Mal, falling for someone else so quickly would do her no good.

Oh, but Saints! The way in which he had kissed her, like he'd been waiting for centuries, like she was a treasure, like he truly wanted her. She had kissed people before, but never like that. She had enjoyed it, sure, but always stopped it before the clothes started to disappear. It usually bored people, but Alina didn't mind that much. It wasn't like when Genya was in the room while she bathed, helping her get to whenever she needed to be in time by pulling at the knots in her hair and handing her a towel. Genya was trustworthy, she was her friend and she had never given her one of those looks that had made her uncomfortable during her training at Poliznaya, nor made an unwanted comment or advance on her figure.

But The Darkling… That day, she had felt more than willing to let him have his way with her; nobody had set her body aflame the way The Darkling had done that afternoon a few weeks prior; she dreamt of it at night and woke up sweaty and hot, and it was a real effort to not daydream about it during her day.

General Imbecile Brute,

I write to you on this day to let you know of the first snow at the Little Palace. It makes quite the pretty paint...from the inside.

Also, I cannot stop thinking about you and your kiss, and I've been staring at the rose you gave me for such long amounts of time I fear my eyes will cross and I'll be stuck like that forever.

Please, tell me: do you feel the same? Mark 'yes' or 'no'.

Forever at your service,

Alina Starkov, Sun Summoner, Idiot.

Ps: You're not an imbecile, only a little rude; and you're not a brute, but some of your manners need polishing. Other than that, you're perfect.

Signed again,

Alina Starkov, she who lacks decency.

She looked at the letter, a low, prolonged, pitiful sound parting from her lips that turned into an animalistic groan. She grabbed the piece of paper, scrunched it into a small ball and threw it into her fireplace.

The snow covered the grounds of the Little Palace almost entirely, the lake would soon be completely frozen, and finalize the beautiful picture. Some Grisha were excited over the opportunity to skate. Alina had never done it, but Marie and Nadia promised to teach her.

From her horse, Alina moved uneasily. She still wasn't used to horse-riding, but Nina had invited her along with a few of her friends, who were all of different orders. It was a chance she wouldn't miss.

She tugged her kefta closer and held onto the reigns, advancing slowly along with the group, heading to the edges of the woods that surrounded the place.

A Fabrikator passed her a flask of kvas, and despite her dislike for the strong drink, Alina took it anyways and tried not to grimace as the liquid went down her throat.

If she were honest, she'd rather be inside the warm walls of her room in the Little Palace, chattering the afternoon away with Genya. She hadn't need to ask if the Tailor could join them at the stables; Alina was well aware of how little regard the other Grisha had for her -until they needed something-.

"I heard a few of you have been working on new keftas." she tried to make light conversation with the woman as she handed her her kvas back.

"Yes." she answered politely, "We're making a special fabric that should give us more freedom of movement during battle."

Alina rose her eyebrows. It wouldn't help her much if she didn't improve her fighting skills, but it was an interesting idea.

"How's it coming along?"

The woman tried to hide a grimace.

"It's complicated, but we're making some progress."

Alina smiled.

"Maybe you can tell me more about it during dinner." she suggested. "I, for once, would love a different type of trousers."

The woman smiled starkly, her blond hair getting on her face.

"They are rather stiff, aren't they?"

"I can barely flex my legs as it is."

The woman, whose name was Lada Alina remembered, agreed.

"I know. They're not suitable." she said in a strange tone, to which Alina gave her an odd, sideways look.

"Did you hear Zoya is back?" Fedyor interrupted, marching up to keep up with them.

Alina stared at him, groaned, and rolled her eyes.

"That's great." she said dryly.

Her absence was nice while it lasted.

"Maybe if I get under her skin and she attacks again, The General will send her off for a longer time. Or better yet, I could actually beat her."

Who was she kidding? Zoya was a formidable fighter, and Alina was just starting to win every now and then. Also, she suspected that Nina might have gone easy on her during their first sparring match a few weeks prior. She hadn't won against her ever since.

"Tell me about it." the woman in question said, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand her obsession with being on The General's inner circle."

"Says the one who is in the inner circle." Fedyor pointed out.

"Barely." Nina made a gesture with her hand, as if trying to rest importance to the matter. "Besides, it's not such a big deal. I don't know why everyone makes such a fuss about it."

"Well, the higher we are, the better we can protect other Grisha." Alina said, almost hesitantly. "I mean, if we have The General's ear, more ideas will flow about. I'm sure everyone has something to contribute to the cause."

"You don't need to worry about that, sun bean;" Nina smirked. "You're the Sun Summoner, it's likely he'll listen to you."

Alina's cheeks flushed as everyone in the group turned to stare at her.

"I think it's good to aim high;" Fedyor said, drifting the attention to himself, thanks the Saints. "As long as it's for the better of the Second Army."

Nina looked away and uttered something only Alina heard.

"Oh, yeah, betterment of forced servitude."

The Summoner stiffened on her saddle at the bitter words. Was Nina unhappy at the Little Palace? Why? She was one of the most powerful Grisha there; she lived in the most secured place in all Ravka, and her General held her in high regard.

A part of Alina wished she had never hidden her light. Maybe it would've been for the better to leave Keramzin, to leave Mal behind sooner.

It also made her think of someone who scarcely passed through her mind those days: her own mother.

She shook her head, ridding herself of such thoughts. She was thankful for the commodities and safe life she had at the Little Palace. Even if she was one of a kind, everyone else seemed to be adapting well to her, especially since she began to summon on her own and join in their little games by the lake.

She had been hesitant about it at first, but Genya insisted that going would be a great opportunity to both show her power and make allies.

"Besides, they won't believe you're a snob or a fraud if you show them a little." she had said, lazily lounging on a chair as they shared a nice tea one afternoon, while the queen took an especially long nap the very same day the Duke of Balakirev had arrived at court.

Lately, Alina felt more normal, and she was sure that her latest choices had a lot to do with it. From showcasing her powers, to sitting in different sections on different tables during meals and just talking normally about trivial things -even if those did exhaust her mind- and wearing an Etherealki kefta, she was more approachable, and the other Grisha seemed to slowly start to notice it too.

"It's not enough."

"We surely do deserve some more credit." she spoke, even if she didn't fully believe in the sentiment. The First Army was full of otkazat'sya, and they didn't have the advantages of bullet-proof clothing, private tents, furs for the winter and three decent meals per day.

It was all so difficult for Alina. She had once envied the advantages The Second Army possessed over The First, yet she couldn't deny there were other kinds of dangers for the Grisha, that not everything was perfect inside the walls of Os Alta.

Like the distrust of those who weren't like them, their fear, tamed only by their usefulness due only to the Black Heretic's greed.

All around her, her fellow Grisha nodded their agreements.

She wondered, briefly, what would Grisha life be like in Ravka if The Fold hadn't been created in the first place. What would happen if she ever managed to tear it down?

She didn't want to dwindle in those thoughts further.

With the Winter Fete approaching, everyone at the Little and Grand Palace seemed to buzz with all kinds of different energy. The servants were comprehensively nervous and stressed as they ran from one place to the other. Alina's fellow Grisha were either excited or indifferent, but none the less they all put the same amount of effort into practicing their yearly demonstration.

As for Alina herself, she had received the news that she was expected to showcase her power in front of the royal family and the other nobles of Ravka.

"The king wanted to throw a bigger party; invite diplomats from all continents and such, but General Kirigan insisted that it wasn't necessary yet." Genya said one afternoon, as Alina braided her hair.

She was seated very still, her eyes continuously darting from one side to the other as if trying to peek at her friend's work, concern etched on her face.

"He seems impatient." Alina commented, to which Genya huffed, accommodating her friend's new possessions on her vanity with a precision that seemed borderline obsessive.

"You have no idea. He can't wait to see the mighty Sun Summoner." she said, pouting and trying to imitate his deeper voice.

Alina frowned, said nothing, and continued braiding, her movements slowing but almost precise.

The Darkling

 Miss Starkov,

Due to my sudden absence, I had no time to notify you that I shall oversee your training personally from now on.

Being far away, I do not wish for you to stall, so I leave you some instructions on what to practice and how, and a few reading recommendations fo-

He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

He was being a fool, and he hated it.

Writing to her with instructions on how to practice her summoning was a foolish idea. She was barely starting and needed overseeing, and the only one besides himself who could help her was his mother, who remained bitter at the woman. He really wanted to know what Alina had said to Baghra to make her so upset.

He almost smiled, feeling something wickedly, childishly happy in his chest at the possibilities.

Tossing the letter into the fire, he leaned back in his chair.

Teaching her through letters would only lead to disaster, but how else would he know about her? How else could he earn her trust while being so far away?

Pathetic.

"Moi Soverennyi." Ivan presented himself, bowing before further entering his tent. He offered him an envelope. "A letter from the Grand Palace."

The Darkling took it and quickly read it, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Although he had convinced the king that inviting foreign diplomats was not yet a good idea, the stupid man insisted that the Sun Summoner performed alongside the other Grisha. Alina was finally able to summon on her own, but he knew a part of her still feared her gift; putting on a show for an audience was not the best idea.

He…worried? for her?

"We will have to be back in time for the Winter Fete."

Ivan grunted. "I hate that thing."

The Darkling nodded in agreement. After all those centuries, he was more than bored of them. It was always the same waste of time and resources for his army, only to entertain the nobles for a few hours. As if they would not go back to turning their back on them the very next day.

Those fools often seemed to forget that his Grisha could have them for lunch if they so wanted it.

Privileged as The Second Army may seem, people were wary of them, even the nobles who lived in the surrounding areas.

"But they will not attempt anything so long as they need us."

"We have little choice, Ivan."

"We could always host it near The Fold and accidently push the royal family inside it." he said, sardonic as usual.

"Tempting." The Darkling smirked, setting the letter aside with little care.

The Heartrender stepped aside to allow him out, and The Darkling marched towards the river, where a few of his fabrikators were working on a new skiff. It wasn't nearly as grand as the one Alina had boarded that fateful day, but that was due to a different purpose.

There was a strange device being placed underneath it.

"Are you sure this will work?" he asked Petya.

The woman hesitated for the briefest moment, and The Darkling reminded himself internally to summon new graves for his Grisha.

"Such a pity." he thought, sincerely.

"Yes. So long as the Squaller sets a slow pace and nobody exerts themselves too much, they should be able to pass in relative tranquillity."

He had a feeling it would not work. His Grisha had already tried several times to cross through the river, but David Kostyk was sure his new invention would cancel out the soft sounds of the skiff against the water and dwindle the sounds of a heartbeat.

"Do not expect the path to be clear." he said.

"That is exactly why we're going, sir." a Squaller, Igor, approached and bowed. "If this works and we can clear the path, we should be able to make it to the other side eventually."

"Let us hope it does not take too many tries." he said.

Too many Grisha lives, he had wanted to say.

"David is rarely wrong, Moi Soverennyi." Petya said.

That was true. David was one of his best Grisha, which was why The Darkling tried to keep him inside the safety of the Little Palace's walls unless absolutely necessary.

Still, The Darkling though the plan stupid and a waste; but it was either that or forcing Alina into The Fold, and she was far from being ready to make a crossing, even through its thinnest point up north.

As a Squaller, a Heartrender, two Healers and two Inferni boarded the skiff, followed by a few strong otkazat'sya men from the First Army, The Darkling thought of David.

He thought of Alina.

And his thoughts returned to David.

With a sharp nod, he sent off the small team to do their last test and headed back to his tent, where he began to write a letter addressed to Mr. Kostyk.

Click here for chapter 8

[6onmyshoulder]

If You’re Reading This, Take Care

I was Sec 3 when my classmate asked me ‘dude, have you heard of drake?’. ‘Who on earth is that?’ was my reply. ‘Go and listen to Best I Ever Had and then tell me’. And well, the rest, is history. You can imagine Sec 3 me vibing out to ‘Best I Ever Had’ thinking that ‘sweatpants, hair tied, chilling with no makeup on, that’s when you’re the prettiest, I hope that you don’t take that wrong’ was a lyrical miracle. I was hooked to ‘Best I Ever Had’. The song was infectious and it stayed on repeat for at least a week, maybe more.

My friend continued to introduce me to more Drake songs and the more I listened to Drake, the more addicted I got to his tunes and verses. There’s something about his nasal voice rapping/singing over spacey/sample-driven beats. It’s...relatable. Not in the whole ‘oh I’m rich as fuck, I got enemies everywhere, my rollie costs 240k’ relatable but more like...’listening to a friend’ kind of relatable. I mean, the man pours his heart out on most of his tracks(ignoring most of his stuff beyond ‘If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late’) it really does feel like you’re listening to that one friend who has a shit tonne of problems and he’s just telling you everything that has happened from start to end since you last met him.

That doesn’t make him any less of a hip hop artist though, don’t get me wrong. While other mainstream rappers discuss a variety of issues, Drake’s tracks feel a little bit more closer to home. More personal at certain instances. I’ll never be able to fully relate to Kanye’s opulence on My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy or The Weeknd’s drug fuelled romances on Trilogy. With Drake, it just feels a little simpler and easier.

Take Care will always be one of my all time favourite albums for how reflective and moody the album was. There were sad songs, braggadocious songs and songs that just took a step back to help him/the listeners look at the big picture. I can’t talk about Take Care without talking about ‘Marvin’s Room’. The ultimate ‘sad boi’ anthem. The song that defines the current generation of sadbois. The song that I’ve listened to so many times just cause it puts me in THAT headspace. A pretty amazing album from top to bottom, albeit with a couple of filler tracks.

Insane production from 40 and just all round good verses from Drake. ‘Over My Dead Body’ opens up gorgeously with some piano keys and some soft, slightly lofi drums. ‘Guess you lose some and win some, long as the outcome is income.’ ‘Headlines’ highlights the struggles of being confident and insecure at the same time. The Weeknd opens ‘Crew Love’ with the line ‘take your nose off my keyboard’ and it sounds silky as fuck. Wayne and 3000 deliver some visceral verses on ‘The Real Her’, while Stevie Wonder’s harmonica outro on ‘Doing It Wrong’ makes me want to apologise to everyone I’ve wronged.

So Far Gone was the mixtape that Take Care seemed to be modelled after. ‘Houstatlantavegas’ will always be in rotation for me for the mood it creates. A kind of a sad melancholy. ‘November 18’ shouts out DJ Screw. And ‘Say What’ Real’ is really just Drake spitting over Kanye’s ‘Say You Will’ instrumental and it just sounds...poignant. The rapping/singing switches Drake does on ‘Lust for Life’ sounds amateur but in a good way, in a relatable way. He sounds like someone you’re close to who can kinda sorta sing but when you listen to them over a decent beat they sound kinda amazing? They way Drake croons ‘I forgot to call you on your birthday’ on ‘Sooner Than Later’ brings back 90s RNB vibes. Just an amazing mixtape for the reflective late night mood it set in terms of track consistency and subject matter.

‘If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late’(IYRTITL) was a surprise drop, a retail mixtape(goddamn it man just call it an album). A slightly different sonic landscape, it still functions as a late night album. But it presents a different perspective on the boy himself. His insecurities and heartbreak take a backseat, as his confidence and his Toronto upbringing take the spotlight. I’ve never been to Toronto but this album makes me want to visit it. It sounds like the culmination of a ‘late night drive around the city’ album. Neon lights, smoke and some music blaring from the speakers at 2am from within the vehicle. That’s the scene/mood this album sets. The production is clean as FUCK. It’s menacing, it’s stealthy and it just sounds like the beats have a shit tonne of attitude. The first 8 track stretch has to be Drake’s best run within a tape...like...ever. The first 8 songs are all brilliant, with ‘Energy’ and ‘Star67’ being the standout tracks.

‘Nothing Was The Same’ was a pretty good album, and while for me it doesn’t hit the highs of the previously mentioned tapes, I still love and adore songs like ‘Tuscan Leather’, ‘Pound Cake’(oooh the beat and both Drake and Jay-Z’s verses are GORGEOUS) and ‘Furthest Thing’. ‘Views’ was supposed to be Drake’s grand album, especially since it was released after a great run from Drake, from the release of ‘IYRTITL’ to the beef with Meek. But it ended up sounding like a tired album and Drake didn’t sound hungry or like he wanted it. And somewhere in that tired album, the brilliance that was ‘Feel No Ways’ was lost. An underrated Drake track.

Thank Me Later reminds me of secondary school because I listened to that album a lot during that period. The beats felt inorganic but Drake somehow made it work and it ended up being a decent album. ‘Fireworks’ was a pretty solid opening to the album and Jay-Z kills his feature on ‘Light Up’. ‘Karaoke’ and ‘The Resistance’ got me hooked on to Drake’s singing voice and that type of chill and mellow beats. ‘Shut It Down’ is still one of the best Drake songs out there. Period.

‘More Life’ was decent, and I’m pretty sure it got more traction for the whole ‘playlist’ gimmick what a goddamn clown. Songs like ‘No Long Talk’, ‘Passionfruit’, ‘Gyalchester’ and ‘Do Not Disturb’ all showcased a Drake at...not his best...but at his best SINCE ‘Views’. I gotta shout Skepta out for his feature on ‘Skepta Interlude’. Man brought his fucking A game. His flow was terrific, plenty of quotable bars and the beat was just insane. ‘Slice up work like pepperoni’ and ‘Spit in your face with extra bogey, it’s my time, i don’t flex a rollie, on cloud nine, a man’s extra cosy’ were my favourite lines from the entire...playlist...

When ‘God’s Plan’ came out, I was excited for ‘Scorpion’. I felt like the boy was back and he was ready for it. I genuinely thought he could drop a classic while addressing the whole Pusha T ting. But sadly, Drake hit us with a largely forgettable album bar the singles. It was 2 hours(?) long and like dude what the fuck, no one wants to listen to a 2 hour album man.

There’s a progression, a character development between each and every album, that is captured vividly in the tapes Drake puts out. While they’re way better at some points than the others(lol scorpion and views), it’s refreshing to see an artist continuously try something different and not stick to the same old formula. It kind of saddens me that I might never hear Drake sound as hungry as he once did, but if he reinvents himself, and does something better down the line, I am all up for it. The boy put me on to The Weeknd, Partynextdoor and Roy Woods. And I hope he continues finding smaller artists to support and bring them to the forefront.

I’ll always look up to Drake for some of his characteristics. And I’ll always be excited to listen to whatever he puts out, regardless as to whether it will disappoint me or whether I cop the physical and put it up on my wall. I’ll always be a Drake fanboy for the simple fact that most of his songs and tapes defined different eras of my life, and continue to do so, as I add multiple memories to the same songs, over and over again. Thanks for looking out for the s0ftboiz.

‘That’s why every song sound like Drake featuring Drake.’

OVO