#swtor...crackfic

Why the Fuck Am I On Korriban (And How the Fuck did I Get Here?) A Sims 3/SWTOR Crackfic.

“WHY THE FUCK AM I GREEN!???” Tsana Meer growled, her Inverness accent coloring her speech as she looked in a mirror. “Somebody had better tell me this is a fucking joke?”

Behind her, a low, ominous hum filled the tomb of Korriban, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy poking at her reflection, as if jabbing the green would somehow snap her back to normal.

“Uh… Tsana?” River’s voice trembled from somewhere behind a crumbling Sith pillar. She spun, hair practically on fire from static panic, eyes wide. “Are we… supposed to be here?”

Haruo, towering over everyone at 6’8”, leaned casually against a sarcophagus, one eyebrow raised. “Seems like we are,” he said, his deep voice calm enough to make shadows recoil. And then, without warning, he lifted a finger. A tiny spark of Force lightning danced across it and arced perfectly into Phil, who yelped. “OW!!!”

Phil—scrawny, 5’10”, grinning ear to ear—hopped backward as if it were a carnival ride. “Okay! Okay, fine—nice one!” He rubbed his arm, still laughing. Overseer Harkun, looming several feet away, stared down at him like he’d just accidentally stepped on a Khlor-slug larva.

“Haruo!” Tsana shrieked, half at him, half at the Sith, panic rising to near-screaming levels. “Stop electrocuting people! And somebody tell me why I’m green!”

Haruo smirked faintly, finger twitching again, ready to deliver just enough spark to make Phil yelp again. Phil squealed “OW!!!” in response, hopping sideways. Everyone else—River, Tara, Mara, Tiff, Claire, Allyson, Holly—screamed, flailed, or tried to intervene. The tomb echoed with chaos: Sith whispers, flailing arms, and the occasional “WHY IS SHE GREEN?!?”

And somewhere in the back, Tsana’s reflection shimmered as if the tomb itself were mocking her. Korriban had no idea what it had just invited.

Mara was curled up beside a jagged rock, knees to chest, whispering frantically. “OMG… if this is Star Wars… then get me into Republic space… please… somebody…”

River knelt beside her, trying to soothe her with wild hand gestures that only made the tomb’s shadows twitch. “It’s okay, it’s okay… just… don’t look at the Sith! Don’t move at all!”

Haruo, still casually leaning against a sarcophagus, tilted his head. “Move?” He flicked a finger. A tiny spark of Force lightning zipped across the stone floor—Phil yelped, “OW!!!” and bounced backward again. “Haruo! Cut it out!”

Phil grinned anyway, rubbing the small burn, clearly loving every second. “I think this is… fun?” he said, eyes sparkling. “I mean, come on… look at him! He’s huge! This is hilarious!”

Tsana stomped her foot, glaring at the mirror. “I swear on the Force… if one more person tells me to calm down, I will Force-choke them myself! And somebody explain why I’m green!”

Somewhere in the corner, Tiff had taken a dramatic stance, hands raised like she was conducting a Sith choir. “This is totally my aesthetic,” she announced. “I call dibs on the creepy lighting. And maybe that floating skull over there.”

Overseer Harkun blinked once, then twice, clearly reconsidering his career choices as a Dark Lord. Nothing in his centuries of Sith training had prepared him for this—green humans yelling, a towering giant flicking lightning at a squealing scrawny man, and a chorus of friends panicking in perfect Sims-style disorder.

“Oh… then of course there’s some renegade acolyte,” Phil muttered cheerfully, peering around Haruo’s elbow. “Because this day definitely needed that.”

Boots crunched against the red sand as a Sith acolyte stepped out from behind a half-collapsed pillar, lightsaber already ignited. The crimson blade hummed angrily, casting sharp shadows across his face as he sneered at the group.

“More competition to kill…” he said, voice dripping with ambition and poor life choices.

Everything froze.

Mara let out a tiny, strangled noise and curled tighter against her rock. “Nope. Nope. That’s a lightsaber. That’s an actual lightsaber. I am not emotionally equipped for this.”

River grabbed Tsana’s arm. “Do not antagonize him.”

Tsana, still green and still furious, snarled, “Oh, I’m sorry, am I meant to be polite while I’m green and being threatened by a glowstick with legs?!”

The acolyte took a step forward, clearly trying to look intimidating.

Unfortunately for him, Haruo straightened to his full 6’8”.

The Sith stopped.

Just… stopped.

Slowly, his gaze traveled upward. And upward. And upward some more.

Haruo looked down at him, expression flat. “You mind?” he asked mildly. “We’re having a crisis.”

The acolyte tightened his grip on the lightsaber. “You think size will save you?” he hissed.

Haruo sighed. Then, very deliberately, he lifted one finger.

Phil immediately threw his hands up. “HEY—WAIT—”

A tiny crackle of blue lightning snapped out.

“OW!!!” Phil yelped, hopping sideways. “Okay, that one was uncalled for!”

The acolyte stared.

Overseer Harkun stared harder.

Several Sith spirits whispering ominously in the walls abruptly went quiet.

“That—” the acolyte stammered, “—that was Force lightning.”

Haruo blinked. Looked at his finger. “Huh.”

Tsana whirled on him. “HUH?!”

The acolyte’s confidence visibly wavered. He adjusted his stance, lightsaber still humming, but now held just a bit more defensively. “You… you’re not an acolyte.”

“Nope,” Phil said brightly. “He’s just like that.”

Haruo grinned, evilly, "You chose the wrong day to test my patience...Sith. One spark is good...for attitude correction." He outstretches both hands "How about both hands..." His voice rises to a thundering roar.

"You see...I've seen this movie before."

"Peace is a lie..." Haruo thundered. "There is only passion."

The acolyte was suddenly wrapped in torrents of Force Lightning and these weren't playful sparks either.

"Through passion, I gain strength..."

River gasped: "Oh my god..."

"Through strength...I gain victory..."

The ill-intentioned acolyte started screaming in terror as the force lightning ripped away at him.

"Through victory...my chains are broken..."

And scarily calm...as if it were just another day of the week, he casually turned to his friends. "The Force shall free me." he finished with a smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Haruo...your eyes...they're glinting gold." River gasped.

"CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHY THE FUCK I'M GREEN?!!!" TSANA BELLOWED.

"You've got face tattoos too." Haruo said as if it were natural.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!” Tsana screamed, “IS THIS SOME KIND OF FUCKING JOKE... DID SOMEONE SPIKE MY DRINK WITH LAPHROAIG AND TAKE ME TO A FUCKING TATTOO PARLOUR?” “Very symmetrical. Tsana, Honestly? They suit you. And I like the green...goes good with your hair.” “Oh...Christ...” Tsana folded in on herself. “I...I...don’t want to be green...like Kermit the Frog.

“Well…” Haruo said slowly, looking down at the weapon now humming softly in his hand, crimson light washing over his face, “…the nice thing is that I’ve now got a lightsaber.”

He laughed.

It wasn’t joy. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t even excitement.

It was low, breathy, edged with something sharp—like someone discovering a missing piece of themselves and liking what they found far too much.

River’s stomach dropped. “Haruo…” she said carefully. “You didn’t need to take it.”

He tilted the saber slightly, watching the blade cut a clean line through the dusty air. “Didn’t I?” His voice carried an odd warmth now, intimate and dangerous. “It was just lying there. Felt rude to leave it.”

Phil took an instinctive step back. “Okay. Nope. That laugh? That was a villain laugh. I know a villain laugh.”

Haruo glanced at him, eyes catching gold again. “Relax. I’m smiling.”

“You’re baring your teeth,” Claire whispered.

Tsana scrambled to her feet, pointing at him wildly. “Absolutely not. No. You don’t get to go full Dark Side while I’m having an existential crisis about being a green alien with face tattoos.”

Haruo chuckled again, rolling the hilt once in his palm like he’d been born with it there. “You know what’s funny?” he said. “It feels… right. Balanced. Like I’ve been missing this my whole life.”

“That is not funny,” River said, voice tight. “That’s terrifying.”

The Sith whispers grew louder—encouraging now. Hungry.

Overseer Harkun had retreated halfway behind a pillar, muttering prayers to gods that absolutely did not care.

Brent swallowed. “Buddy. Pal. Friend. Maybe turn it off?”

Haruo considered that. Actually considered it.

Then he shook his head, amused. “Not yet.”

The blade snapped upward with a hiss, embedding itself inches from a stone wall—clean, effortless. The impact sent dust raining down.

Mara screamed.

“—Haruo!” River shouted.

He turned, finally really looking at them. His smile softened just a fraction, as if remembering they mattered.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said sincerely. “I’m not a monster.”

That didn’t help. Somehow, that made it worse.

Tsana stared at him, chest heaving. “You’re enjoying this.”

Haruo didn’t deny it.

“…yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”

The Force surged around him, pleased. Possessive.

And somewhere deep inside the academy, something ancient took notice—

—and approved.

River didn’t scream.

That was the first thing she noticed about herself.

Everyone else did—Mara’s broken sobs, Tsana’s furious yelling, Phil’s voice cutting off mid-joke—but River went very still, like her body had decided movement was no longer a safe option.

Haruo raised his hands.

Not in anger. Not in panic.

In confidence.

The lightning came down like judgment.

River watched it wrap around the acolyte, watched the way Haruo’s shoulders relaxed as the power surged through him. Watched the way his face didn’t twist with effort—but with recognition. Like something inside him had clicked into place.

Oh god, she thought. He likes this.

That was the moment her fear sharpened into something cold and precise.

She knew the Sith Code. She’d read it as fiction, as lore, as something distant and theatrical. Hearing it thundered aloud—perfectly paced, perfectly intoned—out of Haruo’s mouth felt like watching a friend suddenly speak a language they should not know.

And worse—

He wasn’t shouting at the acolyte.

He was performing.

River’s hands trembled at her sides. She didn’t step forward. She didn’t tell him to stop. Some instinct deep in her chest warned her that interrupting him now would be… unwise.

That thought terrified her more than the lightning.

When did I start thinking like prey?

She searched his face desperately for something—hesitation, doubt, guilt—but found none. Just calm. Just focus. Just that faint, awful glint of gold in his eyes, catching the red light like a predator’s.

If I say the wrong thing, she realized, he won’t hurt me…

The thought didn’t finish itself.

Because the truth underneath it was worse.

He won’t hesitate.

The lightning stopped.

The silence afterward roared.

Haruo turned to them—turned to her—and smiled.

River flinched.

It was small. Barely noticeable. Just a hitch in her breath, a step back she couldn’t stop in time.

But she saw it land.

Something flickered across his face—not remorse. Not yet.

Awareness.

“…Haruo,” she whispered, her voice thin. “Your eyes.”

Gold.

Still gold.

She loved him.

That hadn’t changed.

But as she stood there on Korriban, red sand under her feet and Sith whispers crawling along the walls, River understood something with awful clarity:

She wasn’t afraid of what Haruo could do.

She was afraid of how easy it had been for him to decide.

And she didn’t know if love would be enough to bring him back— only that she couldn’t leave him alone with that power.

So she stayed.

Terrified.