Fan Fiction Friday: Riddick in “Philosophy and Prophecy”


Since I know many or you are still
reeling from last week’s erotic Care Bear adventures, I thought I’d take it
down a notch with this week’s FFF, which was actually suggested by TR reader
Adam R, who says:?

I stumbled across this “Chronicles of
Riddick” Riddick/Vaako slash fiction
while in class. It’s all I could do not to laugh / throw up in the middle of class. ?I’d hate to
have to explain this to everyone else,
because most of these people shouldn’t be made aware that this even exists. But
Topless Robot readers should.

Oh, he also says:

Fucking fucking fuck fuck fucker fucking fuck.

…but that’s probably because he was traumatized
by the romantic love affair between the Necromonger Vaako and Riddick in this story by Tarlan. But as the title implies, there’s a lot more
being discussed here than Karl Urban and Vin Diesel getting it on. See if you
can read all of this, which has no sexual content, but is just as horrible in
its own way as any FFF:

The Necromonger philosophy was to keep what you
kill but slam had taught him a different lesson, to not grow too attached to
anything or any person because there was no guarantee you’d keep them for even
a day, let alone forever.

He pulled the ornate knife from its sheath and
studied the fine workmanship, spinning it on his hand while compensating for
the slight lack of balance between hilt and blade. In his mind’s eye, he
replayed the death of Irgun; pulling this blade from back and avenging the Imam
with it, finishing a job that another had started. This same blade had played a
vital role in both his first meeting and final confrontation with a ‘holy
half-dead’, burying this blade deep in the Lord Marshall’s skull.?

Over the
years he’d had several knives and shivs; well-balanced blades, sharp as a
razor, and each had been a favorite in its time. All of them lost one by one to
whatever event overtook him. Some he left buried to the hilt in whatever
lowlife had tried to take him on; others were taken from him by bounty hunters
like Johns and Toombs, locked or thrown away. Sometimes he got them back,
mostly he just found himself another well-balanced blade or made use of
whatever he could turn into a weapon.

Still with me? Then how about this?

Lord Marshall of the Necromongers; head of a vast
army seeking the annihilation of all human life so they could fulfill their
prophesy and find a better life beyond some threshold. An army whose faith
dictated that they kill all non-believers, that they fight to the death if
necessary. Out of curiosity, he had undergone their ritual of pain and it had
not changed him for it had been nothing to the pain he had survived all his
life. Release from the pain-inducing machine had offered him no solace from the
pain he had carried inside from childhood, for the rage built into his DNA by a
billion screaming, tormented souls.

The pretentious emo bullshit factor is enough to
make me long for the subtlety of Jazz assaulting Bumblebee in a closet,
frankly. You’ve only read a quarter of it, so he fact that it’s all a prelude to the following just makes it all
the more despicable.

A swish of air and the glint of light off metal
pushed against his senses only moments before he felt the cold steel against
his throat. The blade remained motionless in a steady hand as the wielder
leaned in, the warmth of his body radiating across Riddick’s back, the heat of
his breath fanning against the Riddick’s throat. A soft, deep voice whispered
into his ear.

“Many would see this as a sign of weakness.
Many would desire the slice of my blade across your throat.”

Riddick hummed, his larynx vibrating from the
noncommittal sound as he reached up to wrap his hand gently around the strong
wrist holding the blade. His thumb stroked across the pulse point and he waited
until the hand relaxed, drawing the blade further from his throat before he
turned his head, breathing in deep the scent of the man standing behind him.

“I’ve already tried to kill one Lord
Marshall,” Vaako stated softly, ominously, letting the implication lie
heavy between them, that what had been attempted once for power could prove too
great a temptation again one day.

Vaako pulled back and stared hard into Riddick’s
eyes; partly surprised and partly awed by the revelation hidden beneath two
simple words. Almost with reverence, Vaako leaned in and kissed him, his soft,
full lips brushing over Riddick’s, setting them tingling with desire for more.
Riddick smiled into the kiss, letting it deepen as the flat of the blade
pressed against his back. Eventually surfacing from the kiss, breathing fast
and with his pulse erratic, Riddick drew his lover from the basilica, through
shadowed corridors to the majestic room that Riddick had taken as his own as
Lord Marshall. With the door sealed, he let down his guard once more as Vaako’s
blade clattered to the floor, reaching for fastenings so he could divest both
of them of unnecessary clothing.

Stripped and naked, and lying sprawled across the
wide bed, Vaako’s pale skin shone like alabaster in the pale silvery light of
the darkened room.

“Beautiful,” Riddick murmured before
moving into the open arms, pressing his body along the length of his lover’s
warm flesh. Carefully, he thrust against the firmness of a muscular body as
they kissed; Vaako’s answering hardness trapped between them, bodies becoming
slick with the sweat of exertion as they reached a slow, soul-numbing climax.
Their release blended between their muscular bellies, its pungency spicing the
air as they gasped into each other’s mouth, swallowing each other’s cry of

Oh, did I not tell you it was a tender sex scene?
My bad. Riddick and Vaako didn’t rape each other or anything, oh no — they made
sweet love
. Just two people, exploring each other’s bodies. Except, you know,
one’s a space criminal played by Vin Diesel and one’s something called a “Necromonger.”

Afterwards, it was easy to lie back with Vaako
half-sprawled over his chest, and caress his lover’s soft skin from shoulder
blade to the curve of his fine ass.

FYI — if anyone ever asks you for an adjective
described Vin Diesel’s ass, the appropriate word is “fine.” Now you know.

Perhaps the day would come when Vaako would slice
the blade across his throat. If it did then Riddick would offer no resistance
for, on that day, it would mean he had lost his only reason to go on; he would
have lost Vaako’s love, faith and trust. He smiled again, feeling philosophical
about his potential demise, and wondered silently if Aereon had a prophecy for
his last day, and if he would hold onto Vaako Until UnderVerse Come.

Somehow, this tender romance between two
characters from a ludicrous sci-fi film is just as disturbing to me as any of
the sexual assault stories on FFF. I mean, when someone writes about Care Bears
fisting each other, you know they are fucked up, and you can immediately
recognize that. Surely that kind of insanity manifests itself in their daily

But this? This is twisted. This person could be a
productive member of society in the day, and then write this kind of horror at
night. This person might be behind you in line at the grocery store. Or he could be a co-worker. Or your babysitter. Or something like
that. And that is fucking scary.