Worst Bank Robbers In The History Of Mankind!

having a cat is so miraculous. this little guy wants to sleep in my bed with me and purr on my chest. it’s his favorite hobby. no one told him to do that he just Loves His Mommy

I think people forget about Chloe too much when they talk about fight club. She is the only real character outside of Project mayhem that Narrator can half stand. She's the only real character that represents the outside world in any real way. Marla is too detached from real life to provide any kind of normalcy or to contrast the Narrator and Tyler, since she is heading towards bottom, as Tyler himself even says.

I think Chloe is more important to the story than she's given credit for. She represents some real life, in the same kind of way Bob does. She is a normal person, she probably went to work and had friends and maybe began to think about a family. Then she gets cancer, and suffers enormously, and then she dies.

I think part of it (like with Bob) is that the Narrator recognizes that they didn't deserve their deaths. They did nothing wrong, they hurt nobody. They did everything they were supposed to, yet they still suffered and died feeling completely isolated from the people around them and the people who used to be in their life had left them.

But he did nothing right. He runs an underground fight club, he commits crimes, he steals, he threatens, he beats and destroys, he cooks down parts of people into soap and sells it without batting an eye. He let's other young men get dragged into it all, he is the real source of the issues, not Tyler. He refuses to even consider that he was to blame for things.

And yet, he's fine. He survives, he enjoys his time, he connects to somebody, he is surrounded by people practically falling over themselves to help him and do whatever he says. Chloe and Bob died, alone, and he lives, void of any consequence.

What level of rotted is it when you think you're the most basic man alive for loving the chemical burn scene forgetting that normal people would NOT find that sexual in the slightest nevermind romantic

Thinking about Angel Face sneaking out late at night when his parents are fast asleep. Maybe they said goodnight to him, or even tucked him in, maybe they just ignored him. Ignored. That's how he felt, how he's felt for months, for his entire life, ever since he'd learned what being a man was. To be big, to be tough, to hit and be hit, to drink and watch TV and laugh and lust after women with men. But he wasn't a man, wasn't big or tough, or made from marble like he saw on the television set in his living room. He wasn't a man, was he?

He walked, walked through the night streets, past groups of grown men, drunk off of their asses, shoving against eachother, and not caring how disgusting it was to behave that way- those were men, that was a group of men, just like TV, just like everyone older than him at school. Big and tough and hairy.

Eventually, maybe he walked past a group of men, who were leaving some closed bar, some hoisting others up off the ground, holding them steady as they walked. But unlike the other groups, it wasn't because they were drunk. No, it was because they had been beaten, had hurt eachother, fought and won and lost and bruised and broken. It was real, not some movie, a real group of men, men just like he wanted to be. And, last in the group, a man stumbled out, dressed in a mismatched outfit, and colored sunglasses, dried blood crusted to his mouth and lips, ruining his shirt.

That was it. That's all that the boy had needed to see. Men, talking and laughing together, coming out of a bar after hurting eachother. He mapped out the final man permanently in his mind's eye, taking it all in, imagined himself beside him, just as beaten and ruined and somehow better than he was now. It was perfect.

He had to get a fake ID for next week, he thought to himself, had to be there, join in. He had to become a man, no matter what it did to him.

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

Fight Clubs your Stobotnik

I am going to chew on and kill Pilot I swear I'll get him one of these days

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

yaoi attack incoming ⚠️⚠️⚠️