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
“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 MostWanted 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.”
“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.
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
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
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.
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.