#moldcursed

[antielevator]

@moldcursed sent: injury meme. // go feral, pick something. ✌️

"Fffffuck--!"

Sebastian has to dig his fingers into the dirt beneath him to keep from wrapping his palm around Ethan's throat. He's not in his right mind-- he can't be in his right mind, because this isn't the Ethan he remembers-- and in that, murder just doesn't feel right.

He's lost too many people. Being directly responsible for the death of one of them feels like too much even in theory.

"Are you--" God, it hurts. "Fucking done, then?"

He doesn't look down at the wound Ethan created in him. He won't even try to make sense of it. Sebastian clings onto the pathetic, miserable possibility that Ethan is still in there somewhere based solely on the fact that he didn't aim for anything vital.

His heels dig into the ground, and as he presses his fingers in harder, dirt collects thickly under his nails.

"Get a hold of yourself, Winters."

That might have come out firmer if Sebastian wasn't trying not to groan in pain.

#[ i went for ''dig'' and i'm going with some offshoot of mold man AU where #idk. it fucks up his amygdala. it makes him hungry #evie never died? #something that makes him bonkers??? #u know me i never think things thru ] #moldcursed #[ let me know if you'd rather a diff prompt / scenario 😭 ]

[red9]

“why are you so concerned about me”

              @moldcursed // ask prompts.

              It was a question left lingering in the air between them for some time. A silent guilt, so heavy at times it felt almost tangible, like he could very well taste it on the end of his tongue. In all reality, it may very well have been out of his comprehension- most likely was, given the fact that Redfield wasn’t known to be the most open when it came to the truth. For the fact lay silent between them both: in some twisted way, they were connected by strings of fate, crafted by his own hand. To think, one simple decision years ago would change the lives of so many- a tangled web- a butterfly effect- leading them both to where they were now. Viruses, Las Plagas, the mold itself- all connected- and all the destruction brought to fruition by his hand. So it wasn’t even an option, nor a second thought, the day he walked into his lab. He had to help him, help right the wrongs of so many things he’d done those years ago. It was why, despite what he could do, what he could become, he didn’t flinch nor fear him like so many others- not a monster- but a man, a man who had his life stolen away by things he couldn’t control. 

              It was why he stood by him, even now as he pushed away the helping hand he offered. Why he’d follow, even as he tried to break distance between them. He was hurting in ways no regular person could understand. Why instead he’d give his space, even as he followed him, down long stretching halls of the Umbrella facility, into the cold air where he seemed to try to run just to be free of such a contained space. 

              Instead he said nothing for a long while, waiting for Ethan’s shoulders to settle from their tenseness, the thought still ringing in the back of his mind as he chose to light himself a cigarette. Hands buried into his lab coat, chin lifted toward the sky as he inhaled smoke and released it toward the clouds overhead. “Because you and I- we’re not so different. Physically maybe but…” the cigarette was plucked from his lips, letting out a half shrug as he explained. “We’ve both struggled, and though I can’t say I know exactly what you went through, I know what it’s like to have been a prisoner- not just during the events of what happened, but after. You, with the Bakers- myself well.. That’s a story for another time.” The cigarette was offered his direction, a peace offering, if he was willing to take it. It gave him a chance to focus on him, gray eyes searching for his own blue hues, studying, drinking in the sight of the blonde as if staring at a work of art. Captivated, as his voice grew low, soft and heated as he roamed over his features with a lingering smile dancing on his features.

              “We both have our fair share of scars… and that’s why I want to help you. Help make things right… If you’ll let me.”

#moldcursed #ask. #them them them. #luis in love with him yes ofc.

[urban-bog]

#moldcore #mold #moldcursed #musty #greencore #dirtcore

[biosurvive]

@moldcursed: “  no don’t move, it’s too cold outside the covers.  ”

The summer air had given way to a cool autumn and Chris had been reaping the benefits of a large warm bed and a blonde tucked into his side. A night of cuddling and admittedly strenuous sex had led to them tangled up in a warm embrace, one that no doubt would feel empty the moment he adjusted or moved. All he wanted to do was turn the coffee pot on, but Ethan's grip was harsh and his breath against his shoulder blade was warm and needy. The older man could feel warmth pool in his stomach, heart afloat from hearing his voice alone. He loved Ethan Winters more than he could possibly express.

Rolling in the sheets, his large arms immediately encase the blonde, pulling him against his chest, a chuckle shaking them both as he leans down to pepper the golden hair with kisses. " We have to get up at sometime, mon amour. I like the cool air, and since you get Rose today I thought that maybe the three of us could do something so blissfully fall. Maybe even check out one of those ridiculous Halloween stores. After all the real life horrors I have seen I never really cared for the holiday... now? I suppose I want to be the best Stepfather I can be and dress up as anything the peu d'amour wants me to dress as. " More kisses and Chris makes a move to drag his knee between Ethan's legs, spreading them before his hand dips beneath the covers to grasp at him. " Be good and maybe I'll buy a sexy costume for myself. Something just for your eyes alone. "

#moldcursed #DOMESTICS

[amnesid]

@moldcursed: "what do you see in me?"

the question makes sid raise his head from where it had been resting comfortably on the pillow. he hears the catch in ethan's voice, and knows before he sits up to turn on the bedside lamp that he will see mold starting to climb the walls -- an outward manifestation of ethan's emotional state. the unspoken "what are we" lingers in the air for a few moments afterward. they've shared a bed for the past few months ( ethan felt comforted by the presence of another, and sid was all too willing to offer him whatever respite he could ) but not a kiss, not yet. truthfully, sid was afraid he would push a boundary. wasn't sure if ethan would be ready for a relationship yet.

it hurts him to see ethan like this, still so troubled after all the trauma he's suffered. waking up one day with all of your memories erased doesn't quite compare to the experience of knowing you've died and that the body you're inhabiting is really something other, something that is only as human as you believe it is ( as much as it can be, when it lacks a heart ).

but the man beside him is still ethan, mold or not.

"i see you," he starts. "i see a man that isn't broken by the horrors he's seen, but who endures them. you go through so much just to... just to get up every morning and take care of rose or to make breakfast because you don't trust me not to burn the eggs." a quiet chuckle, blue eyes glittering with amusement and something softer.

"i don't see a monster when i look at you, even when things like this happen." a gesture is made to the decay painting the walls. "i just see you. ethan winters. that's who you are, that's who you choose to be every day--" and here they are, the words he has been keeping to himself for too long, and they rise to his lips like something sacred, something that it feels like he has been saving just for ethan. "and i love you for it. i love all of you."

#moldcursed #main verse. #sobbing rn

[d4ngerous-shadowbanned]

❛ I think it’s really shitty what they all did to you. ❜ / @moldcursed

THERE WAS A TIME WHERE those words would strike something in him - but now ? Now he sits, quietly, crimson irises focused in on clawed hands. His life - from start to now - was never fair. Yet, at least now he has power to finally lash back, fight, take his own path. But where does he go ? He leans back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling of the shabby shelter he calls home. He closes his eyes and lets out a short breath. 

" They took away my choice. " A pause. " Every last person involved did. " Yet now he has choice - and he can't make any. It's been so long following orders, doing what he's told, that having freedom feels wrong. Even if said freedom is getting him hunted down. " What do you do ? " He almost seems to question the entire room, rather than Ethan. " I don't know. I ran, I expected it to be better, and yet... it's not. It stays the same. I still feel... trapped. I could tear anyone apart who comes after me, I could take everyone who wronged me down - but it changes nothing. I can stay here as I am, hide, live what life I got left - still changes nothing. " He leans forward, reaching a hand out for the near empty bottle of vodka sitting on the table. Still trying to drink, even if his system flushes it out faster than it can really do much good for him. 

" It's not fair - but what the fuck choice do I have ? What do I do with this ? This is how I am, what I am. I go back, I'll just be their weapon. Or they'll kill me. But I doubt they'd kill someone they know they can control. But living like this isn't really living either. I don't know if I'd rather be the weapon they want me to be. At least then I'd have direction. I have... almost nothing right now. " His gaze flicks over, locking onto Ethan's. " You understand it - you're in the same position. What will you do, given the same choices I face ? "

#moldcursed #( answered ) signed sealed and delivered ! #( in character ) leon scott kennedy #( relevant ) plaga leon #( verse ) resident evil #[they both need help and a hug or something]

[useless-food]

#mildew #moldcore #moldcursed #mold #moldy

[pumpkinstabs-moving]

the twins are finally asleep (though for how long that’ll last, ethan doesn’t know), and that is exactly why he slips onto michael’s lap, fingers threading themselves through his hair and kisses placed upon his jawline. ethan’s words — i’ve missed doing this with you — are not spoken aloud, instead uttered silently through their connection. he doesn’t know how much time they have to spare right now, but best to make it count.

Michael has no complaints about his life the way it is right now. For once, he is happy. For once, he is more than a bioweapon, an experiment, a test subject. He's human, with emotions and thoughts and someone capable of love. He has proved he is more than capable of loving in the relationship he has built with Ethan, and in turn, the bond he's built with their children. The two twins; both of which Michael loves equally and with all his heart. They're both miracles-- ones who should not have been born but were anyway. Umbrella tried to take them away from Ethan and Michael, and by doing that, they pushed the last straw and made the bioweapon flee with the three others, with his family. They are not fully safe yet-- but here, in this home, they're safer than they've been in months.

I've missed you, he thinks, knowing Ethan will hear those words. Large, scarred hands grip his lover's hips, pulling him in as close as possible, breaths shared between their chests. It hasn't been easy... resisting you, another shared thought, one followed by his own lips finding Ethan's pulse line, suckling along the skin and sliding his hands up the back of his shirt. Already, his arousal has become prominent.

#moldcursed #v. bio organic weapon [ resident evil au ].

[viralimmune]

INCOMING RADIO TRANSMISSION FROM ETHAN WINTERS, CALLSIGN @moldcursed: “ what kind of sci-fi bullshit is this ? ”

if it's anything like a science fiction horror, the sci-fi bullshit is going to end with a bullet lodged square between oswell spencer's eyes, smoke still rising out of the barrel of her samurai edge. right now, though, they have to successfully make their way from point a to point b without being overrun by the hordes of infected shambling around the streets of raccoon city. the sheer, unbridled rage she feels around the crisis they're waist-deep in continues bubbling under the surface, stewing as the hours tick on, but she's able to push it aside for the sake of the survivors.

case in point:  a fourteen-year-old who had been in the city for a field trip. she had pushed the image of big, yellow school buses in ruins out of her mind, telling herself that whatever happened in the hours and days before were small details compared to what she needed to focus on:  finding and helping those still alive. it's both a relief that she found ethan winters and a reminder of how exceptionally cruel this entire situation is. how bullshit it all is. she almost cracks a smile at the outrage laced in his voice;  that anger at everything around them anchors her in place. he shouldn't have to deal with this. none of them should.

❛  if I find george romero, I'll let you have the first punch.  ❜     a joke with a sliver of humor to cut through the tension;  they've managed to evade several undead stumbling around, and she's eager to keep that streak of luck going. hand wraps around the handle of the back door to a shop, turning it with ease and popping it open.   ❛  come on;  I came through here a few minutes ago. it should be safe.  ❜     and if it's not, she's right behind him. they can get through this. they have to get through this.     ❛  we can take a break, if you need it.  ❜

#moldcursed #ANSWERED. #IN CHARACTER. #V. PUT ME INTO THE GROUND — RACCOON CITY OUTBREAK. #hi hello remember when we talked abt baby ethan stranded in the outbreak #i wish that this was as bad as it gets for him lol 🙃

[themiserablesmiilingkiller]

ethan doesn’t mind it, being the survivor that’s always running the killer. as a matter of fact, he gets a bit of satisfaction out of it, in some twisted way. there’s a pallet dropped, an attempt to slow the trapper’s pursuit down — but ethan doesn’t run away just yet, no. instead he stands there, head tilted as he asks, “ come on, aren’t you just a little bored of this by now? ” it’s bound to get old for the killers too sometimes, this endless loop of trials.

The pallet is annoying, as all pallets are when they're dropped on him. It's a shame the Entity doesn't let Evan just break the damn things before they could be used to get in his way. He grunts and shakes his head to get rid of the momentary daze of having the damn thing dropped on him. It's mildly surprising the survivor he's chasing is still there when he rights himself and is about to stomp on the offending pallet. Even more shocking, the survivor wants to have a little talk with him, as if they're friendly, or as if they're not in a situation where every bone in Evan's body aches for violence and blood.

"Work is work," Evan grunts. The first trials he was in were exhilarating. Hell, for a long time it was the most fun he had in the fog. With only the Hillbilly and Wraith for entertainment for a long time, he had hardly any value outside of trials. At least in them he could exercise a purpose. The Trapper takes a deep breath, "Ain't gotta be fun." He motions at the survivor with his machete, "Y'find this borin'?" Maybe Evan should try harder.

#moldcursed #Evan distracted from stomping pallets like xD

[taaboh]

@moldcursed // from here.

He’s a damn fool, feeling as fulfilled as he does when Ethan calls himself his. Takayuki knows enough English to understand “I’m all yours” is a saying, but it isn’t a crime to revel in its literal meaning.

Even if it does little to placate him from wanting to wrap his arms around Ethan’s waist. His fingers twitch where they rest on his lap, restless and energised.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep all day yesterday,” he says, as if the last case he’d been on hadn’t taken a toll on him. Frankly, before Takayuki’s day-long hibernation, he’d only had a grand total of an hour or two of sleep in three days of work. His work partner hadn’t been pleased about it, but Takayuki knows how sensitive disappearances are; if he’d wasted even a second, that little girl might not have turned up okay.

He ducks his head, resting his chin on Ethan’s shoulder. To Takayuki’s credit, he doesn’t bite Ethan again. “Now I’m gonna be up all night... and then what’re you gonna do?”

#[ after all why shouldnt i have another takaethan thread ] #moldcursed #( thread. ) #[ one of these days we gotta write some baker house shit #they have been TOO HAPPY ] #[ oh shit i also wanna write shinya starter for you #UGHHHHHH SERIAL KILLER BOYFRIENDDDDDDDDDDD ] #( au: dead souls. )

[red9]

              @moldcursed starter call.

              “I have to say, you’ve got to be the most interesting case I’ve seen thus far.. And I've seen my fair share of infected individuals in my time...” 

              Surely he’d heard it all before, the one in a million case- a man who turned to mold and somehow lived to tell the tale. He was the talk of the lab, after all, the shiny new toy that had been shipped to BSAA’s Europe’s division. A rare thing to see, a bioweapon that could pass as a seemingly normal man. It was why he was sent to him, to run tests and gather knowledge as best he could, with his history of research and development of Plaga. Not that he wanted to be there, but in truth he had no choice. Maybe that’s why they were so alike- neither one of them were ever truly free from this life they were thrown into. Could not escape it, even if they wanted to. Two sides of the same coin with no means out.

              Long brown locks perfectly framed his face, his brow softly knit as he moved about his lab. Just a few more test procedures, something that had become quite regular for them over the past few weeks. Not that they were close by any means. He’d come in, sit down, take some samples and send him on his way. Today was really no different, apart from his attempt at making friendly conversation. Blood work was needed, an IV ready as he’d be surprisingly delicate, despite knowing just how much pain he could endure. To him, he wasn’t some monster, a freak, a danger like so many others may have believed. He was a man, who just so happened to have bad luck. Why he’d try to distract as the needle met a vein within his forearm, dark red filling the tube as his eyes would finally come to meet his, a warm smile adorning his lips as he spoke. 

              “I know you’ve probably heard this all before, but you should let me study you sometime, more closely… this blood work, checkup nonsense, it can only do so much… I know they probably fear what you’re capable of- but, if you’re willing to show me sometime, I wouldn’t mind a little one on one time. We could make an evening of it- dinner and drinks maybe..?” With luck, he’d at least get a smile out of him, let him know that someone saw him as more than just a threat.

#moldcursed #v: re8. #ily take this.

[alphateamsfinest]

❛ dying keeps moving lower on the list of worst things that could happen to me. ❜

𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

A lifetime ago she would have been shocked by those words. Death seemed the ultimate fear, the fear of the potential of nothingness beyond. But since that lifetime ago, she's seen horrors beyond her comprehension, felt the everlasting sting of betrayal, and been hunted to her final breaths and brought back once more.

For a moment she wishes she was better at offering comfort, that she knew the right words to make it into a joke, to give him a sense of solace. But instead, those whispering thoughts are taking precedence, oh, she wants to ask him 'How do you know you can die'.

Those eyes that are a little too bright of a blue close, a slow exhale as she counts to ten, pushes it away. It's a slightly awkward albeit genuine gesture as she leans and gives him a pat on his bicep. "I know. But-

Instead, she turns it into an awkward and kind of crude joke. "Hey, then you might have to move it to the medium list. Like, it's not positive, but it's not negative so bad anymore. It's becoming more like the wow, I got a flat tire list."

#answering machine #meme response #moldcursed #v: Forgive me #[Jill nodding in solidarity with Ethan] #[Also I hope this works for you!]

[ratphecy]

@moldcursed​ //  ✐ for a random sentence starter

" The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you.  “

#｡･:*˚:✧｡ Ⅱ ፥ Unknown #moldcursed #*VIBRATES*

[biosurvive]

a chris & ethan moodboard ( for @moldcursed )

#this one got angsty bc i love me a starcrossed lovers #ethan tag #moldcursed #HERE GRACE

[amnesid]

@moldcursed: "i think we were meant to find each other."

it's late, and rose has gone to bed, leaving just the two of them in the comfort of the living room. he's been mindlessly flicking through channels to find something that preferably won't turn ethan's stomach or trigger any unpleasant memories, before finally settling on some old show neither of them have watched before. sid's not even sure what it's called, and he doesn't particularly care. he just likes the noise.

the show cuts to a commercial break, and that's when ethan speaks. the soft rumble of his voice weaves together with the sounds of the television, turned low to not disturb rose, to create a scene so domestic sid feels warmth blossom in his chest. he never thought that getting amnesia would eventually lead him down a path to this. it's quieted that restlessness in him. there's no rush, no seeking something he cannot name; all he needs is right here. a lover to cherish, a child to care for, a family to belong to.

"yeah?" he hums, hand finding its way to ethan's under the blankets. "how do you figure that?" sid believes him, of course. he's just curious to know what else ethan has to say.

#moldcursed #main verse. #they are so in love...