amanda’s web serial where we travel around the multiverse doin’ favors! donate to my patreon to get your oc in a chapter. idk it felt like a funny idea at the time.
Hey I’m Amanda and welcome to my web serial, it’s about a catgirl named Can traveling around the multiverse meeting other people’s OCs!
Ko-Fi
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You can submit and have your OC written about for FREE! However, if/when the askbox backs up, you can donate for me to prioritize your OC. Or, if you want your OC to get a solo chapter/more of a character arc, that’s an option too!
By submitting your OC you are allowing me to play with your character like a doll. I may fudge the characterization a bit, depending on how much you give me to work with!
The field world and the ocean world were at least semi-familiar. I’d seen pictures of the beach and of fields before, so I at least had some sort of frame of reference. Not here.
I’m standing on something flat– that much I can tell. Surrounding me is darkness, but… colorful darkness, if that makes sense? It’s darkness that keeps flashing pink and green and white, but it doesn’t stop being darkness, if that makes sense. Yeah, the whole effect is kind of blinding, so I screw my eyes shut and try to adjust.
Blinking rapidly, I take a step backward– and tumble over something onto my ass.
“Ow, shit!” I exclaim, propping myself up onto my hands.
“I’m hungry,” says whatever I tripped over.
What? I pull myself into a crouching position to get a better look at it. I’m only able to distinguish it from the pulsing background because it seems to pull all light in. Sort of like a black hole, I guess. It only comes up to my knee, and has stubby little arms and legs, with no digits. In terms of features, it has one red and white eye, and nothing else.
It blinks slowly at me. “I’m hungry,” it says again, from no visible mouth.
“Oh.” I was able to buy some rations on the ocean planet with the fish that Koii caught. I don’t have much, but– “Do you want a sandwich?”
It blinks at me again and doesn’t say anything.
“Or, I mean, I could just give you some meat and cheese. Or some nut butter on bread? What do you eat?” That’s probably a question that needs to be asked. This world is so alien from my own– how do I know that he’s not going to eat me?
“Haven’t eaten. Long time,” it says in a small voice. It strikes me as almost childlike– like someone should be taking care of it. “No one comes.”
My heart breaks for this impossible little creature. “I’m Can. I’m here to visit.”
“Rodney,” the creature says.
“What do you want to eat, Rodney?” I ask it. “I have salami, salmon jerky, some hard cheese, some bread, honey, and nut butter.”
Its eye darts away, considering its options. “Some bread. Honey and nut butter.”
I put my backpack down on the ground (or what feels like the ground, anyhow) and rummage through it for my bags of food. I was able to get a pocket knife in the ocean world. I use it now, to saw off a hunk of brown bread and smear nut butter and honey thickly across the top. I’m not sure if it’s just mimicking my last words, but I’ll give it to it anyway.
When I’m finished preparing Rodney’s bread, I look up to hand it to it– only to get a shock. A perfect little round table with two chairs has appeared out of nowhere in this pulsing void. It looks like it was copied and pasted from a cute cafe. It has two place settings, two teacups and saucers, and a teapot in the middle of it.
“How’d– how’d you do that? Where’d it come from?”
Rodney’s eye smiles, seemingly pleased that it’s taken me off-guard. “Tea?”
“Uh, sure,” I say, not knowing what else I can say. I put its bread on one of the plates, and Rodney climbs up into its chair. I take the chair across from it, which is a little too small for me, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to complain.
We sit there in silence. Rodney doesn’t touch its bread. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, and ask, “So, Rodney, what are you?”
Rodney cocks its head and doesn’t reply.
“Like, um. How did you make that table appear?”
“Dimension’s mine.”
“The dimension’s… yours? What happened to all the people? Or the environment?”
“No people. No places. Was empty. Found it. Now it’s mine.”
“You can do that?” I ask in disbelief. “Just… find a blank dimension and claim it as your own?”
Rodney shrugs. “Lot of dimensions.”
“But where were you before?”
“Eternal womb of the infinite dark sun.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what that means, or what to say to that, so I change subjects. “The table’s nice. The place setting is very well composed.”
Rodney brightens up. “Thank you! Like the finer things. Like it when it’s pretty.”
“I’m jealous,” I say. “I wish I had the eye for it.” I study my teacup. It has a pattern on it that reminds me of the purple flowers that Roxan grew.
“Glad you like! Want tea?” Rodney gestures with its stubby hand, and the teapot levitates over to my cup.
“Oh, um, sure!” I say. When the teapot tilts, the liquid that pours out of the spout is the same kaleidoscopic colorful not-dark darkness that makes up the rest of the dimension. I watch it fill the cup trepidatiously.
“Is, um, is that safe to drink?”
“Safe to drink,” Rodney assures, filling its own cup. “Good for you.”
I pick up the cup, raise it to my lips, and then stop. “Are you sure?”
“Sure.”
And so I take a sip.
The warm liquid travels down my throat and burns in the pit of my stomach. I feel a chill run through my body as it warms my very bones up. My muscles relax, and the taste hits my tastebuds– Mountain Dew Voltage.
I shudder, as sense memory kicks in. When was the last time I tasted that? Maybe on one of the late nights– crouched in the hallway, laughing–
I open my eyes.
“Crying,” Rodney observes.
“I–” I blink away the tears. “I just– it tastes exactly like blue raspberry Mountain Dew.”
Rodney blinks slowly at me.
“I just– I used to live in this facility where they were studying us. It wasn’t all bad, but the tests and training would run late. And whenever I got the late shift, I had this friend who would show up every time with a Mountain Dew Code Red for her, and a Mountain Dew Voltage for me, out of one of the vending machines. They were so bad for us, but I always liked blue things, and she knew that.” I shake my head. “Sorry. Um. I just haven’t had one in a while.”
Rodney holds out its little stubby hand across the table, and I take it. Its form is solid, and hums with energy. “Can,” it says seriously.
“Yeah?” I look up.
“Thank you for food.” Its plate is empty. I didn’t even see it touch it.
I sniff. “Don’t worry about it, bud.”
“Drink more tea,” it says. “And cry.”
I do so, and it sits across the table from me, watching and holding my hand.
I’m treated to a spray of water in my face when I step out of the portal. I try to blink it away, but it still stings my eyes. Saltwater.
I’m standing at the edge of a dock, at sunset. Salt is thick in the breeze, which stirs my hair. Turning around, I see a plain beach, scattered with driftwood. Nothing manmade at all, except for the dock.
I exhale. Well, I kind of got lucky with my first world– plopped right near civilization, next to a friendly person who didn’t mind jamming with me. I suppose it’s fair that this place is more quiet.
I’m hungry. I wonder if there are fish in the water.
My backpack rests on my shoulders. Roxan gave it to me, before I left his world. All that’s in it right now is the finger piano, but I figure it’ll be useful to carry rations around. And more clothes, maybe. It’d be nice to have a fancy dress someday.
I sling the backpack off my back and onto the dock. After a thought, I sit down on the edge, and kick off my boots and socks, letting my feet dangle into the water. The sun colors the sky in shades of orange and pink, and turns the clouds purple.
Really, the only thing missing is a friend to share it with. Tomorrow, I’ll head off, away from the sea, to find a town, and make a connection. But tonight, I’ll sleep here, on the dock, under the stars. Alone.
Vay would have liked the view.
I shove that thought down. I shouldn’t be thinking about Vay. Vay’s gone. There’s no sense in dwelling on things–
Something grabs my leg and pulls me off the dock.
My entire body freezes up when I hit the cold water. Whatever has my leg keeps pulling me down, and all I can do is let it happen.
And then my fight instinct kicks in, and I kick.
The grip on my leg loosens, obviously surprised. I kick again, and my foot hits something solid. My leg is released entirely, and I swim for air.
I break the surface of the water, and manage to claw my way back up onto the dock. Breathing heavily and soaking wet, I stare at the water, hoping for a glimpse of my aggressor.
Instead, what pops up is a girl with long pink hair and skin. Instead of ears, she has these webby protrusions that almost look like gills. She has horns as well, but they’re also webby and fishlike. Her pupils are in the shape of hearts. A great pink scaled tail emerges from the water behind her.
“You kicked me!” she exclaims.
“You tried to drown me!” I retort.
“I called dibs on the dock,” she says sulkily. “You can’t just take it while I’m getting dinner.”
“I didn’t see anything claiming this dock as yours.”
She pouts. I sigh. “Can’t we just share it for tonight?”
“Okay!” she says brightly. Like she didn’t just try to kill me. Unbelievable. “Help me up?”
I reach out an arm and grasp her hand, pulling her up onto the dock. As she flops onto her back, she drops a large fish, already dead. Her tail glimmers in the light of the sunset, but she takes a deep breath, and it begins to melt into a pair of legs. Her hair darkens to a purpley-black, and an old-fashioned dress, knee socks, and flats forms on her body. She sits up.
“I thought you were a mermaid,” I say.
“I am,” she replies. “I can just… not have the tail if I want.”
“Hm. Cool.” I extend a hand. “I’m Can.”
“I’m Koii!” she replies. “I’m a seamstress.”
“Could you make me a fancy dress to wear?” I ask.
“Do you have money for materials and the cost of labor, plus about six weeks?” she replies.
“No.”
“Then no,” she says with a laugh. Her glibness coaxes a little smile out of me too.
“I’m a traveller,” I say. “I won’t be here that long.”
“I’m a traveller too!” Koii exclaims. “Which way are you headed?”
“Uh… cross-dimensionally?” I run a hand through my hair. “My friend Roxan called it ‘hopping.’”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m just the regular kind of traveller. There’s enough to see in this world– I don’t need to add the multiverse to the mix.” She picks up her fish. “Want to share this with me?”
When was the last time that I ate? “Sure,” I say.“ Do you want me to build a fire?”
She laughs. “Can, we’re on a wooden dock. I don’t think a fire is a great idea.”
My face heats up. “Oh. Right.”
She pulls a knife out of some hidden pocket on her dress. “Ever tried sushi?”
We dice up the fish and eat it raw as the sun goes down and the stars come out. It’s pretty good. Aren’t cats supposed to like fish? Maybe I’m tapping into some sort of instinctual memory.
We eat in silence, but after we’re finished and the chum and bones are dumped back into the water for the seagulls, she asks, “So why did you run away from home?”
I blink. “What?”
“I don’t mean to pry,” she says. “It’s just that most travellers have. I mean, I have.”
“Oh. Um.” It’s a little scary how she could read me that fast. “Why’d you run away?”
Her eyes cloud. “War.” She doesn’t say anything else.
“Oh, um. Mine’s not that severe,” I say.
“What happened?”
“I had this friend, right? And we were really close, but then I did something, and I lost her because of it.” It hurts my stomach just to talk about it. “Anyway, that’s why I left. Couldn’t really stick around home after that.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “It’s my fault.”
“You don’t have to beat yourself up about it, though.”
“I just feel like everyone who looks at me can tell,” I say. “I mean, you could tell.”
She nods with a smile, not denying it. I shift in my seat. “Do you care?”
She leans back, and looks up. “Do you think the stars care? Do you think the sea cares?”
“No?”
“Then I don’t care,” she says. As if it’s final.
I look at her, for a long moment. Her hair is the exact same color as the night sky.
I lean back, and join her in staring at the stars.
The thing you have to know about my home dimension is that it’s depressing as fuck. Think, um, like, hardcore cyberpunk. You never see the sun past the thick clouds of smog. The buildings are dull gray concrete, with windows that need cleaning. And the people? Let’s just say, there’s a reason I left.
This, however, rocks. The sky is a beautiful blue, verging on teal, and I’m surrounded by green and yellow fields. Honeybees dart between flowers, and the smell of wheat is heavy in the air. In the distance, there are thatched huts clustered together.
I exhale. I made the right decision.
I set off through the tall grass, hoping that ticks don’t exist in this dimension. The town is about an hour away– maybe I can find someone to help there.
I’ve walked for almost seven seconds when my leg gets caught in something, sending me sprawling to the ground.
Something jumps out of the grass and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the knife point to be pressed to my throat–
But suddenly I hear the cords of a string instrument. What the hell? I open my eyes again.
My leg is caught in a snare. The tight wire is snug to my leg, not tight enough to break the skin but definitely tight enough to bruise. And standing in front of me is a humanoid with pink-purple skin. He has jaw-length short black hair, horns, and a long thick tail. He’s wearing a long white dress and flats, and holding what looks like a lute. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder.
There’s a beat. Then,
“Are you going to rob me?” I ask.
“Are you rich?” he asks me back.
“I don’t even know what currency this world uses, man.”
“Then no.” He pauses. Considers for a moment. “You must be one of those dimension hoppers, huh?”
“I guess,” I say. “This is my first world. Other than home, I mean.”
He cracks a toothy grin. “Oh, man, congrats. My uncle did a little hopping once upon a time. I’ve heard it’s pretty fun.”
“Yeah, sure. Can you let me out now?”
“Oh, right.” He strums a few chords on his lute, and the wire disappears from my leg. He offers a hand to help me up. “The snare wasn’t even for people, by the way. I’m trying to study how musical buffs affect the energy of wild pigs!”
“Sounds kind of dangerous,” I comment.
He laughs. “I’ve been charged a few times. But I always heal both the pig and myself before I release it.”
“I’m Can,” I say.
“Roxan,” he says with a smile.
“I like your dress,” I tell him.
“I like your bodysuit.” he replies. “So, Can, why are you hopping? Treasure? Glory?”
“Friendship,” I say. “I want to make at least one friend in every dimension, and help whoever possible.”
“Aren’t there infinite dimensions?”
“Yup.”
“You’ll be traveling forever.”
“Yup.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself. Am I your friend for this dimension?”
“I guess,” I say. “Is that cool?”
He looks like he’s about to nod, but catches himself, and furrows his brow. “I’ll only be your friend if you help me with something.”
“Are you blackmailing me?” I ask incredulously.
That makes Roxan smile. “Yes. But it’s fun blackmailing. I just want you to jam with me for a while!”
“Jam with you?”
“Like play music.”
I look down. “I don’t play.” Not much time to learn instruments in a science lab.
“No problem. I have something easy.” He digs around in his bag, and pulls out a wooden circle with long thin strips of metal on it. He plops down, criss-cross, and pats the ground next to him.
When I do, he hands me the object, and says, “This is a finger piano. All you have to do is press the little tabs.”
I hold it, not touching the tabs. After a while, Roxan starts to fidget. “What are you waiting for?”
“Just like, press anything? What if it sounds bad?”
“Then I’m not going to be your friend,” he laughs. “Just play. I’ll follow.”
I thumb one of the tabs. It makes a plink sound. I thumb another. I start pressing random keys, hoping that the jumble of notes will somehow arrange itself into a melody.
Roxan cocks his head at my mishmash of chords. His ears twitch, and I’m worried that I’ve, like, irreversibly fucked up. But then, he dips his head and begins to play his lute.
Oh my god.
His music sounds like a million butterfly wings. Or seedlings popping out of the ground. Or maybe just springtime. Whatever it sounds like, it’s nothing like the grind and hum of machinery that I’m so used to. Every random note I play gets swept up by the melody, calling to mind the fluttering of a bird’s wings and the crawl of an earthworm.
I pick my eyes up from the piano and am met with a wondrous sight. All around us, the grass is sprouting purple flowers. Lots of them. Tiny buds grow on the stalks of grass, expanding and opening immediately, until the stalks are covered in the flowers and are too heavy to support themselves on their own. Then, the grass stalks topple, and the flowers cover the ground like a carpet. As we play, the circle of flowers around us gets bigger and bigger.
I pluck two more tabs that I hope sound kind of final, and then stop. Roxan gets the hint, and trills off into a finale. He opens his eyes. “Pretty cool, right?”
I give him a small smile. “Pretty cool.”
“Keep the piano,” he says. “Maybe next time you come visit, we can jam again.”
“I’ll be better next time,” I promise.
“I’m glad I met you,” Roxan says.
“You… don’t know my history.”
“You don’t know mine.”
“Touché,” I concede.
“What’s important is the now,” he says. “And right now, it’s a beautiful day.”
I breathe in the wheat-smelling air. I exhale. And we just sit there together, enjoying the blue sky and the purple, purple flowers.
Wow. That came out, uh, a little dramatic. Like, okay, sobbing character in a dramedy, wanna monologue a little bit more? Maybe whine to the audience about how tortured and pathetic you are? No. Nobody’s here to hear me do that.
So, uh, sorry, rewind a bit. I’ll keep it to the point.
I’m Can. I’m a catgirl. Made in a laboratory. 21 years old, tragic backstory up the wazoo. I can travel the multiverse. I’m as Mary Sue as they come. The only thing I’m missing is the giant angel wings.
Here’s a picture of me. I’ll try to draw some pictures, but since I’m just doodling with my finger on my phone, they’re not going to be any good.
Anyway, with my absolutely overpowered set of skills (and my totally normal-sized ego), I have charitably decided to not to take over the entire multiverse as a tyrannical despot hell-bent on conformity. I know, I know, it took a lot of willpower, but I was able to resist the urge.
Straight up, though? All I want to do is travel around the multiverse and make some new friends. Helps me cope, I guess.
…Damn, does all this really have to sound this edgy? What a stereotype. Oh well, I guess we’ll all have to live with it.
if you submit your oc give me their name age a bit of their backstory/relevant info along with any story ideas. also ref pics help me personally as a writer!
the serial follows my oc around the multiverse doing favors and meeting your ocs! if you donate for your oc you can suggest scenarios for me to write or i can just freestyle that bad boy.
my oc is named can. she’s a catgirl from the dimension where they’re trying to synthesize real catgirls.
let’s just have fun w it. i’m honestly prepared to just play in my sandbox alone here, but if anyone wants to read and join me, all the better! also, not a scam– I will try to release chapters on a regular schedule.
thanks!
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