Thank God I’m Not A Gay Guy I’d Be Evil As Fuck Probably Killing People Too

Tyler and Narrator are SO Mark Corrigan and Johnson oh my word

Fight club fic where after Narrator gets released from the mental hospital he robs every department store in Chicago, stealing the soap he and Tyler made together, going back to their Paper Street home and sitting naked in the same bathtub Tyler once sat in, filling it was scalding water and spending days scrubbing himself head to toe over and over with the soaps, until he's used them all up and his skin is dry and cracked and peeling. Then going into the basement, still damp from the bathtub and finding all their soap making equipment. Dumping all the lye out onto the kitchen table before laying on it and feeling it burn through his flesh as the only thing he thinks about is still Tyler. His blood making more lye stick and burn and sear through him. Then as he's dying he hears the door open and sees Tyler

do you think they made the narrator’s boobs into soap after his top surgery?

Me when I’m an IKEA obsessed twink who’s a little silly:

unfortunately The Character has now lived rent free in my head for so long they can claim squatters' rights

I need balding narrator. Balding Tyler. Balding everybody. They all need to be 'thinning' and narrator needs to be in deep denial and spiraling about it

Hate trans male stereotypes with all my heart, but very much love the distinct subset of us who are big into Fight Club. Because hell yeah. The Narrator is Literally Me Bro. In my head Fight Club is a story about dysphoria, the repressed masculinity and anger that comes with it, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. It's accidental trans cinema. Also I like men.

oh, that’s fluff. that’s fluff of my character that I think should get run over by a bus.

Fight club did not work on me I got too attached to the narrator and dream of wearing ties and trousers

i watch seinfeld and fujo tf out