#Fortunately - GA happened to be in the second round so I had a little extra time to polish it up. Yay! :D

[chiscribbs]

Sorry the AU comp plot has been on-hold for a bit longer than expected - I've been caught up trying to finish my entry for the next round of polls.

With luck, I should have that posted by tonight or tomorrow morning and then we can pick up where we left off (starting with Raph and Mikey, because it's been awhile since I last checked in on them, lol).

I'll be answering any non-comp asks I'm able to in the meantime! Thanks for the continued love & support ❤

[omoghouls]

request- a ghoul is desperate on the way to the next show, the drive will be hours and they're too embarrassed to tell anyone. they're so desperate they seem sick so the others keep giving them water. they get to a point where they're quietly sobbing and shaking as they spurt & eventually let go onto themselves getting the seats and floor wet as well as their clothes

(Yall know when given the opportunity that ghoul of choice is spesh 😂)

The gentle purr of the engine caused the ghoul to stir from his slumber. Special groaned as he rolled to his side, green eyes snapping open as he felt his body beginning to roll off. His tail whipped around as the ghoul rubbed at his face, looking around confusedly when he saw the small couch behind him.

"Morin' sleeping beauty."

Special looked to the seated body opposite to his.

"What, what time is it?" He sleepily mumbled as he clawed his way back onto the couch.

Omega glanced to his covered wrist, "Eh, quarter past 'you missed breakfast and the meeting'," the larger ghoul said.

"Why the fuck didn't anyone wake me up?" Special ask, running his clawed fingers through his short locks, a concerned look in his eyes.

Omega shrugged, "You were fast asleep there, haven't seen you that deep into a slumber in months, didn't wanna wake you," he mused, " 'sides wasn't even really a meeting, Papa just had a group talking to about sticking to curfew."

The smaller ghoul's shoulders slumped, "Still would've been nice to go with y'all."

Omega chuckled, "Well do not worry, you've still got that shitty cereal you like and all of us breathing down eachother necks 'til we get to the next state," he gave, patting Special's back, his hand lingering down as the ghoul stood up.

"You act like that's a punishment to me," he chuffed, walking to the small countertop, pouring water into the kettle before turning it on.

[[MORE]]

"If you can handle 12 hours of Alpha's practicing and Air crpytic-ness, then I'm calling you a saint."

Special poured the hot water into the mug, "Then I supposed I'd have to be banished from the clergy."

The two laughed, letting themselves relish in the stillness and silence in the bus.

"So, where is everyone else?" Special asked as he placed his empty mug in the sink.

"Final wanderings 'round the place, washroom breaks-"

"Things still busted?" Special interrupted, jutting his thumb towards the small washroom door.

Omega nodded, "Said it'd be fixed when we get into Denver, sink still works though."

Special made a slight face as he came back to sit with the other ghoul, "Remind me not to wash my hands in there again," he smiled, ears perking up when the chittered voices of the other ghoul's neared close.

12 hours on the bus didn't seem too bad. It would give the spokesghoul ample time to think through possible interview questions and see how the others were.

The ghoul stretched his legs that had been tucked under him out after the idle hours of finishing up certain paper work styled clergy duties. Despite being on a bus thousands of miles away, the work was never over.

Special paused in his movements when a firmiliar taut sensation became all too noticeable in his lower abdomen. The ghoul chewed on his lower lip, it wasn't too bad, yet. He glanced around, his eyes settling on the passing signs and blurred billboards. Surely they were in need of a pit stop soon, he could wait it out until then.

Special's brow raised as he watched them drive past the gas station.

"We aren't stopping?" He questioned aloud

"Guess it ain't bus accessible," a voice gave.

The earth ghoul plopped down besides the spokesghoul, " 'sides, we've only been on the road for three hours."

Special's heart sank slightly, bus time never was the same as linear time.

Earth tilted his head as he watched the seemingly disappointed expression from the other ghoul, noting the slightest flushing over his cheeks.

"You all right, Spesh?"

The ghoul glanced away for a split second as he thought of something to say.

"Oh yes, perfectly, perfectly fine just," he swooped his head down, "just a bit uh, carsick, bus sick in this situation I guess."

A little white lie, no harm no fowl.

The earth ghoul nodded slowly, the slight suspicion was pushed to the side at the notion of one of his own being unwell. The ghoul held a clawed finger up as he leaned over, pulling a bottle of water and placing it on the spokesghoul's lap.

Special looked to the bottle then back to the earth ghoul.

"It'll help with the nausea, 'least that's what Papa said one time," Earth explained as he picked up the bottle once more, unscrewing the lid, holding it out.

There was hesitancy before the ghoul took hold of the water bottle, setting it to his lips and taking a small sip.

Earth raised a brow, "Think you could handle a bit more there? A bird sip wont help you."

No. No he couldn't.

"Oh uh, yeah," Special mumbled between the lid before tiliting his head back, taking a larger swig; wincing as the water settled in his stomach, but, how long would it stay there?

Special sat the nearly finished drink on the floor, wiping away the excess on his chin, glancing over to the earth ghoul.

Earth gave a nod of approval, lightly patting Special's leg before standing up, "Good, just try and take it easy and rest up."

The spokesghoul bit back a groan as he leaned his head back.

This was going to be a long ride.

The hours felt as if they just continued to drag on longer and longer with each passing of blurred road signs. Special rubbed at his eyes, glancing to the book he had long since abandoned. He crossed his ankles as he moved his hands to his sides, gripping lightly at the seat cushion.

It was no longer a nuisance he could brush off, his bladder ached, skin tautly pressed against his slacks.

Special shifted in his seat for the unknownth time in that hour. His ears twitched at the sound of the washroom door clicking open.

He knew he could simply do as the others were so freely doing; pee in the sink and be done with this growing issue. However, sometimes in him stopped him each time he started to stand.

He was one of the elder ghouls on the bus, he of all ghoul's should have better control of his body and be able to wait.

Idly, Special footed the near empty bottle, the thought crossed his mind more than once since he had been made to drink it's contents.

Too much of a hassle, a mess and the others would know exactly why he was shuffling back to the bunking area with an empty bottle.

The ghoul felt eyes on the back of his neck, slowly he turned to come face to face with the Omega ghoul.

"Eveything okay? Been missing your chatterboxing."

"Yes. I'm fine," he said, perhaps a bit more curt than intended.

Omega squinted, "Don't sound find to me, Earth mentioned you were feeling a bit woozy, still feel that way?"

Special squirmed as he nodded slowly, "A bit, yeah."

"Why don't you lay down? Others wouldn't mind."

Special shook his head, knowing that if he were to move so much of an inch it would be game over.

"No? Okay how about some more water? Been a while since you last drank," Omega mused as he swiped the bottle beneath Special's foot.

Special's eyes widened at the thought of even attempting to fit a drop extra into his overly filled bladder.

"N-no thank you, it's alright, I just need t-to sit." Special weakly gave, tail curling around his ankle as he spoke, desperately trying to keep his composure.

"I'll get it for ya, think I still got some filtered water in there," the bigger ghoul said as he stood up, rummaging through the mini fridge, despite the small noises of protest coming from the smaller ghoul. He placed a container on the counter before pulling himself back up, walking back to the couch.

Omega began to pour the water into the bottle, the liquid echoing between the plastic bottle.

It was too much for the spokesghoul. Special let out a yelp, hands shoving between his thighs, shuddering frame as he doubled over, chittering anxiously as his bladder gave in.

The other's attention was drawn to the ghoulish noises spouting from the spokesghoul, just barely audible over the hissing noise that as well came from the ghoul.

The warm urine pooled around his seated body, what wasnt absorbed by the fabrics of his clothing or couch slowly dribbled into the floor, collecting into a small puddle.

A hushed silence washed over the bus as the stream finally tapered off, leaving Special's quivering, panting breaths to fill the silent air.

He wanted nothing more than to just hide. However, there was no such thing on a bus. Special's eyes locked onto the glistening puddle beneath him.

"Spesh?" Omega finally broke the silence.

Special sniffled, dryly swallowing around the growing lump in his throat.

"Why didn't you go? I know the sink isn't the most appealing," he asked, sitting beside the smaller ghoul.

He shrugged,lifting his shoulders to his ears, "I-I wanted to be able to ho-hold it," Special finally gave, "I'm sorry," his voice cracking.

Omega shook his head, gently tilting the others chin to face his, "Hey, it's okay, buddy. Happens to the best of us, don't think anyone else here hasn't pissed themselves before?" He paused, "It's alright, no ones upset, just glad you're feeling better."

Special leaned into the touch, exhausted from the hours long hold.

"How 'bout we get you cleaned up before you fall asleep huh?" The bigger ghoul said as he stood, helping the other to his feet.

Special nodded, pressing his face into the others chest as they walked into the back to grab the spare uniforms.

He was fortunate for such understanding bandmates.

[victorluvsalice]

Forgotten Vows Friday: Fixing You Cut Scene! Extended Dr. Fixxler’s Shop

Hi all! I’m making good progress on Chapter 8 of “Fixing You” -- it’s a LOT shorter than Chapter 7, so you’ll definitely be seeing it next week. However, I thought I’d share something else with you today -- some cut content! Most of the editing I’ve been doing while working on “Fixing You” has been cutting out bits of unnecessary fluff, or chopping short scenes and conversations that go on waaaay too long. (Chapter 7 actually had a TON cut out of it to avoid the characters telling each other everything you guys have already seen in the fics. Yes, that damn chapter was originally even longer.) And while this is all for the good, it does mean that occasionally I lose moments I like.

Such as today’s scene, which was part of an earlier draft of Chapter 3 with Victor and Alice in Fixxler’s shop. Originally, Alice’s question to Fixxler about him having the ability to move between the Lands of the Living and the Dead led to a much longer scene where Fixxler provided a lot more explanation on how the spell worked, and how magic works in this world in general. There was also what I thought was a fun bit of business with the group searching the shop for special glasses that let you see magical auras. When it came time for the next round of editing, though, I realized the scene really slowed the pacing down, and that Fixxler would know why Alice would be so interested in Slip Through The Veil without her needing to spell it out so explicitly. So I cut out this scene and provided pared-down versions of some of the exposition he gives here in a different spot in the chapter. I still like the bit though, soo -- here, to tide you over until next week. Hope you enjoy! For context, the starting line in italics is from the actual Chapter 3 and shows where the scene would have landed.

Alice froze. "Wait – let's rewind the conversation back a few minutes, if you don't mind. You can get to the Land of the Dead?"

"One of the lucky ones," Fixxler told her, locating an old fountain pen. "Like I said, it takes a lot of power – barring special circumstances, like your boyfriend accidentally proposing to a very hopeful corpse."

"When Elder Gutknecht sent us up that first time, it didn't seem very complicated," Victor said, frowning. "He just squeezed an egg out of a raven and broke it over our heads."

"Oh, it's not a matter of complicated – it's a matter of simply what you're trying to do," Fixxler told him, waving the pen. "The barrier between life and afterlife is usually pretty strong – living people aren't supposed to go Downstairs, and vice-versa. It takes a lot of energy to allow the 'wrong' person through the veil. Again, you're a special case, but. . . ." His eyes flashed gold again. "No, you don't have enough personal power to cast it on your own."

"What is that?" Alice had to ask. "It makes you look as if you've gas lamps behind your face."

"Signature Sense – it's my special talent," Fixxler explained. "I can tell you how to do it, but – well, it involves lighting a match, then waving it back out after ten seconds and swallowing it."

Victor touched his Adam's apple. "Oh – I don't think I'll try that one, then," he admitted. "Knowing me, I'd choke." He pouted. "I really wanted to see what an aura looked like, though. . . ."

"That is what enchantments are for," Fixxler told him. "I've got a pair of glasses I made once that I managed to permanently enchant with the same spell. . .somewhere. . . ." He grumbled as he looked around the store, twirling his pen. "The problem is, people seem to think a messy shop is more 'magical,' and then you just get used to throwing things anywhere."

"I can help you look for them," Victor instantly offered, getting to his feet. "I'm used to having to rummage for things."

"Yes, the Houndsditch toy pile can be a terrifying ordeal indeed," Alice agreed, standing up as well. "And I'd like a look too, honestly. . .so neither of us have a chance at casting the spell on our own?"

"I'll check behind the counter – Victor, you try the bookshelves up there," he said, gesturing to the little raised stage where lived his Chinese herbs and mystical tomes. "Alice, you check the front window – and no, sorry. You're both fairly magically gifted, but not that much."

Victor frowned as he mounted the tiny flight of steps to the shelves. "What if we combined our power?" he asked. "Is there a way to do that?"

"Sort of – there's spells that let you 'borrow' extra power from a person or a place for a little while," Fixxler confirmed, climbing over the counter. "But even with that, I think you'd still be short. And even if you weren't, there's a good chance you still couldn't use the spell anyway."

"Whyever not?" Alice demanded, feeling through the ribs of the skeleton just in case something had slipped inside. The bones jangled at the intrusion.

"Because, for whatever reason, magic doesn't like it when you drain your lake all in one go." Fixxler leaned on the countertop. "Granted, I don't blame it, it's not a pleasant feeling. . .but yeah, one of the barriers to learning magic is that the upper limit of the power of the spells you can learn is slightly below the upper limit of your own personal power. Draw Upon The Earth's Currents and Draw Upon Another's Currents can both get you around that limitation for a bit, but it only goes so far."

Victor paused in his search. "Ah – is – it isn't p-possible to completely use up your magic permanently, is it?" he asked, rocking to and fro on his heels in a rather Alice-like way.

Fixxler gave him a reassuring smile. "No, don't worry about that. You have to be casting a lot of magic in a very short amount of time to burn out, and even then, it only takes a couple of hours to recover. Nasty couple of hours, though – you feel like some vital part of you is missing."

"I've had enough of that feeling," Alice muttered, glowering at the thorny vine as the wail of a long-dead train echoed in her ears. "Doesn't sound like it's much of a risk, though." She felt around the pot, then moved on to the display of colored bottles. "You said that was one of the barriers. What are the others?"

"Mainly that you can only learn so many spells," Fixxler said, ducking down to hunt through some hidden cabinets. "Oh, so that's where I put that decanter. . . ." He placed it on the counter. "Again, relates to you having only so much magical energy. Once you learn enough that, if you cast them all in rapid succession, you'd burn out, that's it. Any new spells you try, even simple ones, will automatically fail."

"Hmph. I guess we'll have to be very careful what spells we learn," Alice said to Victor.

"And not learn too many of the same ones," Victor nodded. "How many do you think we'll get?"

"Hard to say for sure, but rough estimate – twenty to twenty-five?" Fixxler said, waggling a hand over his head. "Well, twenty to twenty-five for you – nineteen to twenty-four for Alice. Sorry, but a natural talent automatically takes up a slot. The price you pay for a spell you can use anytime without reagents."

"I can live with that. False Flesh is one of the fun ones, at least." Alice examined a bottle. "Are these real potions?"

"Some are – if they're glowing a little, they're real," Fixxler said, eyes peeping above the counter. "Otherwise it's just colored water. Good for effect, and I'm not constantly in the lab making new ones."

"How – oh!" Victor reached back behind a book and extracted a pair of small round glasses with dark lenses. "Are these them?" he asked, slipping them on.

"Let me see," Fixxler asked, standing up straight.

Victor turned to face him. "I don't – OW!"

He snapped his head away, ripping off the glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Victor?" Alice asked, dropping the bottle and hurrying to his side. "What happened?"

"It was like looking at the sun!" Victor hissed, pressing hard on his lids. "I'm still seeing a bit of a glow now."

"Sorry," Fixxler said with a sheepish look. "Should have warned you that the more power you have, the brighter your aura. There's a reason I made those out of dark glass."

"It didn't help much." Victor cautiously blinked open his eyes. "Ow. . . ."

"Try again with Alice," Fixxler encouraged. "She should be just fine to look at."

"That's what people tell me," Alice quipped, making both men blush. She held out her hand. "Here – want me to try first and confirm it's okay to look at most people?"

Victor handed over the glasses. "Just, really, don't look at him," he warned. "It is horribly bright."

Alice heeded his advice, keeping her back firmly to Fixxler as she slipped on the curious spectacles. Most of the world grew dark and smoky. . .but oh yes, out of the corner of her eye she could see a brilliant light emanating from somewhere behind her. Seems he wasn't exaggerating – turning to face our new friend probably would be exactly like looking directly at the sun.

Fortunately, she had a much softer, prettier light to focus her attention on. Victor himself seemed to be in shadow, but his aura was a vivid gold around him, edged with a layer of equally-bright blue-green. Shades of pink and orange and green and purple swirled over his body, tangling with each other before disappearing into the gold. "Oh. . . ." She held out her hand right above his chest, fingers dipping into the play of colors. "That's lovely. And this is what you see, Dr. Fixxler?"

"When I use Signature Sense," Fixxler confirmed. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Very." Alice drew her hand back and examined her own arm. No blue-green perimeter for her, but the bits of dripping rainbow still chased themselves over and through her own golden glow. She admired them for a bit –

Then frowned curiously. While most of the colors were floating about, blending with each other, there was a stripe of green about level with her elbow that was staying stock-still, resisting all invitations from red and yellow and blue to join the fun. She checked Victor's aura – no, all of his were moving. "What do the colors mean?" she asked, starting to turn her head – Fixxler's aura burned at her eyes, and she quickly yanked it back.

"Well, the main one is the 'alive or dead" signifier," Fixxler rattled off. "Gold's for living, blue-green is dead. The ones floating on top are a general sign of health. The brighter those colors and the faster they move, the better you feel. Any stationary stripes show what special talents you have – each spell has a unique color, or so they tell me. If you could look at me, you'd see I've got sort of greenish-gold stripes in my aura."

"Interesting," Alice said, looking at her legs and picking out a few more green stripes around her knees and feet. "So the green ones on me must be for False Flesh."

"Do I have any?" Victor asked hopefully.

Alice shook her head. "I don't see any, anyway."

"Nope – don't take it too hard, though," Fixxler told Victor as his shoulders slumped. "Most people don't have any talents. And most spells don't require anything too hard to obtain for reagents."

"Think of it this way," Alice said, taking off the glasses and handing them back over. "You get to choose all of your spells. I'm stuck with False Flesh whether I like it or not."

Victor smiled. "Given you're still in your Steamdress, I think you do like it." He put the glasses back on, making very sure not to look in Fixxler's direction. His eyes widened as he caught sight of her aura. "Oh wow. . . ." He too reached out a hand, running his fingers through the invisible colors. "Goodness, Alice, it's gorgeous. . . ." He looked down at himself, marveling at his unique glow. "I wish I could see these all the time."

Alice glanced at Fixxler, now again a perfectly ordinary black man. "You're sure?"

Victor took one peek his way, then grimaced and shut his eyes before pulling the glasses back off. "Good point. How could you even see our auras over your own?"

"I'm used to mine," Fixxler said. "If it makes you feel better, I nearly blinded myself the first time I looked at me too." He hopped back over the counter and accepted the glasses from Victor. "Now – I assume there's a reason for all the questions about Slip Through The Veil beyond you wondering how you could get a free ride into the afterlife but not one out of it?"

Victor glanced at Alice, awaiting her confirmation to share. "It's my family, Dr. Fixxler," Alice said, sparing him the trouble. "I – ever since I learned that the afterlife is real, the chance to see them again has been weighing pretty heavily on my mind. Dr. Wilson thinks it's the final loose end I have to tie up before I can be called anything resembling mentally healthy." She fiddled with her skirts. "Victor and I have been wondering for over a month now how you get Downstairs without dying or proposing to a corpse. And then you come along and. . . ." She huffed. "It's just a bit annoying to know there is a spell for it, but to have it be out of our reach."

"Ah. Well then – the way I see it, you have two options," Fixxler said, leaning on the railing. "The first is to wait until the end of October. You see, Slip Through The Veil has a little quirk – on Halloween night, sunset to sunrise, anybody can cast the spell. From what I've read, it's thanks to all of us thinking that spirits roam the Land of the Living in that general time period anyway. The barrier naturally thins thanks to all that belief."

"Really." Alice exchanged an intrigued look with Victor. "It would be a bit of a pain to wait, granted. . .but it would also be something to look forward to. What's option two?"

Fixxler grinned. "You let me take you."

Alice blinked. "You can – do that?"

"Elder Gutknecht did it to me and Emily," Victor told her, eyes bright. "And then to the whole village when we decided to get married properly! You'd really be willing, Dr. Fixxler?"

[robertkstone]

Porsche 919 Hybrid Race Car Review: The Ultimate Harmony of Gas and Electric

I’m nearly flat on my back, buckled in, knees up, feet on the two pedals, staring at a dazzling array of switches, knobs, buttons, and dash display. In the unlikely event that the green light located to the upper right ever turns red and I must exit this vehicle post haste, I’m instructed to do the “hybrid long jump” from car to ground, lest I ground the chassis and be instantly fricasseed by a zillion volts of potential energy.

The very team that won the 24 Hours of Le Mans for three years straight is rolling me out of the garage and onto pit lane in one of the same mega-million-dollar marvels from those historic events: the Le Mans Prototype 1 Porsche 919 Hybrid.

The 919 Hybrid makes twice the power and twice the downforce of the used-to-feel-fast 911 GT cars I’m used to, at maybe 25 times the price.

Inches behind my head is a smallish 2.0-liter turbo V-4 delivering a largish 500 horsepower to the rear Michelin slicks. Ahead of me is an electric motor that variably adds up to 400 more horses to the front. Driving about 1,900 pounds of carbon fiber honeycomb and aluminum alloys … Do the math. About 80 percent of me is savoring the anticipation of the incredible opportunity to experience a close sibling of the fastest road racing car ever built. (We at Motor Trend are the only Americans of nine elite journalists invited to this event.) The other 20 percent of me wants my mommy. Don’t mess this up, I think quietly. Radio check, copy.

Car chief Olivier is 25 years younger than I, with a deadly serious countenance born of responsibility and professionalism. He calmly radios instructions to this skinny old dude he never met before, who is about to wheel his jewellike prize onto the Motorland Aragón circuit here in the Spanish countryside outside of Barcelona. Flat-out, should I so desire, he says. I so desire.

“Clutch in, start engine … pit speed limiter on … hold clutch, drive off on electric to 50 kph … slowly release clutch …”  Whhhappp-pa-pa-pa-poppp. The revs max out for a moment before the now-fried clutch thunks into engagement. Olivier told me to drive full-throttle on the pit limiter, but lordy, not when leaving the pit, I discover. Keep calm, carry on, all’s well.

Fortunately, we journalists had first been sent to train on the simulator at Porsche Motorsport, Weissach. The Werksfahrer use it to learn new tracks and refine their considerable skills. I was one once—a factory driver—by the way, but pre-sim. Porsche requires that I dress in full race gear for the sake of realism, and the simulator uses a genuine 919 tub. It is mounted high on four hydraulic rams and faces a surround screen with a realistic portrayal of the Motorland circuit.

Video games in my day ranged from Pong to Pac Man to Asteroids, but all these years I’ve driven real cars for fun, not computer-generated images. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I strap in, hoping to learn a bit about the circuit and the awesome racing machine but also a little leery of the coming Tilt-a-Whirl gyrations from the mechanical spider legs below.

I roll out of the virtual pit lane and follow the track, looking good. As speeds come up rapidly on the no-risk video display, so does the rate at which my stomach turns. The wraparound view swirls as I whip this thing into a corner, and my terra-firma brain protests through my tummy. The engineers graciously stop the hydraulic g-force imitations, and I bravely manage several more laps on static-seating video, until Turn 1 instigates a sudden gag reflex that almost gets away from me. “OK, got it, guys, thanks. Fresh air, please?”

On the actual track in Spain the next day, as I accelerate into the real Turn 1, I find that the video tutelage was very helpful. I have a nice head start on the track and the car’s otherworldly level of performance. The corners look very much the same, and my throttle settings and brake points work here in the real world, too. But the greatest benefit was that the simulator prepared me for the impossible cornering forces the 919 can generate. Like on the screen, I just put my foot down and keep pulling gears, brain squashed against the inside of my skull. With Motor Trend, I regularly test supercars that can easily top 1.0 g on the skidpad. Now try 3.4 g. It’s like living in a sped-up film. Ridiculous fake becomes shocking reality.

The steering is a yoke; round wheels are so passé. This is no drift car. Aero undertrays don’t work well sideways. Knobs under the central screen adjust the levels of traction control: front, rear, and connected. Two more knobs adjust boost (electric, in this case) and recup, or the level of regeneration. Four thumbwheels set entire car-system parameters, settings radioed in from a massive team of engineers in the pits and even back home in Weissach (another efficiency: less travel). In an effort to maintain driver involvement, regulations allow data telemetry from car to pit, but not the other way around. It’s old-school radio and of critical importance to winning.

Le Mans racing is all about efficiency, to increase its relevance and benefit to mankind. LMP1 racers are only allowed a set amount of energy per lap. Exceed it, and the car must slow to give it back in the next lap. So under braking, the hybrid system retrieves some of the energy that once accelerated the car (yes, like the Prius). One way the 919 does this is by “sailing.” With the oddest of sensations, the race car slows itself at the end of a long straight—of which there are several on an 8.0-mile lap of Le Mans—regenerating electric boost even before the driver brakes. It’s like a bungee cord stopping a free fall. This didn’t happen on the shorter stops.

Another fascinating innovation in efficiency is a why-didn’t-I-think-of-that addition to the 919’s turbo system. You’ve heard of a wastegate, right? It releases unneeded exhaust gases once your turbo has spooled up to your chosen boost level. Normally the exhaust is just piped around the turbo and into the atmosphere. Well, the brilliant Porsche scientists use that exhaust energy to drive a generator, sending the energy back into the liquid-cooled lithium-ion battery pack. They call it MGU-H, or motor generator unit—heat.  This way, the car now charges under braking (which supplies 60 percent of the regen) and acceleration (which supplies the other 40 percent). It’s much more clever in effect than in name.

Electric boost is what elevates this racer above the crowd, but to win the races, it must be used in the most efficient fashion. Where might extra power pay off the most? At the beginning of the straights. The sooner the car gets the speed boost, the longer it pays off. Thus, the 919 would utterly explode off the slower corners, with a thrilling sensation of compression all over the body, through the first couple of gears. Then once it gets up to speed (about 170 mph, in our case), the voltage shuts down. The mere 500 ponies from gas alone feel like crawling, by contrast. I saw about 288 kph on the dash (almost 180 mph). At Le Mans, the car did 206 mph. And the 919 Evo did 216 when it set the Spa record.

The Evo version is responsible for the ultimate lap record recently set at Spa by factory driver Neel Jani, famously outpacing Formula 1. For those of you not well-versed in Porsche vernacular, this is not the same 919 that obliterated the Nurburgring lap record. That “tribute” car is an Evo version, whereas this 919 is a LeMans car.

An engineer’s dream, this project unleashed the surly bonds of racing regulations and allowed the team to turn everything up to 11. Screw efficiency: Turn up the turbo boost (for 720 hp), ultra-energize the battery pack (to 440), max out the aero, and go for it. Michelin even built special tires to endure the crushing tire loads in Eau Rouge’s devastatingly fast uphill right. #worldbeater

Porsche bravely chose the highest voltage possible under the FIA WEC regulations. The 800-volt system is not coincidentally the same as the developing Mission E concept road car and required pioneering efforts in handling the surging electrons of that level, in cooling, storage, and connections, system wide.

And why a V-4, you might wonder, after the great tradition of boxer engines? Packaging and aerodynamics. With efficiency as king, Porsche chose the design using the FIA regulations for the category. The 90-degree V configuration leaves more room below for tunnels and diffuser. It also works better with just one turbo; it’s closer to the exhaust from both sides. Porsche tags it as a steep-standing boxer engine. So there, traditionalists. Porsche claims the four-cylinder creates less drag, and it’s oversquare and big bore, which allows for bigger valves. It’s all-aluminum and extremely compact. It’s direct-injected, and at 40 percent, the most efficient engine in Porsche history. It sounds like no four-banger you’ve ever heard, erupting to life with a raw, angry, gravelly tone that’s all business and demands respect. Next-gen 718, perhaps?

When I drove the 919 Hybrid, my greatest challenge was reaching beyond belief to neck-straining grip levels well above anything I had ever experienced. I worked hard to convince my foot to stay planted on the gas through the fast bits the way I had in the safe isolation of the simulator. That is, until I half-spun in the slower Turn 1 from too much entry speed combined with too-early throttle, the data showing it in the glaring light of truth. Downforce increases exponentially with speed, so one must adjust in second gear after being taunted to push harder by the incredible stick developed in fifth. And it’s the same with brake pressure: There’s monstrous initial pressure, then backing on the pedal as speed comes off when about to turn in.

Overall, driving such a successful and complex technological wonder is like having all your on-track prayers answered; it’s like being transported to a new dimension of performance. The 919 Hybrid showcased Porsche’s talents in the boiling cauldron of top-level racing competition, with cutting-edge developments that actually benefit its future products for street-driving consumers, in both high performance and energy efficiency. I call that a win, on track and on the street, especially for enthusiasts like us.

IFTTT

[cheeeld-blog]

L | first day of school

First day of school. Brushed teeth? Check. Presentable attire? Check. Signature I-just-got-out-of-bed-but-I-still-look-goddamned-sexy hairstyle? Check. Extra strong breath mints, sister-approved-spray-deodorant-that-doesn't-make-girls-gag-when-too-much-is-applied, extra shirt, and of course my stationery are all organized inside my backpack. With a slight case of OCD I'm kind of a freak about cleaning sometimes. "Good luck," Nora called out as I passed by her on my way downstairs. Similar every other Monday morning in my life (as far back as I could remember) my step sister was the first to be done with her breakfast. My father sat at his side of the kitchen table, newspaper laid open in front, half underneath mother's aqua breakfast plate set, that contained his breakfast of the day. Mother, clad in her pink apron, had just pulled out her tray of Monday muffins from the oven. Little Nemo quietly munched on his cereal of choice, watching the PowerPuff Girls on TV as they saved​ the day once again. ... I expected this school to be quite normal, It was a relatively chilled day until I had been knocked over by a hippopotamus. It all happened so fast that I went from trying to read what the super tiny letters spelt out on the door in front of me to have my vision covered with something purple. “OMG. I am Jo. Gwenchanayo?” My mind went blank. I was stupidly sitting on the dirty floor staring at the object that just hit me. The owner of the purple — actually violet — hair. { describe face in a weird way. Try to keep it a mystery weather it's a girl or a boy } “Wait let me pee first.” She just disappeared. *sigh* it was too soon to say that i will be one of those kids with a normal high school life. Too son bruh. Too soon. I knew something wasn't right. Sophomore and freshmen year were too simple. ... Chemistry was my last (and first) class before lunch. Let's just say that the Weirdo had caused me to skip my first two classes because as soon as I stood up i felt a sharp pain in/on/at/preposition my left foot. I had to _describe lengra walking_ my way to the nurse's office. Turns out I had sprained my ankle. Since I was the new kid, no one really knew me so it bunking was easy. But nurse Kelly, what she had introduced herself as, wouldn't let me skip three periods in a row. "In a round bottom flask," The way he said bottom make me crack up. Mr. _name_ was bald and his eyes _describe a minion_ without the highly pigmented yellow skin tone. _describe how he also sounds like a mininon_ Fortunately but strangely my random-ass giggle went by unnoticed. Then I realized why. Everyone had their eyes on that one kid at the second row. Even the front row kids had turned their heads 180 degrees to listen to him right after he shouted, "I have a solution!" His thick accent sounded familiar. And that super dark brown hair and the awkwardly tanned skin. Not curly, not wavy either. It reminded me of . . . No way. “What if we collected all the gas and just stored them deep underwater? It'll prevent global warming!” The class erupted with a bunch of snorts and "what the F's". I quickly glanced at the textbook laid open in front of me. Huh, I had already done this chapter last year. This school is pretty slow. “I'm sorry, wuth?" I think he said "what". “With giant, uh, buckets? No pipes. Like the upwards gas collecting method?” Some people never change. ... Since I hadn't taken anything out other than my notebook, it took me approximately ten seconds to pack up and sprint towards the kid as he exited the classroom. Boy, he was fast. "Hey, O'Rush!" He froze. Hah! It worked. He creepily and slowly looked around trying to locate the direction from where his old nickname hit his ears. Then his eyes stopped on me. I knew, I haven't changed much since middle school. Just maybe got taller and hotter? Hihi. He stood there, fifteen feet away from me, scanning my face and body. I have no idea how he could see me clearly from that far away _fix possible grammatical errors_. Then he shouted back. "Levi?" I spread my arms open and smiled. Call me gay, but this guy was my best friend since elementary and I hadn't seen him in two whole years. "It is you!" He came running – more like, Osman-style-fast walking – towards me. Then he stopped. "I'm not hugging you. I am a manly man now." ㅜㅡSome people never change. "Oh, just come here you hagu!" I embraced him as manly-ish-ly as possible. "You can't call me hagu anymore you know. I've grown up!" _change the speech_ Hagu apparently means shit in Bengali, which was Osman's native language. He taught us that back in 6th grade when we had the whole code-names-are-lyf phase going on. He was the only kid from SA so no one really knew what we were talking about. That makes me miss our squad. (End of ch.1)

[travellerstune]

Maol Bhuidhe Bothy Adventure

“You’re doing what?” They ask, as you tell them that you’re going to spend the night in a remote abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere. “Madness” they say, as you explain the place has no gas, electric, running water, toilet or phone signal. “Well” I say to myself, let them think that, the wilderness lovers amongst us can keep the magic to ourselves.

Our journey started at Dornie, a little village on just off the A87 at the Northern end of Loch Duich. We arrived Thursday evening and booked into a homely B&B next to the Clachan Pub. Some lovely views of Eilean Donan Castle from here. The Clachan Pub was shut, so we headed over to the Dornie Hotel (60 second walk) for some evening scran. We enjoyed a good value hearty meal, whilst perusing the map for tomorrows adventures.

We awoke Friday morning and whilst we enjoyed the continental breakfast, it wasn’t quite the ideal preparation required for a day on the hills. However, a quick visit to the well stocked Dornie Post Office and store was a fulfilling experience. This little Post Office had everything we required with the lovely woman manning the shop making us feel especially welcome.

And were off

With our bikes safely attached to the bike rack and our supplies replenished, we headed north out of Dornie until we reached the signpost for Killilan, about a two-minute drive from Dornie. Turning right here leads onto a narrow road which skirts along the edge of Loch Long.

Loch Long

The views ahead are quite stunning here and we stopped to take a couple of photos. After about 5 miles, the road leads to a small car park at the gates of the Killilan estate. There’s ample room for about 15 cars.

Good biking on the tarmac track

With the gear packed, we made headway on the bikes along an easy 4 WD track which sits alongside the River Elchaig. The track is nice flat tarmac for a couple of miles before it gets a bit rougher. However, it is a delightful cycle with stunning views of Glen Elchaig. There’s not much up and downing and the track eventually leads to Loch na Leitreach.

Biking past Loch na Leitreach

On our journey, it was lovely to see so many deer in the Glen. Keep going along the track with Loch na Leitreach to your right. Once the end of the Loch is reached, you will be able to spot the Iron Lodge which is about another mile and a half further on.

Deer in the Glen

We got off the bikes here and chained them to the bridge that leads over to the Iron Lodge.

The Iron Lodge, where we chained our bikes to the bridge

From here there are two paths to Maol Bhuidhe, we opted to bear left (North). The path is quite easy to follow even though the weather was a bit miserable. It’s an enjoyable walk with some challenging terrain in parts, being especially boggy as you get nearer the bothy location.

The walk in continues

There are also some interesting river crossings which could be tricky when they are in spate. It’s quite mysterious but exciting feeling when the bothy’s fine whitewashed walls first come into sight.

The bothy comes into view

The feeling of adventure, of not quite knowing what to expect, of realising this is going to be your home for the night makes the approach all the more enjoyable.

The secluded little bothy awaits our arrival

The interesting river crossing to reach the Holy Grail

On entering the bothy and having a quick look round, the silence and lack of any other outdoors gear made me think that we could possibly be the only two people here tonight. Whether anyone else would appear later in the day remained a mystery. There’s a room out back and plenty of room upstairs. There’s probably enough room to sleep 15-20 people in all.

Rob getting the coffees on

The bothy was very basic and seemed cold and unwelcoming. This is where the magic happens. A few candles are lit and light fills the bothy and it now feels warm and welcoming. After a quick look through the visitors book, we got some coffees made and sat on the seat outside and stared into the vast beautiful wilderness that surrounded us. Whilst we munched on the sandwiches that we had bought from Dornie Post Office earlier in the day, we discussed what it must have been like to live here back in the day, especially in the throes of the demanding winter weather with only a fire to keep you company.

A game of cards to pass the time

We headed inside and made more coffee, Rob studied the visitors book and I prepared the fireplace. Having cleaned out the grate and the hearth, I placed a layer of coal (from the 10 kg bag of coal we carried in) on the grate. A clump of firelighters was then added, followed by kindling over the firelighters and then another layer of coal. We had a discussion and concluded amicably that six o’clock would be the time when the pinnacle of the bothy experience would begin, the lighting of the bothy fire. There was still an hour till this special moment, which we passed playing a fierce game of cards.

Rob admiring my handy work

Six o’clock arrived and I set alight to the bothy fire with an extra-long gas filled fire lighting device that I had brought in with us. Once the fire was lit, it was just a matter of leaving the fire to take hold and creating enough heat to burn the coal. After around 20 minutes the fire was roaring brightly and giving off great warmth, and warming the hearts and souls of two new bothy men. Rob quickly got the beef hot pot on the go which we enjoyed in front of the fire with a nice tasty beer.

Some nice tasty beers

Something quite extraordinary happens when you are sat in the middle of nowhere, in a stone building with only a fire to keep you occupied. You communicate, by that old fashioned communication method that’s very rare these days, talking. Talking and facial expressions and it’s an absolute joy. And you keep talking and wondering and questioning our very existence and how/why we climb mountains and connect with wild places and. There’s something very primeval about the situation we find ourselves in. This is where we once came from, just animals, wandering the landscapes and living off the land.

Myself and Rob mesmerised by the fire

A midnight excursion outside to observe the full moon and the stars, you’re wondering how far space goes, there’s so many things that our brains aren’t powerful enough to even begin to understand. We retire for the night with the fire still burning strongly.

On waking, the fire is out and the stone bothy is cold again, but a ray of morning sunshine is illuminating the bothy through the small window. Rob awakes to find that one of his boots enjoyed the warmth of the fire a little too much and although still wearable, now resembles a piece of modern art.

Our entry in the visitors book

It also appeared a little mouse had set up home in the side pocket of Robs ruck sack and taken a liking to his porridge, unfortunately for the adventurous little mouse, this would not become it’s permanent abode however. After some coffee and porridge, we pack our things including all left over rubbish, write an entry in the visitor’s book and head on our way.

Rob struggling to fit his gear through the door

We head right out the both and head east past the southern edge of Loch Cruoshie, a different way out than in. The weather is mixed, with sun, rain, hail, fog and wind all interchanging every few minutes.

Looking down Coire Odhar

 continue east adjacent Allt an loin-Fhioda, until a tricky river crossing is reached. Fortunately, there was nothing to fear as Rob had packed some crocs for such an obstacle. With our boots and socks removed and our pants rolled up, we take it in turns to don the crocs and wade through the strong, chilly water.

Rob crossing the river using the “Crocs” method

Having crossed successfully, we continued east until the path meets another path at the North-Western foot of An Cruachan. From here we turned right and headed south up the dramatic Coire Nan Each.

An Cruachan in the centre

Heading up Coire Nan Each

Loch Mhoicean, illuminated by the afternoon sun

Myself getting a blast from the Hailstone shower

From here follow the path south west all the way back to the Iron Lodge. If it’s a nice clear day, you will get a stunning view of Loch Na Leitreach from the path down to the Iron Lodge.

Loch na Leitreach

On reaching the Iron Lodge where our bikes were waiting patiently, we made some cheese and chorizo wraps and had a quick snack before continuing.

Heading back past Loch na Leitreach

It was now just a case of the easy ride back to the car park. The weather was considerably worse than on the way in, but it was clearer, allowing for much better views of the surrounding hills.

Nearly back at the car park

Having reached the car, the walk out and cycle back took six hours. The cycle & walk in took four hours. You could easily walk in and walk out again using the short route, but we opted to make it into a bit of a loop, with a longer walk out, which I enjoyed more.

We got packed up and set off home. Our first bothy experience wont be our last.