hellosdenme said:

Should i read the manga?? Did it end ?? And which chapter does the anime stop at??



OMG, I cannot emphasize enough how GOOD Tokyo Ghoul manga is. Don’t pick up where the anime left off. Read from the very very beginning to get the full experience. The anime condensed like 70+ chapters of the manga and a lot of stuff were lost along the way. You have to read it from the very very very beginning or you will miss out on a shitload of things. Also, keep an eye out for the little details that Ishida-sensei throws here and there. Like manga panel parallels, hidden tarot card numbers, lots and lots of symbolism and foreshadowing. 

The manga ended with ch 143. GO READ IT NOW. And good luck. You’re going to need it! *evil laugh in the distance* 



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Phones & tablets

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Felicity throwback!! 7 DAYS LEFT ‘TILL THE PREMIERE!

I am describing for you today, as a sign of great affection, the bad and the difficult nature of my situation. I have found until now, from the earliest childhood, nobody who had the same needs of heart and conscience as myself. This compels me to still today, as at all times, to present myself, as best I can, and often with a lot of bad feeling, among one or another sort of human being who are permitted and understandable nowadays. But that one can only really grow among people of like mind and like will is for me an axiom of belief… that I have no such person in my misfortune. My university existence was a wearisome attempt to adopt to a false milieu; my approach to Wagner was the same - only in the opposite direction. Almost all my human relations have resulted from attacks of a feeling of isolation: overbeck, as well as Ree and Malwida - I have been ridiculously happy if ever I found, or thought I had found, in someone a little patch or corner of common concern. My mind is burdened with a thousand shaming memories of such weak moments, in which I absolutely could not endure my solitude any more. Not omitting my illness [depression], which always discourages me in the most horrifying way; I have not been so profoundly ill for nothing, and am ill on the average now still - that is, depressed - as I say, simply because I was lacking the right milieu and I always had to playact somewhat instead of refreshing myself in people. I do not for that reason consider myself in the least secret or furtive or mistrustful person; quite the reverse! If I was that, I would not suffer so much! But one cannot just simply communicate, however much wants to; one has to find the person to whom communication can be made. The feeling that there is about me something very remote and alien, that my words have other colors than the same words for other people… precisely this feeling, of which testimony has lately been reaching me from various sides, is nevertheless the subtle degree of ‘understanding’ that I have till now found… do not therefore think me mad.

—- Friedrich Nietzsche, Selected Letters May 5, 1885

This is an excerpt from a letter written to his sister Elizabeth.

Ernest Hemingway’s Macho Letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald

H/T to The Daily Beast.

Dear Scott—

We are going in to Pamplona tomorrow. Been trout fishing here. How are you? And how is Zelda?

I am feeling better than I’ve ever felt—havent drunk any thing but wine since I left Paris. God it has been wonderful country. But you hate country. All right omit description of country. I wonder what your idea of heaven would be—A beautiful vacuum filled with wealthy monogamists, all powerful and members of the best families all drinking themselves to death. And hell would probably [be] an ugly vacuum full of poor polygamists unable to obtain booze or with chronic stomach disorders that they called secret sorrows.

To me heaven would be a big bull ring with me holding two barrera seats and a trout stream outside that no one else was allowed to fish in and two lovely houses in the town; one where I would have my wife and children and be monogamous and love them truly and well and the other where I would have my nine beautiful mistresses on 9 different floors and one house would be fitted up with special copies of the Dial printed on soft tissue and kept in the toilets on every floor and in the other house we would use the American Mercury and the New Republic.* Then there would be a fine church like in Pamplona where I could go and be confessed on the way from one house to the other and I would get on my horse and ride out with my son to my bull ranch named Hacienda Hadley and toss coins to all my illegitimate children that lined the road. I would write out at the Hacienda and send my son in to lock the chastity belts onto my mistresses because someone had just galloped up with the news that a notorious monogamist named Fitzgerald had been seen riding toward the town at the head of a company of strolling drinkers.

Well anyway were going into town tomorrow early in the morning. Write me at the

Hotel Quintana



Or dont you like to write letters. I do because it’s such a swell way to keep from working and yet feel you’ve done something.

So Long and love to Zelda from us both—



they like bee movie [x]

it turned out more like they’re just flirting or “hey, Marco. check out this super prank i’m gonna play on Eren.”