fbi wanted poster

Request: Artemis

Request: Can I get one where the reader is Sam and Dean’s little sister and meets Crowley for the first time? And can the reader be kind of sarcastic about the whole thing?

Word Count: 672

This is kind of my headcanon for a Winchester sister. Not that I think there is one or anything, but if there was going to be one, this is how I’d do it. Feel free to let me know what you think, I hope you like it! Thanks!<33

“Dean, I’m not scared of him.” You assure your older brother, walking down the corridor alongside him, “He’s just another demon.”

“No, Y/N. He’s the king of Hell.”

“Details, details. He died, went south, and came back with black eyes like the rest of ‘em.” You say nonchalantly, “There’s nothing he can say to me that I haven’t heard from a thousand demons before him, and there’s nothing he can do.” You shake your head at your oldest brother, “I got this.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but opens up the bunker’s prison slowly. You linger behind him and Sam for a moment, letting them turn on the lights and go first.

The demon tethered to the desk is… less than you’d expected. He looks somewhat tired and worn, and when he raises his head, there isn’t so much malice in his eyes as you’ve seen with others of his kind.

“I finally get the pleasure?” He remarks quickly, seeing you in the gap between the guys in front of you, “Winchester Junior.”

“Y/N.” You smile slightly, folding your arms and regarding him curiously, “Which makes you Crowley, correct?”

“The one and only, darling.”

“Last guy to call me that went home a finger short.” You reply without hesitation, watching as his eyes widen. You keep your face even, and eventually, he cracks.

“So, it’s true?”

“Depends on what you’re referencing.”

“The legends. Y/N Winchester, one of the greatest hunters who ever lived.” He says grandly, just a hint of sardonicism in his tone. You grin.

“Well, I’m not one to refuse flattery.” You offer, shrugging. He stares at you, perplexed. You’re not what he’d expected, either.

You’d been hidden from the brothers until not long after you turned seventeen. In fact, not even John had known. Not after you’d been wiped from existence. Angels had grabbed you moments after birth, training you up and getting you good for the obviously oncoming apocalypse that was so conveniently thwarted. You’re not complaining. You love the family you have.

“So, Artemis, you only come and visit now?” Crowley asks, and Sam is about to step in when you shoot him a look.

“I’m a secret weapon. Always have been, always will be.” You say honestly, “I’m only here because you wouldn’t talk for them.”

“And what makes you think I’ll talk for you?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Will you?”

He pauses, not wanting to affirm or dismiss your query. He’s confused by you. You’ve been with the brothers for a handful of years and yet no-one seems to know much about you. You’ve always seemed to escape the FBI Most Wanted posters; there’s definitely something different about you.

“Well, you’re not a lost cause, I suppose.”

“You’re the first person who’s said that in a long time.” Crowley remarks, and you grin.

“I take pride in it.” You say sarcastically, “Crowley, talk. I need names. Bad. You know why?”


“Because people are dying.”

“I happen to like death.”

“I’m sure you happen to like your freedom, too?” You suggest, “Or having your kingdom back under your thumb?”

“What do you mean, back?” He hisses. You smile brightly, placing a sheet of paper and a crayon before him.

“A name for a name, Crowley. I’ll give you…” You pause, looking at the ceiling, “Tell you what. I’ll be nice. 24 hours, lights on, and a full meal.”

“How generous.”

“She’s nicer than we would be.” Dean inputs. He’s been watching this encounter in silence for a bit, gauging your reaction to the demon. You’ve intrigued him enough to get him talking.

“Fine. And then I get information?”

“Sure thing, hotshot.” You nod, “Who knows, I might feel extra nice and let you take a walk. If you help us out, that is.”

With that, you turn tail and stride out of the room, leaving the demon reeling in your wake.


Happy Earth Day sistah Assata Shakur…

Deborah Byron, aka Assata Olugbala Shakur was born July 16, 1947. She is an Afrikan writer, activist and former political prisoner of the United States of Amerikkka.

She was born in New York and given the birth name is JoAnee Deborah Byron. Her married name was Joanne Chesimard. Shortly after her birth, her mother and father divorced. Young Shakur lived with her mother, her aunt, and her grandmother and grandfather (Lula and Frank Hill), in Jamaica, NY. At the age of three, she moved with her grandparents to the house where her grandfather was raised in Wilmington, North Carolina, where Shakur’s grandparents opened a restaurant on their beach front property.

Her early childhood was spent working for her grandparents in the restaurant and on the beach. Her grandfather instilled in her a love of the written word, and she spent a great deal of her time reading. After returning to live with her mother and stepfather in Queens, Shakur began her political education. She began to confront the issues of racism and discrimination that she was experiencing. When she was in her early teens, her mother and stepfather divorced. Soon afterward, Shakur ran away from home, searching for answers to questions about the world in which she lived. At 17, she dropped out of high school and moved away from her mother’s house.

In the late 1960s, Shakur became involved with the Black Panther Party and her political problems began. Between 1973 and 1977, Shakur was indicted 10 times and stood trial for two bank robberies, the kidnapping of a drug dealer, attempted murder of several police officers, and the murder of a New Jersey state trooper. In 1973, on the New Jersey Turnpike, state troopers stopped Shakur, Malik Zayad Shakur, and Sundiata Acoli, two of her friends, because of a shattered headlight. The trooper said they were “suspicious” because they had Vermont license plates. Shots were fired. Not much is known about who did what, but in the end, state trooper Werner Foerster and Malik Shakur were killed. Shakur and Sundiata were charged with the death of Foerster. Their trial had many flaws, including racial injustice by the jury and admitted perjury by the trial’s star witness.


On November 2, 1979 she escaped the Clinton Correctional Facility for Women in New Jersey, when three members of the Black Liberation Army visiting her drew concealed .45-caliber pistols, seized two guards as hostages and commandeered a prison van. The van escaped through an unfenced section of the prison into the parking lot of a state school for the handicapped, 1.5 miles away, where a blue-and-white Lincoln and a blue Mercury Comet were waiting. No one was injured during the prison break, including the guards-turned-hostages who were left in the parking lot. Her brother, Mutulu Shakur, Silvia Baraldini, former Panther Sekou Odinga, and Marilyn Buck were charged with assisting in her escape; Ronald Boyd Hill was also held on charges related to the escape. In part for his role in the event, Mutulu was named on July 23, 1982 as the 380th addition to the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list, where he remained for the next four years until his capture in 1986. State correction officials disclosed in November 1979 that they had not run identity checks on Shakur’s visitors and that the three men and one woman who assisted in her escape had presented false identification to enter the prison’s visitor room, before which they were not searched. Mutulu Shakur and Marilyn Buck were convicted in 1988 of several robberies as well as the prison escape.

At the time of the escape, Kunstler had just started to prepare her appeal. After her escape, Shakur lived as a fugitive for several years. The FBI circulated wanted posters throughout the New York – New Jersey area; her supporters hung “Assata Shakur is Welcome Here” posters in response. In New York, three days after her escape, more than 5,000 demonstrators organized by the National Black Human Rights Coalition carried signs with the same slogan. The image of Shakur on the wanted posters featured a wig and blurred black-and-white features.

For years after Shakur’s escape, the movements, activities, and phone calls of her friends and relatives—including her daughter walking to school in upper Manhattan—were monitored by investigators in an attempt to ascertain her whereabouts. In July 1980, FBI director William Webster said that the search for Shakur had been frustrated by residents’ refusal to cooperate, and a New York Times editorial opined that the department’s commitment to “enforce the law with vigor—but also with sensitivity for civil rights and civil liberties” had been “clouded” by an “apparently crude sweep” through a Harlem building in search of Shakur. In particular, one pre-dawn April 20, 1980 raid on 92 Morningside Avenue, during which FBI agents armed with shotguns and machine guns broke down doors, and searched through the building for several hours, while preventing residents from leaving, was seen by residents as having “racist overtones.” In October 1980, New Jersey and New York City Police denied published reports that they had declined to raid a Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn building where Shakur was suspected to be hiding for fear of provoking a racial incident. In 1987, she published her first book, “Assata Shakur: An Autobiography.” Shakur had been missing for eight years, at which time she established her whereabouts in Cuba, where she was granted political asylum.

Shakur fled to the island nation of Cuba by 1984; in that year she was granted political asylum in that country. The Cuban government pays approximately $13 a day toward her living expenses. In 1985 she was reunited with her daughter, Kakuya, who had previously been raised by Shakur’s mother in New York. She published Assata: An Autobiography, which was written in Cuba, in 1987. Her autobiography has been cited in relation to critical legal studies and critical race theory. The book does not give a detailed account of the events on the New Jersey Turnpike, except saying that the jury “Convicted a woman with her hands up!” The book was published by Lawrence Hill & Company in the United States and Canada but the copyright is held by Zed Books Ltd. of London due to “Son of Sam” laws, which restrict who can receive profits from a book. In the six months prior to the publications of the book, Evelyn Williams, Shakur’s aunt and attorney, made several trips to Cuba and served as a go-between with Hill.

In 1993, she published a second book, Still Black, Still Strong, with Dhoruba bin Wahad and Mumia Abu-Jamal. Shakur’s writings have been widely circulated on the Internet. For example, the largely Internet-based “Hands Off Assata!” campaign is coordinated by Chicago-area Black Radical Congress activists. As early as 1998, Shakur has referred to herself as a “20th century escaped slave.” In the same open letter, Shakur calls Cuba “One of the Largest, Most Resistant and Most Courageous Palenques (Maroon Camps) that has ever existed on the Face of this Planet.” Shakur is also known to have worked as an English-language editor for Radio Havana Cuba.

The U.S. government, under the lead of former New Jersey Governor Whitman, actively tried to extradite Shakur on charges of killing the state trooper. In the book, she tells her side of the story, describing her upbringing, her reasoning for becoming a revolutionary, and the events before, during, and after the shooting. The book also has many poems written by Shakur. Although now in Cuba, she is still an active voice in the struggle for equal rights in America. Though diplomatic relations between Cuba and the United States were reestablished in 2015, the Cuban government has vowed never to extradite her to the U.S.

On May 2, 2013 under the Barack Obama Administration, she was added to the FBI’s “10 Most Wanted List”, and the first woman ever to be placed on it. A bounty of $1 million was offered for her capture, which was subsequently raised to $2 million.

Source: Wikimedia Foundation

[red and liz watch the news]

authorities may be finally closing in on notorious international criminal raymond “red” reddington

[photo from the fbi most wanted poster appears on screen]

liz: *spits out popcorn*
liz: oh this is gold
liz: lol
liz: i keep forgetting you had hair
red: i have hair thank you very much
liz: no i mean hair hair
liz: and quite a lot
liz: look at that! it’s all over the place
liz: was it a statement of sorts? or did you use it to smuggle small exotic birds?
red: *initiates head tilt*
liz: no? ok
liz: but man that is not a flattering photo
red: donald thought it was satisfactory promotional material
liz: i bet. you look like the unabomber there
liz: a homeless unabomber who lives with 20 cats in a shoe box and randomly starts chasing people yelling WEEEEVILS!!
red: it was a complicated time for me
liz: your barber died and you had to be in mourning for a year?
red: *angrily switches off tv*
liz: …
red: …
liz: …
red: was all this really necessary?
liz: hey i simply got rid of ezra. i didn’t tell them to use that picture and we both know that’s the real reason you’re pissed off
red: …
liz: …
red: you’re lucky i love you
liz: yeah right back at ya

FBI wanted poster for Eldridge Cleaver.  Cleaver was charge with unlawful interstate flight to avoid confinement after being convicted of assault with the intent to commit murder for his participation in a 1968 incident in which Cleaver led an ambush of Oakland police officers, during which two officers were wounded. In the aftermath of the ambush, Cleaver was wounded and seventeen-year-old Black Panther member Bobby Hutton was killed.