For @laurahale-appreciation Week, Day 7: Dealer's Choice.
All pics taken from Pinterest.
A concept: Famous&Rich!Lesbian!Laura Hale is living the best life she can. There are a few hurdles, namely, homophobic assholes who try to either "fix" her up or call her a bad girl. There's even a Facebook Page that asks parents to be wary of the influence she could exude on their children. Like making a name for herself as an independent woman, in a society where men thrive and reap most of the benefits, is something to scoff at.
Laura doesn't care. She's enjoying her life. She parties, she dresses however she wants, she meets new people literally every day, and she gives courage to those who are still in the closet.
As always, I am so very grateful to everyone who contributed. This event wouldn’t be possible without you. I look forward each and every year to seeing what you all come up with, and you never disappoint.
You may have noticed that I forgot neglected to do daily round-up posts this year. Don’t fret! I will still be compiling the final round-up, which will be up in a few days. Late entries, as per usual, are more than welcome. I will still be monitoring the tag and mentions!
Thank you all so much for joining me in this endeavor, and I look forward to seeing you all next year ❤
LAURA HALE APPRECIATION WEEK - DAY SEVEN THEME: DEALER’S CHOICE
Local lesbrarian Laura Hale runs her own bookstore and community book exchange in a small shop in New York. She befriends Noshiko Yukimura one day when the kitsune strolls in searching for a particular book, and when her daughter and Laura hit it off, Noshiko suggests Laura take Kira under her wing, at first acting as babysitter and later mentor and confidant as she grows older.
Laura Hale Appreciation Week - Day 7: Dealer’s Choice @laurahale-appreciation
They built me up three hundred feet tall,
just for me to crumble down.
They filled me with all their hopes and dreams,
but I’m too tired to stand.
I’m on the edge of the world,
the peak of the mountain
but I’ve reached the top
and there’s no one around.
So I’m leaving now
as I was, five foot eight,
still in the clothes they gave me,
without a clue who I am.
So I’m leaving now
with a song in my heart
and a prayer on my lips
that I’m finally on my own.
So I’m leaving now
with all my love and hope.
I’ll pray for you,
and I’ll pray for me.
A very vague concept: Laura is tired of everyone's expectations, she can't keep up being their Alpha anymore. It's eating her alive, so she leaves to find herself and peace within.
I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home
Burning like a slow flame, you’ll never find me gone
LISTEN
Forest Fire - Brighton Once - Brad Caleb Kane Wolves Without Teeth - Of Monsters and Men In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier Lights - Wanderhouse Things We Lost in the Fire - Janet Devlin Always - Gavin James Make A Shadow - Meg Myers Life in Her Yet - Rag’n’Bone Man Burning House - EZA, Aaron Krause The Wreck of Our Hearts - Sleeping Wolf Dark Runs Out - Amy Stroup Storm Song - PHILDEL Carry Me Home - The Sweeplings On the Other Side - Phillip Larue
Laura was running late, sprinting from the parking lot to the stadium, decked out from head to toe in blue and orange. Tacky, if you asked her, but it’s not every day her little brother is the starting pitcher for the New York Mets.
She makes it to her seat in time for the National Anthem. She’s sitting on the first baseline, right above the dugout, with the perfect view to see Derek pitch.
The early evening heat isn’t unbearable, the crowd is abuzz with excitement for the Subway series, the rivalry and camaraderie are palpable. She flags down a vendor for an ice-cold beer and another for a bag of peanuts.
The man to her left lifts his beer in salute. “Cheers,” he says, “May the best team win!”
She finally notices his t-shirt proudly displays the Yankees logo. She flashes a cocky grin. “Oh, we will.”
“So, you come here often?” He asks casually.
If Derek weren’t about to throw his first pitch, she might have commented on his cheesy pick-up line, but instead, she’s on her feet cheering as Derek throws a strike.
“THAT’S IT BABY BRO, SHOW ‘EM HOW IT'S DONE!” She hollers. As she sits back down, she turns to the man again, who has an impressed look on his face. “Yeah, I’ve been here a few times.”
“So, Derek Hale. Your brother?”
“The one and only.”
“Damn. I’m really regretting losing this bet.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Laura turns fully towards him. Derek has already struck out the first batter and he’s 1-2 on the second.
The man pulls up his shirt a little, showing that he’s wearing a bright orange shirt underneath the white pinstripe Yankees one.
“I lost a bet with my buddy, and he made me wear this shirt until the fifth. I bleed orange and blue, though, I promise.”
It’s 2-2 now as she responds, “I can’t believe a diehard Mets fan would ever be caught dead with that awful logo. I’m deeply sorry you lost the bet.”
Derek finally strikes out batter number two.
“I’m Laura,” she offers her hand to fist bump the man.
“Stiles.” He reciprocates.
“Is your buddy here?” She asks as batter number 3 takes his position at home.
“Nah, he couldn’t make it. But the game is televised. He could see me at any time and I wouldn’t know it.”
“Ah,” she nods. “Well, then I guess you’re stuck till the fifth.”
Stiles shrugs. “As long as hottie Hale doesn’t see me, I’ll be okay.”
“Hottie WHO?”
“FUCK,” he swears. “I forgot who I was sitting next to.” Stiles rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I mean, respectfully, your brother is very, very good looking. And I know he is so far out of my league. But a guy can’t help but dream, you know?”
Laura smirks. “Oh Stiles, I think today is your lucky day.”
Derek strikes out batter number three to end the inning. She sees him making his way towards the dugout and stands, waving her arms and yelling his name to get his attention.
Derek waves back.
“Der!” She points to Stiles. “Your biggest fan!”
Derek sees the Yankees shirt and cocks his head in confusion. Stiles, meanwhile, has turned a bright shade of red and is hiding behind his beer.
“Laura, I can’t believe you just did that,” Stiles hisses, and Laura laughs.
“Trust me, kid. You’ll be glad I did. Just stick with me after the game. I think my little brother would be very happy to meet you. Just toss your shirt in the trash first.”
Derek ends up throwing a no-hitter in his first starting game, and the Mets win the first game of the series.
Later, it’s Derek and Stiles who win. And it’s all thanks to Laura.
For @laurahale-appreciation! I had been meaning to write this fic since last year’s LHAW, and I finally started writing it! Instead of one long fic, I’m writing it in chapters. This is for the Resurrection theme! I finished on time, but uploading it took over half an hour, so hopefully it’s still okay!
Title: Beta to Alpha, Alpha to Beta (Chapter 1)
Rating: T
Warnings: Canon-typical injury
Theme: Resurrection
Words: 1423
Summary: Instead of Peter, Laura is the one who comes back to life, but Derek is still the alpha.
LAURA HALE APPRECIATION WEEK - DAY SEVEN THEME: DEALER’S CHOICE
Use this day to write whatever your heart desires, as long as Laura features prominently. Maybe you had an idea for one of the proposed themes that didn’t make the final cut. Maybe your content just doesn’t quite fit for any of the previous days. Maybe you were a little late and just now got it finished. This is the catch-all day for you!
Remember, any kind of content is welcome!
Submissions accepted beginning on September 19th!
Laura Hale Appreciation Week - Day 6: Resurrection @laurahale-appreciation
Blood scorching
her and his
no longer dead.
Nail scratching
all way up
awake again.
The moon rises
into the sky
to see the world.
“Welcome back, Laura.”
With tainted hand,
his mouth a wicked grin.
Unable to see the
truth of the lies
in his eyes.
She takes it.
Her hand on his
“Glad to be back.”
A very vague concept: Deucalion resurrects Laura and invites her to join his Alpha pack.
Moodboard and accompanying ficlet for @laurahale-appreciation Week, Day 6: Resurrection.
Can also be found on AO3.
Wake The Spirit
Laura wakes up gasping for breath on a hard surface. It’s something solid with a lot of cracks, little pin-like things poking all over her back as she struggles on top of it.
“Mom?” She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. Her mom would, though. She knows everything. Laura hadn’t been surprised at all that she’d found her crying in that white room, in the space between worlds; she couldn’t be with her all the time, but that was okay. Laura had been used to not having her around.
“Laura,” someone speaks her name like a prayer, a whisper of awe. She recognizes that voice.
Her gut tells her she knows what’s happened to her. But it’s still a shock to her system—she is alive, she is alive again—when she tries to sit up and the person that helps her is Derek. Her baby brother.
for @laurahale-appreciation’s day 6 prompt: Resurrection
season 2 AU: it’s Laura in Lydia’s head, not Peter
—
“Nice gloves.”
There was a girl on the bench beside her. Long brown hair, big green eyes. Pretty. Well dressed enough that Lydia should’ve remembered seeing her around school. But she didn’t look even vaguely familiar.
Lydia folded her hands primly in her lap. “Thank you.”
The girl shifted in her seat, eyes darting around the room like she was looking for an escape route. Or waiting for an attack. “So,” she said. “What’s your brand of psychosis?”
“What’s yours?” Lydia muttered back. Anyone acting that shifty, especially one clearly waiting for the guidance counselor the same way she was, had to have a number of neuroses.
Characters: Derek Hale, Laura Hale, Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski, Deaton
Words: 1598
LAURA HALE APPRECIATION WEEK - DAY FOUR THEME: resurrection
When Lydia shows up at his door to tell him his name unlocked the last of the list, he doesn't react. He knows Braeden is watching him, gauging how he responds. He knows Lydia will slowly come down from her premonition and switch to fix-it mode. She came alone, not wanting him to feel subjected to the pack's stares, but he knows that Stiles knows, and the kid has never been great at keeping pertinent information quiet.
He insists that he's fine each time he's asked, Braeden deciding to let him stew in whatever he's feeling while Scott and Stiles try to get more out of him. The latter goes so far as to goad Derek, trying to taunt him into talking but that isn't something they've ever done and he doesn't plan on starting now. It's easy to push back when they ask, because he's being honest. He isn't looking forward to dying, but he's resigned to it, knowing he's made his mother proud, made his family proud. He's worked to right the wrongs Peter has done, making Hale a respectable name again. Maybe he'll get to be with them soon.
"She didn't show you the whole list, did she?" Stiles asks a few days later. The whole pack has been working overtime to protect their own and figure out who is behind the deadpool in the first place. Kira returned after staying in hospital with her mom, and Scott has taken some time away from everyone to be alone with her, leaving Stiles with nobody else to pester.
"Why does it matter, Stiles? I'm marked for death, I know that already." He's exasperated but tolerant, realizing he might actually end up missing the banter they have. His gaze doesn't leave the gun he's reassembling, a task Braeden gave him for when he needs something to fill the spare time.
"Because there's a name on it that might draw your attention, sour wolf." Stiles is serious, and while this has become the norm after his possession, it's still out of place.
"So? Who was it?" He can hear the uptick in Stiles' pulse, scents anxiety in the air, but maintains his focus. If he engages, Stiles may take it as invitation for another attempt at a heart-to-heart.
There's no response for a moment, just the sound of paper unfolding, before a crumpled sheet slides into Derek's line of sight. He looks up at Stiles, who crosses his arms and simply nods toward the paper to emphasize Derek should look at it. Obliging, he scans the sheet, landing on a name two-thirds down the list.
"That's not possible," he says, eyes stuck on the letters. He doesn't pay attention to the numbers, just that string of impossibility.
"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, voice tense but gentle.
"You saw her body, you know it's not possible."
"Also shouldn't be possible for Peter to be alive, what with his quasi-possession of Lydia a few months ago, yet here we are."
Silence blossoms between them, and Derek thanks the universe for Stiles letting him sit with the information.
"Could it be outdated? Maybe the list isn't live, maybe it was made years ago," Derek suggests. He looks up to Stiles, eyes wide in hopeful shock. The only response he gets is a shrug as Stiles considers and starts to pace, running a hand through his hair in contemplation.
"I mean, it could be. We still don't know anything about it besides where the money came from. Lydia says she can feel a tangible thread to Laura, but she never met her and couldn't say for sure what it means."
Derek nods, standing to look out the window in thought.
"Have you talked to Deaton? Maybe he knows something, being human like you."
"We were kind of waiting to see what you wanted us to do," Stiles says. "She was your sister, after all, and there's no way we're bringing it to Peter without you. Y'know, her literal murderer?" He's pushing at Derek's buttons again, but this time he doesn't mind quite as much. He just nods again before turning back to Stiles.
"We can take the Camaro," Derek says, walking toward the door after grabbing a jacket and his keys."Though we should stop to pick up Lydia."
"Why Lydia?" Stiles asks as he follows after Derek.
"She can explain to Deaton what feelings she's having about Laura. He may be able to interpret them better than you or I could."
"Makes sense." Stiles is quiet after that, not saying anything for so long that Derek thinks it may be the longest he's gone without talking.
While he may have preferred this conversation to happen between the veterinarian and himself privately, he knew Lydia and Stiles would be useful at asking questions he may not consider and keep Derek from going too far off the deep end. The last time he'd been in a room with him alone was the night he kidnapped Deaton, thinking him to be the Alpha at the time. Things may have changed but he still kept his distance.
The boys drive to the Martin house, texting Lydia to join them, and continue the last few minutes to the Vet Clinic. Lydia was unsurprised when she sat down in the car, but seems uneasy around Derek, as though his impending death prediction is making her uncomfortable. He doesn't let himself dwell on it, instead focusing on clearing up his confusion.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Deaton asks when the trio arrives, motioning to the chairs in the back to sit in. Lydia takes a seat while Stiles continues the pacing he had started at the loft, and Derek simply hands Deaton the list of names.
"See anyone on there that shouldn't be? Any impossible names jumping out?" His voice is raised despite his efforts, and he clenches his fists to ground himself.
"I do," Deaton starts, his usual tone of knowing more than the rest of the room. "What do you think?" He directs the question at Lydia.
"I think... it's not an accident that her name is there," Lydia tries. "These lists, they don't feel arbitrary, as if everyone supernatural in Beacon Hills was added. Cora isn't on there, and as far as we know she's alive." She doesn't seem to want to meet Derek's eye, but he can understand it.
"So you think she's alive." It's a statement, not a question, but Derek' bluntness cuts through the room.
"I didn't say that," Lydia says quietly. "She doesn't feel dead, but she also doesn't feel alive either. It's not the same as when you were taken by Kate, but it's similar." She stands and puts her hand on top of Derek's, a similar motion to a few weeks ago when he'd been lying on the same table they're gathered around now, only a teenaged version of himself.
"So where does that leave us?" Stiles asks. He notes the way Derek has gone tense, and decides to push once more. "Derek, what's wrong? Isn't it a good thing if your sister is still with us?"
He's leaning over the table, arms holding his weight up at the edge, and he shakes his head, smiling to himself a little.
"I was so ready to die," he breathes out. "I'm just so... tired, and when Lydia told me my name was a key for the deadpool? I was relieved. I could stop fighting, stop pretending I know what the hell I'm doing, and be with her again."
Lydia reaches her arm up to rub circles against his back, feeling his sigh beneath her hand.
"The others, I miss them everyday. But for years it was just me and Laura against the world. I don't know what I'm supposed to do if she's alive somehow."
"You keep fighting," a voice chimes in, and it's familiar, too familiar. Derek spins around to see his older sister standing there, a sad smile on her face as she plays with the pendant hanging from her neck.
"Laura? Wha- how?" Derek is frozen in place, mouth hanging open as he stumbles over his words trying to speak properly.
"I'm sorry, Derek, I'm so sorry." She rushes forward to pull him into a hug before taking a step back, holding him at arm's length. "You've grown in just these past few months, Der. Look at you." She has tears in her eyes and laughs a little.
Derek still hasn't spoken, but Laura doesn't seem to mind.
"I haven't been back too long, I promise. I just needed to get my bearing before I came back into your life, especially considering how mine ended."
"How did you come back?" Stiles cuts in, curiosity getting the better of him. Laura turns to look at him but someone else answers first.
"Peter," Lydia says. "It happened when I brought back Peter, didn't it?" Her voice is small, shaking slightly as she recalls those traumatic months, only part of which she actually remembers.
"You're the smart one, aren't you?" Laura answers. "I still don't really know how, and Deaton hasn't been able to fully explain it either. But yes, when you resurrected him, it ended up like a package deal. Whether it was some karmic twist of fate or just Hale blood keeping us bound together, I'm back. And apparently being hunted despite only the people in this room knowing I'm alive." She scoffs at this last bit, turning her attention back to Derek.
"I'm back, baby brother. What do you say we figure this out together?"
Stiles found the spellbook in the back corner of the library basement the summer he turned 15. He was working as the collections intern and his supervisor had sent him on an errand to the dark, dusty basement stacks no one ever went to anymore. He’s pretty sure she hates him. He’s not surprised, though, he’s not the easiest person to like, what with his attention problems and tendency to ramble about nothing and everything before she even had her first cup of coffee.
So he hid the book behind his back and snuck it into his backpack while her back was turned. Was it stealing? Maybe. But breaking the law was kind of Stiles’ thing, being the sheriff’s son and all.
As soon as his shift was over, he called up his best friend, Lydia, to tell her to meet him at his house. She refused, of course, she always did, so that’s how he found himself getting yapped at by her tiny monster dog as Lydia draped herself across her huge bed, holding the old book like it contained the plague.
“Stiles, what is this.”
“It’s a spellbook, I think. Look at those symbols. I think I’ve seen them before when I was researching the Salem Witch Trials.”
“It’s in Latin.”
“Yes! Which is why I brought it to you. Because you can translate it.”
Looking a bit more intrigued now, Lydia opened the book carefully.
“Hand me that notebook,” she said, pointing to her desk.
Fist pumping in excitement, Stiles did as he was told, settling down on his stomach beside Lydia.
“I-“ he started, but Lydia interrupted with a finger in his face.
“Nope. I need silence. Go take Prada for a walk or something. I need to concentrate.”
Groaning, Stiles rolled off the bed, stopping to pick up the dog. “Come on ya little mutt.”
“Stiles!” Lydia said sharply.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
After a good twenty minutes in which Prada smelled every tree, bush, and shrub on Lydia’s street twice, Stiles finally couldn’t take it anymore and returned to his best friend’s room.
“This is a resurrection spell.”
“What!?” Stiles jumped onto the bed next to Lydia. “Resurrection?”
“Yes, as in bringing someone back to life. It doesn’t seem that difficult. The ingredients are all things you could definitely find at that new age store in the mall.”
“Wait, you want to perform the spell?”
“Why not? I doubt it’ll work. It might be fun. Why else would you bring me this if not to try it out?”
Stiles thought about his mom, who had only been gone 4 years. The town would certainly have a field day with that, he thought sadly.
“I think we use it to bring back some animal in the forest first,” Lydia continued. “See if it really works.”
—-
Two weeks later, they had gathered all of the ingredients they needed for the spell, including a bone of the being they were resurrecting, which was the hardest to find. Stiles had eventually found the bone of what he assumed was a deer out beside the old, half-burned-down Hale house.
That Saturday was a full moon and a harvest moon, ideal conditions for the spell, Lydia said, so they gathered far in the woods of the preserve and lit the fire under the small cauldron.
Adding the ingredients one by one, Lydia chanted in Latin the spell.
As she was finishing the last line, Stiles heard footsteps behind him.
“Hey!” A gruff voice called out, “what are you doing. This is private property! Stop!”
Stiles turned to find a young man - a very attractive one, not much older than him - running towards them. But it was too late, the smoke billowing out of the cauldron turned bright red, and there was a flash of light that brought all three to their knees.
“What have you done!” The man yelped.
“Nothing!” Stiles said quickly, “it’s just a stupid spell, it wasn’t supposed to —“
He cut off when he noticed a figure climbing through the smoke, walking towards them. Definitely NOT a deer. It was a woman. Tall and unclothed.
Stiles heard the man beside him gasp.
“Laura?”
The woman turned toward the man. “Derek?”
“Oh my god, Laura, you’re supposed to be. You’re. Oh my god.” The man was crying now.
Stiles shrugged out of his jacket and walked up to the woman, offering it to her. She regarded him for a second, before accepting.
“Are you a Druid?”
Stiles looked at Lydia, who still hadn’t spoken a word. Her face was pale and terrified.
“I’m not, I just. We found this book and I thought we were bringing back a deer or something. An animal. I didn’t know the bone was human, I swear. Who - who are you guys?
The man spoke first. “I’m Derek Hale. That’s my sister, Laura. She was killed three months ago.”
Stiles gaped at the pair. Then at Lydia.
“I’m Stiles. That’s my best friend Lydia. We’re idiots who thought magic wasn’t real.”
“Of course it’s real,” Laura said. “And so are werewolves.”
Stiles laughed, but when Laura’s eyes began to glow red, he shut up abruptly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Lydia,” Derek spoke over Stiles. “Are there drawbacks to the spell? Is it going to wear off?”
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s all in Archaic Latin. I didn’t notice anything about the consequences of performing the spell.”
Laura laughed. “Of course you didn’t. They wouldn’t put that in the book. Derek, we better go see Deaton, ASAP.”
“The veterinarian?” Stiles asked, confused.
“He’s a Druid. The Hale Emissary.”
“No idea what that means,” Stiles mumbled.
“You,” Laura pointed to Lydia. “You translated and helped perform the spell. You should come with us.”
“Um, I’m coming, too,” Stiles insisted. “We’re a pair. Us two. The two of us. Lydia and I.”
“Laura, he could be the spark that set the spell off,” Derek said softly.
Laura regarded Stiles with a long look before agreeing. “Fine. We should hurry.”
Stiles tripped over his own feet in haste to follow when he was stopped by Derek’s hand on his shoulder.
“Calm down,” Derek growled.
“I can’t calm down! We just brought a GIRL back to LIFE. HOLY SHIT I’M LIKE JESUS.”
Derek rolled his eyes and stalked off towards Lydia and Laura, with Stiles stumbling to keep up and chattering the entire time, as usual.
Derek’s long-suffering sigh did not fall on deaf ears.
