Lover of Literature

At the mention of the reality warping, Jack sighed, though it was more like a hiss that leaked between his teeth.

“Oh, I’m WELL AWARE of the concept. I’m just falling back to one of my plans of dealing with it–DENIAL.” That proclamation was just as pathetic as it sounded, but Jack didn’t care in the slightest. He was feeling dizzy and therefore openly more honest and blunt. At this point, it almost took too much energy to fabricate clever words to butt heads with the ghost.

His resentment was melting slightly as Jack realized that maybe having some company was better than none at all. Wuya used to watch Jack work and occasionally comment on the genius craftsmanship. Why not have another ghost around just for a while? After all, he had no plans to sleep until this machine was finished.

“I’m not hallucinating, I’m FINE. You just, you SURPRISED me.” Jack lowered himself to his knees again and motioned to the machine with his oil-stained gloved hands. “Besides, wouldn’t you like to see what I’m working on?”

“Does denial really work if you know it’s denial? Seems... like a pointless runaround.” He smiled faintly. 

“I mean that, if the first thought is you may be hallucinating, that’s the time to sleep. Obviously, you aren’t hallucinating yet, but the living should try to avoid getting to that point.” The Ghost Writer waved a hand idly as if to dismiss the notion of him being illusory.

Jack squinted, his dark red eyes peering intently at the ghost. Well, he certainly couldn’t be seeing and hearing things. The Ghost Writer was really there. Not exactly his favorite person –er, apparition.

“Sleep? No, no, I’ve got a BETTER idea,” Jack rose off his knees from where he had been working. “YOU tell me how you found this place. This is kinda my secret evil lair, and I’m not a huge fan of intruders.”

“What part of ‘reality warping’ do you not understand? The limits are my imagination, which is not a limit at all, and my morals.”

Why did he always end up in these weird antagonistic pseudo-teacher situations with teenagers who misused their powers and abilities? A question for another time, he supposed.

“It is my ‘lair.’ A lair in the Ghost Zone is not something you come across, nor does it appear just with your appearance in the realm. It is something you actively mold and make using your powers. 

“This is why each ghost who makes a full lair instead of just a door has a very strong theme to their residence. My background and interests led to creating a library, while Skulker’s is a series of hunting grounds. That is what we chose and because it is symbolic of where we’re most comfortable.

Sky nodded in reply, sitting down. He curled his tail around himself. The dragon was a curious being even when he was in his normal form, he wondered who this guy was. He figured he’d know eventually though so he wasn’t getting too worked up over it.

Danny gave the other ghost a very even stare. “I’m aware that it’s an expression. It’s also one that I don’t very much appreciate you attaching to me when you haven’t actually been around me that often.” After all, ever since the number of Challenges had dwindled to nearly nothing, Danny didn’t even get into fights very often, much less cause a ton of collateral damage as he once did in the past. “Are you planning on holding the mistakes I made when I was fourteen against me for the rest of my life? Also, I’d be careful about using those kinds of vague threats. You never know who might be listening and taking offence.”

Giving a little snort and not bothering to wait for a reply, Danny went back to his efforts of decorating. “I don’t have any plans at the moment,” he admitted grudgingly after a moment. “This is all for a ‘just in case’ sort of thing. But should I end up hosting any sort of party, I will send out the same general invitations that I did for Halloween.”

“No, I’m not.” He sighed. This was why writing was better than dealing with people face to face. Prevented him putting his foot in his mouth- editing was a godsend- and implying things he really didn’t want to.

The Ghost Writer had stepped out to hang a wreath on his door, one of the few decorations he did do around winter. As much as he enjoyed the holidays, excessive decoration bothered him for a myriad of reasons. 

A dragon outside, however, was unexpected.