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Trans magical girl survives dangerous world by going full gremlin mode.
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In fairness, the light was green, and trusting that had worked out literally one hundred percent of the time he had crossed the road. It was a real shame too, everything left behind had been pretty nice: good friends, a nice living situation, a backlog of games (that was never going to be finished). It could've been a lot worse.

Headphones had become customary in a city as noisy as New York, blocking it all out was almost out of self-preservation. Though the extra reaction time might've been useful.

Admittedly what probably did him in was spacing out while thinking about elaborate scenarios involving the strange worlds he had been dreaming about.

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The ethereal flames crackle undisturbed by the rain. Its purple light licks at the surrounding darkness, illuminating the glistening stone floor. A single spark floats off the fire, settling just above the ground nearby. Smoke gathers around it, taking the vague form of a lying figure with the spark at the heart. Vagueness is washed away as the smoke takes on a more defined shape, becoming more and more opaque with time, until the purple mote is obscured entirely. Haziness makes way for solidity, and soon what is left is a feminine figure lying alone on the cold stone with nothing but rain and flame for company.

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"Ungh, guh, wuh?" Everything is wrong. Naked. Wet. Freezing cold. Head fuzzy.

Car!?

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He bolts awake. "AH!"

"Wait?" Voice!? "What?"

A hand touches a face.

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"Oh."

"Oh that's not... Oh."

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Her hand retreats from her face, exploring her body. Her skin is smooth, her voice- "Do Re Fa Sol La Si Do." melodic.

Her hair is very wet. And very blonde. She died, right? So is this what happens to people?

"This is way better than nonexistence!"

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Her attention is being pulled in too many directions. She can feel something inside of her, tiny and incandescent. There is a distinct sense of direction towards somewhere... feminine? "Well, my inner compass is well calibrated, if nothing else."

And she got the distinct sense that she could... go?

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Her surroundings lurch. She's further away from the strange fire.

"Wuh-" She focuses, and makes three more jumps in quick succession.

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"I seem to possess the ability to teleport."

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The rain patters on stone, uncaring of the tribulations of the girl standing above them.

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Her voice breaks. "What the fuck is happening to me oh my god its so fucking cold!"

She cackles. The rain swallows her laughter. "Not that I'm complaining!" She twirls in the rain, dancing closer to the bonfire. "The best day of my life doesn't need a manual! I can figure this shit out!"

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"What does this button do?" Only intuition guides this one, pushing herself recklessly in a direction that feels like home.

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Faint light shines through cracks in the sandstone cave, shedding light on what looks like furnishings carved out of the stone. A shelf with what look like jars, a fountain on a wall pouring water into a hole with only a faint sound, a bed with some sort of padding.

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Not being rained on is probably the biggest shift to her status quo since she arrived. The relative silence is deafening, but the sound of running water from the fountain 

"Oh, a cave house." She scans her new environment, her vision strains in the dim lighting. "Hello? Is anyone home?" She looks around. There are no exits. The cracks in the wall might be the only openings into or out of this little cave.

"It's a little claustrophobic, but it's a home only reachable through teleportation! That's a pro. Cons though." She holds her hand up to one of the cracks in the wall, she feels no airflow. "So am I willing to gamble that my oxygen supply will last me throughout a nap?"

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"No. No I'm not."

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"Maybe I can cycle air through teleports? Or maybe these cracks actually circulate air just fine?" She walks up to the bed, and wipes her hands dry off of the sketchy looking mattress sheet. "Oh, soft. Shame I don't trust the air."

She approaches the jars, each large enough that she has to wrap an arm around it while the other works the lid. 

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"Score! Cookies!" She shoves one into her mouth.

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Within the essence of flavor lies the ability to provoke emotions. A good meal can stoke the inner fire, bringing forth memories of home, of times well spent. Even a bad meal can remind you of better meals you'd rather be having. Even in absence it's echo is felt.

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"Man has long yearned to find a cookie more disappointing than oatmeal raisin. And in strange aeons even taste has died."

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She sets down the jar. "Maybe the water doesn't suck." She puts a hand to the cold stream and takes a sip.

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"This is the best water I've ever had in my life."

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At this point she wonders how such a place could exist. It would have to have been built by somebody who could teleport like her. It feels like home, she can't put her finger on why she thinks this. It would be alarming if, say, certain impulses had made their way into her brain, but she just got a whole new body, wouldn't it make sense if her brain didn't get translated 1:1?

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"Anyway!" She reaches down to the bed and rips off the sheet with a flourish, wrapping it around herself like a cloak in the same motion. "Clothing!"

Not that she finds that she really minds being naked. Not anymore at least.

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"I have water, clothing, and by the strictest of strict definitions a substance that some people might generously label as food." She looks at the walls. "And maybe shelter?" She closes her eyes, focusing.

Her point of view shifts, she can see the purple fire right where she left it. All around it is darkness. As great as this new cave home is, it didn't have a flashlight. In fact the only source of light she has seen is that purple fire. She pushes gently with her teleportation, and through the vague feedback it gives her she gets the impression that she could travel quite a distance from that point, she can't really tell if that point is anchored on the fire or not, perhaps some experimentation is in order.

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But, well, that fire is literally the only landmark that she knows of. It's entirely possible she will teleport into pitch blackness, only to spend hours making blind jumps in the dark trying to find another source of light.

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