Encounterlogs
Ryans Odd Encounter Sr Kylia
In the midst of a usual evening while perusing society reports and updating notes, Ryan's tranquil routine inside his luxurious apartment is abruptly disrupted by unsettling noises emanating from his bathroom. Equipped with a revolver and a tense vigilance, he confronts the source of the disturbance. His situation escalates when his bathroom begins mysteriously flooding; water streams from beneath the door, and Ryan desperately attempts to curtail the invasion with towels and socks. He defiantly challenges the unseen intruders, but receives only eerie silences and further signs of watery chaos in response. The tension culminates in the toilet overflowing and the Jacuzzi tub spilling over, compelling Ryan to blindly fire his gun into the bathroom, only to find it devoid of any tangible threat.
The ensuing moments cast a dramatic light on Ryan's plight as he encounters a spectral figure emerging from the mirror, a menacing spirit targeting him. The struggle intensifies as Ryan battles not only the physical manifestations of the ghost’s presence but also the shortcomings of his prosthetic hand. In a climactic act of desperation and ingenuity, he throws his prosthetic arm and his phone at the mirror, seeking to disrupt the haunting. His audacious tactics prevail, shattering the mirror and dissipating the apparition, leaving Ryan victorious yet weary, questioning his preparedness for such bizarre encounters and pondering his mortality amidst the supernatural perils that besiege him.
(Ryan's odd encounter(SRKylia):SRKylia)
[Mon Dec 11 2023]
In A Large, Well Appointed Bedroom
Easily one of the largest rooms in the apartment, this master bedroom has been decked out in all the comforts one could need. On the eastern wall is a king-sized bed piled high with a mix of white and silver bedding. Decorative throw pillows are heaped high against the dark oak headboard and a wispy, sheer set of curtains hangs from the four poster canopy bed's top rails. At the foot of the bed and facing the western wall is a two person love seat. The floors, most of which are covered by a mix of blue and silver rugs, are grey stained oak. There's a conspicuous lack of natural light here, a section of the wall that formerly overlooked the street now bricked up entirely. Finishing out the area is a fireplace that dominates most of the north side of the room. A pair of chairs, high backed and silver-upholstered, face that focal point.
It is before dawn, about 27F(-2C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target is singled out by some sort of spirit that can only attack them through mirrors, it is up to them to survive long enough by avoiding mirrors/their reflection until their allies can help them find a way to defeat the monster.
)
Sitting at his computer, Ryan is tapping away, still in his suit pants, shirt and tie as he checks on his phone, looking over society reports and updating some notes he has in a journal. "Huh, some weird ass thing in Miami today. Will totes have to check with the scouts on it."
Face lit up by the glow of the computer screen, Ryan's eyes scan through lines of information, fingers dancing across the keyboard. Then suddenly, a cacophony of crashing sounds shatters the quiet of his apartment, echoing from the direction of his bathroom, then, everything goes quiet again, almost as if nothing had happened.
"What the fuck?" Ryan says as he reaches for his bag, pulling out a gun and reaching for his phone to type out a message quickly, crossing the bedroom to put his back against the wall, listening against the wall for what is crashing in his bathroom. After that message he slips his phone back in his pocket and looks down at his prosthetic hand, the fingers shaking as he grits his teeth, "Hey, fuckin' stop that, bro." he whispers through his clenched teeth as he shakes the arm out and furrows his brow in frustration. Tucking the revolver under his half-arm, Ryan reaches his good hand over and knocks loudly on the bathroom door, yelling out, "Hey, you fucks! Get out of my god damn bathroom and out of the Nightmare! My place is not your fucking playground, you Hand or Temple dudes! I got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it! Miss Harry's gonna hear about this if you're fucking around, all right?"
Ryan waits, expecting a response, but the only reply is the eerie silence that hangs in the air. The quiet persists until, suddenly, the tranquil hush is shattered by the abrupt and unmistakable flush of a toilet. Worse, a slow but steady stream of water inchies it's way from beneath the closed door, seeping through the narrow crack.
Shuffling to the side as he kicks off his expensive shoes he bought to impress his Society, Ryan kicks them across the room and away from the water as he also does a hot footed dance to take his socks off as well, the surfer bro well accustomed to water as he knows it's better to swim with no shoes on. "God dammit, you fucking gnarly gremlins! Ha ha ha, let's play a prank on RyDawg, the one armed man! Let's fuckin' break his toilet from the Nightmare. Look, man, I know this isn't like...nightmare war or whatever, but fuck off, man! I got people trying to sleep up in here. I'm good friends with Deputy Bailey, she's gonna hear about this!" he looks around as he tucks the revolver once again under his half-arm, the prosthetic clenching it's fingers as he doesn't pay it mind and is thinking of other things, moving his arm around as it shakes, spins, and clenching randomly. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." he whispers as he kicks up a towel from his previous shower, catching it in his good hand as he kicks it to the door crack and starts to stuff the crack with the large beach towel he dried off from his shower with. using his toes to stuff it down to try and stop the water.
He raises his voice again and yells, "Hey dudes, last warning! I'm Ryan and this is like...fucking Castle Doctrine or some shit! House invasion and I have like...totes a legal right to blast you now, dudes!"
While Ryan stuffs the towel under the door, he reaches for his pistol, deftly pulling it from underneath his arm as he pulls the hammer back.
Focused and determined, Ryan presses the makeshift barricade of towels and socks against the door's crack, a temporary defence against the encroaching water seeping from it. The materials absorb the initial onslaught, momentarily stemming the watery intrusion. Yet, as the volume of water relentlessly increases, the feeble blockade begins to prove insufficient. The towels and socks succumb to saturation, their efficacy diminishing with each passing moment. Then the man's ears catch the initial whisper of a turning shower knob, then the sound of cascading water intensifying.
There's still nothing like a response provided. But it's clear something or someone is fucking around on the other side of that door.
"That's a Jacuzzi tub, you fucks!" Ryan yells out as he shakes his head, "God dammit, I'm coming in, you little shits! RyDawg doesn't fuck around and you're gonna totes find out!" he dances slightly sideways from the side of the wall he had been taking cover from and uses his foot to pull the towel out from the crack as the sopping wet towel gets kicked aside rather clumsily and he reaches for the door with his left hand, the prosthetic one, and some clattering happens as he squints at it, trying to will the device to close around the knob and pull it, "Fuck, come on, fuck, fuck fuck! You mother fucker, do the thing!" he growls at his own hand as it taps and clatters around the door knob, his mind not able to focus on the prosthetic he can barely use yet when he's focused on it. He huffs out a breath and tucks the gun beneath his half-arm again, shaking out the prosthetic and shaking his head as he reaches his free good hand for the knob and unlocks it, "Okay, fair warning again! Just a little setback, but NOW I'm coming in, you fucks!"
With his good hand, Ryan pulls the knob as hard as he can, swinging the door open as he takes cover in the bedroom against the door frame from whatever person is in the bathroom, quickly attempting to reach his good hand for the revolver tucked under his half-arm again as he waits for a moment, to get a good grip on the gun as he cocks it.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan huffs it out slowly, calming his nerves as he turns from his back to the wall to keep cover in the doorframe as he moves from the left and breaks cover slightly, His good right arm lifting up to blindly fire into his bathroom at whatever is in there!
As Ryan pushes open the bathroom door, he is met with a surreal scene, a sudden rush of water greets him, his ankles are submerged in a cascade of spilled liquid, a consequence of this watery ambush on the other side. The bathroom is an utter mess and cloaked in a rising mist. Towels are strewn about like careless brushstrokes, draped over surfaces and trailing across the tiled floor. The toilet has be stuffed to the brim with toilet paper, it protests with a cascade of water overflowing onto the tiled floor. The Jacuzzi tub has been left on without restraint, spilling rivulets of liquid over the edge, combining with the toilet water. It risks flooding Ryan's bathroom if not addressed soon.
Driven by a surge of fear, Ryan blindly squeezes the trigger of his firearm and fires into the bathroom. As the echoes of the gunshot fade, the man is left with a tense silence and the realization that the room he just discharged his weapon into is strangely devoid of any human presence.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Ryan curses as he picks up sopping wet towels and yeets them into the bathtub, trying to clear the floor as he kicks around stuff strewn from his -very- packed medicine cabinet. Feminine hygiene products from his roommates are soaking up plenty of water and there's tampons and maxi pads sponging up the water and forming wet little sponges as he tosses the empty revolver into the sink, twisting the knobs a bunch left and right with his one good hand to try and turn it off, and failing, he gets down on his hands and knees, tossing open the sink door to twist the knob and turn the water off to the sink. "Fuck fuck fuck, what the fuck!" he says as he raises his other arm, the prosthetic one and shakes it angrily at the ceiling above him, "You god damn posers! Come out of the Nightmare and let me kick your fucking asses!"
As Ryan raises his fake arm, he attempts to throw up a middle finger, and his prosthetic arm malfunctions, pointing a pinky finger and an index finger as a hand signal for 'I love you' as he looks very confused at it, "You fucking piece of shit." he grumbles.
As Ryan gets down on his hands and knees to turn off the knob, a spectral figure materializes from the depths of the bathroom mirror, it's form ethereal and unsettling. Slowly, it inches forward, a ghostly silhouette that creeps with deliberate intent up on Ryan. It's clear that it was about to try and grab the man - but he's got sharp eyes, and manages to notice the approaching entity. There's time for him to react before it gets within arm's distance.
Ryan attempts to throw up a middle finger, and his prosthetic arm malfunctions, pointing a pinky finger and an index finger as a hand signal for 'I love you' as he looks very confused at it, "You fucking piece of shit." he grumbles.
As Ryan gets down on his hands and knees to turn off the knob, a spectral figure materializes from the depths of the bathroom mirror, it's form ethereal and unsettling. Slowly, it inches forward, a ghostly silhouette that creeps with deliberate intent up on Ryan. It's clear that it was about to try and grab the man - but he's got sharp eyes, and manages to notice the approaching entity. There's time for him to react before it gets within arm's distance.
"Aaah!" Ryan screams as he scrambles back, slipping on the wet floor and wet tampons, towels, toothpaste, and everything else that has been thrown about, Completely soaked as he pushes off the toilet with a leg and slides himself away from the ethreal entity, having no gun from putting it in the sink, Ryan panics and reaches for anything he can find to throw at it, first a soaking wet roll of toilet paper, then a washrag, some soap slips out of a hand as he crawls and falls back into his soggy carpeted bedroom and he runs out of anything in reach, so he grabs his own prosthetic arm at the elbow and pulls it off, yeeting it into the bathroom as he yells, "Fuck you, Ghost of Christmas Shits!" His stub wriggling as he falls hard on that shoulder, having not become used to not having that hand on the left side has Ryan winded and taking a moment's breath, groaning as he pushes up on his good right arm and flailing kicks and worms his way away from the door of the bathroom and tries to pull his phone out of his pocket with his good hand as he screams, "Google, Open App Order Comms."
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that, could you try again?" The phone says back at him as Ryan screams, exasperated as he worms again on his belly, crawling with his stump arm as he pushes with his feet forward to crawl towards his bedroom door, "Ok Google...Ah fuck it!" he says, frustrated as he lunges himself up into a sitting position and uses his stump arm to pinch his phone to his chest as the other one pokes and scrolls through apps, opening the Communications one on his home screen as he screams into his comms, "HEY BROS I GOT A PROBLEM! I'M BEING ATTACKED BY A GHOST SHIT IN MY BATHROOM! HELP! I NEED BANISH STUFF! HARSH VIBES HARSH VIBES!"
An app on the Ryan's device illuminates the mysterious origins of the ghostly figure emerging from the mirror. The screen displays information: it's a mirror-bound spirit, tethered to the reflective surface. A revelation of potential containment appears, that covering or destroying the mirror may trap the ethereal entity.
Fueled by an otherworldly determination, the spirit suddenly lunges towards the panicking man. Ryan narrowly evades the ethereal grasp, the spirit's spectral fingers grazing the air where he once stood. The spirit, undeterred by it's initial failure, circles around the man, as if recalibrating for another attempt.
Lunging out of the way, Ryan slips and falls again on his belly, scrambling as he reads through his sopping wet hair, the shaggy blonde locks obscuring his vision slightly as the surfer dude, flops and wriggles forward, catching furniture with a foot to push off and get back towards the door as he muses, "Thank god for the Scrollers!" and he aims his only thing left, his expensive phone at the mirror and yells, "Go to hell you Christmas Ghost Shit!" and yeets the phone right at the expensive mirror in his bathroom as hard as he can.
Ryan hurls his phone towards the mirror, a last-ditch effort to break free from the spectral menace. The impact reverberates through the room as the phone collides with the glass, causing a spiderweb of cracks to emanate from the point of impact. Simultaneously, as the mirror fractures, so too does the spectral figure that emerged from its depths. The ethereal entity dissipates with the shattering glass, fragments of both mirror and spirit scattering into nothingness. The bathromroom now settles into an eerie stillness. It might take a bit of time to clean up the mess - but Ryan has been successful in contain a dangerous, malignant that preyed on the innocent.
Falling onto his back as he stares at the ceiling, panting heavily and soaked to the bone, Ryan just lies there staring for some long moments until he says, "I gotta read more of these fucking books. I'm a terrible Order Book Boy. Every day there's a new weird gnarly thing coming at me. I'm gonna die."
The ensuing moments cast a dramatic light on Ryan's plight as he encounters a spectral figure emerging from the mirror, a menacing spirit targeting him. The struggle intensifies as Ryan battles not only the physical manifestations of the ghost’s presence but also the shortcomings of his prosthetic hand. In a climactic act of desperation and ingenuity, he throws his prosthetic arm and his phone at the mirror, seeking to disrupt the haunting. His audacious tactics prevail, shattering the mirror and dissipating the apparition, leaving Ryan victorious yet weary, questioning his preparedness for such bizarre encounters and pondering his mortality amidst the supernatural perils that besiege him.
(Ryan's odd encounter(SRKylia):SRKylia)
[Mon Dec 11 2023]
In A Large, Well Appointed Bedroom
Easily one of the largest rooms in the apartment, this master bedroom has been decked out in all the comforts one could need. On the eastern wall is a king-sized bed piled high with a mix of white and silver bedding. Decorative throw pillows are heaped high against the dark oak headboard and a wispy, sheer set of curtains hangs from the four poster canopy bed's top rails. At the foot of the bed and facing the western wall is a two person love seat. The floors, most of which are covered by a mix of blue and silver rugs, are grey stained oak. There's a conspicuous lack of natural light here, a section of the wall that formerly overlooked the street now bricked up entirely. Finishing out the area is a fireplace that dominates most of the north side of the room. A pair of chairs, high backed and silver-upholstered, face that focal point.
It is before dawn, about 27F(-2C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target is singled out by some sort of spirit that can only attack them through mirrors, it is up to them to survive long enough by avoiding mirrors/their reflection until their allies can help them find a way to defeat the monster.
)
Sitting at his computer, Ryan is tapping away, still in his suit pants, shirt and tie as he checks on his phone, looking over society reports and updating some notes he has in a journal. "Huh, some weird ass thing in Miami today. Will totes have to check with the scouts on it."
Face lit up by the glow of the computer screen, Ryan's eyes scan through lines of information, fingers dancing across the keyboard. Then suddenly, a cacophony of crashing sounds shatters the quiet of his apartment, echoing from the direction of his bathroom, then, everything goes quiet again, almost as if nothing had happened.
"What the fuck?" Ryan says as he reaches for his bag, pulling out a gun and reaching for his phone to type out a message quickly, crossing the bedroom to put his back against the wall, listening against the wall for what is crashing in his bathroom. After that message he slips his phone back in his pocket and looks down at his prosthetic hand, the fingers shaking as he grits his teeth, "Hey, fuckin' stop that, bro." he whispers through his clenched teeth as he shakes the arm out and furrows his brow in frustration. Tucking the revolver under his half-arm, Ryan reaches his good hand over and knocks loudly on the bathroom door, yelling out, "Hey, you fucks! Get out of my god damn bathroom and out of the Nightmare! My place is not your fucking playground, you Hand or Temple dudes! I got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it! Miss Harry's gonna hear about this if you're fucking around, all right?"
Ryan waits, expecting a response, but the only reply is the eerie silence that hangs in the air. The quiet persists until, suddenly, the tranquil hush is shattered by the abrupt and unmistakable flush of a toilet. Worse, a slow but steady stream of water inchies it's way from beneath the closed door, seeping through the narrow crack.
Shuffling to the side as he kicks off his expensive shoes he bought to impress his Society, Ryan kicks them across the room and away from the water as he also does a hot footed dance to take his socks off as well, the surfer bro well accustomed to water as he knows it's better to swim with no shoes on. "God dammit, you fucking gnarly gremlins! Ha ha ha, let's play a prank on RyDawg, the one armed man! Let's fuckin' break his toilet from the Nightmare. Look, man, I know this isn't like...nightmare war or whatever, but fuck off, man! I got people trying to sleep up in here. I'm good friends with Deputy Bailey, she's gonna hear about this!" he looks around as he tucks the revolver once again under his half-arm, the prosthetic clenching it's fingers as he doesn't pay it mind and is thinking of other things, moving his arm around as it shakes, spins, and clenching randomly. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." he whispers as he kicks up a towel from his previous shower, catching it in his good hand as he kicks it to the door crack and starts to stuff the crack with the large beach towel he dried off from his shower with. using his toes to stuff it down to try and stop the water.
He raises his voice again and yells, "Hey dudes, last warning! I'm Ryan and this is like...fucking Castle Doctrine or some shit! House invasion and I have like...totes a legal right to blast you now, dudes!"
While Ryan stuffs the towel under the door, he reaches for his pistol, deftly pulling it from underneath his arm as he pulls the hammer back.
Focused and determined, Ryan presses the makeshift barricade of towels and socks against the door's crack, a temporary defence against the encroaching water seeping from it. The materials absorb the initial onslaught, momentarily stemming the watery intrusion. Yet, as the volume of water relentlessly increases, the feeble blockade begins to prove insufficient. The towels and socks succumb to saturation, their efficacy diminishing with each passing moment. Then the man's ears catch the initial whisper of a turning shower knob, then the sound of cascading water intensifying.
There's still nothing like a response provided. But it's clear something or someone is fucking around on the other side of that door.
"That's a Jacuzzi tub, you fucks!" Ryan yells out as he shakes his head, "God dammit, I'm coming in, you little shits! RyDawg doesn't fuck around and you're gonna totes find out!" he dances slightly sideways from the side of the wall he had been taking cover from and uses his foot to pull the towel out from the crack as the sopping wet towel gets kicked aside rather clumsily and he reaches for the door with his left hand, the prosthetic one, and some clattering happens as he squints at it, trying to will the device to close around the knob and pull it, "Fuck, come on, fuck, fuck fuck! You mother fucker, do the thing!" he growls at his own hand as it taps and clatters around the door knob, his mind not able to focus on the prosthetic he can barely use yet when he's focused on it. He huffs out a breath and tucks the gun beneath his half-arm again, shaking out the prosthetic and shaking his head as he reaches his free good hand for the knob and unlocks it, "Okay, fair warning again! Just a little setback, but NOW I'm coming in, you fucks!"
With his good hand, Ryan pulls the knob as hard as he can, swinging the door open as he takes cover in the bedroom against the door frame from whatever person is in the bathroom, quickly attempting to reach his good hand for the revolver tucked under his half-arm again as he waits for a moment, to get a good grip on the gun as he cocks it.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan huffs it out slowly, calming his nerves as he turns from his back to the wall to keep cover in the doorframe as he moves from the left and breaks cover slightly, His good right arm lifting up to blindly fire into his bathroom at whatever is in there!
As Ryan pushes open the bathroom door, he is met with a surreal scene, a sudden rush of water greets him, his ankles are submerged in a cascade of spilled liquid, a consequence of this watery ambush on the other side. The bathroom is an utter mess and cloaked in a rising mist. Towels are strewn about like careless brushstrokes, draped over surfaces and trailing across the tiled floor. The toilet has be stuffed to the brim with toilet paper, it protests with a cascade of water overflowing onto the tiled floor. The Jacuzzi tub has been left on without restraint, spilling rivulets of liquid over the edge, combining with the toilet water. It risks flooding Ryan's bathroom if not addressed soon.
Driven by a surge of fear, Ryan blindly squeezes the trigger of his firearm and fires into the bathroom. As the echoes of the gunshot fade, the man is left with a tense silence and the realization that the room he just discharged his weapon into is strangely devoid of any human presence.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Ryan curses as he picks up sopping wet towels and yeets them into the bathtub, trying to clear the floor as he kicks around stuff strewn from his -very- packed medicine cabinet. Feminine hygiene products from his roommates are soaking up plenty of water and there's tampons and maxi pads sponging up the water and forming wet little sponges as he tosses the empty revolver into the sink, twisting the knobs a bunch left and right with his one good hand to try and turn it off, and failing, he gets down on his hands and knees, tossing open the sink door to twist the knob and turn the water off to the sink. "Fuck fuck fuck, what the fuck!" he says as he raises his other arm, the prosthetic one and shakes it angrily at the ceiling above him, "You god damn posers! Come out of the Nightmare and let me kick your fucking asses!"
As Ryan raises his fake arm, he attempts to throw up a middle finger, and his prosthetic arm malfunctions, pointing a pinky finger and an index finger as a hand signal for 'I love you' as he looks very confused at it, "You fucking piece of shit." he grumbles.
As Ryan gets down on his hands and knees to turn off the knob, a spectral figure materializes from the depths of the bathroom mirror, it's form ethereal and unsettling. Slowly, it inches forward, a ghostly silhouette that creeps with deliberate intent up on Ryan. It's clear that it was about to try and grab the man - but he's got sharp eyes, and manages to notice the approaching entity. There's time for him to react before it gets within arm's distance.
Ryan attempts to throw up a middle finger, and his prosthetic arm malfunctions, pointing a pinky finger and an index finger as a hand signal for 'I love you' as he looks very confused at it, "You fucking piece of shit." he grumbles.
As Ryan gets down on his hands and knees to turn off the knob, a spectral figure materializes from the depths of the bathroom mirror, it's form ethereal and unsettling. Slowly, it inches forward, a ghostly silhouette that creeps with deliberate intent up on Ryan. It's clear that it was about to try and grab the man - but he's got sharp eyes, and manages to notice the approaching entity. There's time for him to react before it gets within arm's distance.
"Aaah!" Ryan screams as he scrambles back, slipping on the wet floor and wet tampons, towels, toothpaste, and everything else that has been thrown about, Completely soaked as he pushes off the toilet with a leg and slides himself away from the ethreal entity, having no gun from putting it in the sink, Ryan panics and reaches for anything he can find to throw at it, first a soaking wet roll of toilet paper, then a washrag, some soap slips out of a hand as he crawls and falls back into his soggy carpeted bedroom and he runs out of anything in reach, so he grabs his own prosthetic arm at the elbow and pulls it off, yeeting it into the bathroom as he yells, "Fuck you, Ghost of Christmas Shits!" His stub wriggling as he falls hard on that shoulder, having not become used to not having that hand on the left side has Ryan winded and taking a moment's breath, groaning as he pushes up on his good right arm and flailing kicks and worms his way away from the door of the bathroom and tries to pull his phone out of his pocket with his good hand as he screams, "Google, Open App Order Comms."
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that, could you try again?" The phone says back at him as Ryan screams, exasperated as he worms again on his belly, crawling with his stump arm as he pushes with his feet forward to crawl towards his bedroom door, "Ok Google...Ah fuck it!" he says, frustrated as he lunges himself up into a sitting position and uses his stump arm to pinch his phone to his chest as the other one pokes and scrolls through apps, opening the Communications one on his home screen as he screams into his comms, "HEY BROS I GOT A PROBLEM! I'M BEING ATTACKED BY A GHOST SHIT IN MY BATHROOM! HELP! I NEED BANISH STUFF! HARSH VIBES HARSH VIBES!"
An app on the Ryan's device illuminates the mysterious origins of the ghostly figure emerging from the mirror. The screen displays information: it's a mirror-bound spirit, tethered to the reflective surface. A revelation of potential containment appears, that covering or destroying the mirror may trap the ethereal entity.
Fueled by an otherworldly determination, the spirit suddenly lunges towards the panicking man. Ryan narrowly evades the ethereal grasp, the spirit's spectral fingers grazing the air where he once stood. The spirit, undeterred by it's initial failure, circles around the man, as if recalibrating for another attempt.
Lunging out of the way, Ryan slips and falls again on his belly, scrambling as he reads through his sopping wet hair, the shaggy blonde locks obscuring his vision slightly as the surfer dude, flops and wriggles forward, catching furniture with a foot to push off and get back towards the door as he muses, "Thank god for the Scrollers!" and he aims his only thing left, his expensive phone at the mirror and yells, "Go to hell you Christmas Ghost Shit!" and yeets the phone right at the expensive mirror in his bathroom as hard as he can.
Ryan hurls his phone towards the mirror, a last-ditch effort to break free from the spectral menace. The impact reverberates through the room as the phone collides with the glass, causing a spiderweb of cracks to emanate from the point of impact. Simultaneously, as the mirror fractures, so too does the spectral figure that emerged from its depths. The ethereal entity dissipates with the shattering glass, fragments of both mirror and spirit scattering into nothingness. The bathromroom now settles into an eerie stillness. It might take a bit of time to clean up the mess - but Ryan has been successful in contain a dangerous, malignant that preyed on the innocent.
Falling onto his back as he stares at the ceiling, panting heavily and soaked to the bone, Ryan just lies there staring for some long moments until he says, "I gotta read more of these fucking books. I'm a terrible Order Book Boy. Every day there's a new weird gnarly thing coming at me. I'm gonna die."