& R U N , n e v e r s t o p r u n n i n g.
here they sang about tomorrow
but tomorrow never came
TMR AU: In which Minho is the one to go back to WICKED to pave the way for the Right Arm by planting the device in the headquarter. Unfortunately things don’t go as planned and he gets discovered, ending up being a prisoner of WICKED once again.
[24 fics in 24 hours, #12]
Stiles yawns, flopping over and pulling down the bedcovers. He turns off his alarm and stumbles to the bathroom, brushing his teeth.
It isn’t until he’s attempting to change out of his pajamas when he notices something is desperately wrong. Stiles darts back to his mirror, staring in horror at what isn’t there.
He jumps around waves, dances, and nothing seems to work. Cursing, Stiles flips through the spellbook he’d “borrowed” from Deaton, trying to figure out what he was working on last night. Obviously it had backfired.
"Stiles! You’re going to be late!" his dad calls from downstairs.
Stiles yells back, “Alright!” but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He tries again, and when his dad comes into his bedroom, looking curiously around, he doesn’t even notice when Stiles waves his arms around him, calling out “Dad! Can you see me? Can you hear me?”
Fine. Stiles is invisible. Whatever.
The pajamas Stiles is wearing a invisible too, but taking them off they come back to the visible spectrum. Weird.
Stiles rereads the spell he been modifying and realized his mistake immediately; the camouflage spell was going to be used for better sneaking purposes, but instead of writing in the parts of the spell that would allow him to turn the invisibility on and off, he’d made it semi-permanent for twenty four hours.
Wait, well if no one can see him—
‘Wait for the bloody Tour, Alby,‘ he said, his voice thick with an odd accent. ‘Kid’s gonna have a buggin’ heart attack, nothin’ even been heard yet.‘ He bent down and extended his hand toward Thomas. ‘Name’s Newt, Greenie, and we’d all be right cheery if ya’d forgive our klunk-for-brains new leader, here.‘