My Latest Blockbuster Production

It’s been a little dull here, because I’m focusing my energies on a new movie project. Now, that’s exciting, but it’s also a bit NSFW. Safe-Ish For Work, perhaps. I’ve already made five, so I think I’m getting better at this. I have two very enthusiastic models, a script, and a location: what I do not have is funding!

So! If you think you’d enjoy looking into my psyche a bit and learning what I think is NSFW and fun, feel free to head over to MikhailBorg’s NSFW Patreon Link Page and click on the big red button there – and then contribute! Help these lovely ladies out a bit!

“Ether Flier Lavender”

– another in the ‘Sidequest’ series of fiction fragments –

“We’re travelers of luck – We sail the seas of space – Just to try, and make a buck – LA-VEN-DER!!”

Picture if you will a cross between Space Battleship Yamato, Yellow Submarine, and Firefly: a bizarre ship crewed by four misfits with extraordinary skills. Outcasts from their peoples, they take any jobs they find in hopes of surviving and even sometimes turning a profit. Their madcap – and sometimes harrowing – adventures have become legend.

Our Crew
  • Jahmest Wecyi: owner and captain of the cargo ship “Lavender Oboe”. Looks like a classic Grey alien with short prehensile tentacles corn-rowed along their skull. Jamest is prone to making nonsensical statements under stress, or just when they’re in the mood.
  • “Nearly Mad” Mike NinetyFive: “Nearly” to his friends. Mike is an aurapilot whose glitch also makes him invisible and often nearly intangible. He dyes his hair and wears sunglasses and lipstick to help friends locate his face. He rides the ether filaments better than any other pilot in or out of the Forty-One Worlds… but then they all say that, don’t they.
  • Probosca: A lightly-furred, rotund being with a protruding nose, short stumpy legs, no obvious neck, and a single large eye. Her race has a remarkably sensitive, directional sense of smell, which is believed to work in tandem with the eye to provide depth perception and peripheral senses.
  • Zeesuf: This being’s body shape is unknown, as it is covered with dense, blunt spines revealing only wide eyes, a small nose, and mouth. The spines work as the legs of a millipede to carry Zeesuf over even difficult terrain and can grasp and manipulate objects. The spines are capable of great dexterity and delicate touch, making zir a perfect choice for engineer.
The “Lavender Oboe”
  • It is definitely lavender, but bears no obvious resemblance to an oboe, which doesn’t surprise considering Wecyi named it. It is a tall, narrow ship with a bridge section at the top of a pyramidal superstructure, upon which are mounted a complex array of sensors.
  • Beginning perhaps a third of the way from the bow, two bulbous cargo pods are permanently attached flush with the ship: booster engines fill the aft section of these pods.
  • The crystalline filament drive sits shrouded at the very rear of the ship, with three large radiator fins that also serve as auxiliary steering in atmosphere. The ship is covered with an abnormal amount of cargo and equipment hatches, not all of which anyone remembers how to open.
  • At the very front, there is a curious hole filled with power and data conduits. Clearly, it is a socket for some powerful device. The crew refuses to discuss it under any circumstances.


Catch the all-new adventures of the Lavender and her crew, 17 episodes per binge-able season on the “Infotainer” subscription frequency!

“Light’s Hatchling”

– another in the Sidequest series: fiction fragments which may be expanded someday –

Alex Waverly stood over the crumpled shell of Featherton’s protector. The other four were dazed and wounded, but this one was dead. He couldn’t believe he’d watched her fall less than a meter away from him. The Doves couldn’t fall. It was impossible.

He grabbed the neck brooch from Wing Majesty’s immobile form. Her magically generated costume had faded to the sweatshirt and jeans she must have been wearing before transformation. The gem upon the brooch was as lifeless as its owner.

Alex clenched his fist around it. He knew he might be killed for what he was doing, but he wouldn’t let the Hate Beast do as it would with its fallen foe. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could trigger the Purification Beam in a final vengeance.

Everyone in Featherton knew the power phrase; they’d all heard it in a hundred television specials, limited movie events, and radio commercials. He held the brooch above his head and shouted it, knowing it was a futile, ridiculous act. “I Defend the Living Light!”

It served only to attract attention. Seven glowing eyes swung toward him, and the Hate Beast began to advance. Once more Alex shouted the phrase, and he might as well have been holding a plastic toy for all the good it did. The creature scuttled closer.

“I Defend the Living Light!” he screamed a third time, meaning it as he never imagined he could. A thrill shot through his body; he understood his life was over, but he had not gone down without a fight.

A strange sensation made him look up to see the Light Gem glowing brightly in his hand, sending a kind of painless burning through the nerve endings in his skin and shooting down his arm. He felt decidedly odd.

“Welcome, hatchling…” echoed a voice nearby. An image of Wing Majesty stood tall and proud beside him, no longer battered and wounded, and wearing the ornate blouse and cropped skirt of her Dove uniform. Her eyes were closed as in trance. “Only one fully committed to the Living Light may take the place of a fallen Dove. You, young lady, have shown your faith, and shall take my place as I replaced my predecessor. Kneel before me to receive your – “ She opened her eyes to look at him. “ – oh.”

Alex stared back at her. He couldn’t find words.

“Oh… oh!” She started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. “Never in a thousand years has any Dove seen anything like this!”

“This – this isn’t funny!” he choked out.

Majesty’s laughter died down. “It is… and it isn’t. You are right that becoming a Dove is no matter for humor. Still… every Dove as far as our memories go has been a woman. Yet, you are utterly committed to the Living Light. Without it, you wouldn’t see me now.”

“What’s going on? Did I defeat the Hate Beast? Are the other Doves okay?”

“Do you wish to defeat it? Do you wish to save my sisters from a horrible demise?”

“Well… I mean… of course I do. The Light has kept us all safe, for uncounted generations. We all owe you so much.

“I believe in what you do. I have for as long as I can remember… I have always wished I could help, somehow.” From somewhere deep inside him, the words came almost without thought. “I swear with my life to defend the Living Light.”

She pierced him with her gaze. “You mean every word of that. You truly do.

“Very well. You shall be known as Wing Chrysalis. Arise, and take your place among the Doves!” Her stern expression slipped ever so briefly into a grin. “This should be interesting.”

The next thing he knew, Alex was back in the street. The Brooch of the Light felt warm in his hands, and the Hate Beast lay dead with a 15-centimeter hole burned clean through it. The other Doves were on their feet and rushing towards him.

“How did you… I saw you grab her brooch. You couldn’t have triggered a Purification!” Wing Scimitar shouted.

“Um… look at, er, him. I think maybe he could have,” said Wing Chalice.

“Oh, no,” sobbed Wing Scepter, looking down. “Majesty has passed beyond, hasn’t she…”

“And she passed it to some guy? Some random guy? Are you kidding me?” cried Wing Talisman.

Alex tried his best to follow their exclamations. “Would someone please tell me what has happened? And why do I feel so cold?”

The Doves looked at each other. Chalice nervously twisted a fold of her skirt and said, “Majesty’s brooch is yours now. You put a Purification Beam right through the face of the Hate Beast. You saved all four of us. You’re a Dove.”

Talisman had trouble meeting his eyes. “It seems so. You’ll need training, but you have the powers… the responsibilities… and the uniform.”

Alex looked down at the pair of hairless, shapely legs visible beneath the hem of his glowing, sparkling skirt… and at the fully developed chest filling his short-sleeved blouse… and fainted.

“The Adventure of the Foreign Sun”

– another in the Sidequest series: fiction fragments which may be expanded someday –

The complicated diagram drawn on the wall flared in gold. In the flickering light, the arcane pattern briefly resembled the letters “VR” for some reason. A human-shaped shadow with glowing red eyes emerged from it, bellowing in anger.

“Grrraaaaaaggghhhh – oh. It’s one of you,” the creature snapped. “The last one worked very hard to free me from my debt to your bloodline. I see you’ve changed your mind.”

“That was hundreds of years ago. For generations, you’ve been a family legend no one really believed.”

“Obviously, you felt otherwise. A shame. I rather enjoyed my freedom, I must say. However: what’s done is done. You must have gone to a great deal of trouble to rediscover the secrets learned by your ancestor; especially as I can tell we are far from the mountains of Afghanistan.”

“Can you?”

“If nothing else, the sun outside your window is quite the wrong shade of blue. Let us cut to the heart of the matter. What do you people wish of me this time?” The shadow resolved into the shape of a man: one somewhat over two meters tall, with piercing blue eyes, a thin hawk-like nose, and a prominent, square chin.

“Nothing you are unused to. Shyarlok, I require your help solving a murder,” said Siobhán Marie Watson.

“Lightspeed Subway”

– another in the Sidequest series: fiction fragments which may be expanded someday –

The “incoming capsules” indicators lit up, and Josmin braced for the thud of air that would come from the subway tunnel. The gust wouldn’t knock you over unless you’d had an especially long day, but loose items would sometimes go flying.

The capsules burst from the tunnel entrance, already slowed to a quarter of their initial speed by the long line of control rings stretching back down the tube. Mana gems embedded in the rings glowed violet as the thaumatronic system absorbed velocity, and the capsules glided to a gentle, precise halt next to the platform. The passengers inside stood eagerly to leave, having never felt more than a gentle surge.

Josmin knew people who wouldn’t board the express capsules. Despite hundreds of years without accident, the idea of traveling through solid matter for most of the trip was one they couldn’t bear. He had to agree that the theory and engineering were far beyond him; an encyclopedia article lost him somewhere around “eight spacetime dimensions” and “phased etheric vibrations”. All he cared about was getting 30 kilometers to the other end of town in mere seconds.

He entered one of the capsules and took a seat, as did the other couple dozen folks. The capsule was full this trip, but not crowded; the afternoon rush hadn’t hit yet. He felt a tiny surge as it moved forward into the next set of control rings; the mana gems dimmed as they fed the speed back into the chain of capsules. The momentum field in his capsule could have prevented even that surge, but it turned out people liked the sensation of gentle movement even as the passing rings turned into a silver smear outside the window.

The rings disappeared. There was an electric blue darkness in the capsule with him. For a fraction of a second, Josmin had an eerie suspicion that he no longer existed –

– and then he heard the gentle thud of air being pushed out of the way by the decelerating capsules, and saw the rings reforming from silver blur outside. He’d just moved from south of the Scar to the Boreal Hills in practically no time. He stood to go, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Perhaps for a moment he truly hadn’t existed: it still beat the Void out of traveling by transbeam.