#witchbur

There was an assortment of half filled bottles on the open desk behind his sleeping brother, and Tommy sneaked towards them. It looked like Wilby had been experimenting with mixing, and Tommy poked at a couple curiously.

One that was nearly empty he thought he recognized as regeneration. He lifted the bottle to his nose and sniffed. Yep, there was the the slight hint of gunpowder that lingered from the ghast tears. He set it back down gently, not wanting to waste something with such rare ingredients.

He was looking for swiftness; sugar was easy to get so he wouldn't be wasting anything important. And it was one of the few potions that actually tasted good!

None of them looked quite right. Maybe he was remembering the color of swiftness wrong? He grabbed a bottle with a liquid that looked closest to what he remembered and lifted it up.

It was mostly full, but this bottle had a weird top. The neck of the bottle tapered sideways, and had a covering wrapped around the opening instead of a cork. He turned the bottle over in his hands, confused at the strange shape. There was a faint scent of gunpowder from this one too, so it probably wasn't a swiftness. But the bottle really was weird.

It was hard to hold too, and when he switched it to one hand to poke at the covering, he fumbled. It slipped out of his hands and shattered on the floor.

Instead of just soaking into the floor, the liquid seemed to explode outwards. The liquid evaporated, and vapors began rising around him, sinking into his skin.

He let out a panicked yelp. He looked at Wilbur, who was slowly stirring, with a mixture of fear and guilt. Not only had he ruined whatever experiment his brother had been working on, he'd gotten a completely random potion all over him.

Wilbur sat up and looked at him, confused at first.

"Tommy what the fuck are you doing in here?" He asked. Tommy opened his mouth to... make an excuse? Apologize? He wasn't sure what his plan was, because dizziness crashed over him like a wave and he fell to his knees.

"Tommy!" Wilbur cried, sounding more panicked than Tommy had ever heard him.

He tasted something smoky and wrong in his mouth. His entire body was buzzing unpleasantly, like he had pins and needles all over. His head throbbed painfully, and for a few terrifying moments he thought he was dying.

Then the sensation faded, and he opened his eyes that he hadn't even noticed closing. He frowned, not recognizing his surroundings. He was in a large open area. Shapes in the distance, buildings he assumed, towered higher than he could see without looking up, so he focused on what was closest to him.

All around him, scattered in a large radius, were giant shards of glass. The biggest were twice his size, and he blinked in confusion. Where the hell was he?

A sudden booming noise drew his attention, and he looked around wildly. It continued in a rhythm, like a massive drum, and he suddenly saw one of the enormous distant shapes moving.

He froze, heart pounding wildly as he realized the noise was footsteps. It was only when the shape got closer, very quickly, that he realized whatever the hell it was was coming straight at him.

He let out a strangled noise and started scrambling backwards, but he wasn't quick enough. A massive shape was moving towards him, too fast to follow, and suddenly something was wrapping around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

Tommy screamed, kicking wildly as he was lifted into the air. He was turned onto his back, and suddenly the restricting hold was gone. He tried to stand, but lost his balance seconds later as the platform he was on was wobbly.

He looked around wildly, chest heaving. The substance he was sitting on was a peach color, similar to his skin. It was warm and he could feel a pulsing beneath him. It was just like skin. He kept looking, taking in the shape of the thing he was sitting on. Five thick pillars, four towering above his head and one to his side.

He was sitting in a giant hand. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaky and pale. What was happening? Why was he here?! His eyes filled with frightened tears, and he choked back a sob.

"Tommy! Tommy, shhh, you're ok," a loud voice said. He jumped, slamming his hands over his ears and looked up... and up and up to a gigantic but familiar face. His hands dropped back to his sides.

"Wilby?" He asked, the nickname slipping out in his fear. His brother would normally tease him for a slip like that, but Wilbur's face, looming terrifyingly above him, was filled with worry. He didn't even react to the nickname.

"It's me, Toms, it's Wilby," his brother said, much quieter. "Shh, you're ok, I've got you."

The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked in his mind. The shattered glass; his giant brother. It had been a shrinking potion.

"Oh god, Phil's gonna kill me," his brother muttered from above him.

Tommy gulped. He'd really fucked up.