Saga - ST Therapy Time with [s]Zarney[/s] Kylo and Friends (TFA main cast, OC)—Mods' Dare Challenge

Author: Findswoman
Title: Therapy Time with Zarney Kylo and Friends
Era: Saga-ST (TFA-era)
Characters: Finn, Rey, Poe Dameron, Kylo Ren, General Armitage Hux, Captain Phasma, and an unfortunate OC.
Genre: Humor, whimsy, crackfic, Dare Challenge
Summary: A very unlikely group therapy session, and its very unlikely consequences.
Notes: Written for the 2017 Mods’ Dare Challenge, in which I received the following dare from Lady_Misty:

Whoof! I hope what follows does this justice. Thanks, once again, to Ewok Poet and Raissa Baiard for invaluable beta-reading and feedback.

---

Therapy Time with Zarney Kylo and Friends

“Hel-lo everybody! How are we all doing today?”

Thus the counselor—a portly, jovial Lasat whose rather squeaky voice seemed unsuited to his girth—greeted the motley group assembled before him. Besides an “Um, hi?” from the brown-haired girl, a timid wave from the dark-skinned fellow in the leather jacket, and a curt nod from the carrot-topped officer, he received no response.

“Why don’t we all go around the circle and say our name and one thing that we like?” continued the Lasat. “Ooh, and you know what? Make it something that you like that begins with the same letter as your name! So, my name is Zarney, and I like z—”

At that moment the other officer, a woman in gunmetal-gray armor with her blond hair in a severe pixie cut, cleared her throat. “In case you were not aware,” she began in icy tones, “we already went through this entire little . . . dog-and-equus show at our last meeting.”

“Oh, but don’t you know, we do it every meeting, because it’s such a wonderful way to get to know each other . . . and to come to terms with our differences . . . and become friends!” A collective groan went up from those present as Zarney grinned an immense toothy grin. “Now, who wants to start us off?”

“I’ll go,” said the young man in the leather jacket, raising a hand nonchalantly. “My name is Finn, and I like, um, food.”

“Finn-who-likes-food! Hello, Finn-who-likes-food! And now can everybody say—”

“Hello, Finn-who-likes-food,” chorused those present, none too enthusiastically.

“And now it’s your turn.” The Lasat gestured to the young man next to Finn—a sullen youth all in black, with luxuriant, curly dark locks cascading over his shoulders.

“I’m Kylo,” he muttered. “And I like . . . killing.”

“Kylo-who-likes-killing! Why, hello, Kylo-who-likes—what the kr—I mean, let’s remember that this is a peaceful place, friends! And you?” Zarney looked quickly at the armored woman.

“I,” she said, tossing her head back, “am Phasma, and I like ptarmigan.”

“Now remember the directions,” Zarney explained, most gently and softly. “It needs to start with the same letter as your name.”

“It does, you stupid idiot. Peth-trill-aurek-resh-mern-isk-grek-aurek-nern. Ptarmigan. Roasted with lemon, rosemary, and—”

“Ooh, ooh!” The brown-haired girl was fairly bouncing out of her chair. “I love ptarmigan! Braised in chardonnay, with macédoine à la vinaigrette and sage-shallot beurre blanc . . .” She hesitated as she noticed the quizzical looks of the others. “Um . . . it was one of Unkar’s surprise gourmet portions once when I brought him the droid brain from a . . . anyway . . . sorry . . .” She trailed off.

“Why don’t you go next?” suggested the Lasat counselor.

Her name, it turned out, was Rey-who-likes-rainbows (“though I don’t get to see them much”). She was followed by the redheaded officer, who introduced himself as Armitage-who likes-alternative-pronk (“I once had the opportunity to hear Sixth Eye Blind in concert,” mused Phasma), and finally by a brown-haired man in a violently vermillion flightsuit—Poe-who-likes-podracing.

“Aww yeah, how ’bout Takinoo Quadinaros at the Boonta Eve Classic!” exclaimed Finn, only to be silenced by a chill glance from Kylo.

“Podracing. Hmph.” The black-clad youth shook his ebon locks. “Just the sort of cheap, common pursuit an unwashed plebe like you would favor. I prefer tennis.”

“Also a beautiful sport,” put in Poe, adding with a wink, “made even more beautiful by—”

“All righty, friends! I think it’s time for our quiet centering time now.” Another groan went up as Zarney took the floor again. “Now, I want you all to close your eyes and take five deep breaths that go all the way down to your core . . . a one . . . a two . . . that’s it . . . a three . . . Rey, is there something interesting that you see over there in the middle of the door?”

“Um, no,” came the sheepish reply.

“Okay, because I’m not sure you need to be looking over there right now.” Zarney smiled winningly as he spoke these words.

I suppose not, thought Rey to herself—it’s an electronic lock anyway, and I only know how to mind-manipulate mechanical ones so far. Oh well. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Now, why don’t we start over . . . a one . . . a two . . . there we go . . .”

The quiet centering time lasted a full fifteen standard minutes and featured such thrilling highlights as breathing in-two-three-four, breathing out-two-three-four, imagining a big ball of energy in the middle of the room, and opening your heart to the sun (“we’re on a space station, for crying out loud,” grumbled Poe, upon which Finn elbowed him). The six members of the group endured it all as patiently and quietly as they possibly could, though they were not sorry to finally be able to open their eyes and breathe on their own terms.

“So, do we all feel centered now?” This query from Zarney was met with sepulchral silence.

“Do we all feel at one with ourselves and each other and the universe?” This one was met a sigh of ennui from Phasma and a tsk of impatience from Finn.

“How about we all sing our friendship song now?” This one was met with six gasps of shock and six shudders of dread.

“I think I’m a little . . . hoarse today,” grunted Kylo, then cleared his throat as loudly as he could.

“Yes, y-yes, me too,” Armitage chimed in, pretending to cough. “That bug that’s been going around Starkiller Base, you know—”

“Let’s all join hands and sing, friends!”

There was nothing for it. The seven beings in the circle linked hands, swayed, and joined in the dreaded ditty:

“I love you, you love me,
We’re a happy family . . .”

(At this point, if a few of those present began to sense dark currents rippling through the Force, they said nothing about it.)

“With a GREAT big hug and a kiss from me to you,
Won’t you say you l—”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Kylo screamed, jumping from his chair and kicking it over; it split in two on impact with the hard linoleum floor. The others gave him a wide berth as he rampaged about the room, kicking, shoving, or throwing anything he could find that was not nailed down, all while occasionally shouting things like “GAAAH!,” “ARRGHH!,” “URRGHH!,” and “GRAAAH!” Finally, clenching his hand in a fist, he approached Zarney, who began to gag. Several of the others gasped.

“NowreallyIthinkwecanworkthisoutifweGAAACK—”

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH!” Kylo yelled. “ENOUGH HUMILIATION! ENOUGH MANIPULATION! ENOUGH CHILDISH MINDGAMES! And ENOUGH! OF THAT RASSAFRACKIN’! SONG!”

“YesIunderstandhowyoufeelbut—“

“If I had my lightsaber I’d SKEWER YOUR SORRY PURPLE REAR!”

“Yeah, me too!” put in Finn, jumping up and brandishing a fist.

“Nowpleasecanwefindsomeotherwaytoworkoutallthisnegativity—”

Poe stepped forward and regarded the gagging Lasat sidelong. “Now me and Kylo here, we don’t always see eye to eye,” he said. “But this time I have to agree with him. Quiet centering time? Big balls of energy in the middle of the room? The ‘I Love You’ song? With beings older than one and a half standard years of age? Not cool, man. Really not cool.”

“Yeah, really not cool!” added Finn again.

“So what I’m going to recommend is that you clear on out of this room right now, or else my friend Kylo’s gonna whup your violaceous posterior from here to—”

“Oh, enough of this nonsense!” barked Phasma. “Leave this to me!”

She went over to Zarney’s briefcase, which was standing in one corner of the room, and extracted a large, formidable-looking syringe, which she shoved into the Lasat’s arm. He immediately slumped to the floor, unconscious. “There. That should be good for the next two hours, at very least.”

Applause went up from the others, and when it finally died down, everyone—in absolute earnest—took several deep breaths.

* * *

“All right, now, where were we?”

There was silence for a few moments. Then Armitage cleared his throat and turned to Phasma. “Erm, well . . . you mentioned hearing Sixth Eye Blind in concert?”

“Oh yes.” Phasma’s eyes lit up. “It was five years ago, in Darropolis, on Equinox Day. Absolutely stupendous.”

“Ooh, Sixth Eye Blind!” exclaimed Rey. “One of the things my parents left behind was a nine-track chip of their debut album. But I was always kind of more into They Might Be Phlogs.”

Phasma’s eyes lit up even more, as did Armitage’s. “I love They Might Be Phlogs!” “Ohmigosh, me too!” In mere moments all three of their voices had joined in rousing chorus: “Midichlorian Man, Midichlorian Man, doing all the things a midichlorian can . . .” Poe and Finn could do nothing but gawk in amazement, tap their feet, and attempt a tentative conversation about Takinoo Quadinaros.

Meanwhile, Kylo had been rummaging in a nearby storage closet. Partway through the “Galaxy Man” verse, he emerged, carrying several rackets under his arm and holding up a canister of fuzzy, bright orange balls. “Tennis, anyone?”

“Sure,” replied Finn eagerly, grateful for the change of subject. “But Kylo—there’s one thing I gotta tell you—”

He could not finish his sentence, because at this point Poe chimed in, clearly also grateful for the change of subject. “As I was saying . . . a beautiful sport, made even more beautiful by Shiraya Williams. Whoo mama, those—”

“Now DON’T YOU START!” scolded Phasma, breaking from the song and causing Armitage and Rey to do the same. “Shiraya Williams is a Galaxy-class athlete and I won’t stand for you objectifying her in that crass and undignified manner!” And then, shaking her head: “Men. Honestly.”

“Yeah,” said Rey. “Tell me about it. Some of the guys in line at Unkar’s . . . just . . . ugh. Couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Other appendages, too.” She shuddered visibly. “But then I started talking to them in Binary. That got them to stop.”

“Hmm. I may need to try that with some of the junior officers of Starkiller Base,” mused Phasma. “They get the most . . . outrageous ideas sometimes. Just the other day some radar technician named Matt—”

“I SAID, TENNIS, ANYONE?” bellowed Kylo.

“Hey, I already said yes!” bellowed Finn in response. “But look, man, I really gotta tell you—”

“Waiwaiwait,”Poe interrupted him. “Before we do anything, I would like to tell these two ladies”—he gestured to Phasma and Rey—“how sorry I am for being so insensitive about Shiraya Williams. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“Sure.”

“Of course.”

“And now,” Poe continued, “I hope you won’t ask mind if I ask you two for your ptarmigan recipes?”

Phasma perked up. “Not at all. Now, what I do is preheat the oven to 450°—”

“That’s 230°C,” added Armitage, “or gas mark 8.”

“—precisely. Then rub the ptarmigan with garlic, salt, pepper, rosemary, and extra virgin olive oil, then drizzle it with the juice of one lemon—”

“Y’know,” remarked Rey suddenly and dreamily, “I’ve never actually cooked with extra virgin olive oil before. But if you mix it with trillium soap”—here she leaned closer to Phasma and lowered her voice—“it’s really good for, you know, Auntie Flo-type stains.”

“Interesting.” Phasma nodded. “I may have to try that. I’ve been using a mixture of bacta and cider vinegar, but it tends to . . . undermine the structural integrity of certain fabrics.”

“Why don’t you ask Kylo?” suggested Rey. “I bet he would know all about cleaning blood stains out of things. Well . . . other kinds of blood, at least.”

“Not a bad idea. Say, Kylo, would you be able to offer any suggestions for—”

“I suggest,” growled Kylo, “that we GO PLAY TENNIS! RIGHT! RASSAFRACKIN’! NOW!”

“Okay—okay—b-but Kylo—” It was Finn again. “See, here’s the deal . . . ”

Kylo turned on Finn with a ferocious look. “YES?!”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you knew this, but—one of the rules of the Deepstar Station Lawn Tennis Club is that—is that you have to wear all white while on the court.”

“WHITE? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” Kylo flung his armful of rackets across the room, and another wild chair-kicking rampage began. “GAAAH! ARRGHH! URRGHH! THIS IS NOT FAIR!!!”

Meanwhile, the others simply grabbed the dropped rackets, while someone managed to retrieve the electronic keycard from Zarney’s briefcase and unlock the door. By the time Kylo had kicked over the last chair, they were on their way at full speed to the Deepstar Station Lawn Tennis Club. ¶

---

Spoiler: Notes

pronk: Fanon music genre invented by, and borrowed from, Ewok Poet.

The ptarmigan is a real-life bird. No idea whether they’re edible as poultry birds or not, though; I mainly chose it for its funny name.

Takinoo Quadinaros: Fanon. Quadinaros, of course, comes from the Tund podracer Ben Quadinaros, one of the racers in The Phantom Menace, and Takinoo is bastardized from the name of a real-life Formula One driver introduced to me recently by Ewok Poet: Taki Inoue, whom she described to me as “the Jar-Jar of F1.”

Shiraya Williams: Fanon. Three guesses which real-life tennis players she’s based on. (And there’s the goddess-associated-with-celestial-body connection, too: Shiraya is the Naboo moon goddess in Legends lore.)

Sixth Eye Blind is, of course, based on the real-life band Third Eye Blind. I don’t know anything about them and there’s no particular reason why I chose them other than I happened to see their name on Wikipedia’s list of alternative rock groups and thought it looked cool. They Might Be Phlogs is, of course, patterned on They Might Be Giants (on Phlogs, see http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Phlog).

“some radar technician named Matt”: Kylo Ren/Adam Driver’s alter ego in the Saturday Night Live skit Undercover Boss: Starkiller Base. I’m not sure I can link to it here because it includes some strong language, but it’s hilarious and worth googling. And yes, chew on those implications for a moment!

Deepstar Station: Fanon. I just needed a generically spacey-sounding space station name.

And I don’t recommend trying to remove stains of any kind with EVOO. That was just me being ridiculous.

Canon elements:
Darropolis (city on Hosnian Prime): http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Darropolis
Equinox Day (a Hosnian holiday): http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Equinox_Day (credit: Raissa Baiard)
Lasat (the species of Zeb from Rebels): http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Lasat
Trillium soap: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Trillium_soap

Finally, thank you to Lady_Misty for a mighty fun dare!

 

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and particularly for voting for this story as one of the best in the Mods’ Dare Challenge—what a fantastic and unexpected honor! I'm just sorry it's taken me so long to respond—I've been buried under piles of awards work and RL—but it doesn't mean I appreciate your thoughts and readership any less.

And I do once again wish to thank Lady_Misty for providing such a fantastic and fun dare.

Thank you so much! Both Barney and writing with the TFA cast are somewhat new to me, so I'm glad it came off well.

Now that I have seen some Rebels, I have to say I am immensely fond of Zeb—he’s definitely much more than just a big, cantankerous lug, and that bunny suggestion is one I shall certainly file away. Yep, that moment is indeed meant to show us that Zarney's saccharine-sweet façade may indeed be, well, no more than a façade—compare EP's comment below on the question of whether he might be a fraud.

Oh, I don't entirely blame them for being driven to emotude here—how can anyone who's not made of marble? And of course that feeling of frustration, ironically, rather than any of the woo-woo, happy-clappy stuff, is indeed what brings them all together.

Thanks! I'm glad they came off all right, because this is the first time I have written a story with any of the TFA cast, and that, almost more than Zarney, was one of the main challenges of this particular dare for me. The noncanonically-pronounced-or-unpronounced P business was inspired by a similar running gag that comes up sometimes with Thompson and Thomson in the Adventures of Tintin books by Hergé—when introducing themselves over the phone, they'll occasionally say things like "This is Thompson, with a P as in psychology, "or "This is Thomson, without a P, as in Antarctica" (or similar; I may not be remembering the exact words, but it's like that). As for radar technician Matt, I just couldn't resist. (And yes, as the note at the end of the story says, chew on those implications for a sec! He seems perfectly capable of it, though...)

Thanks! That one was kind of an epiphany for me, because I found myself desperately racking my brain for suitable alternative rock groups to GFFAify (it's a genre I barely know anything about), but then suddenly recalled that TMBG qualified. (I thought about having them sing a GFFAified "U R N X," but there's really no way to get those Aurebesh letter names to sound like actual language, so went with "Midichlorian Man" instead. Of course, if someone DOES come up with a GFFA version of "U R N X"...

Thanks again—I’m so glad you enjoyed it!

First of all, I have to thank you for such a fun and fantastic dare! I have to admit that when I first saw it had no idea how I would pull it off, but it turned out to be immensely fun to write. I had a very similar silent-P gag in mind when I was writing that part with Phasma: something similar is sometimes done with Thomson and Thompson in the Adventures of Tintin comics, where Thompson will introduce himself on the phone with something like “This is Thompson with a P as in ‘psychology.’”

Perhaps so… I guess I did kind of end up focusing on them, perhaps because of the dare stipulation about their “girl talk.” Though hey, Finn and Poe hobnob about podracing too, and and Hux does get in on both the alternative talk and the culinary talk! If Phasma ended up being the star, I guess it’s because I feel like they didn’t do as much with her in the film as they could have, and I wanted to give her a chance to shine.

Hah! That quote totally fits! Let me guess—in the original DS9 context, is it uttered by Ferengi characters? Because it sounds… that way.

Oh yes, between gourmet ptarmigan recipes, tennis, podracing, and TMBPh, we are seeing some interesting unknown sides of several of the characters here—humorous juxtapositions for the win, I say! And yes, the idea was that no one had any of their own weapons—because this is a peaceful place, friends.

Thanks so much for reading! Though I don’t have a lot of firsthand experience with Barney, I have come across counselors, teachers, etc. that were like that in other places, and it was kind of fun and cathartic to sublimate that experience into the story.

Glad you enjoyed how that worked out—I kind of did, too, and it allowed for some fun experiments in fanfic “girl talk” (as well as being one of those “mismatched friendships” that I am known to enjoy writing about). And you are of course more than welcome to borrow the bands whemever you like.

It’s true; the film really almost kind of exaggerated the petulant-child aspect of Kylo, almost to the detriment of his other aspects. I thought there might be more specifically about his obsession with Vader, how Kylo got hold of his helmet, etc., but the film only scratched the surface of that. But at least I love how Adam Driver has a sense of humor about that portrayal, as we see in the whole “Radar Technician Matt” thing! Thanks again so much for reading and replying.

Replying to the next two together:

Yep, that’s pretty much what seems to be happening here! He’s actually succeeding in his objective of bringing them together, although he doesn’t realize it.

Oh, it’s not totally unpopular, and it makes sense! I always found there to be something scary and not-quite-right about overly saccharine counselors of this sort.

Those are good questions for which I don’t yet have an answer, but if he comes up in future stories, then maybe I will. As for Kylo, well, at this point he probably wouldn’t respond to any sort of counseling, even if it was actually the sound and useful kind.

(As for putting on a mask—which I’m guessing was a semi-intended image given that you’re talking about Kylo —the almost-K-bomb moment can indeed be taken as a hint that Zarney is putting on a mask of normality and positivity. And of course the exaggerated nature of his positivity is itself arguably a clue to that, too.)

I’ll have to take your word for all of these, since I’m not familiar with any of the things you mention. But I can imagine that that kind of Zarneyish counseling is a very scary thing indeed in Gift, and my guess is that in that case it probably does nothing to actually help the people who have to undergo it.

Oh, every species has all kinds—I’ve always been sure of that! Though, in another sense, that too could be a hint that it’s all (or mostly) a front.

Ah, that one I’m leaving up to my readers. (True admission: I hadn’t actually come up with anything in particular. )

That he is indeed. And who doesn’t like food?

Indeed, and see the points made above about the possibility of it all (or mostly) being a front.

Well, he does jump on her for “not following directions,” and after she counters that he doesn’t get a chance to remonstrate further because then Rey jumps in and starts talking about gourmet portions and everything gets derailed and then Zarney kind of has to start anew with some other phase of the therapy process. But he can’t not know that he’s dealing with some potential very dangerous people here (that’s why everyone’s weapons have been “checked at the door”).

And, indeed, how could I resist the opportunity to place a nice, loud, vehement “TENNIS, ANYONE?!” in the mouth of Emo!KyloRen?

I’m glad you introduced me to him so I could sneak him in here.

You’re very welcome. That too was an opportunity that was hard to pass up.

Yep, there was definitely meant to be a hint of creepiness there. The cage is a gilded one, but it’s still most definitely a cage, and they are prisoners.

And I agree! I don’t sympathize with Kylo Ren often, but when I do, it’s on the topic of saccharine Lasat therapists. [ /DosEquisMostInterestingMan ] “Rassafrackin’” was something my old friend and writing partner Beedo used to say, and I think it may have Elmer Fudd origins (Raissa Baiard may be able to confirm).

That did seem… appropriate to the character, somehow.

I shall keep that under consideration. See also above, re “U R N X."

If he does that again, stun him.

Wait, maybe that's his kink. Don't. O_O[/quote]

Yeah, probably safest not to. But he managed to learn his lesson without being stunned, thankfully! (If only it were the case with all such…)

Oh, indeed. Pretty much anything is going to cause Kylo to go all RASSAFRACKIN’. It’s just his nature.

Hey, but when you’re at a high-end tennis club, you gotta follow the rules, yo!

Thank you so much. I had a lot of fun with her, and writing her gave me a bit of a new appreciation for the character, despite how poorly (IMHO) she’s handled in the film. If the chance comes up, I’d certainly be game to return to her again.

Thanks so much, Chyn, and I’m glad you enjoyed this! (And don’t worry about catching up on Barney—it’s pretty much just like, well, Zarney, and the song is identical. ) If this story can cheer you or anyone up on a gloomy day, then it has done its job for sure—writing it sure cheered me up, more than I ever guessed it would!

Thanks again to you all!

 

Thanks so much for reading! I'm glad this story provided you with a laff or two—once again, that's how I know it's done its job.

Ooh, well, we shall just have to see what the muse/moose ends up throwing my way. But I'll keep it under consideration—thanks for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed!

 

Just realized I didn't respond to this comment yet—thanks so much! I'm so glad this story could provide you with a much-needed laff or two.

 

Hi, you two, and thanks so much for reading and enjoying this little thing of mine!

I just realized that this comment is from upward of two years ago and I totally ignored it—I'm really sorry! Thanks, and I'm so glad you enjoyed this; I don't have a lot of experience with this group of characters, but it's always fun to try something new. That tennis rule is not original to me, incidentally; it's a real rule at Wimbledon for sure, and I'm guessing some other stadiums and tennis clubs as well. Finn was just pointing it out, and if it threw Kylo on one of his wobblies, well, then, that's on Kylo, isn't it!

Thanks so much, Nyota! I'm so glad you enjoyed this! It was something a bit different for me, but I had a blast with it and I'm glad you got some good laffs out of it, too!