I took a cue from my 'Thrill of the Chase' and wrote two entries today. One reference, one story.

I expect the story will be expanded later on into something... less wholesome.

Ectoplasm

In its natural state ectoplasm resembles a supercritical fluid, a gaseous liquid that flows and bubbles and pools but that climbs and gropes and envelopes. In its natural state ectoplasm seems to be attempting to exist in a realm too hot and too pressurized for it to transition to any other phase. Cooling it forces it out of its supercritical state as does putting it under vacuum. Yet the triple point cannot be determined with any real accuracy. Differences in physical location, differences in equipment, even differences in the observing scientist all change the data.

Despite its natural state ectoplasm can be sculpted and formed like a solid. As protoplasm can form cells when confined behind membranes so too can ectoplasm form structures. But unlike cells, ectoplasm does not require membranes, cell walls, or even physical structure. As though ectoplasm brings the physical properties of its realm with it, all it needs to maintain structure is thought. Emotion. Will.

Through application of this force of will, ectoplasm can be used to craft constructs. An artificially created construct requires application of a specific emotion or set of emotions to maintain its inherent structure. In the case of naturally occurring constructs (ie ghosts) this force of will comes from within and is bolstered by the presence of one or more obsessions.

Without an obsession to bolster will, a ghost begins to fade. The first external cue is the loss of color. Next is the loss of inherent power, or its ability to affect the world around it either through application of 'ghost powers' within the physical universe or the ability to affect changes to its lair within the Ghost Zone. Finally, the ghost begins to lose form as its will breaks down and base ectoplasm escapes into the surrounding environment. At any point in this progression a ghost can acquire a new obsession, thus halting the deterioration. However, any loss of form will remain permanent unless the ghost chooses to begin the process of artificially crafting constructs to supplement itself.

Artificially crafting constructs in this manner is a dangerous proposition as there is no guarantee that the construct will not gain sentience and escape.

-Masters, V. Physical Properties of Ectoplasm and its Uses. Unpublished. 1996.

Ectoplasmic Constructs

Vlad all but fell into the hot bath. Toffee brittle, he was sore all over. His back hurt, his hands hurt, his neck hurt, and he was very sure he'd pulled something vital in his chest. He groaned as the heat invaded him, warmth going to work on his sore muscles and his more minor injuries.

Daniel was getting stronger every day. And while Vlad ruled Amity Park with all the iron-fisted strength of city hall, Plasmius still had to make his attempts to keep the local hero Phantom in line. The problem was, Vlad's power had plateaued a long time ago while Daniel's hadn't even reached its peak yet. Vlad knew that eventually he would be made to yield. But today was not that day.

Even if it felt like it.

Vlad stretched out in the tub as he got the vague feeling that he wasn't alone. The barest movement slipped past his legs as he laid there, his eyes closed against the onslaught.

His eyes shot open as there was a splash, as something grabbed his wrists and ankles to hold him still. He looked down to see the pink tentacles spreading through the clear bathwater, as they began to probe and press. "Not today," he said, sounding as tired as he felt. "I'm too sore for this today."

The tentacles paused before slumping and beginning to pull away.

"No, you don't have to leave," Vlad implored. "Just... I need to feel good, okay? I've had a long, bad day."

The tentacles paused again before sliding back into the tub. Vlad arched as he felt their caress spread up his spine to drape around his neck, their pressure slowly beginning to massage away the worse of the ache. He moaned, his eyes falling closed again.

-00000-

Danny stormed into Vlad's mansion. He didn't care how sore he was or how badly he'd been beaten, he wasn't finished with Vlad. He followed his ghost sense through the corridors to a closed door, phasing through it. "And another thing, Plasmius," he started. Danny's rant died on his lips as he took in the scene.

Vlad was in the bathtub. This wasn't the first time he'd stormed in on the fruitloop to find him in a bath of something; Danny had lost his ability to care after the whole mudbath thing. But this was weirder. Vlad seemed to be stuck in a bathtub of... pink ectoplasm? Except it wasn't quite liquid like ectoplasm, there were odd shapes under and along the surface that were doing... things?

"Don't you get tired of storming in on me when I'm naked?" Vlad drawled.

"Don't change the subject," Danny snapped. But he couldn't remember what he was here to rant about. "What the hell is that?"

Vlad stretched, feeling the tentacles help him pull and move. He laid back, one hand falling over the edge of the tub. "It's an ectoplasmic construct," he said. "It found me one day in the Ghost Zone. Never left."

"And... why are you bathing in it?" Danny asked.

"That wasn't my intention. But I'm not complaining." A roving tentacle climbed along Vlad's dangling hand and started probing around. It could sense that there was someone else here...

"Ew."

Vlad rolled his eyes.

"So it's a construct," Danny said, backing away from the meandering tentacle. He had the oddest feeling that it might be reaching for him. "I thought you said constructs feed on people. Like imprints."

"Not like imprints," Vlad corrected. "But they do feed on emotion. They... inspire that emotion they're looking to feed on and then they drain the excess." He glanced over at Danny, saw the disturbed look in his eyes. "Oh don't worry. This construct's been feeding on me for over ten years now. If it was going to do something horrible to me it would have already."

Danny heard the door close behind him. A trail of slime was smeared over the door, the mark of a tentacle trying to trap him in here. And then he felt something slide around his wrist.

"But thanks to your actions, Little Badger, I can't feed it today," Vlad purred. "And it is hungry."

Danny gasped as a feeling began to spread through him, an urge to let these tentacles have their way with him. Shocked eyes turned on Vlad before Danny yanked his wrist away and shot off through the ceiling.

The tentacles slumped down, seemingly dejected, before crawling back into the bathtub. One slid up Vlad's cheek, almost imploring.

"Oh all right," Vlad allowed. "But be careful. I'm sore enough already."

The gentle drape turned to an embrace.