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“So how do you like my fan fiction?” asks Christian Grey. I groan from inside the block of ice.

AU: Tears streaming down my face, I reach for Christian Grey’s hand. We touch briefly, but then there is a shift, and he recedes above me.

“I don’t get the appeal of this show,” I tell Christian Grey. “It’s really pretty dumb.”

Christian Grey considers the delicate circuit-like tracery on the foliage. “This makes sense,” he says.

I stagger in a daze to find what Christian Grey meant.

“Never explain,” says Christian Grey, transfixing me with a sharp, hooded gaze. “Your reader is as smart as you are.”

“What puppy?” asks Christian Grey, turning to face me.

AU: Christian Grey’s eyes pierce me, yes, but in a different way than most. I grab his hand. “Who are you?” I ask.

“Christian Grey," I say, smiling, “I have no idea where this will lead us, but it will be a place both wonderful and strange."

The Christian Grey raced past the barn fell.

"Play me?" thunders Christian Grey. "You think a mortal could PLAY ME?"

"That's a false dichotomy!" I yell.

"Wait," he says, "doesn't that mean there are, like, two petals on the flower or something?"

Oh, Christian Grey. You're beautiful, but you'll never be a botanist.

My sentences have a disturbing tendency to either begin or end with "Christian Grey".

Christian Grey and I look around the clearing. There were trees here only seconds ago.

Past hope, past love, my thoughts turn I Christian Grey.

I found my autonomy swirling around and down into the vertex (sic) of Christian Grey

"I'm not an altruist, Anastasia. I don't decide for others," says Christian Grey while whittling.

CG does stuff