Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
When you kiss me heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose.

When you press me to your heart
I’m in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak, angels sing from above
Everyday words seem to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be la vie en rose.


So when people leave, I’ve learned the secret: let them. Because, most of the time, they have to.

Let them walk away and go places. Let them have adventures in the wild without you. Let them travel the world and explore life beyond a horizon that you exist in. And know, deep down, that heroes aren’t qualified by their capacity to stay but by their decision to return.

The Staying Philosophy (Everyday Isa)

“What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.”

Fucking SOBS. that book is so good


Stiles stood in the elevator of Derek’s building, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground as the lift took him to the top floor. 

Derek had texted him a simple, "Come to the loft", and Stiles practically bulldozed his way out of his house to get on the road.

See, with Derek, his texts were always so vague and so many possible interpretations could stem from them. Stiles didn’t know if “come to the loft” meant that something serious was happening, and that Derek needed aid, or if Derek just wanted to talk. 

Nevertheless, it had been quite a while since Stiles had actually come face-to-face with Derek, alone. Not since everything had finished up with the Darach and the Nogitsune.

The doors of the elevator lift opened and Stiles stepped out. He made his way down the darkened corridor until he reached Derek’s loft. He grabbed the handle of the door, and slid the monstrous hunk of metal down its track, opening the loft to himself.  

Beyond the threshold of Derek’s door was a sight that caught Stiles by surprise. It was dark, but there were about thirty twinkling light-bulbs hanging from the ceiling by cords of various lengths—almost as if they were floating. 

"Wh—what is all of this?” Stiles asked, stepping forward into the loft, while Derek stood in the middle of all the floating lights with a soft grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"An apology," Derek paused. "and hopefully a second chance to do what I should have done from the start." 

Read More