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Tyler Durden - Blog Posts
My favourite Fine Ass Girl!
He smells so bad
Fight in da club
HELLO me and my friend dressed up as the soap boyfriends for halloweeeen and we thought it would be funny to take a "we're pregnant!" type pic in costume
And you know..... If anyone wated to... Maybe *cough cough* draw it..... I meeeaan that would be kinda cool..... No pressure tho guys 👾😋
Soapshipping editttt <333 (i would rly appreciate ur support on tt!)
Lemme just say this
Book narrator would whoop movie rators ass
Movie marla would whoop book marlas ass
And the Tyler's woouuuld.. idk, have sex
Guys is it weird if I ship myself with myself but like the myself that I created in my head?
CHAPTER 2 OF MY SOAPSHIPPING FIC JUST DROPPEDDDD
first of all TYSM FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT ON THIS I LOVE U GUYS 🫶🫶 and also I'm sorry this took so long I just procrastinate a lot sooo yeah I'll try to be quicker with chapter 3 tho anyways ENJOYYY
My very first fanfic just dropped‼️
It's not like groundbreakingly good (not even half decent) but i hope other soapshiping mfs will like it 🙏
First rule of fight club is you have to kiss your homies goodnight
(Not that good but i had to draw them cuz they consume my every thought)
FIGHT CLUB 4/19/25
Despite the social meanings of them, "slut" "whore" and "bitch" are not words I associate with women. At all. When I hear "slut" I think of like. Tyler Durden. "Whore" makes me think of Dennis Reynolds. "Bitch," of course, is Jesse Pinkman.
Soap sellers 🧼
OMG OMG TYLER????
the more i love him the more he'll suffer tbh
RIP Bob you would have loved top gun: maverick
Inflamed Sense of Rejection: Chapter One
~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: This is that Angel Face backstory I was talking about. His name is Caleb Handover because I'm not going to call him Angel Face the whole time. There will be no "spice" because I type this on a school computer and honestly I want to expand my writing abilities. ~~~~~~~~~~~
This is a horrible way to start a journal, probably the most over-done and unintriguing sentence used to start a story, but my name is Caleb Handover. I’m 16 years old, and I live in Wilmington, Delaware. I go to Mt. Pleasant High School, class of 2001. That makes me a Junior.
It’s boring. Every single day is the same. The ducks pass over the sky when I’m walking to school, and it looked cool when I was nine, but nowadays it just feels like I’m watching someone drive to work.
Delaware duck schedule: 6 AM, wake up to the same alarm as everyone in the neighborhood. 7 AM, fly to the pond for breakfast and a bath. Pass by that blond kid again.
My hair was born white. People on the street asked my mom while she was pushing the stroller, why do you bleach your baby’s hair?
She never did.
First period is Advanced Placement Calculus. I’m thinking about ducks. Derivatives, ducks, hyperbolas, ducks, factorials, ducks, integrals…
My mom called my hair duck-fuzz.
I like math, but I only say that because high schoolers have to like something. If you say you don’t like any subjects in school, you sound like a wannabe-dropout loser. I’m 16 years old and taking AP Calculus. I don’t think I’m a wannabe anything, but I don’t think I’m genuine, either. I’ve already done the warmup question on the board. Find 34! It’s just a factorial. Does anyone see me?
“Caleb Handover?”
Only during attendance.
I raise my hand until my elbow is about six inches off of my table, parallel to the smooth, fake-wood surface. Not high enough to seem like a geek, but still giving effort.
Invisibility is a science.
“Here.”
There’s a pause. My hand stays in the air.
“Caleb Handover?” my teacher tilts his chin up and surveys the room, his pencil hovering over my name, ready to write truant.
“I said I’m here,” I said louder as I raised my hand higher. My pen balances between my peace-sign fingers. My teacher flicks his eyes to me, and his eyebrows soften. He adjusts his glasses. The sad taste of desperation lingered in my mouth after essentially begging to be accounted for.
“Oh, hello Caleb. Sorry I didn’t see you.” My teacher laughs dryly and clears his throat. “Serena Hofstadter?”
She has mono.
“Gordon Jacobs?”
That’s how Serena got mono.
For a moment I picture Serena and Gordon as Romeo and Juliet during the final act. Gordon drinks from a tall, crystal vial of mononucleosis extract and collapses. Serena, covered head-to-toe in orange spray tan and blonde highlights underneath her Shakespearean garb, discovers him on the floor and gives a tearful soliloquy before kissing him feverishly in an attempt to drink the mono from his lips. In the end, they’re both bedridden, and everyone knows.
In fair Delaware we lay our scene.
I don’t know why, but I’m angry at them. Serena and Gordon. My knuckles turn white as I grip my pen harder, gritting my teeth and thinking about my peers who go to parties to drink and kiss and do drugs. I didn’t even think parties were a real thing until I started listening to rich kids’ conversations.
“I got home so late last night…” quote from the boy wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
“I’m, like, so hungover.” quote from the girl wearing sunglasses indoors at 8:30 AM.
“Her house was so tacky.” quote from the girl whose locker is head-to-toe in sequins and leopard print, who uses perfume to cover the smell of anxiety pheromones.
I’m not jealous, and I’d rather have lifelong diarrhea than be in the same boat as these kids, but it would be nice to have a life.
It would be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself.
~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: Please let me know what you think, and if I should keep writing this. It would be appreciated :)
What if fight club was actually 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 club and they partake in homoerotic fights and create a club where they have kinky degrading rituals wait a second
fight club characters as things not to say when someone just comes out
because you saw 'brokeback mountain'
josh is not real *forest ficting your mind*🤞🏻😇
Does anybody know what Purim is? It's a Jewish holiday involving costumes.
Anyway, I'll be Tyler Durden this year 🔥‼️
Hi there! I just finished reading nearly all of your work and I want to say I LOVED it, especially your writing for Fight Club. I was wondering about your thoughts on The Narrator from Fight Club (the main character who shares a brain with Tyler), or if he’s at all involved when you think about Tyler. Xoxo love ur work
Hiiii omg!!
First of all, I'm so so grateful you took the time out of your day to read my fics! I'm so glad that you enjoyed them!
I personally love Edward Norton and his role within Fight Club, so I do often think of him while writing. When setting up a plan for creating another addition to Fight Club in fanfiction, I usually try to think of Edward Norton as well such as, "is this an interchangeable dialogue between both Edward Norton and Brad Pitt?" However, I usually tend to put in the Brad Pitt gifs and gear things towards his style of being Tyler Durden because that's my own personal appeal but also others as he's quite the individual.
Thank you for asking!!
💛🦐
FUCK YOUR LIFE'S PERCEPTION
TYLER DURDEN X READER
⚠️Warnings: swearing ⚠️
Just a short drabble. Tyler tells you he cares about you. That's about it.
Tyler's cigarette smoke rose up from the end of his cancer stick and drifted up towards the ceiling of the non-ventilated room. The green paint was peeling in tremendous amounts and the stains from water damage were evident. The smoke curled in cylindrical spirals and kissed the chipping paint almost as if inviting it to fall to the floorboards below; which conveniently, were also subject to the same damage from the water above.
You laid in silence next to him, watching the sights from above and playing with the hem of your shitty Goodwill shirt that had been unraveling due to hasty scissor cuts you'd made the night before upon realizing it was longer in length than you'd originally wanted it. You were both in desperate need of a shower and while not bathing might've fit the aesthetic of Paper Street, it did not go over well anywhere else.
Motioning towards his pocket, Tyler silently offers you one of the cigarettes he has. The container itself only held two of them while the rest of the semi empty box has a couple of bloodied tissues stuffed into it's crevices and a haiku from you which read:
"Tyler, that bitch boy, God I love that man to death, shut the fuck up please." You had given it to him for his birthday and was quite proud of it to say the least. He looked at it, laughed, and then stuffed it into the very same pocket he had just withdrawn it from. The smoke was fading now, trying desperately on a fight against the house to find an open window or a vent to no avail.
Taking a cigarette for yourself, you allow him to light it. The drag was long and slow and you felt your lungs fill up with what you presumed would eventually kill you.
"A lot on your mind?" The leather jacket-clad man asked with a twinge of a smile, growing fond of your company over the past few weeks. Ever since he'd offered his services to you at Lou's while you were working, you'd grown attached to him. The night you guys fucked and laid in bed afterwards talking about how soap was the yardstick of civilization and how there should be more methods of shaving for women, you knew you couldn't just be fuck buddies. Your emotions with Tyler ran deep.
"Yeah, something like that." You said, blowing the smoke out and watching it meet the rest of the clouded air above. It was soothing in a way. Almost as comforting as a hug if you liked them.
"Wanna go for a walk?" He asked, knowing that was your favorite past time when you had plaguing thoughts. Sighing at his perfectness, you agree by getting up from the magazines you had plopped yourself down on on the floor. Placing your hands behind your back, you lean back and crack it with a satisfied hum escaping your lips. Tyler joins you and picks up his red tinted glasses on preparation for the outside.
"How'd you know?" You ask, walking out towards the door leading to the kitchen and eventually to the mud puddle infested streets of the lower income street you resided on with your boyfriend.
"Know what? That you were angry?" He asked smugly, walking after you with that confident manly sort of walk that only pricks seem to have.
"Yeah." You said, shivering once your foot stepped out the door. The shit shirt (as you referred to it as) was only making matters worse considering how thin the material was.
Upon your sudden fixation with the cold, your boyfriend took off his leather jacket and placed it over your shoulders in an attempt at comforting you. It wasn't entirely warm, but it would do.
"I feel like life is just getting worse. Everything is a downward spiral and we're all just inevitably spiraling with it. There's nothing to live for. We're all consumed by the media that tells us to kill ourselves. Nothing is right." You eventually admitted to Tyler who was preparing another cigarette from his pocket. Grinning, it seemed as though he liked your response considering how he didn't have to pry the information out of you.
"You sure you don't just need a shower?" He asked, walking alongside you purposely going through all the puddles accompanying the sidewalk you were on. He was strange like that. You were sure there was a poetic meaning to it as there always seems to be, but you didn't feel like figuring it out in this moment.
"Well, that too. But I'm serious, Tyler. Everything is shitting on everything else."
"I agree with you. The world is chaotic and terrible and beyond redemption. Humans redeeming themselves? Forget about it."
"Exactly. It's just-"
"-but there are some good things."
You stopped in your tracks. Did Tyler just contradict his every statement? He's always rambling on about the terrors of the world the unfortunateness of the human condition. It's always the media that's cynical. Down with the patriarchy. Everything sucks. Why was he disagreeing with you now?
"What do you mean by good things?" You asked, genuinely curious by his change in demeanor.
"I say fuck your life's perception. You're entirely right about everything. The world is beyond saving. People are dying everyday and the rich get away with murder. We're slaves to the television. But- there are some things worth living for."
Curious, you give Tyler that look which reads "what are you going on about?" In an urge for him to continue. The puddles stopped the closer and closer you guys made it to town and his shoes eventually stopped making the rubbery squeaking noises of clothing material hitting water. Gravel replaced the mud and Tyler started to kick the stray rocks beneath his feet.
"Like what?" You ask.
"Like soap. Literature. Arson. Bagel Bites. You." He says, matter of fact as if he didn't have to think of the answer at all. He was such a a badass, seeing the world for the way it was; grimy and worthless. He taught life lessons to the space monkeys he kept in the basement of Paper Street. There was no special little snowflake attitude about him. He was solely the most interesting and intelligent human being. From the way he wore his clothes to the way he treated everyone else. The way he smoked and the way he preferred baths over showers. He was always the first to willingly touch the city subway railings not caring if he got sick. He blew shit up for fun. And now he was telling you that you were something good about his life, something that he valued so little.
"You- you mean it?"You ask, reaching for his hand now that the sidewalk was level.
"About what I said in regards to Bagel Bites?" He joked with a knowing smile. "Of course."
"No, asshole. About me."
"Oh," he pretended to think for a moment, "yes."
Dating Tyler Durden Would Include....
Requested by the very lovely @hyuugasmary
Part two!!
⚠️ Warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of blood I think? ⚠️
So, you've found a way to get the most wanted man in the world to be your boyfriend. Him being wanted because of how gorgeous he is, but also wanted for the crimes he's committed. This should be fun.
Tyler has the largest infatuation with you. With the way your hair falls over your eyes or how your skin glows when you're out in the sun working in the garden- that type of stuff. He swears that your eyes were more gorgeous than any bar of soap he's blown something up with, even though he most likely wouldn't admit that to anyone but himself. Again, he knows where his priorities lie, but he's one to care more for the intimacy of language.
Many would say this is Tyler's "first life" meaning that he was not an old soul. This would make him overenthusiastic about everything and someone who contains a lot of excitement. This carried over to you, of course whom he finds to be the most exciting thing of all.
When Tyler walked downstairs from his room in the Paper Street house, all eyes fell on him to see what their leader would say. With his oddly printed shirts and wacky pairs of pants, he seemed almost out of place with how grimy and cluttered the rest of the house was. However, there was also a part of him that looked too perfect in this setting. The first time he walked downstairs and heard you yelling insults at his Space Monkeys, he felt his heart beat faster with the admiration he felt towards you.
Your boyfriend is very committed to his cause, as you probably know already. He's willing to do the most ridiculous acts just to show his contribution to the chaos and that's just what he decides to. So when he was in the bathroom ready to shave all the hair off his head, you joined him instead of being surprised he was going for the change. You helped him shave his head and then you asked him to shave yours. Tyler thought it was very badass of you to do that for him and Project Mayhem and he likes to remind you of how sexy it was on the daily.
If you rub Tyler the right way by doing everything in your power to love and care for him and to keep him happy throughout his sadistic tendencies, he might just appoint you to the leader of the Demolitions Committee. If this happens, Tyler trusts you more than anyone else- including himself.
He struggles with insomnia. As the stories go, he was raised in a mental institution and doesn't sleep for weeks on end. Only a part of this is true as you know your boyfriend can go a day or two without any shut-eye. Most of the time the only way he'll truly fall asleep is when he has you in his arms or by his side; listening to your breathing and feeling your fingertips graze the soft but calloused skin on his palms. He wants to know that you're safe at all times.
Tyler doesn't usually talk about his emotions when it comes to his insecurities. Insecurities that you might leave him after finding out about everything he's done or insecurities about not being good enough for you. Mind you, Tyler's confidence is very high but he wants to make sure that your relationship is a two-way street. You do so much for him and he wants to make sure you know he'll reciprocate that. You're usually able to pry these negative thoughts out of him once you're alone together up in his room or cleaning up after a fight in the basement of Lou's Tavern.
This can lead to some minor issues between the two of you if he plays off his insecurities. It can become small arguments but everything is usually fixed after make-up sex.
Sometimes, you have a habit of picking up each other's movements and catchphrases. You tend to find yourself leaning confidently against doorframes or with your hands up above your head, holding onto a part of the ceiling. You also picked up some of his phrases such as "The things you own end up owning you," or, "After a long enough timeline the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."
He picks up your favorite sayings and even starts to smile more since that's a very you thing. Being around someone who appreciates him and his psyche means the world to him and allows him to start showing more fondness for life.
It takes you a while to get used to your new place when living with Tyler, since the water wasn't always clean or the electricity didn't always work. You usually make the best of it but sometimes it's frustrating when your hair (or what's left of it) becomes really greasy. Tyler kinda picks on you for not adapting right away but hey, you did lose a lot of versatile solutions to modern living.
Tyler enjoys date nights. He won't do anything crazy, so don't expect extravagant restaurants or shiny new jewelry. Instead, be excited over a late night drive to look at the stars or listening to records you stole. You know how he has his whole "down with capitalism" rant so usually you two stick to something that doesn't require contributing to that.
Bonus!
Exchanging glances with Tyler while he's giving his speeches on total destruction and absolute chaos. He'll even wink at you in front of the other Space Monkeys.
Trying to fix some of the pipes in the basement with him. His shirt is off and he's sweating everywhere while he duct tapes the openings closed and oh god do I need to continue?
Tyler allows you to hang up the licenses you collect from people like Raymond K. Hessel. You like to put them in the door to your bedroom in a decorative way, all of their names and faces on display.
Going on flights with Tyler to set up new clubs. He's usually the one by the window seat and you're the one flipping through the manual, drawing flames and terrified faces on the diagrams with the paint markers you keep handy.
Wearing your boyfriend's infamous red sunglasses?!
If you're a non-smoker Tyler would do his best not to smoke in front of you due to your distaste for the drug. However, if you do smoke- expect sharing cigarettes. He'll light one and walk around the house with it dangling between his lips, only for you to take a long drag from it when he's least expectant of it.
A/N: I hope this is okay! Thank you for requesting<3