bauchief

[bauchief]

when canon gives you an underdeveloped character and you just have to make do:

#big mood

[bauchief]

ugly because I'm at work but they assigned me the most boring station today and I also have to type with my long nails and it isn't fair

#the 00.7 trailer drops today. .... looks at my old blog #cas shut up #tbd

[bauchief]

requested by anonymous

#tbt.

[bauchief]

#busted

#BLESS THEM #tbt.

[bauchief]

Someone fly out here to my work and FEED ME

#mobile tag. #tbd

[bauchief]

how can we have a cm watch party now hmmmm

#ooc.

[bauchief]

CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES. for when the person you’re trying to care for insists they don’t need your help.

“at least let me clean the wound!” “you’ll be even worse off if you don’t let me bandage this.” “i really think you need to see a doctor.” “i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.” “your feelings matter too! i can’t help you if i don’t even know what’s making you upset!” “..i’m here if you need anything, okay?” “stop trying to push yourself! you can’t do this on your own!” “listen, i know you don’t want to, but.. maybe you should rest for a while. you’re not going to get anywhere like this.” “i’ll make you a deal: i’ll just get you some bandages, and nothing else, and you stop making a fuss over it.” “how long has it last been since you slept?” “have you even been taking your medicine?” “i know you think you have to get through this by yourself, but you have people here to help you.” “let me take care of you, for once.” “you’re gonna hurt yourself even more if you do stupid things like that!” “i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.” “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” “stop trying to act like you’re not bleeding out in front of me!! this is serious!” “listen, asshole. i’m gonna carry you home whether you like it or not. you’re not in any condition to get there yourself.” “oh my god, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?!”

#memes.

[bauchief]

#stabbity stab foyet is back (: #but also this quote *chef's kiss* #this is what i go back to when #i try to find his voice #‵ 🛧 ⋰ BAU. ⋮ ❛ 𝙸 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙼. #‵ ⚖ ⋰ self. ⋮ ❛ 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙼𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚁𝙾𝚂𝙴𝚂. #` 🛧 ⋰ the job. ⋮ ❛ 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙸𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝙴 !

[bauchief]

       can we talk about him cradling a victim’s head as morgan calls for backup

#cas watches cm #‵ ⚖ ⋰ intro. ⋮ ❛ 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴.

[bauchief]

       when dad says you gotta interview the psychopath on your own

#tbd #cas shut up

[bauchief]

       WHY IS THNIS SO FUNNY EOFEOIGWOEG

how do you all find psds that work on tv shows like cm because i’m dead inside

       i had to lighten this four separate times and this is the best i got

#cas shut up #tbd

[bauchief]

how do you all find psds that work on tv shows like cm because i’m dead inside

       i had to lighten this four separate times and this is the best i got

#aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #cas shut up #tbd

[bauchief]

yall .  .  .   who knows where i can get ps for free

#ooc. #my new laptop doesn't have it #and i'm too old to find it #tbd

[bauchief]

god is constantly roasting my ass i never get a moment to like recollect myself or anything

#ic or ooc #‵ ⚖ ⋰ intro. ⋮ ❛ 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴. #‵ 🛧 ⋰ BAU. ⋮ ❛ 𝙸 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙼.

[bauchief]

sext: ??? ????? ?????????? ??????????????

@antialibi  ||  memes

HIS  PHONE  BUZZES  AGAINST  HIS  THIGH ,   buried  in  the  pocket  of  denim  jeans  as  his  boots  tread  mercilessly  over  twigs  and  leaves .   people  in  town  blame  the  land  for  their  missing  children ,   and  ever  since  this  morning’s  first  cup  of  coffee  he’s  been  thinking  of  an  old  friend  living  on  an  apache  reservation ,   and  his  advice  that  land ,   once  it’s  tasted  enough  spilled  blood ,   thirsts  for  more  of  it .   

       belatedly  he  remembers  they  brought   satellite  phones   this  time ,   because  the  tall ,   old  trees  interfere  with  signal .   maybe  it’s  an  update .   maybe  he  imagined  it .   either  way ,   he  doesn’t  check .   but  why ? 

       another  half - hour  and  they  reach  the  farmhouse .   it’s  shit  like  this  that  makes  him  glad  he  lives  in  a  big  city  where  abandoned  buildings  are  demolished   to  make  room  for  new  projects .   but  out  here ,   the  south’s  haunted  by  its  own .   old  wood  splinters  with  a  hard  kick  into  a  large ,   dusty  interior ,   and  though  they  find  evidence  of  a  squatter ,   there’s  no  sign  of  the  unsub  or  the  missing  kids .   they  split  up  to  cover  more  ground ,   checking  the  surrounding  land  for  footprints   ( and  small  graves ,   but  that  goes  unsaid )   and  again ,   his  phone  vibrates  against  his  thigh .

       again ,   he  ignores  it . 

       his  sat - phone  crackles ;   she’s  waiting ,   aa - ron .   it  hisses .   he  pauses  mid - step  and  ━━  what  the  fuck  ━━  pivots ,   checking  the  unit  at  his  hip .   no  warning  message  for  a  faulty  charge ;   no  flashing  light  to  show  activity  from  sibling  units .   he  unclips  the  phone  and  lifts  it  to  his  mouth  to  ask   ( demand )   the  message  be  repeated .   then  again ,   for  a  sound - off .   nothing .   silence  chokes  the  woods  around  him ,   and  he  finds  himself  alone .   ❛  morgan ?  ❜   he  calls  out .

       buzz   buzz . 

       the  return  trek  to  the  farmhouse  is  uneventful  and  quiet ,   other  than  twigs  snapping  underfoot .   he  meets  morgan  on  the  way ,   footsteps  impressively  quiet  for  a  man  raised  on  chicago  streets .  ❛  did  you  find  anything ?  ❜   he  asks  in  place  of  a  bitter   ‘didn’t  you  hear  me’   or   ‘where  were  you’  ━━  it  doesn’t  matter  now .   nothing ,   morgan  answers .   well ,   nothing’s  better  than  a  plot  of  child - sized  graves .   minutes  pass  as  they  give  the  farmhouse  interior  another  sweep ,   building  what  little  profile  he  can  of  what  litters  the  dirty  floor .   the  rest  of  the  party  are  on  their  way ,   he  assumes .    

       buzz   buzz . 

       morgan  watches  him  from  across  the  room .   he  fishes  the  phone  from  his  pocket ,   scowling ,   and  the  illuminated  screen  looks  almost  absurd  given  his  current  location .   his  thumb  swipes  to  unlock  and  he  counts  three  texts  before  actually  bothering  to  read  them .   

[ from : ]   these  woods  are  hungry    the  trees  devour  what  they  can[ from : ]   she’s  waiting  for  you[ from : ]   are  you  sure  that’s  agent  morgan

        ━━  hotch ,   his  sat - phone  spits .   it’s  morgan’s  deep  baritone .   ━━  we’ve  got  someone .   young  woman ,   blonde .   we’re  waiting  for  the  medics ,   but  i  think  you  should  see  this .   i’m  south  of  the  old  house ,   just  past  the  creek .

       the  connection  severs .

       something  watches  him  from  across  the  room .    

#` ☆ ⋰ revoide. ⋮ ❛ 𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 !

[bauchief]

❛ It’s my game. And no one can help me. Not even you. ❜

       @revoide   ||   memes 

WHO  IS  SHE ?   WHERE  IS  SHE ?IS  SHE  EVEN  REAL ?          questions  fill  his  mind  like  rain  water  into  a  bucket ,   he  couldn’t  stop  them  if  he  tried ,   not  since  he  spotted  her  this  morning ,   her  blonde  hair  and  dark  eyes  peering   at  him  from  the  edge  of  the  crime  scene .   caution  tape  never  stopped  her  before ,   he  knows ,   and  wonders  if  she’s  waiting  for  him  once  again  –  in  the  shadows ,   in  the  corners  of  darkened  rooms  in  this  apartment  complex  –  it  wouldn’t  be  the  first  time .

       hours  seemingly  pass  in  the  span  of  minutes ;   he  enters  the  building  alone  knowing  his  team  is  on  their  way  –  this  is  no  decrepit  building ,   it’s  on  a  side  street  rather  than  the  edges  of  some  small  town .  .  .   his  heart  begins  to  race  as  he  approaches  the  front  desk .   an  elevator  dings   across  the  lobby  and  he  glances  over  his  shoulder  hoping  to  see  the  suspect ,   but  finds  the  small  room  empty ,   as  if  someone  sent  the  elevator  down  in  invitation  –  no ,   nothing  more  than  a  coincidence .   

       tick ,   tock ,   tick ,   tock  –

       the  watch  upon  his  wrist  mocks  him ,   showing  two  minutes  come  and  go  when  he  feels  thirty .   where  is  she ?   why  does  he  even  suspect  she’ll  be  here ?   perhaps  he  saw  no  more  than  a  lookalike .   maybe  it  wasn’t  her  –  maybe ,   maybe ,   maybe ,   but  no  answers  to  his  questions .   nothing  solid .   

       he  raps  knuckles  upon  the  door  in  question ,   the  key  a  bit  of  metal  in  his  large  hand ,   retrieved  from  the  front  desk  after  flashing  his  badge .   ❝  michael  grant ,   this  is  the  FBI ,   open  the  door . ❞   does  his  voice  echo  down  the  hall  –  no ,   of  course  it  wouldn’t .   yet .  .  .   the  door  creaks  open  and  he  steps  one  foot  across  the  threshold  to  keep  it  from  closing .   no  one  stands  behind  the  door .   he  knows ,   somehow ,   before  entering  that  the  apartment  will  be  empty .   

       tick ,   tock ,   tick ,   tick ,   tick ,   tick  –

       he  hears  her  voice  before  he  sees  her ,   like  a  video  buffering ,   like  she  was  here  when  he  cleared  the  apartment  but  standing  elsewhere ,   like  she’s  been  waiting .

       ❝ where  is  he ? ❞   he  asks ,   tone  stern  as  he  turns  to  face  her .   the  agent  doesn’t  ask  how  she  got  here ,   or  why ,   or  when ,   because  something  in  him  doesn’t  want  to  know .   he  wants  answers  to  safer  questions .   ❝ four  people  have  been  murdered ;   this  isn’t  a  game . ❞   but  she’s  not  talking  about  the  case ,   he  realizes ,   without  knowing  how .   he  adjusts  his  posture ,   physically  towering  over  her  while  feeling  their  stances  are  the  opposite :   something  in  her   is  larger  than  he  could  ever  be .   his  spine  tingles ,   warning ,   warning  running  up  and  down  his  vertebrae .   

       his  team  should’ve  been  here  by  now .    

#revoide #asks tag. #weeps i wish i had icons #` ☆ ⋰ revoide. ⋮ ❛ 𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 !

[bauchief]

why did you choose the KING chess piece to represent hotch?

@antialibi    //    character  dev .   questions  make  my  night

      hotch ,   in  most  cases ,   serves  as  the  king .   not  because  he’s  the   “most  important  piece”   ( which  is ,   as  always ,   up  to  interpretation )  but  because  every  piece  keeps  an  eye  on  the  king  no  matter  their  current  position  and  thinks  of  him  still ,   when  considering  future  moves .   he’s  not  usually  found  wandering  all  the  fuck - way  across  the  board ,   but  his  influence  is  felt  regardless .   ( he’s  constantly  called  for  advice  or  direction  though  he  may  never  leave  his  position . )   the  king’s  capture   ( when  he  requests  a  transfer  out  of  the  BAU ,   when  he’s  suspended ,   when  he’s  forced  to  either  be  replaced  or  promote  internally )   is  the  end   of  the  game .   he’s  a   “weak”   piece  at  the  start  but  is  all  the  stronger  towards  the  end  of  the  game .   as  the  audience  we’re  repeatedly  told  the  team’s  effectiveness  rests  on  the  shoulders  of  its  leader .   without  a  strong  leader ,   they’d  fall  apart .

here’s  an  old   “team  as  chess  pieces”   post  which  i  should  probably  update  lmao

#hc tag. #back when i cared about formatting