#save me cold wet and sparky

[royboymain]

Hey tumblr why do i always feel nauseous when the temperature goes above 25c

[rizlowwritessortof]

Part 3: The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire

Here comes the angsty part...

Pairing: Dean x Toby Matheson (female OC) 

Word Count: 1789

Warnings: Nothing but pining and angst

Final part coming next week!

God, what a mess.

The whole place reeked of death, used-up bodies of prior kills tossed like so many empty bottles against the wall, left to rot. The need to survive the battle tended to outweigh the urge to gag, since the three of them had their hands full. It was a nasty bunch, nastier than most, all big, ugly and reckless.

Toby let out a scream of frustration as she kicked at the bastard she was currently fighting and buried her machete in his cranium. She yanked it free, then swung again, taking his head off and glaring in the direction of the corpse. “How many more of you can there possibly be?” She scanned the room, spotting Sam and Dean in their own scuffles, then whirled to face a raging female behind her.

When the noise and chaos finally quieted, she moved to the middle of the room, panting for air as she stepped over pieces and parts of bodies. “Did we get them all? Finally?”

Dean swiped a forearm over his face, wiping away sweat and blood as he nodded. “I think so. I fucking hope so. Shit, Sam, I thought there were only five or six?”

“Yeah, well – they must have been having a party. Or they recruited,” he responded breathlessly. “I don’t know. I’ll go see if we have some gas in the trunk. This whole place needs to go up in flames.”

Dean nodded, and Sam headed for the front door of the barn. “Stinks so bad in here. Toby, are you good?”

She blew out a breath. “Yeah. You?” She glanced up to see his answering nod, and her eyes widened. “Dean, DOWN!” she screamed, and he dropped, rolling to the side and then leaping to his feet, the majority of a vamp’s severed head landing with a sickening squelch nearby.

“Holy fuck. Thanks.” He watched as she let her machete drop from her shaking hand, her eyes on the hatchet still in the clutches of the dead vampire. She looked up at Dean, her face almost white, and then turned to rush out the back door. “Shit. Toby...”

He followed her outside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, searching. He rounded the corner of the building to find her, arms and forehead braced against the barn wall. “Toby, it’s okay. It’s over. We’re okay.”

Her voice was muffled, panic still coming through loud and clear. “That was too close, Dean. I almost missed it. If I wouldn’t have looked up right then, he would’ve buried that axe…”

He stepped up closer, taking her shoulder and turning her to face him. “Hey. You just saved my ass in there. Stop beating yourself up. We should have checked the building again, that’s on all of us.”

She looked up at him, clearly shaken. “I just almost watched you die! That’s not okay, Dean, I’m not okay!” She suddenly stepped forward, shoving at his shoulders, knocking him back a step as he stared back in surprise. “You cannot fucking die in front of me, you fucker!” she almost sobbed, drawing her fist back to swing at him, but this time he was prepared, grabbing her wrist and shoving her back against the building.

“Toby, stop!” he shouted, staring into her eyes for a few endless seconds before crashing his lips into hers, emotion and desire winning over his resistance. She whimpered and struggled against him, trying to yank her wrist free until he finally let go, and her arms clamped around his neck, pulling him closer. He stopped for one moment, looking down at her before swearing softly and kissing her again, his body crushing hers between him and the rough wood siding of the barn.

Sam’s voice calling their names brought things to an abrupt halt, and Dean stepped back, dragging his thumb roughly over his lips. “Yeah, we’re out here!” He looked at the ground as he spoke to her, his voice subdued. “If you want to wait in the car, I’ll help Sam get the fire going. Then we can get the hell out of here.”

Toby pulled herself away from the barn, giving him one last glance as she turned and walked towards the Impala. She climbed into the back seat and wrapped her arms around herself as a few of the tears she was valiantly fighting spilled over. She swiped a hand over her face and laid her head back against the seat, eyes closed and teeth clenched. By the time Sam and Dean came to the car, she had forced an emotionless mask in place and sat staring out the window. She responded to Sam’s query with an “I’m fine,” pointedly avoiding meeting Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

It was almost morning when they pulled into the bunker garage. Dean opened his door, then paused before getting out. “I say we deserve a break. Let’s get cleaned up, get some rest and head to KC for the weekend. Whatcha think?” After the non-enthusiastic mumbled replies, he piped up again. “Okay, fine. We’re doin’ it. We all need some fun around here. We leave this afternoon, let’s say 4-4:30. No arguments.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Toby smiled at Sam as he clinked their beers together, joining him in taking a few swallows of the cold brew. It was a decent hotel, Dean had booked them each their own room, and after some Kansas City barbecue, they were downing a few in the hotel bar.  

She turned her head at an exaggerated giggle, her stomach churning at the sight of the willowy brunette hanging on Dean’s arm and his every word. She rolled her eyes at another ridiculous laugh and turned to face Sam again, nodding towards the pool table. “Play me a game? Then I’m gonna call it a night. I’m feeling a little ill.”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “You know it doesn’t mean anything. I know that doesn’t help, but...”

“Nope, you’re right. It doesn’t. Come on, or are you scared to play me?” They headed for the billiards area and grabbed the unoccupied table. She took another swig of her beer and then shot to break, stiffening as a clumsy, warm body bumped into her from behind.

“Need any help there, honey?” The words were slurred, and she sent an elbow back, not too violently, but enough to make the guy back off a little.

“Pretty sure I’ve got it, Sparky. You can find somebody else to play with.”

“Wow. Just try’na be frenly, don’t hafta be such a bitch.” She rolled her eyes at the sound of Dean’s voice, turning to see him taking a fistful of the drunk’s shirt in his hand.

“I think you owe this lady an apology,” he growled, and Toby glared at him.

“Dean, if I did need any help with this douchebag, which I don’t - Sam’s right here. Why don’t you go back to your play date. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

“See, told ya she’s a bitch,” the idiot mushed out, and Dean shoved him, hard.

“Get the fuck outta here before I kick your ass.” Drunk guy sneered and turned, stumbling his way out.

Toby stared at Dean, her eyes spitting fire, and he drew breath to speak, but Sam’s quiet voice stopped him. “Dean, just let it go.” He looked at Sam, then at the floor, chewing and swallowing his words as he turned and walked away.

“Thanks,” she said, and Sam nodded. “That was about to get ugly.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” He drained the last of his beer. “You want another? It’s still your shot.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She looked up to see Dean back at the bar, the bimbo firmly attached to him again, and turned back to the table, firing off a frustrated shot aimed at nothing in particular, ending in a scratch. She thanked Sam for the beer and downed half of it as he took his turn at the table.

They finished their game and Toby said goodnight, heading to the elevator as Sam went to the bar for one last drink. Her head was pounding, and not from the drinks. All she wanted was bed and unconsciousness.

She stepped off the elevator and cringed as she cursed her timing. Dean and the woman from the bar were in front of his room, and she was practically molesting him as he tried to disentangle himself enough to unlock the door. She swore softly, pulling her key card from her pocket and hoping like hell that she could get inside her room before she was seen. No such luck, though. Dean looked up as she opened her door, startled to see her at first, but then the look in his eyes made her heart lurch. He looked miserable, guilty and ashamed, and it took her several seconds to pull her gaze away and enter her room, slamming the door behind her. She stood there, numb, finally blowing out a breath and lifting a shaking hand to brush back her hair, vaguely surprised to find her face wet with tears.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were quiet when they got back to the bunker, wordlessly moving around each other and speaking only when necessary. Toby spent most of her time in her room, avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. Just until she could get her feelings under control, she told herself, get back to normal. Because how she was feeling now couldn’t be a permanent thing. She couldn’t take it.

A couple of nights later, she was heading for the kitchen for a late-night snack when she heard Sam’s voice raise and stopped in her tracks. “Why don’t you just talk to her, Dean? Just admit it, you’re scared. Scared shitless.”

“You’re out of line, Sammy. Don’t fucking try to tell me how I feel.” She heard angry footsteps, then a door slamming, and she retreated back to her room.

She was as bad as Dean, just as afraid. They were going to have to talk about it, someday. But not today. She crawled back into bed, wrapped herself in her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut, determined to stop the thoughts that ran rampant every night. She finally fell asleep, losing the battle once again, and dreamed of his green eyes staring back at her, his lips on hers, his hands gripping her arms, his body pressed close.  And she woke with a start, aching for him, wondering if he had even come home, or if he was hiding from himself again, in bed with some anonymous stranger. 

God, what a mess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags for my babes:

@saenalife    @deanscarlett    @misswhizzy    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    @aprofoundbondwithdean    @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan    @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ackeviddlestan   @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451    @lovin-ackles    @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @angelofwinchester17    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirst​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @hamartiamacguffin​    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​    @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​    @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​  @kathaswings​  @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​

[forever-more-never-again]

Acies (A Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 1729

Pairing: Platonic!Deadpool X Reader, Bucky X Reader

Warnings: Implied Sexual content, mentions of past abuse and torture.

Request: Hey babe! I saw that your requests are open and i wonder if i can request some bucky x reader. she has a sense of humor similar to deadpool and a bit of femme fatale and she's also a merc like him (they are partners and she's telepat) and one day she is called by the avengers to help them on a mission and she met bucky and he's head over heels for her immediately. you can decide the rest. I love your writing <3

Masterlist

Acies - Latin for Insight

a/n: Sorry for the wait and going so long without an update! Hopefully I can get through all the requests you guys sent in a while ago!

Laughing, your hair swaying in the wind as you repelled down the clock tower in London, Big Ben, you turned to look at the man clad in red next to you.

While you had a harness that secured your safety to solid ground, the Merc with a Mouth, Deadpool, had no such thing.

And after working with him for so many years, you had gotten over the initial fear and instinct to grab him and keep him safe, knowing that he would be fine after a few minutes of being a flat pancake on the ground.

His thoughts floated over to you, loud despite the rush of wind in your ears, ‘Do you think Vanessa would want to go to New York with us?’

The ground leapt up and met you, as you grunted and bent your knees to lessen the impact. 

Grabbing the, now flat and broken, assassin, you ran, weaving into alleys to try and hide from the British police that were after you for stealing the gold that had been hidden in a vault inside Big Ben.

‘It’s not nice to ignore people [Y/n].’ Wade sassed in your head.

Sighing and shaking your head at him, you finally made it to the apartment you were currently renting in the city outskirts.

“I wasn’t ignoring you Wade. I was trying to run from the police while lugging a meat suit with me. Anyways, your not going to New York. It’s just me.”

Wade whined. His broken arms clicking back into place so he could remove his red hood.

His...unique...face was seen for a moment before he fell face down on the couch in your living room. His voice was muffled as he talked to you, “But [Y/n]! I wanna mess with the Sparky man!”

You snorted, flitting around the kitchen as you grabbed hand towels and ran them under hot water, “I’ll let Stark know to expect you soon then. But this mission is time sensitive. That’s why they went for the more stable of the two of us.”

Throwing the wet towel towards the whining man, you used one yourself to wipe off the dirt and broken metal from your face and arms.

Clad in a similar suit to Deadpool’s, only not red, instead [Y/f/c], you and Wade had become a team after you had discovered that he had survived and proceeded to kill Francis, the man who had also promised you a cure for your terminal brain tumor and had proceeded to torture you in another base he had. Just as Wade had awaken some sort of Mutant gene after the abuse, you had as well. Using your telepathic and seduction abilities to escape the compound and hide from Francis’s cronies until you had heard of the man named Deadpool.

While you weren’t as mentally unstable as him, you were still not all mentally there.

After saving Vanessa from a vengeful enemy of Deadpool, he had taken a liking to you and let you become his partner. Vanessa eventually become a friend to you as well, and you spent many nights in the two’s apartment drinking and getting into trouble.

Now years later, after being a bridesmaid for his and Vanessa’s wedding, dealing with the X-men and an assortment of Assassins, you and Deadpool were close friends.

So when a missive from Charles Xavier had reached you, asking for you to go to New York to help the Avengers with a mission, you and Wade had argued over who would go.

Now, standing in front of the Avenger tower with your duffel bag thrown over your shoulder, you kinda wished you had let Wade and Vanessa come with you. 

Shaking away those thoughts, you steeled yourself. You were [Y/n], the one called Acies, by the media, and you were not scared of some so called superpowered beings.

Squaring your shoulders, you entered the tower and walked past the gaping receptionist into the open elevator as a man in a business suit walked out.

“Wait! You can’t just go-” The panicked receptionist’s voice abruptly shut off as the doors shut and the elevator took you up to the penthouse.

Smirking, you pulled down your mask, hiding your face completely. While you were expected, you wanted to have some fun before the serious mission talk began.

The upper floor of the tower was quiet. Staying close to the walls and shadows, you opened your mind to the thoughts around you.

‘Stacey sounded really scared.’

‘Wonder if it’s Acies.’

One thought in particular caught your attention and you zeroed in on it so that the person’s thoughts were crystal clear.

‘Why did Stark invite a crazy assassin? One associated to that lunatic. We don’t need another unstable person. Does Steve and Stark really think they can control The Winter Soldier and Acies if things go sideways on this mission?’

The Winter Soldier, also known as James Barnes, Previous War Commando under the leadership of Captain America, Turned Hydra assassin, turned Avenger.

His thoughts were a mix of self-deprecating and anger at the thought of an outsider on this mission.

Tracking the thoughts, you wound around a corner and found the man in question leaning casually against a counter, no outside indication to his inner thoughts.

“You know. Deadpool isn’t as crazy as some believe, and I can control myself thank you. But I could be persuaded to relinquish control to you given the right circumstances...like in a bedroom...” Your voice dropped into a purr as Bucky jumped and whirled around, his metal arm glinting under the lights as it was brought up in front of him.

“Acies?” Another voice cut through the tension.

Still in your casual stance, duffel bag dropping to the ground, you faced another tall man. Blonde.

Eh, you preferred brunettes. But this man was the definition of beefcake.

Steve Rogers, Captain America.

“Cap!” Straightening your posture, you saluted the man, inwardly laughing at his grimace and thoughts.

‘Why did I agree to this again?’

And then that damn velvety smooth voice once again filtered into your head, ‘Can’t see her face. Probably a good thing seeing as how ugly that Deadpool guy is from the same torture and stuff...but damn that body.’

Tilting your head, you grabbed the bottom of your mask and in one fluid motion ripped it off.

Both men stood gaping in front of you, but you kept your eyes on the Dark chocolate ones as his thoughts stuttered before resuming in a rush.

‘Oh...oh my god. This woman. I thought she would look like an expired Avocado but she is a literal goddess.’

You giggled, “Why thank you, you’re not so bad yourself Mister Prince looking Man.”

Bucky startled, as Steve laughed after a second.

“I forgot, your a Telepath!”

You grinned at Steve, “It’s literally in the name Acies. You know, when the government made everything bigger, they must of forgot the brain. But that’s okay,” Your eyes glinted as you looked down at Steve, ignoring his red face and Bucky’s look of jealousy, “There’s really only one thing that matters in size and I’m sure the men in government made sure it grew.”

Clapping hands and another body made its way into the room, “You’re just as vulgar as the media says. [Y/n].”

Flipping your hair over your shoulder, you shrugged, face going back into its stoic expression, “It’s a gift. So Sparky Man. What’s the mission that was so important that you had to call in the crazy friend of our resident merc with a mouth?”

Tony Stark was not fazed by the name calling, as he waved a hand and a hologram appeared before the four of you.

You leaned in closer and saw that it was a 3D landscape of a jungle.

“There is rumors of some members of the group that Francis, or otherwise known as Ajax, teaming up with Hydra and starting a base in this African Jungle. Several American citizens, high powered mutants, and people from Africa, have gone missing in the past months. 

A Body was found by a village chief the other week, a village girl from all the way on the other side of the continent, and she had been obviously tortured and experimented on before she died.”

Fury grew, cold and raging, in your belly and mind as a picture of a young girl appeared next to a photo from a morgue, the part of the body that was visible bringing up memories you had fought hard to forget.

“[Y/n]?” The velvet voice, spoken and not heard in your head, shook you from your dark thoughts.

Turning, you saw Bucky looking at you. Your mind went immediately to Pity. That he was pitying you. But a closer second look had you understanding. He was sympathing.

Here was a man who understood. Here was a man who had gone through something very similar and shared the feelings that this mission invoked. 

Taking a shaky breath, you smiled softly at the man, his eyes widening slightly before he smiled softly back at you.

You stifled the giggle his thoughts brought forth.

‘Her smile is gorgeous. Bright, like the sun.’

“Hey James.”

His name on your tongue felt right.

Ignoring the quizzical looks from Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, you turned your full attention to the Man whose thoughts were like a medical salve to your soul, “We can get through this, together. I may be a little unstable. And I understand that,” A dark laugh and your eyes went unfocused for a moment before returning to the present, “But we have a chance to save people from what we had to go through. And I for one, am not letting them get away. Are you with me?”

A dark smile. And his thoughts once again in your head, ‘I’ll always be with you. If you want me to.’

And your heart sang for the first time since you had escaped from that small lab in 

France. 

Maybe preventing Deadpool from coming to New York wasn’t as bad as you first thought.

After all. If he was here, he would probably make some-

“Hey everyone! Want some sriracha sauce for all that heat that Acies and Metal Boy over here are creating!? I also brought Chimichangas!”

God Dammit Wade.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey  @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict

Bucky Taglist:

@evyiione

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood

[robbyrobinson]

Stephen King Villains: Most Evil to Least Evil

Stephen King is considered the master of horror best known for his prolific writing career that in itself takes place in a multiverse of sorts. Besides monsters and supernatural beings, there are also very, very evil humans that also antagonize the protagonists. 

Most Evil

Most Evil would go to Randall Flagg. He is probably the closest thing to the Devil that exists in King's works, though Nyarlathotep is also said to be one of his many titles. He appears in several of King's novels sowing chaos wherever possible. He was apart of many violent tragedies such as race riots, lynchings, you name them. In The Stand, he sets himself up as some sort of god for those who also had penchants for violence. In The Dark Tower series, he works alongside the Crimson King and gets into even more acts like destroying a city and driving a woman insane by having a dead man recount to her what he had seen in the afterlife. Ultimately, his plan is to topple the Dark Tower itself which would spell destruction for the multiverse. 

 Bronze goes to It. An ancient, primordial evil, It was originally from the Macroverse before crash landing to the area that would eventually become Derry, Maine where it establishes a cycle of awakening every 27 years to kill and devour Derry's children even though it is implicated that It doesn't need to consume the flesh of its prey as it could live off their fear alone. But it is their fear that makes their meat tastier to It. It is an egotistical, narcissistic being who views itself as being superior above humans and its archenemy Maturin the Turtle. It is first defeated by the Losers Club back in the 1950s after it had killed the young brother of Bill Denbrough only to return 27 years later to settle the score.

Silver...it's a tough one, but I ultimately decided that William Wharton from The Green Mile earns this spot. He is not the most powerful being in the books nor is he anywhere close to the first two's level. Simply put, he is a disgusting piece of human garbage that should've gotten fried to death in the electric chair for what he had done. He is first taken to the Mile after killing two people, one of which was a pregnant woman. When he arrives, he pretends to be in a near-drunken state only to then attempt to strangle one of the wardens. That in itself is bad, but what pushes him further is the fact that he was the one who raped and killed those two girls that John Coffey is being sentenced to death over. He used the sisters' love for each other to coerce them not to scream lest he kill one of them before leading them out of their house.

Patrick Hockstetter. A pure solipsistic psychopath, Patrick was a member of Henry Bowers's gang but he was especially nasty. He took perverse delight at killing animals but that is not his main claim to infamy. As a solipsist, he believes that no one exists aside from himself...essentially the world revolved around him. When he learned that his mother had given birth, Patrick felt threatened. So much so, he smothered the baby to death with a pillow.

Norman Daniels, the main antagonist of Rose Madder. A corrupt cop, he domestically abuses his wife Rose and in one instance sexually assaulted her and later caused her to suffer a miscarriage. When she leaves him, Norman pursues her, murdering and torturing those in his way his preferred method being biting them to death. 

Leland Gaunt of Needful Things sets up a novelty shop in Castle Rock where he has his victim's greatest desires in stock, but they had to pay a sum and additionally stage a prank. A magical charm that drives the residents to madness one instance being when two women killed themselves in a madness-inducing stupor leading to a young boy killing himself. 

Rose the Hat. A little lower on the list. A True Knot (quasi-immortal vampiric beings), she feeds on steam, as in the dying breath of children who have "the Shining." This is of course done through torturing children to death. Despite committing serial murders, plausibly in the hundreds depending on how long she and her clan were operating, she nevertheless greatly cares for her fellow True Knots and becomes increasingly incensed by Danny Torrance and Abra Stone killing them.

Going to King's first novel Carrie, we have several trash. Chris Hargensen bullies Carrie White relentlessly climaxing in her staging a terrible prank where she drops a bucket full of pig's blood on Carrie's head at the prom after forging fake votes for Carrie. Following her is Margaret White , Carrie's mother. An insane religious zealot, she emotionally and psychologically abuses her daughter as she saw it as her fault that Carrie received telekinetic powers because of her perceived mistake. After the massacre, Margaret attempts to kill Carrie.

The Overlook Hotel. At first it seems odd that I would include what is basically an inanimate object. But in the book The Shining, it is made apparent that the hotel is alive and is greatly evil. It drives those who visit it to madness ultimately resulting in them killing their families and then themselves. Once it completely possesses Jack Torrance, it fully has its malevolent intentions out in the open. 

The Shawshank Redemption. Kind of more leaning towards the film adaptation, but here goes: Samuel Norton is the warden of the Shawshank prison. Initially coming off as a kind man with that rich Southern Christian rhetoric, Norton is truly a greedy man ruling Shawshank with an iron fist allowing rapes and other evils to happen on his grounds. He uses the prisoners for cheap labor in a money laundering scheme which he forces Andy to assist him with. Unlike in the book, when Tommy has information proving Andy's innocence, Norton sends for Captain Byron T. Hadley to kill Tommy. 

Next would be Bogs Diamond. The leader of a group of men called The Sisters, he enjoys violently raping his victims one of his favorite being Andy. But it isn't because he's gay, but more because he derives disgusting glee from raping them when they were at their lowest state. 

Henry Bowers, the secondary antagonist of It, is a racist, Anti-Semitic, misogynistic, fat-shaming lunatic who graduates to murdering his own father before deciding to go to kill the Losers Club when they enter the sewer system to face off against It/Pennywise. But it is shown that his father was abusive and he likely learned a lot of his prejudices from him. But he also stands as a trope of King's where you have insane bullies.

Lastly, we get to Percy Wetmore the secondary antagonist of The Green Mile. Somehow coming off as more reprehensible than the real villain of the book, Wetmore is a low-functioning sociopath who primarily came to the Cold Mountain Penitentiary to watch the death row inmates die. 

Especially despising Delacroix, he kills Mr. Jingles by stepping on him out of spite, and he later deliberately leaves the sponge dry leading to Delacroix's excruciatingly botched, prolonged execution where he literally cooks in Old Sparky. He's kind of lower on the list mostly because of his film counterpart looking horrified. Something tells me that he probably was only thinking that by not wetting the sponge it would give Delacroix a little more pain, but he wasn't anticipating for the events to ensue the way they did. Though him being forced to watch is cathartic as was what became of him in the ending.

Least Evil

Cujo takes the first spot. All he wanted was to be a good boy, but all that changed when he was bitten by a rabid bat. Now he kills those that he miscontrues as being responsible for his pain. 

Carrie White was the protagonist of Stephen King's first book. Born with telekinetic powers, Carrie was bullied by her peers; mistreated by her fundamentalist mother...ultimately she was driven insane when that horrible prank at the prom befell her. She committed horrible acts, but ultimately, it is understandable. It was only a matter of time for her to snap. 

Jack Torrance: While he tries to kill his wife and son, part of it largely falls on the Overlook corrupting him. He was abused by his father ultimately becoming an alcoholic who unwittingly dislocated Danny's arm. At the least before the Overlook's destruction he had a moment of clarity. 

Christine: A sapient possessed 1958 Plymouth Fury vintage vehicle who acts like a envious girlfriend when it comes to its owners. Worse, it is fully able of numping people off if need be.

The Wendigo: In Pet Sematary, it is a wendigo that is responsible for the cursed grounds that whatever was buried in its soils, an evil, undead version arises. This happens to Church the cat and especially to Gage. However, the Wendigo is presented more as a force of nature than truly evil.

Annie Wilkes: After saving Paul, it seems at first Annie was a kind woman...at least until she found out that Paul killed off her favorite character and becomes hellbent on forcing him to rewrite the ending where she was alive again. She holds him hostage and even breaks his legs as punishment (though it's much worse in the novel). Worse, it is revealed that Annie is a serial killer with a body count in potentially the 70s with multiple infants dying under mysterious circumstances while under her care. More patients end up dying but they were mostly ignored as the patients were already deathly sick prior. But with all that being said, Annie does have severe mental issues to the point where she is unable to discern reality from fiction. 

[fablesfromslate]

I awoke in a cold sweat; I gasped for breath as I stared up at the frigid, gray ceiling. Breath slowly began to return to me, but as I tried to move, I felt a crushing weight on my extremities. My arms and legs had been tied down, this much I could see, but my head could only be brought up so far. I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A man in a gray suit and fedora. He was sat at a table, legs crossed, watching me. As I struggled to fight the tightness in my chest and produce a sound, any sound, he put his finger to his lips.

"Sssshhh. No need for that. Calm down, sparky. Do you remember?" My face was blank. Remember what? "You just woke up, you've only got a moment. Think. Remember the dream." He was eerily calm, and I responded by drastically shaking my whole body, tugging with all my strength and all my fear on the bonds that held me. Startling me, he barked "There's no need for you to be a spazz right now. And you're kinda annoying me. Cool it."

I couldn't get loose from the restraints; even if I could I feared what he might do to me after. I looked around at the room. Save for the table and this bed, it was a simple square of dark, cold concrete. It was brutal in its simplicity, the kind of room you feel could swallow you whole without a care. Behind the table where the man was, there was a small metal door. One light hung from the ceiling. Where it glistened on the ceiling, there was a certain shininess I noticed on all the walls. A wetness. This place reminded me of the gaping maw of some horrible monster. It also reminded me of a room in which to throw garbage.

My breathing had regulated a bit, the tightness in my chest had begun to subside. I tried to do what the man said to avoid waking like this again. I forced my eyes closed, and lay perfectly still. Pictures came to me - I had had a dream last night. Brief pictures flashed in front of my eyes. I had been very sad, dragging my head in an entirely white room, but looked up and saw a vivid purple light. I ran for what must have felt like hours in the dream, pushing my legs to the absolute limit and crying as I came closer and closer to the light. I needed it. Once I finally reached the end, with my breath struggling to catch up, a fire burning in my gut, tears streaming down my face, the light vanished. At its source was a key. A large, amethyst key, and when I touched it, my tears evaporated. I felt pure joy like I had never known, and the room of white bent and shaped into a million blazing colors, swirling around me like a cradle of wax.

I told the man all this, and started to feel the tears for real. Once they began, I couldn't stop them from pouring down my face once more. The man chuckled. He had a pen in his hand, and laughed as he wrote some kind of note down in a little book. Then he tucked his pen into his jacket pocket, and turned to face me again. He said, "So I understand your girlfriend was recently hit by a car, yeah?"

He sat and waited patiently for me to answer. The tears stopped. My nose curled its self. "She died a year and a half ago." I said. "What the hell does that matter?"

"Hohoho, calm down there Mr. Yelly," he said, "as I recall, I'm the one asking the questions, so let's not forget the relationship we have. Yelling at me's not gonna solve your problems, in fact, far from it. So why don't we chill out and be friends, huh? Can you do that for me? I said, can we fucking be friends here or not?"

I told him sure we could be friends, but I didn't understand why the fuck I had to be here, or why I had to explain my dreams, or why he wouldn't just untie me already. He said he thought I was right and came and untied my arms and legs. Being able to move myself felt like a sensual experience, but after a minute I realized I enjoyed it how it was, and laid back down. It was better to lay this way with no restraints.

"Do you remember the dream you had yesterday?" He said. How long was I in here? "We got that one captured. You wanna see?" I told him I didn't, but he pulled out a small screen and showed me anyway.

The device flashed on and I was standing there, with a towering city of beautiful stone and marble looming in front of me. Twinkling stars hung between each of the buildings and the windows all the way up to the tallest floors created stained glass images of women in robes, praying in shades of red and blue. As I took a step toward the marvelous city, a loud crack sounded from it, like an earthquake contained into a nanosecond. I took another, and again a thunderous crack, but this time, there was a physical gash in the city's wall. I begged the me who was on screen to just stop, but again he advanced, trembling, holding out a hand that the city might take it, and again the crack in the wall grew. This time, the entire city crumbled. The glass women broke apart and the stones of the city fell into a giant heap. Then, the screen shut off.

I realized i was sitting up now, and I felt that my mouth was open, but I couldn't close it. My breathing hastened again. He said, "Well, alright, looks like you don't remember that one." He made another note in his little book. I tried to ask him what the hell he was doing to me, what it was exactly that he wanted, but it came out as a mumbled whisper. He said, "Have you been using any illegal substances, Mr. Corchado" Corchado. I had practically forgotten my own name. I told him no.

He said, "Oh yeah? You sure?" And took a small plastic bag out from his inside jacket pocket. It had a number of small gray ovals in it. "Nothing like this? Haven't been doing any of this, then?" I just stared at the bag, and the gray pieces contained within, and then into his eyes. He was glaring directly back at me. I noticed that while the rest of him was gray (his clothing, his hair, the materials in his hand, even the aura that flowed around him), his eyes were a vivid blue-green. They were like the ocean. Deep, mysterious, brilliant. Suffocating. I told him yes, it was possible the substance he was holding had been used by me.

He said, "Uh, yeah, I already know that. I'm a detective, not a hound. Do you realize how shitty this stuff is?" I didn't answer. "Oh, quiet guy, huh? Big, tough quiet guy, huh? Is that It? You wanna know what I think, Mr. Corchado? I think you've been taking this stuff for a year and half now. I think that at the end of the day when you get home from the rest of an uneventful day, it helps to just sit down and forget a while. To make yourself feel good. I don't give a shit about that. I think it's pathetic, but then, so are you. I don't care. What I do care about are these little pills right here. I think you've been doing increasingly crazy shit to get these because you've been feeling more and more like you need them. You haven't come so far as to hurt someone else for it, but one day you will. And the guys who sell this to you don't give a shit. They'd kill you for a dollar. You're not gonna be able to satisfy yourself for much longer just with these. It's gonna get worse. It always does. I pieced all that shit together just from your dreams. How'd I do?"

I couldn't speak for a while, but my breathing grew heavier again. When my mouth was ready to open and make a sound I begged him to just give them back to me. I could feel the sweat pooling on my back. My muscles tensed. My eyes closed, but her image was burned into my brain. "Please." I said. "Please! You don't know what it's like. It should have been me. I was with her. I could have! I carry this massive weight with me every day. It crushes me. I need help. I need help."

He tucked his pen away again, and got up. "Well, you've got it, Mr. Corchado. We're going to continue to monitor your dreams until they stop showing signs of dependency on the drug. In the meantime, get cozy. You'll be out eventually, just don't fuck it up and land yourself back in here."

He left. A scream escaped my mouth as he walked out the door. I laid there, looking again at the wet patina of the ceiling. I'd spent my life being swallowed, and here I was again. I forced control of my breathing, and stood up off the bed, staring at the door. I wouldn't take my eyes off that door until it opened again; that much I resolved. And I would never have another dream again as long as I live.

In the future, dreams are stored by the government and can be used to help stop people from “going over the edge”. One day, you wake up in an interrogation room surrounded by the dream police for your latest dream.