#* ch. writings : rustin cohle .

[monstroum]

❛   hunger .   hey rustin hope you like fried chicken

rust wasn't sure if he ought to blame the synesthesia or if he had indeed stepped through the universe's back door , but as he sat there in that brightly coloured restaurant , he could feel something bitter sticking to the roof of his mouth . the distinct stench of chemicals overpowered the fried chicken . grease painted smiles did nothing to distract him from the deeper layer of reality he was being pulled into ; 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 , 𝚂𝚈𝙽𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲 , 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲 ── a particular brand of intoxication detective cohle had become familiar with what felt like a lifetime ago .

he shouldn't be there.

his visit to los pollos hermanos had been based on a hunch ; he wouldn't tell the boys back at the station about this , rustin had been warned plenty of times about following his gut or sharing exactly what was on his mind ( just stop saying odd shit ) . omission wasn't lying ... but he'd consider catholic guilt once he was back at his apartment ; just for the sake of it .

it's the man of the hour coming to his table , tray in hand accompanied by a polite smile , that motivates cohle to keep pushing through all the bureaucratic bullshit ahead of him . heavily-lidded eyes are immediately stuck on gus the moment he steps into his peripheral and the man does not look the part . not one bit . rustin's mouth suddenly feels like it has been drenched in nail polish . he places an order before the detective who doesn't bother glancing down at his chicken . rust remains hunched over his little table , inviting gustavo fring into his gravitational pull , away from all the sounds of satisfied costumers and into the terrible stillness rust always seems to carry with him . " gus fring ? " he asked , already knowing the answer . a moment passes . " just wanted to have a look at you . " cohle drawled even though he shouldn't .

cavernous blue eyes sunk their hooks into gus . and the more rustin stared , the more something similar to a smile seemed to tug at the corners of his mouth . despite the softness of the restaurant entrepreneur's features , cohle thought he saw something there . the potential for sharpness ; 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙾𝙼 . he took a pack of camel lights from his breast pocket and , as he got up , placed a cigarette between his lips . " thanks for the chicken . "

he'd never touch his meal .

@gsfring

[monstroum]

[ open ] your muse opening a door for mine . / for rustin colhe

august first ; the sun sets at eight o'clock .

during this time of year louisiana evenings are just as warm as louisiana days . rustin cohle doesn't feel it ㅤ─ ㅤhe doesn't feel anything . despite the sweat stains on his pits and back , the detective walks like a man who's not really there . he keeps glancing up ; sun and moon share the sky . cohle thinks he can see a third circle , connecting day and night ... a flat circle , perpetuating the never ending seasons of light and darkness ( doomed to repeat themselves over and over and over again ) . he grunts as he makes his way down his street . HE'S STUCK IN AN ACID FLASHBACK AGAIN . years of drug abuse had fried his brain and now , he hallucinated visual patterns to explain a doom everyone around that area felt in their bones since fucking birth .

his feet drag across the steps that lead him home . he's trying to find his keys in the depths of his pants' pocket ( he can taste the metal on his tongue , can smell the stench of it all around him , they're there ) and wonders if he maybe took too many quaaludes . HE THINKS THE DOOR TO HIS APARTMENT MOVES . rustin needs to steady himself , take a deep breath , remember that none of this is actually happening to him . but the more he rationalises , the further away his door gets from him . and , after a while , he gives up searching for his keys because his front door is wide open .

SHE'S THERE ; all smiles and pretty blond hair ㅤ─ ㅤ charlotte was always obnoxious but today she had a strange glow to her . she looks out of place , holding the door for him . and though he knows he could just reach out and touch her , she still looked so far away . LIKE SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE UP THERE , WITH THE MOON AND SUN , floating across the cosmos , looking down at him with the indifference of all things wiser than man . cohle's eyes frantically shift across the woman , his apartment , the windows ... he wants to ask her if she knows what's going to happen . if she was ever a dead girl face down on the still swamp waters . cohle wants to ask her if SHE KNOWS HOW TO DISAPPEAR ( not die , disappear ) . " what're you doing in my house ? " is what he says instead .

[monstroum]

❝ You gotta tell him, alright? ❞ (rustin!)

ㅤ" hm . "ㅤ the grunt rustin cohle gave was not so much in agreement or one of displeasure but rather a pensive noise . he pulled the cigarette from his lips and breathed out smoke against the windshield of his truck ㅤ─ ㅤjesse pinkman was , what folks in his line of work liked to call , fucked . one of his work colleagues had apparently spotted him selling drugs to a cop in some shitty roadside diner's parking lot . never mind the fact that jesse wasn't made aware of rustin cohle's profession when he was first approached by him . never mind that cohle wasn't the least bit interested in chasing after some kid stuck in his own private spiral of self-destruction and poor decisions . never mind that rust had chugged a whole bottle of robitussin before letting jesse into his car ㅤ─ ㅤ never mind , never mind , never mind .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhe'd pity the guy if he could ㅤ─ ㅤ pinkman held no power or resources . no part of him screamed evil ( except for the drugs driving down his veins like motorbikes on a fucking highway to hell ) . but rustin had seen too much ; as a deep undercover narco , he had witnessed first hand how so many well-intentioned men were willing to destroy whatever beauty was left in the world just so they could get their hands on some ice . families thorn apart , dignity forgotten , children ...

rustin flicks some ash out the driver's window . YOU GOTTA TELL HIM ALRIGHT ㅤ─ ㅤ tell his buddy that jesse didn't know ! he was innocent ! well , that he wasn't . the detective doesn't even bother looking the kid in the eye . whenever he turns his head to glance at jesse , rust is looking at his shoulder , the side of his head , at his hands ... another long drag ㅤ─ ㅤ his fingers reeked of tobacco .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" should i tell him 'bout this too ? " ㅤheavily-lidded eyes focus back on the windshield . they're in the same fucking parking lot , in the same fucking chicken restaurant . the kid's not the brightest when it comes to discretion . cohle rests the back of his head against his car seat . ㅤ" how you got into my truck to set the record straight like the big tough guy you are ? " ㅤit's easy for rustin to distance himself from people ; all the decency and righteousness in the world couldn't save jesse from cohle's nihilism . no one was worthy of trust . no one deserved second chances . him included ... when he glanced back at the young man he noticed blood coagulating around one of his nostrils . pinkman had gotten into a fight . or maybe done too much blow ... either way , rust was quick to clench his jaw , clearly displeased by the sight ; a flashback to a time of his life he didn't want to revisit .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" wipe your fuckin' nose . "

[monstroum]

i know you saw me . / rustin cohle!

he doesn't look at her . rarely does . there's no point . rustin is pretty sure that , no matter how long they left him locked in a room with the girl , he wouldn't be able to break through her walls . she was all barbed wire , no soft spots ( the detective thinks he can taste the metallic rust staining the roof of his mouth . he can't help but tongue at it ㅤ─ ㅤ bitter and cold : odile ) . calloused fingers pull a cigarette out of the soft pack he keeps in his shirt's pocket . he places it between his lips , lights it and thinks that there's a joke in there somewhere . one about having a smokers area right outside an hospital's doors .

the metallic taste doesn't leave his mouth . it's because she's lingering there , in his peripheral , reminding him that he had all the pieces to solve this case . HE HAD SEEN HER ; throwing a man off the top floor a twelve story building . the guy wasn't going to make it but the whole police department had flocked there to try and squeeze one last statement out of him . what was there to say ? drug trafficking , family business , friends in high places , it was always the same shit . ㅤ" cuttin' down a bad man don't make you any less bad yourself . " ㅤcohle drawled before breathing out smoke . it was unclear whether he was talking to odile or himself .

his shirt stuck to his back . ten in the evening and the louisiana heat was as relentless as ever . there's air conditioning inside the building but cohle prefers being out there , next to a potential murderer , between the sweat and the smoke and the mosquitoes . rustin flicks some ashes onto the sidewalk . ㅤ" makes you righteous . sometimes that's all anyone can afford to be . " ㅤhe muses with his eyes set on the busy parking lot . did odile expect him to cuff her and book her ? a good cop would have done that ㅤ─ ㅤ eye for an eye and the whole world turns fucking blind or whatever . but if he does not tell who blinded the man fighting for his life upstairs , then the cycle stops . odile walks free and the county loses a boogie man ㅤ─ ㅤ HOW IS THAT UNJUST ?

ㅤㅤㅤrustin turns to stare odile in the eye . he shakes his head lightly as his heavily-lidded gaze never quite leaves hers .ㅤ " nah ㅤ─ ㅤ i didn't see shit . "

[monstroum]

❝ It excites him. Most serial killers keep some sort of trophies. ❞ ( rustin cohle )

his shirt is glued to his lower back . sweat runs down his back , typical of the louisiana heat ... it's not dry and burning like it was back in texas . there , the weather , like everything else , felt insidious . something which creeped up on you and slowly pushed you down . rustin straightened his back , trying to fight the gravity of that place which bent trees and people alike into funny shapes . but it was no use : by the end of the day , when the detective got home , he too would be crooked .

fusilier doesn't look straight either . just glancing at her brings a strange taste to his mouth ── dirt ; maybe dust . either way , she had strayed from the righteous path long ago , bringing her to a crime scene was unethical enough but asking for her input regarding the case was downright reckless . but rustin suspected magedleine to know more than she let on about the series of killings that had been happening around that area . and , wanted felon or not , rustin's department could do with a new perspective .

" we found several fractures across the cranium . she was dead before endin' up here . some of the nails were broken, got marks all over her limbs ... " detective cohle trails off as he gazes down at the line separating wet grass from asphalt . just a few hours ago , the lifeless body of a woman had been found there . " she was tossed out a movin' car like half-smoked hash ── good for burnin' but not worth the trouble of bein' kept . "

rustin places a cigarette between his lips and lights it with ease ; there is no breeze around those parts . magedleine had spoken of keeping trophies ... but as the detective continues to look down at the scene of the crime , trying to visualise the state of the remains which had been found , he could not help but drawl out:

" none of this feels triumphant . "

@iudicatus

[monstroum]

‘  𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙸𝚃 , 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴.  ’  /  [ to rustin cohle ]

he blinked lazily at jonathan crane . it had been a lousy idea, agreeing to a meeting with a man whose whole area of work reeked , at best of manipulation and , at worst , of downright fraud . admittedly , rustin cohle wasn’t the biggest fan of shrinks ; he saw his pathologies as being part of who he was . and because every human being was flawed and weak , trusting a stranger  ( why , because they had a degree ? )   with who he was   ──    it felt awfully close to religious faith . and detective cohle had no faith to spare .

            “ we were given the same instruments for birthing as any other creature on this earth , doc. we just replaced the grass ‘n’ the hay with cold slabs and latex gloves . ” cohle speaks but he’s not really looking at crane . his eyes wander across the room where a series of other FBI members once sat . that man was supposed to be teaching them about profiling serial killers , but every time rustin focused on doctor crane , he could swear the colours around him shivered violently . he decided to focus on a nearby window instead . pretty birds were singing pretty songs out there . rust exhaled through his nose before carrying on .  “ we’re delivered into ideal conditions , built to give us all the help we need in order to survive without ever takin’ into account that maybe we’re just not worth it.” 

the detective squinted as he watched the world outside their improvised classroom. the sky was the right shade of blue but something felt odd. perhaps he didn’t expect to hear someone from the field of psychiatry defend nature rather than nurture . “ you’re supposed to be the expert . these psychos we lookin’ for   ──   they born like that too ?  ”

@arkhampsych​

[monstroum]

‘   𝙸 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙸’𝚅𝙴 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳.    ‘     /     𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃 !

rustin watched her through heavily-lidded eyes, searching for any ounce of empathy that he could spare the woman he had, until very recently, thought absolutely undeserving.  ──   dogmas in his line of work were justified, amy quinton was far from sainthood; her arms dealings had spread far and wide, reaching a subsection of human cohle himself had once had to rub shoulders with. THE WORST OF THE WORST; armed and dangerous because of her.

                           his lips remained parted as he held a lit cigarette between his fingers, letting a curtain of smoke form between the two of them. amy looked like she might need some stitches. they were in bad shape: beaten up and with stains of blood coagulating on their shirts, souvenirs left by men who did not take kindly to them snooping around. rust could hear sirens in the distance, shades of red and blue flashing in the infinite darkness, matching their shared bruises ... all this pain could have been avoided if amy quinton hadn’t spoken to him. rustin knew what had compelled her to reach out to a detective had not been some noble code of ethics but a search to obtain more power, more money, more territory    ──   a bad person keeping other bad people from the door. 

but now she had rasped that confession to him and, despite rustin being the furthest away anyone could be from a clergyman, he offered amy some guidance;   “ got here on my own. ”  the detective confessed before taking a drag from his cigarette.  “ but that ain’t no reason for you to stop feelin’ guilty. ” his words were followed by smoke. none of them belonged in a church; their place was there, “ you hold on to that. ” on the curb.

@amygone​

[monstroum]

#𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙼 / private + selective multimuse featuring original & canon characters from various media . triggering + nsfw content ahead , please read info provided before interacting , 21+ only ─── poorly written by coffee .

currently contains original muses and canon muses from nbc's hannibal , hbo's true detective , the vvitch (2015) , netflix's midnight mass , joker (2019) , the batman (2022) , bram stoker's dracula , amc's interview with the vampire , prime's fallout, [ ... ] *

𝙳𝙾𝙲𝚂 / 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈

𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 :

MR. MEMPHIS / original & fandomless demonic character ㅤㅤㅤch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

FERRIS O'PHELAN / original & fandomless werewolf character ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

HANNIBAL LECTER / nbc show based + book & film influences ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

RUSTIN COHLE / hbo's true detective (2014) ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

MONSIGNOR PRUITT / netflix's midnight mass ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

LOUIS POINTE DU LAC / amc's interview with the vampire ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

SANTIAGO / amc's interview with the vampire ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

RASHID SAGAR / amc's interview with the vampire ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

BLACK PHILLIP / egger's film "the witch" (2015) ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

HARLEEN QUINZEL / headcanon based from the dc universe ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

HARVEY DENT / headcanon based + reeves inspired ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

JONATHAN HARKER / headcanon + "dracula" novel based ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

THE NARRATOR / fincher's film "fight club" (1999) + book based ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

LUCY MACLEAN / prime's "fallout" series (2024) ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

COOPER HOWARD / prime's "fallout" series (2024) ㅤㅤㅤ ch. pages -- ch. writings -- ch. study -- pinterest -- spotify

[monstroum]

she’s not from around these parts.

rustin doesn’t frequent bars that often, not unless he wants to hurt. it’s odd how sorrow can become consoling; it’s an old poem he returns to every once in a while. rustin will have a beer and run his fingers over the words only to find that, the ink that should have dried so many years ago, is still fresh over the pad of his index. the past is long gone, but it still stains him; STILL HURTS. but he’s trying not to slip into that old habit of thinking about his wife and daughter. tonight is not the night for that but his throat sure feels dry. he clenches his jaw and takes a long sip of his ice cold coke. 

a woman sits by herself a couple of stools away from his and he focuses on that instead: SHE’S NOT FROM AROUND THESE PARTS. the louisiana heat hadn’t seeped into her clothes yet. rust didn’t taste moss or diesel when he looked at her, no, instead he felt something cold against the roof of his mouth. metallic. sharp. coppery. cohle exhales; there’s gunpowder in there too. not even a glass of fucking coca-cola will wash that down. rustin thinks she might have noticed him noticing her.

                 she’s not from around these parts. and when detective cohle turns his head to look at her again he doesn’t give her the privilege of privacy. his heavily-lidded eyes are stuck to the stranger, watching unapologetically. rust can’t be sure, but he feels as if he might have seen her before. maybe a lifetime ago when alcohol was the least of his problems, when his name was “crash” and the closest thing to family he had was a bike gang cartel; armed, dangerous and coked up  ----  rustin thought he’d die there, but the tragedy was that he didn’t. he survived four years undercover but still couldn’t forget some of the things he had seen.

under the bar’s shitty yellow lights he can’t tell for sure, it’s hard to see her face clearly; she’s wearing sunglasses indoors. rustin decided that to be something only PEOPLE WHO DON’T WANT TO BE SEEN do. the radio continues to play an unbearable tune. the cold glass has begun to burn his fingers and, still, rustin stares her down. he sees her and she’s definitively not from around these parts.

@amygone

[monstroum]

❝ we use nonsense to make sense. ❞ // for rustin! @paramnesias​

         every time he looks at alan wake a taste gets stuck to the roof of his mouth : it is scalding and bitter ; rustin thinks it might be electricity but he doesn’t remember ever having a bite out of that . he eventually decides it’s battery acid . something found in an old flashlight , dusty and drooling chemicals onto plastic . detective cohle scribbles something down on his ledger ( rage against the dying of the light ) ; words that pop into his head . truth be told he’s not sure if any of these associations will ever be of use . most of the time they’re mere side effects of putting too many different drugs into his body for too long . HE ALWAYS KNEW WHAT WAS REAL AND WHAT WASN’T ; though rustin still had a hard time brushing his hallucinations off as being just that . he felt as if he had stepped through a door of perception ; detective cohle was peeking into the inner workings of the universe .

                           and the universe recited dylan thomas and poisoned him with battery acid every time mr. alan wake came around . he spoke of missing wives and islands that didn’t exist  ---   the fbi was all over town now and if rustin was there , that meant there was a high possibility one of them would find a woman’s body floating down by the lake . nightingale had been quick to accuse the writer but rustin did not share the other agent’s drunken decisiveness . wake seemed disoriented . he wasn’t high , but his eyes were wide and dancing around the room as if they hadn’t both been sitting there for the last hour . as if he were meant to be somewhere else . cohle’s heavily-lidded stare was locked on alan . maybe he had gone insane . but rust didn’t like that theory either . 

            “   you’ve been nothin’ but fluent in nonsense these last few days , mr. wake .   ”   rustin drawled while placing a cigarette between his lips    “   do you feel enlightened ?   ”   he hoped the tobacco would replace the chemical taste on his tongue .