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Spock wouldn’t classify it as a phobia per say, but he, as a Vulcan, did have an excessive aversion to hands. Neither the situation or the context mattered much, just the need to stay out of as many minds as possible. Many of the crew were friendly with the first officer, a few he considered close..

The crew of the Enterprise was placed on a five month leave at the starbase Yorktown while the newest version of the ship was built. To maintain continual close tied with everyone who survived Altamid Uhura, Scotty, and Sulu’s husband, Ben took it upon themselves to organize weekly get togethers. It was during these events when Ben began to notice Spock’s avoidance of contact with hands, by even his closest friends.

The commander would only allow Jim Kirk, the captain and his best friend, to touch the cloth of his tunic - never skin. Ben observed a look of slight hurt and acceptance every time Spock had enough and subtly removed the hand. Listening to their stories, it seemed only during missions, in desperate situations, would the science officer allow any more contact.

On the other side of the conversation was Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, MD. Ben knew McCoy was an expert in xenobiology, having discussed many theories and ideas with the doctor. Of course McCoy knew the implications of both skin contact and hand-to-hand contact with a Vulcan. Most were unaware that Vulcans are touch telepaths. Ben learned during one of their discussions that Vulcan hands are extremely sensitive, far too intimate for every day contact. McCoy, himself, only would touch Spock once wearing gloves and given permission. The doctor’s look was one of compassion and understanding. He would take whatever his Vulcan friend could allow.

Nyota Uhura was quite probably the one person Ben was surprised to notice she kept herself physically as far as possible from Spock. If he remembered correctly from Hikaru’s ship-wide gossip updates, those two were an item for some time. She would often fidget with her necklace and glance longingly at the Vulcan. For sure he allowed her touch while they were together, right? He would have known what to expect when he touched her. Now the two often stood with at least the distance of one person between them.

Tonight that person Montgomery Scott. Scotty seemed to be the most mindful of Spock’s friends. The Scotsman kept one hand firmly on his glass of whiskey and the other dug deep into his pockets. Scotty would be the first to admit that after one too many drinks he’d be handsy with just about anyone. Smart man, already prepared. He didn’t often have case to touch the Vulcan so the lack of physical contact didn’t have much bearing on their friendship.

Pavel Chekov. Now almost 20 seemed to still follow the chief science officer around like a lost puppy. Spock had been an idol and mentor to the young prodigy. The Russian had recently accepted a professorship on the starbase and would remain at Yorktown when the crew was set to depart again. The others all congratulated him with hugs, claps on the back, and handshakes. Even if he hadn’t been brave enough to ask Spock to shake his hand just this once, he took the strong look of approval and slight upturned lips as affirmation enough. Pavel returned it with his patented baby face smile and bright green eyes.

Who was the leggy blonde Spock was attempting to avoid contact with? Hikaru joined his husband, interrupting his musings. “And what is my hot husband doing over here like a gorgeous wallflower?” Sulu teased him.

Ben flushed slightly at being caught, “Just observing.”

After a moment, the curiosity and amusement of seeing the once stoic Vulcan high-tail it in the other direction, he leaned in and asked his love, “Babe, who’s that Mr. Spock is running from? He looks like he’s running from a pregnant Gorn.”

The Sulu’s shared a chuckle as Hikaru explained, “That’s Christine Chapel, one of McCoy’s nurses. Been in love with Spock since year one of academy. Think he knows?”

Ben choked on his drink as he laughed harder, “I’d say so.”

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Dean was five the first time he got on a plane. According to his dad this entire task was to keep Sammy occupied so that he doesn’t cry. The first part of the trip was fine, fun even. Then came the rocking and rolling, and the sudden jerking with his dad nowhere in sight. He wouldn’t remember that flight but he’d live with the aftermath: aviophobia. A fear he is able to avoid for years until a demon decides to start killing people on planes by crashing the plane to the ground, forcing him into the air once more, whether he wants to be or not.

Sam doesn’t understand, but that’s not really surprising, why would he? He was only a baby back them.

They manage to save the plane they’re on, but it reinforces his desire to never fly again. The Impala is a much better means of transportation, and if he never has to get on another plane, he’d be fine with that!

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Sheldon glanced at the clock above his office door - 8:12pm. He sighed, sure Leonard had already gone home and he'd neglected to bring his bus pants to work with him today. There was a noise from down the hall, ignoring it, he tuned everything out again.

Just as he raised his marker back to the white board, he heard it again, only closer. As if someone was dragging a large metal object down the university hall without a care of anyone was still working.

He sighed, capping his marker he decided to pack up and call everyone, hoping for a ride home.

His officer door burst open just as he slung his messenger back over his shoulder, admitting Howard, Raj, and Leonard; the latter sporting a nasty gash across his forehead. All three were panting as if a new Star Wars trailer had been released.

"What on Earth is going on? Did the geology department challenge us to another paintball game I didn't know about?"

The three looked at Sheldon as if they weren't sure if he was serious or not. Leonard exclaimed, "Nooo!"

"Sheldon, where have you been all afternoon? The chemistry department blew up." Howard stared at the taller scientist incredulously.

"I've been in my office obviously. What does the chemistry department blowing up have to do with us?"

Raj grabbed Sheldon by the shoulders, shaking him, "And what department shares a building with chemistry?"

Having thought a moment about it, the Texan replied, "Biolo- ooooh." He shuffled his feet, "... is this where we run?"

The other three shouted, "Yes!" They were attempting to hold the office door closed.

Using his skinny legs as leverage, Howard began to explain, "Do you remember the first Resident Evil movie where they accidentally made zombies and had to outrun Usain Bolt just to survive?"

"You know I hate zombie movies, they scare me." Howard just stared at Sheldon, "But to answer your question, yes I do."

"Well Sheldon, this residence is now evil." Leave it to Raj to make a pun at a time like that.

The screams in the hallway died down just long enough for the foursome to relax when a large thump nearly took the wooden door off it's hinges. "What was that?" Sheldon shouted.


"Kripke's a zombie?"

"No, he just fell behind earlier. We couldn't risk it."

The four scientists pushed the large solid wood desk as close to the door as their strengths would allow. Taking a second to breathe, Leonard sat in the far corner near the window and away from the others.

Raj was the first to notice Leonard had gone quiet, "Leonard looks sick, think we should have grabbed his inhaler before we ran away?"

"Probably, but we didn't have time."

"Gentlemen, we have known Leonard for almost ten years, correct?"

Both nodded as he continued, "And in that time we have seen each other at our worsts, correct?"

Again the two nodded, trying to understand what he was getting at.

Sheldon was whispering now, "And have we ever seen Leonard that pale before?"  He tilted his head subtly towards his roommate.

Three sets of eyes widened almost comically, "Leonard? Leonard, are you okay over there?"

Only silence greeted them, believing him to be asleep they began to relax. One second the room was full of barely leveled out breathing, the next all three were in need of a change of underpants as Leonard leaped through the air landing in a tiger crouch on top of the desk.

Taking charge, Raj shouted, "Weapons gentlemen!" He pulled out a large, black crossbow, loaded it, and took aim.

Howard pulled the shiny katanas out of the sheath on his back, wielding both as if he'd had decades of instruction.

Shocked at the sudden appearance of such deadly weapons, Sheldon frantically searched his surroundings for a weapon of his own. Moments of exhaustive search turned up a hot pink dry erase marker a grad student had given him on her last day.

Raj and Howard crept forward ready to attack and defend simultaneously. Sheldon shuffled as far back into his office wall as possible to get away from Zombie Leonard and the crazed hunters who use to be his friends, Raj and Howard. The momentary thought of safeness was destroyed as dozens of pairs of arms burst through the wall and the white board, dragging him backwards, ripping at his flesh, pulling his hair, and biting everywhere - hard.

Sheldon screamed and screamed for help, everyone ignoring him as he was shredded by their long zombie claws and shark-like teeth. He started to shake violently, hearing someone call his name repeatedly. "No no no no!"

He thrashed to free himself, somehow twisted in a sheet, until he recognized the voice invading his senses. Upon opening his tired, red eyes, Sheldon saw a blonde halo encircling his face. The sounds of Soft Kitty winding around his mind, stamping out his nightmare. Penny must have heard him from across the hall, saving him with her Nebraska sunshine one again.

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Equinophobia, there is a name for it, that thing she doesn’t like to admit to.

“You did amazing today,” Alec tells her as she crawls into bed between her two soulmates.

Back when they started this, she never would have guessed that these two impossible men where her soulmates. But they are. Today, today had been so very difficult. She hates horses. She spent years terrified of them. Yet today she managed to deal with horses without her equinophobia getting the worst of her. It was one of the hardest things she has ever done in her life.

“He’s right, you did,” Elliot agrees.

She snuggles in between them, getting comfortable, “I don’t think I mind horses anymore, they’re still terrifying, but maybe not so much.”

Alec presses a gentle kiss to her temple.

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The crew of the Serenity had been on the border planet, Theophrastus, parked in a green and lush valley. Tall grass and swaying trees. It seemed the perfect place to relax a bit and sort out the newest (legal) cargo taken aboard the Firefly class ship.

Mal, Zoe, Jayne, and Wash stood on the ship's ramp taking inventory and keeping an eye out for trouble. Sitting nearby, Shepherd Book, Simon, and Kaylee were enjoying the afternoon sun and peacefulness by reading and munching from a large (rare) picnic set out by the ship's mechanic and Inara, who was busy sewing under an umbrella.

Away from the chatter of the those in the ship, the soft humming of a song, followed by an elegant voice drifted towards the others relaxing in the grass. River was off dancing and singing an unknown tune, keeping to herself, exploring. Having found a stream close by, she took the opportunity to dip her bare feet in without paying much attention to her current calm surroundings.

Though the farthest away, deep inside the cargo bay, Jayne was the first to react upon hearing a blood curdling scream easily recognizable as the young woman. After a stunned moment, the others followed the merc, the sounds of her screaming grew louder.

The exhausted crew arrived to the sight of Jayne Cobb, their large and dangerous merc, attempting to coax a frightened and even paler River Tam from a tree set back from the stream.

"Stop laughing. This is not funny. The girl is frightened!"

Jayne seemed to be glowing red as he held in what looked to be a deep belly threatening to be released. "Awe, I'm sorry, girl. I can't help it."

He was still standing below the tree with both of his burly arms held high in hopes of bringing her down.

Mal glanced back at Simon in questioning. Her brother's face said it all. He, too, was trying to hold in a chuckle.

"What's wrong, doc? She hurt or relapsin'?"

Simon shook his head before explaining, "Ophidiophobia."

Recognition dawned on Book and Inara as the others still stood wide-eyed and clueless. Zoe elbowed her husband before he could make an inappropriate joke.

"In English, doc." Mal rolled his eyes.

"Ah hell girl, you can kill a few dozen reavers and go up against a room full of fightin' men, but you're scared o' some little snake?" He could no longer hold in his laughter, his whole body shaking with amusement.

This entire situation was really giving Mal a headache. "Jayne, how is the gorram hell did you know what that meant when none of us even know?"

"Gran had it and my ma has a bit of it."

"Umm Jayne..."

"Yeah, Preacher - oompf!" Jayne had his arms up the whole time he was talking and River had taken the opportunity to jump down into his waiting arms. As the big merc lay on the ground, the crew found it hard to hold back their amusement any longer as River kissed her boyfriend, pirouetted away from the group and the dreaded snakes.

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She doesn’t like this. Does not like this at all. She’s going to call on a crossroad demon in order to stop this war before it can go any further. She’s terrified because she never wants to deal with a demon. It’s something she has been afraid of since before she knew of magic, but she can see no other way to deal with this situation.

So she gathers everything that she will need according to her research to call for the demon. Then she finds a crossroads, one that she thinks will be the best for what she is doing.

The one she picks is a barren crossroads in a misty rarely used section of the Rannoch Moors. There she performs the ritual and waits, terror filling her as she paces the area, hoping that she cast the spell correctly and panicking that she did.

So she is startled when the first black smoke form is blown away by a strong wind before a second form solidifies. Hesitantly, she meets the eyes of the woman who's appeared, shocked to see that they are a clear hazel green-brown.

Well then, who is this? She’s quite sure it’s not a crossroads demon. For that, she is grateful as the terror starts to fade.

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Born from a family he’ll never remember and raised by those who would easily forget him.

FN-2187 was trained from childhood to have no identity, emotions, or empathy; to never become too close. The only comrade he became semi-close to was FN-2003, who was killed by Poe on Jakku.

His family abandoned him. The First Order abandoned him. His only ally abandoned him. Who's to say the two he had become closest to wouldn't leave him as well.

Yes, FN-2187, later Finn, suffered from autophobia - the fear of abandonment. A trauma from childhood. What part could he play in the Resistance? As a stormtrooper, he refused to kill during his first battle. Severely injured attempting to fight Kylo Ren as Rey lay unconscious in the snow behind him. He didn't think to keep looking for Poe after the two crashed the TIE Fighter they'd stolen.

What seemed to hit Finn the hardest had been the death of Han at the hands of Ben, his only son. Finn felt that he should have been able to do something, anything.

Why would the others want him around? He started as an enemy. Lied from the start. How was he worthy of these people. Finn had no idea how Poe and Rey could love him, wouldn't leave him too.

Rey and Poe knew about Finn's fears. The empathy and need to be needed were obvious from the first meeting for both. Finn may never be able to overcome the fear, but they would show how much they loved and trusted him. Communication was key. Rey was Finn's best  friend. Poe was Finn's partner. Neither would ever leave without extreme force tearing them away.

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When she was a young woman, before she was an adult, when she was first planning what she wanted to do with her life, she witnessed something horrifying that left her locked in the enclosed space of the public bathroom while her closest friends were brutally murdered.

She walked away from that situation with a new few: that of being trapped or enclosed in a space that she can’t get out of. The smaller the space, the worse the fear. She even started having panic attacks in things like bathroom stalls if she can’t get them unlocked quick enough, much to her embarrassment.

It gets worse while she is in college, nearly driving her to the point where she can’t focus or work in some of the smaller classrooms or get things out of supply closets. She’s just happy no one ever figures out because she knows how cruel people can be.

During her internship to become a crime scene investigator she is forced into a situation where she has to deal with that fear once and for all. The only way she is going to escape a situation she ends up in is through a relatively small space that will make her feel locked in if she can’t manage to kick the grate out with her feet. Despite the terror rushing through her system, she is determined to do whatever she must to accomplish her goals, hopefully she just manages to make it out without the panic attack taking over and making this so much worse.

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"Anthea. Anthea!" Mycroft's voice was rising to decibels Anthea had not heard since her boss' little brother last... oh. The PA stood quickly, attempting to hide the minimal upturn at the corner of her lips. The slim brunette's boss could strike fear in the heart of the most hardened state official or dictator, but when it came to his baby brother, Mycroft Holmes was as easily frightened as a fainting goat.

You see, Mycroft has had a minor case of mysophobia since his youth and Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, likes to slip into the secure office and leave little... shall we say 'presents' for his his brother to find. Anthea was pretty sure John was unknowingly providing his partner with the necessary torture materials that pop up at the most random/stressful times.

Once, Mycroft had been meeting with an African dictator and as he was flipping through his agenda book beforehand, a used tongue depressor flew across his desk only to land on a stack of papers in his outbox. Another time, Anthea couldn't remember which visit to Buckingham Palace it had been, but there was a bandaid in his only pair of Oxfords he had at the office. Instead of sending his PA to retrieve another pair, or just arriving a few minutes late, the elder Holmes brother chose to appear before the Queen of England in his socked feet. Anthea had needed to hold her black leather binder in front of her face to keep her surprised and amused grin hidden.

For a few days the previous week, Mycroft had been out of the office to visit Mrs. Holmes for her birthday a few hours north. Anthea assumed that Sherlock and John would both join him. Just as she returned to the office after sending off the British Government himself, she heard rustling and childish giggling coming from the room she was certain Mycroft had locked.

Peaking through the security cameras covering the space, she couldn't help the smirk that spread as she observed Sherlock, on FaceTime with John, supergluing googly eyes to as many surfaces as he could before heading off to meet Mummy Holmes and brother dear.

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When she was little she used to dream that she would die in a fire. Sometimes she was in a house. Sometimes she was in a car. Sometimes she was on the street. Sometimes she was in a store. It didn’t matter. She always dreamed she would die in fire.

For years fire terrified her beyond belief. She didn’t want to die in fire. She wanted to live to be an old woman, to have kids and grandkids and a family. She wanted so much more than to know she would die in horrible agony, her skin blistering, her throat constricting as the hot air seared her passageways.  

Her parents always tried to make her feel better. To convince her that it was nothing but a childhood nightmare but nothing worked. They didn’t understand. How could they? They never had the sort of dreams that she did. The ones that she knew were fact.

It was a cousin who finally explained it to her, that some people know how they will die so that they can make their death mean something. So they can use their death to right a wrong or change something that otherwise would harm others.

It was a comfort, but it didn’t get rid of her fear. Her terror that she would die in flames.

She continued to avoid fire as best as she could, and hid her unease whenever she had to work a fire scene after she became a crime scene investigator. It wouldn’t look good after all, for her to show how badly every fire shakes her up, rattles her system, makes her wonder why she is doing this when she knows that one day it will be her. But it never stops her. It sometimes leaves her shaking in adrenaline when she gets back to her apartment, wanting to never have to go through that again.

Then comes the case of D.J. Pratt.

It costs her everything but she never stops. Even when she realizes she is walking into a trap, she continues on her path because it is the path she feels she must take. When they end up in the car.
When she knows she is going to fight for her life. When she knows that there is nothing else to do but make sure that there is a way to connect Pratt to her death, she sinks her teeth into him. Biting so hard she knows it will scar. Then bites down on the armrest, leaving a bite mark in it as well.

Her last thought as he bashes her head in, is she was supposed to die in fire. Little did she know that there would be a fire, one that would destroy her body. That it would be a fire that would hide and expose her killer at the same time.

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Setting the alarm and petting his two tortoiseshell cats, Bella and Luna, Q closed and closed the front door to his flat in central London. For once the sky was clear and a welcoming breeze blew through the city. A rare day off like this one meant a proper stroll through the city of his birth. He'd tucked an Ian Fleming novel into his messenger bag before leaving home. Perhaps a bit of a sit down in the park would be a nice change of routine.

The boffin wandered for half an hour, enjoying people watching and the occasional ray of sunshine until he came upon the bandstand of the Paddington Recreation Grounds. Having just moved to the area, he wasn't familiar with the park or its grounds yet. He sat down and made himself comfortable among the flowers, pulled out his novel and opened to page one.

Q became so enthralled in the spy novel, what a joke, that hadn't noticed several hours had passed. The sun was in a different position and a large human shaped shadow was blocking the light needed to read by. Swiveling in his seat, determined to tell off the bloody idiot in his way, but the words were startled away from him when he noticed a very familiar blond standing very close by.

He eyed the man from his oxfords, up his black jeans, across his blue polo shirt, to his smirking blue eyes. "Bond?"


"What are you doing here?"

"Not a very good spy are you if you didn't notice someone approaching."

Q let out an undignified hmpf, "Well luckily you're the spy, not me." They eyed each other for a moment. "Is there a reason you're interrupting my private time, Bond?"

"Oh, just trying to see where Lachlan wandered off to."


Bond shook his head.

Q raised an eyebrow, "Child?"

The blond shook his head again, amused as a wide smile spread across his face, "Ah there you are, my boy!"

Q most certainly did not let out a high pitched scream as a large beauceron bound up the steps of the bandstand to settle himself next to Bond, nuzzling his hand affectionately. The brunet attempted to put as much distance between himself and a the beast before his anxiety shot up any higher than it already had.

Bond's eyes widened momentarily until a thought entered his mind, "Cynophobia?"

Q's gaze switched to 007 briefly before returning to the dog. "How'd you guess?" Sarcasm was always an effective defense mechanism.

"Experience, observational, or informational?"

Exasperated, Q shot back, "What?"

Bond sighed heavily, "What made you afraid of dogs?"

Q thought about the question, thinking carefully about his answer. "My mum use to tell my brother, Mason, and I stories about dogs, about why we only owned cats."

James raised his own eyebrow at the dark haired man. "You know the quickest way to get over informational phobias?"

Wearily Q prompted him, "How?"

"By going to dinner with me tonight."

"Oh really?"

"Of course, on my honor. The more time you spend with me, and indirectly Lachland, you'll become more accustomed to being near an animal... maybe even a dog." Bond winked.

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She was raised to believe failure was the worst possible option, and that everything possible should be done to avoid failure. It didn’t surprise her when the Kingsman shrink informed her that she has atychiphobia and that they will have to work on her getting past it when a mission goes horribly wrong, such as in the recent situation where the mission went so very wrong and caused the death of the junior agent she was training.

Although, she found the fact she was considered a senior agent darkly amusing since the only reason she is a full agent at this point is Valentine and the entire situation he caused.

Still, it’s her fault that the new agent trainee is dead because of her failure. It wasn’t a surprise when she broke down in her flat or even a surprise when she froze on the next mission because she was simply unable to deal with the fact she might cause someone else to die.

Thankfully that mission was with Eggsy. He helped get things under control, spurred her back into action and out of her panic stricken freeze, and to complete the mission. He’s also the one who made her go speak with the shrink.

It surprised her when her fellow Kingsmen understood her fear, none of them making her feel like she was worth less because failure can make her panic. Instead they had worked with her and the shrink to find a way to break the fears old on her. Now it’s just a matter of time to see how well it works. In the meantime her best friend has promised to help in anyway possible.