i hope this hurts.

Independent JIMMY of MOUTHWASHING. 🎂 18+ and trigger warning.

[ih0pethishurts]

Independent JIMMY of MOUTHWASHING. Written by Ashley (she/her, 18+).

Rules below.

18+ only and trigger warning. MOUTHWASHING is a game that portrays extremely mature content and deeply troubling themes ranging from abuse, violence, death, self harm. Jimmy is a bad person.

No explicit sexual violence. Those familiar with MOUTHWASHING will know the implications of interacting with a Jimmy blog. Beware of THEMES of sexual violence and abuse, for example, crude dialogue and narratives.

Please no godmodding, hate, toxicity, that sorta stuff.

Open to OCs, AUs, multifandom, multiships, etc.

I'm real chill and I've been writing bad dudes for a long time. Super open to plots, casual chats, long ass threads, whatever!

[kneptoons]

maybe I should’ve used the donkey emoji 🫏 instead hmmm (get it because he’s an ass)

[ih0pethishurts]

Logically, he knew she had shot him, but hearing it aloud made him furious. Temporarily, he forgot the fear of death. Psychotic bitch. He’d kill her for that. As soon as he was better. As soon as the pain stopped. When his arm worked again, and the ship stopped spinning, and all was quiet in his head…

Jimmy went along with her instructions, gritting his teeth together and tensing his muscles to sit up. He moaned into the wall, grateful for the cool linoleum wall against his sweaty face. He hated her. She did this to him.

Inside that brave bitter pilot, a scared and ugly creature wept. He didn’t want to die, or suffer, or God forbid - become like fucking Curly. Kept alive out of guilt (not of choice), captive in his own body, agony the only world he’ll ever know. Jimmy needed her.

“Fuck the mouthwash. Give me whatever you have,” he muttered, brows knitting together as he stared past her. He was hallucinating again. Cartoon horses pranced around the nurse in a duck-duck-goose fashion, chortling and neighing and mocking him when he was tagged and couldn’t move. Look who’s in a pickle noooOOOW!

Anya’s presence was strangely comforting amidst the ponies. Her hands felt nice against his skin. Jimmy watched her swallow back her fear and push through, dutifully working to save him. She was merciful, despite it all. How? If they’d switched places… he’d have left her to fester.

Polle chimed in his ear again, chin up, buttercup! You’re gonna be okey-dokey!

“You can’t let me end up like Curly.” He scrabbled to grab Anya’s sleeve again, pulling her in close to his face. “Promise me. Do you promise? I'd rather die. I'd want to be fucking dead," he pleaded with her, eyes wild. "He probably wants to die too. He wants to go home."

[nursewashing]

every touch felt iron-hot. scathing, nauseating. anya fought the urge to wrench herself away for only a moment before she pulled back from jimmy's grasp, an unsettled and harrowed look in her own eyes. gone was the half-lidded, subdued woman — cast aside even if temporarily for someone who, unlike jimmy, was not afraid to die. for once, it dawned on her that the ball was in her court, so to speak; she could save his life, but there was no oath needed for her own. it'd be easy to withdraw help, for once, and leave him stranded without a nurse.

❛ ... i'll go get the paracetamol. ❜ she bit her tongue, held off in lieu of standing, walking to the medical storage cabinet with more determination than one would typically see in her. ❛ be right back... ❜

a gunshot wound was no burning body. flesh was marred but not flayed by the lick of fire. no amputation needed. she could easily save him compared to the horrors she'd faced while keeping curly alive, and that thought crossed her mind as she grabbed the green-tinted plastic bottle, returning to jimmy's side. she could save him — there'd be a clear risk of infection, but they still had some hand sanitizer left to combat that. that, and it would be nothing so horrific as the captain laying forever-prone in medical.

( what would he think? he surely heard the gunshot, too, from the medical room. )

saving jimmy was a promise anya could not fulfill, however, without considering the collateral. she knelt down beside the wounded man, a hardness in her eyes betrayed only be the shaking of her hands. she uncapped the bottle, taking a deep breath and making eye contact.

❛ if i help you... if i save you... jim, what will you do to me? do you promise you won't make my life worse, too? i- i have to hear you say it. ❜

[ih0pethishurts]

“Thanks,” he muttered, quietly, to the empty room after Anya had left.

Jimmy had spent his life doing everything the hard way. Getting what he wanted had always required force. Intimidation. Aggression. Violence. It was all he knew, and all he’d ever needed. Until now. Bleeding out, disoriented, too weak to sit up. Helpless. Vulnerable. The feeling was as foreign as it was unbearable. He had begged Anya for mercy, and the humiliation stung deeper than the gaping hole in his torso. 

The time between Anya’s departure and return stretched into eternity. Jimmy felt the madness creeping in when he could smell leather balm and horse hair. So he talked to Polle to kill the time. Polle asked him if he was dying, Jimmy said he didn’t know. Polle asked him if he was guilty, and Jimmy said of course, but Polle kicked his limp shins and said he was lying. Jimmy had cried out and screamed he was going to burn Polle alive, and Polle had retorted, like Curly? 

He drifted in and out of consciousness. Then, like an angel, Anya’s pale face came into view, along with the familiar green bottle. He could see the remaining pills inside. Relief surged through the pilot so suddenly he laughed. A crazy grin split his face, made his head hurt, and a thought cut through: if there had ever been a good time to be shot, it was now. 

“Curly doesn’t need them?” he asked, looking up at Anya, so hopeful.

Polle popped up over Anya’s shoulder, his bulbous cartoon snout spread into a wide smile with huge white buckteeth. Polle says: A friend in need is a friend indeed!

The absurdity of it all - the child-like, playschool promise, the grotesque pain, the cartoon horse’s songs - it was insane. He was going insane. He thought he was laughing, but he was sobbing.

“Sure, I promise.” As if he could say no. Jimmy locked eyes with Anya, then glanced at Polle next to her. “I promised her, all right? Nothing will happen. Now fuck off.”

[ih0pethishurts]

In a ship as massive as the Tulpar, finding a moment alone shouldn’t be this hard. Yet Jimmy had resorted to sneaking away during his lunch breaks to escape the constant chatter of his crewmates. Recently, it felt as if someone was always glued to his side, and he needed a damn smoke.

Jimmy descended into the ship’s underbelly, winding his way to the abandoned vehicle bay he’d taken to calling his spot. Once upon a time, it had housed high-value cargo like artillery and armored transports, but those days were long gone. Pony Express hadn’t exactly been a premier carrier in years, and now the bay was just a graveyard of old equipment and stale air.

Jimmy perched atop a cold metal crate and lit his cigarette, tapping away ash into his makeshift tire ashtray. (Lots of room left in there.) Up here, away from Earth, it finally felt like he could think. No gravity pulled him down, no bad blood stained his boots. Just the endless void of space and the distant hum of the Tulpar around him. For a rare moment, the pilot let his guard down, granting himself peace.

“Jesus.” He nearly jumped, jerking his head around to find Grace standing behind him. He scowled, “then don’t go sneaking up on me like you’re about to.”

She didn’t seem fazed by this intrusion, which only irritated Jimmy more.

“Yeah, it’s the cheap stuff. Reminds me of home.”

A dry smile tugged at his mouth, and Jimmy leaned back on his crate, extending his hand to offer her the smoke. “Didn’t expect to see you down here Grace. Someone might think we’re up to no good.”

[qualityqontroll]

❛ damn, they might. that'd be a shame. ❜ her words are deadpanned in return, but not entirely mirthless. as she stepped into the unused vehicle bay, her gaze darted around the premises, taking in the details of of it all—when did pony express even use any of this? then again, it wasn't her business to care much about her employers' doings, as long as she did her job the 'correct' way and got paid.

❛ i kind of like exploring places i'm not supposed to, though. i don't know. adds a little bit of spice to the mundanities of life, or whatever. ❜ the scent of cheap cigarettes, too, add a little spice. she'd smoked her fair share back when spending late nights in casinos, dumping all of her money into the void. ah, good times.

❛ you miss a lot from home? ❜ grace's gaze returns to jimmy, curious, as she leans up against the wall nearest to the door to the abandoned vehicle bay.

❛ me personally, i kind of wish they had beer or something out here. or something that isn't some mocktail, y'know? it's kind of a marvel that anyone can stay a hundred percent sober on a trip this long. ❜

[ih0pethishurts]

“A shame, huh? Well, hanging around me’s already enough to ruin your reputation.” Jimmy shrugged, blowing smoke to the side to not let it drift her way. He wasn’t under any illusions about how the crew saw him - friendly enough on the surface, but not someone you’d let your guard down around. He was too rough, unpredictable. He made people feel uneasy.

“I don’t miss Earth,” he said bluntly. “There’s nothing down there you can’t get anywhere else.” Jimmy left it at that. He didn’t feel the need to share about his past, nor did he care for people to know. It just gave them ammo for later. He didn’t need pity, or help. All he needed was Curly and Pony Express; they’d pulled him out of hell when everyone else had abandoned him.

“I heard you came in after years on the Pegasus," he asked, shifting gears. He’d been meaning to ask Grace about it. Curly had once said he’d known the pilots of the Pegasus, but had been suspiciously ambiguous when asked what happened to them when the ship was canned. Curly was an awful liar, and it was painfully obvious when he avoided difficult questions.

“They ever let you bring booze on board?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips. “We’ve rigged up some homebrew moonshine in the past. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

[ekrixart]

take responsibility

[exemiin]

responsibility

[angonwladimir]

Beat him up (cute emoji)

What r hell should i even do there HELP

[qualityqontroll]

❛ don't worry. i'm not gonna rat you out. ❜ grace had slipped into the hall with nobody else around — all of the other crewmates seemed to be busying themselves with work. she'd ran through the list of tasks she'd been assigned today and double checked, triple checked... all finished for the day. with nothing else to occupy herself with, she'd taken to walking around the premises of the tulpar and its narrow halls. that's when she caught sight of jimmy, the scent of nicotine hanging in the air an unusual but noteworthy detail.

❛ how'd you even get those, anyway? ❜ a slight tilt of her head, curiosity visible in the technician's eyes as she watched @ih0pethishurts. ❛ brought them all the way from earth, or something? ❜

[ih0pethishurts]

In a ship as massive as the Tulpar, finding a moment alone shouldn’t be this hard. Yet Jimmy had resorted to sneaking away during his lunch breaks to escape the constant chatter of his crewmates. Recently, it felt as if someone was always glued to his side, and he needed a damn smoke.

Jimmy descended into the ship’s underbelly, winding his way to the abandoned vehicle bay he’d taken to calling his spot. Once upon a time, it had housed high-value cargo like artillery and armored transports, but those days were long gone. Pony Express hadn’t exactly been a premier carrier in years, and now the bay was just a graveyard of old equipment and stale air.

Jimmy perched atop a cold metal crate and lit his cigarette, tapping away ash into his makeshift tire ashtray. (Lots of room left in there.) Up here, away from Earth, it finally felt like he could think. No gravity pulled him down, no bad blood stained his boots. Just the endless void of space and the distant hum of the Tulpar around him. For a rare moment, the pilot let his guard down, granting himself peace.

“Jesus.” He nearly jumped, jerking his head around to find Grace standing behind him. He scowled, “then don’t go sneaking up on me like you’re about to.”

She didn’t seem fazed by this intrusion, which only irritated Jimmy more.

“Yeah, it’s the cheap stuff. Reminds me of home.”

A dry smile tugged at his mouth, and Jimmy leaned back on his crate, extending his hand to offer her the smoke. “Didn’t expect to see you down here Grace. Someone might think we’re up to no good.”

[ih0pethishurts]

She’s going to save me.

The lounge spun around Jimmy, despite sitting so perfectly still. Behind his eyelids, the scene replayed. Anya trembled before him, but stood her ground. She begged him to stay back, the gun wobbling back and forth despite her two-handed grip. It had all happened so quickly. He never would have thought she’d actually do it, but put any animal in a cage and see what happens… he should have known. 

Unconscious crept in at the edges of his mind, like a warm blanket, welcoming him to sleep. Away from this hell. It’d be so easy… 

That was, until Anya got to work. Jimmy barely bit back a scream. It escaped him anyways, a smothered pathetic whimper, betraying his fear. The pressure of her hands and the bandage were unbearable, just sheer agony against his raw nerves. The pain ripped through the pilot’s chest and he thrashed, legs kicking out and missing, and the rapid movement only caused another shockwave through his crumpled form. 

“Please, it hurts,” he exhaled sharply, eyes wide, delirious. He clamped his good hand against Anya’s arm with his remaining strength, desperate for - for - anything to stop it.

His ears rang with the ship’s alarms blasting around him. WARNING. CRASH IMMINENT. WARNING. CRASH IMMINENT. But a wild sweep of his head around the room revealed it was silent - nothing more than his own breathing and the stretching of wretched fabric. 

“You… you did this. You shot me?” 

His ears kept ringing.

[nursewashing]

❛ yes, jim. i shot you. ❜ her voice was unwavering, a heaviness to her tone as she applied pressure to the fresh wound in attempts to slow the bleeding. she met his gaze from her spot on the floor, knelt beside him, sticky and slippery blood coating her hands. ❛ you'll live, though. i'm sure you will... ❜

this wasn't the final ending she'd hoped for — the peace of knowing that the man who'd robbed her of her future had vanished the moment she shot somewhere that wouldn't kill him. hearing him whimper didn't help, either, adding to a sense of GUILT, the tendrils of which nearly strangled her waking mind.

it was almost satisfying to see him so miserable, though. ALMOST. anya wouldn't deny the slightest hint of satisfaction that nearly competed against the guilt she felt. at the very least, jimmy might've understood a fraction of the pain that he'd put anya through.

❛ i need to elevate this. ❜ her trembling hands guided his body into a sitting position, and with some straining, she had the 'captain' propped up against the nearest wall. her determined, sober gaze met his. ❛ we're out of oxycodone, for your pain... but i can give you paracetamol. or would you prefer mouthwash...? ❜

[ih0pethishurts]

Logically, he knew she had shot him, but hearing it aloud made him furious. Temporarily, he forgot the fear of death. Psychotic bitch. He’d kill her for that. As soon as he was better. As soon as the pain stopped. When his arm worked again, and the ship stopped spinning, and all was quiet in his head…

Jimmy went along with her instructions, gritting his teeth together and tensing his muscles to sit up. He moaned into the wall, grateful for the cool linoleum against his sweaty face. He hated her. She did this to him.

Inside that brave bitter pilot, a scared and ugly creature wept. He didn’t want to die, or suffer, or God forbid - become like fucking Curly. Kept alive out of guilt (not of choice), captive in his own body, agony the only world he’ll ever know. Jimmy needed her.

“Fuck the mouthwash. Give me whatever you have,” he muttered, brows knitting together as he stared past her. He was hallucinating again. Cartoon horses pranced around the nurse in a duck-duck-goose fashion, chortling and neighing and mocking him when he was tagged and couldn’t move. Look who’s in a pickle noooOOOW!

Anya’s presence was strangely comforting amidst the ponies. Her hands felt nice against his skin. Jimmy watched her swallow back her fear and push through, dutifully working to save him. She was merciful, despite it all. How? If they’d switched places… he’d have left her to fester.

Polle chimed in his ear again, chin up, buttercup! You’re gonna be okey-dokey!

“You can’t let me end up like Curly.” He scrabbled to grab Anya’s sleeve again, pulling her in close to his face. “Promise me. Do you promise? I'd rather die. I'd want to be fucking dead," he pleaded with her, eyes wild. "He probably wants to die too. He wants to go home."

[ih0pethishurts]

@leaderbond

Funny. When he’d turned 18, Jimmy had made a promise to himself that he’d never allow himself to go hungry again. As an adult, he’d work hard and always earn enough to put food on the table. Life on Earth had been cruel to him.

And yet, here he was, light years away from Earth, starving to death in a glorified tin can. 

Jimmy sat on the floor of the lounge, resting his head against the kitchen counter. He flipped the half-full bottle of mouthwash upside down, watching the aqua-blue liquid bubble and slosh inside. Sure, it filled them up, burnt like hell on the way down ("Mmm, whiskey!" Swansea had cackled), but it never took away the gnaw of true hunger.

“What do you miss most?” Jimmy asked while twisting and tightening the pristine white cap of the bottle. “I miss burgers. Side of fries with ketchup, a cool, crisp Coke…” The pilot trailed off, closing his eyes and reminiscing over the crack of a fresh cold can. 

“You know,” he opened one eye to peek at Dwight, a wild grin forming, “the last time a freighter went missing - and was rescued, there were only two survivors. They’d eaten everyone else.”

Hunger sure did give him ideas.

[k-0re]

take responsibility

[ih0pethishurts]

ooc: starters on their way gamers i just had to 100% mouthwashing's achievements to establish my dominance

[elanxd-deactivated20260202]

Can you get the _____ , please?

[machinecatgirl]

mouthwashing

[alarucha]

That phrase stuck with me...

[ratsayssqueak-deactivated202507]

[ih0pethishurts]

@muses-inn / Carver

Woof. Earth Defense Force? Special Ops? Arsenal Exchange? Sergeant Carver must be here on business.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, careful not to let his expression betray his nerves.

“Yeah, it’s convenient I stopped hanging out with scum and got a real job,” he scoffed with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “I’m building something better for myself - I’m done with that shit. Been out for a long time.”

His gaze flicked to the cargo bay’s loading doors, wondering how screwed they’d be if the boys decided now was the time to come out, then dropped to the rifle slung at Carver’s side. Biiiig man, strutting around with that kind of firepower. What the hell did he need it for? The whole thing was absurd.

“I’m good with talking here. Got nothing to hide,” Jimmy added smoothly, lying as effortlessly as breathing. "But the suits at Pony Express won't be happy you're talking to me."

[markerexposed]

[🌐] "Yeah too bad I don't give a fuck about Pony Express' suits." There's Carver's blunt and unfiltered opinion on that matter. He's also doing a piss-poor job at hiding his temper or underlying disdain for corporation bosses. To be fair though, not like it's hard to feel that way about the latter.

If Jimmy wants to talk about this here, then that's perfectly fine by the Sergeant. It's less time wasted in walking around the spaceport, at least. He is pretty sure that their main goal is not at the spaceport, the less time wasted here, the more time they have to seize the criminals.

"The Arsenal Exchange. What was your role there, and how much do you know about their hideout and size?" He's not nervous, given that his men keep an eye on their surrounding. But he needs insider-knowledge on their operations, and he needs it yesterday.

@ih0pethishurts

[ih0pethishurts]

Too bad indeed. 

Jimmy can’t help but feel an ounce of respect for the soldier. He really delivered with the whole tough guy action hero performance, even when it’s just him and some shitty freighter’s second-in-command on a scuffed loading dock. 

“Like I said, it was a long time ago.” Jimmy folded his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted to give off. “I was a driver. They’d load up a truck, tell me where to go, or who to pick up, and I’d do it. That’s all. I never even saw the goods.” It wasn’t all lies - he had been a driver once. And in some sense, he still was - just up in the stars instead of on the road.

“Back then, I’d say it was fifty or so guys. There weren’t hideouts, just drop-off locations until something could be shipped out. People had families, they weren’t interested in sleeping over.” 

From somewhere in the cargo bay come voices. Definitely Jimmy’s guys. He ignored them, instead focusing on Carver.

“That’s about it. Sorry I couldn’t be more help, man.” He gestured with his head towards the way Carver had come from. “Gotta get back to work.”