1. “Show me how you died to the boss.” “What?” I frown. “Don’t be coy, Ana, show me,” he whispers. I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
2. “I think we’ll do LFR later,” he says. “Let’s queue up for Tol Barad.”
This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Christian Grey, and only he can make it sound hot, really hot.
3. “Are you backpedalling deliberately?” he asks darkly. I blink up at him, gasping, strafing out of the fire.
4. I eye Christian’s healthstone. It would be like having him in my mouth. Grabbing it quickly, I eat it in double quick time even though I’m at full health. I feel so naughty. It’s such a thrill.
5. Holy hell, he’s been working out at the training dummies. He’s in Tattered Cloth Pants that hang, in that way, off his hips and Tattered Grey Vest, which is dark with sweat, like his hair. Christian Grey’s sweat, the notion does odd things to me. I take a deep breath and alt-tab.
6. Kate looks wistful. “Yeah, took almost a year to catch the sea turtle in Northrend and here you are… first catch?”
I nod shyly. My inner goddess sits on her slow turtle looking serene except for the sly, self-congratulatory smile on her face.
7. 15.19 The Raider shall not click the Lightwell without permission from the Raid Leader.
8. Holy shit. What does that mean? Does he buy and sell accounts? Is he part of some underworld Chinese farmer syndicate? It would explain why he’s so rich. Is he deeply religious? Is he bad at WoW? Surely not, he could prove that to me right now. Oh my. I flush scarlet thinking about the possibilities.
9. The elevator arrives and we step on. We‘re alone… and suddenly for some inexplicable reason, possibly our proximity in such an enclosed space and skeletons littering the ground, the atmosphere between us changes, charging with an electric, exhilarating anticipation… my breathing alters, oh my… His head turns fractionally towards me, his eyes darkest jade. I backpedal.
“Oh fuck the elevator boss,” he growls and he lunges at me pushing me off the Blackwing Descent elevator, holy shit…
10. Holy crap. How did this become such an intense and meaningful boss fight? It’s been sprung on me like a frost trap I’m not prepared for.
11. Tentatively, I look at my debuffs. Should I run? This is it, our lives hang in the balance, right here, right now. Do I let him do this or do I say no, and that’s it? Because I know we will all die if I stand still. Do it! My inner goddess gives me Power Word Shield, my subconscious is as paralyzed as I am. “I’m waiting,” he says. “You are the Bomb.” Oh for the love of all that’s holy. What if I run the wrong way? Blood pounding through my body, my legs are like jelly.
12. “Christian transmogged his gear to Tier 3.” I shrug.
Kate stares at me open mouthed. I have to say – I love these occasions – Katherine Kavanagh, silent and floored, they are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment to enjoy it.
“Yep, he has Tier 3 gear, which he farmed at the end of The Burning Crusade,” I state proudly.
13. “You beguile me, Spine of Deathwing. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the sun as I roll off your back.”
14. I must not nuzzle. I must not nuzzle. I must move 10 yards away and not chain C’thun’s eye beam. I repeat the mantra in my head.
15. Holy Fuck. I can’t bring myself to even consider the consumable list.
16. Tyrande shall conduct herself in a respectful manner and shall address him only as Mal, The Sleeper, or such other title as he may direct.
17. They didn’t give me the legendary. I cannot believe my world is crumbling into a sterile pile of ashes, my hopes and dreams cruelly dashed.
18. “You don’t need to wait for the ready check–just go in,” and I push open the door, tripping over my own feet and facepulling the boss.
19. The Raider will conduct herself in a modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on the Guild.
20. Oh! I really must stop tweeting every item I loot the instant I loot it, I scold myself.
21. My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her ilvl 384 boot impatiently. Holy fuck, I can’t even bring myself to read the Encounter Journal.
22. My inner goddess is clapping her hands, bouncing up and down like a night elf. Please, let’s blog this… otherwise we’ll end up alone with lots of leather scraps and your pet rocks to keep you company.
23. “Are you going to vote-kick me?” “Yes, but it won’t be to hurt you. I don’t want to punish you right now for going afk.” Holy cow.
24. My inner goddess is spinning like a world-class Al’Akir failure, tornado after tornado.
25. “I don’t understand. If you have willing pugs, why am I here?””I want to wipe on this encounter with you, very much.””Oh,” I gasp. Why?
26. “Why don’t you like to stay for the whole raid? Why do you only show up for one boss?” I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. ‘Because I’m fifty shades of fucked up.’
27. “Don’t loot that. I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not giving me that epic, by denying me what’s mine.” His eyes blaze.
28. “Don’t laugh at me, but what are Valor Points?”
“I promise not to laugh. I’ve apologized twice.” He glares at me. “Don’t make me do it again,” he warns. And I think I visibly shrink… oh, he’s so bossy. “Valor Points are currency for gear that you get from instances like Zul’Aman. They’re fun.”
29. “This is your first 85?” he breathes. I nod, flushing again. He puts up a DND sign and looks to be counting to ten.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” he types. “We’re going to rectify the situation right now.” He flies me on his rocket to the heirloom NPC.
30. “I disabled your authenticator, Anastasia.” Oh, of course he did. How is that possible? Is it legal?
Stalker, my subconscious whispers at me through the cloud of firewater that’s still floating in my brain, but because it’s him I don’t mind.
31. I ignore his facial expression and very bravely fly up to the Stormwind AH roof, putting him on follow to watch his deft, 310% speed mount fly around the Trade District. He pauses fractionally, and then dismounts on the mainbox.
“Where was that mount from?” I ask softly.
“Ulduar. Yogg, 0 keepers. Or the Black Market Auction House, if you’re interested,” he murmurs.
32. Christian sits in a Beacon of Light as he plays the piano. He looks naked too, though I know he just transmogged his PJ bottoms.
33. Little Miss Gnomish Pigtails returns, all coy glances and swaying hips, with our entree, a Roasted Clefhoof, I think.
34. My subconscious is quaking at the knees. He’s mad about something – could be no enchants, bad gear, dying a lot. Jeez, he’s easy to rile.
35. I am once more in the Ring of Valor. It’s the same, the smell of leather, citrus, polish and dark wood, all very sensual.
36. His voice is warm and husky like a mage’s pyroblast… or something.
37. Will I ever understand this man? Hmm- this loot is shiny.
38. I swallow, and my inner goddess squints from her sun lounger where she’s trying to catch rays with a silver reflector fanned out at her neck.
39. “Hush, Tyrande,” Malfurion darkly said. “You should really bite your lip more, it’s in the contract.”
40. So you felt demeaned, abused, assaulted wiping on the boss- how very casual of you. I believe it was you who decided on the raid if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try and embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That’s what a hardcore raider would do.
41. Okay. A cutscene interlude, not what I was expecting. Does this boss ever do what I expect?
Jeez, I hope it’s skippable.
42. Nothing’s changed, my subconscious barks at me again, glaring at me over her half moon winged glasses.
43. I throw myself into the dungeon, pausing only between pulls for some water. It’s extraordinary how much my mana goes up once I’ve drank something.
44. I did not resort to tears, shouting, or murder, nor did I succumb to his sexpertise when I lost that roll. But I’m glad he traded that mount to me.
45. “Have you been offered a summon to the instance?”
“Um – no.” Oh dear, is Warlock Number one in trouble?
Warlock Number Two frowns and eyes the young warlock afk.
“Would you like a summon, feast, buffs?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.
“A summon to Firelands. Thank you,” I murmur.
“Olivia, please click on the summoning stone for Miss Steele.” Her voice is stern. Olivia comes back from afk immediately and scurries to a large vampiric TV at the other end of the room.
“My apologies, Miss Steele, Olivia is our new warlock. Please join vent. The raid leader will be another five minutes.”
46. I race for the wide swirling portal, and I’m free in the bracing, cleansing, damp air of Undercity.
47. I can hardly contain the riotous feelings or is it heroism that rampages through my body.
48. I shall go to LFR without a weapon enchant. Anastasia Steele! My subconscious chides me, but I don’t want to listen to her – I almost hug myself with glee because I know this will drive the other pugs crazy.
49. “I know you’re not going gear up and xfer.”
“I wanted to.”
“No you didn’t. You just thought you did.”
50. He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor mage table. My inner goddess is doing the Heigan dance with some Sunwell moves.
50 Shades of Grey is a slightly-modified work of Twilight fanfiction. It is also a national bestseller. It tells the story of a sexually inexperienced woman manipulated into a relationship who is ordered not to tell anyone about it. Since the guy is wealthy, she puts up with his demands, describing the relationship to the reader in sexytime language such as “I was hit/beaten.” To round out the mood, the guy believes all of his sexual interests are the result of childhood abuse, leaving him with a deep-rooted impulse to now beat women who look like his mother.
The trilogy is set up as a fantasy where an innocent women sacrifices her time and energy to redeem an troubled prince. Besides the problematic aspect of BDSM representing a troubled personality, the redemptive part of this plot arc sucks. It’s simply a return to more domestic forms of manipulation. Christian, in his enlightened state, does things like bruise Ana on their honeymoon when he dislikes her skimpy beach attire, forcing her to cover her body up for the rest of the trip.
The cringe-worthy writing is by far not the most problematic part of this book, but it’s the easiest to snark. The Trouble with Prince Charming Or He Who Trespassed Against Us by Roxanne Gay and Jen Reads 50 Shades of Grey by Jennifer Armintrout are both great reads that effectively tackle the serious issues behind this pop culture phenomenon. 50 Shades glamorizes abuse, using damaging BDSM stereotypes with a sugar-coating of wealth as a justification for this unhealthy behavior.
So, here are the WoW/50 Shades mashups I came up with, for a universe where Christian’s helicopter is a Mimiron’s Head and he refuses to let Ana loot the boss. If you are looking for better erotica, try rereading that abandoned fanfic draft from high school or A Steamy Romance Novel: Blue Moon.