so i'm writing it based off vibes only
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Summary
I first heard about the club from Bob in the testicle cancer therapy group a week or so ago. He told me he was quitting.
"I mean, the cancer's gone now, and what have I got to show for it? Just a batchelor's degree in 'gettin' all mushy' with a major of 'massive fucking girl tits'. I'm tired of pretending this is what being a man is. All that '21st century tender masculinity' shit. And plus: I've found a new club. And it doesn't do all this gooey feelings shit like everywhere else does. This one's barebones. Primal, even."
“You don’t talk, you see. The leader says we’ve done too much talking. Too much buying from catalogues, or wasting our precious lives on therapy sessions, thinkin’ it’s gonna fix us. Instead, we solve our problems like real men. Instead, we fight.”
Needless to say, I was intrigued.
//
In a universe where the Narrator doesn't set up Fight Club. Instead, in his constant search for new therapy groups, he walks into a sweaty basement at 3am, and meets Tyler Durden- and oh my god, it gets worse.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is on hiatus for an unknown amount of time. um uhhh revision studying I suppose but in reality I just do not enjoy the characterisation of this.