Dear Reader.

If your reading this, then...let's just say you're not in the place you call home anymore.
I can't say too much, but let's just say that I'm an interested party wanting to help.
I wanted to write this message to help you in this little prediciment.
I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Don't worry. I actually arrived in this land a while back, so while I like to think my
knowledge about it is pretty limited, I'll try to explain how things are around here to the best of my ability. Okay?

Alright, I think the biggest question you have on your mind right now is "Where the heck am I?!"
Well my hypothethical reader, I'm glad you asked.
This is Gensokyo, the Land of Illusions. It's a mystical land where humans co-exist with creatures from Japanese Folklore
known as "Youkai". It also home to gods, and other creatures from myths and legends.
Think of it as kind of like a nature reserve for these magical and mythical creatures, located somewhere in Japan.
Of course actually getting into Gensokyo isn't just some walk in the park.
You see, Gensokyo is actually protected by a barrier called the Great Hakurei Barrier. It's what hides Gensokyo away from what

>You awake in a small dark space, and feel a stabbing pain in your chest.
>Would you like instructions?
>Y/N

Edit: Updates will be fast when I'm actively in the thread. Every 10 or so minutes fast. Check back a few times after posting.

The Human Village was devoid of sound. A chilly fog lurked around the canal, and the grass on the bank glittered with morning dew. Rays of the early morning sun shone over empty streets, most inhabitants still sleeping soundly in their bed or are already working at the fields outside.

The silence is soon filled by the breath of a Shrine Maiden in red-white as she kicked against the shutters of a small book-renter shop. One kick, two knocks with her fist against the door, then another third kick, were enough to bend the shutter slightly. A Witch covered in black was hunched over beside her, mini-Hakkero in hand and the same troubled expression on her face as her close friend. They had flown to the village as fast as they could, and they couldn’t afford to stop and catch their breath. Not if they wanted to finish this in time. Neither exterminator had any idea if their target was still in the shop, or if her parents were awake or asleep, but the crash of boots against wood would attract attention sooner or later.

Resting or taking it slow wasn’t an option either, for they might start thinking within that time and then the whole miserable business would become ten times harder.

Finally, with one final blow, the shutters broke apart. There was no sound within the shop. Still the debris was kicked aside and the two women rushed inside. There was no sign of their target still or her parents, or even, thankfully, some troublesome youkais that’d love to stand in their way.

No, it was only Hieda no Akyuu standing in front of the desk, her body completely still and her face like stone despite the telling red puffiness and dark bags under her eyes. “She’s not here, Reimu.”

“Then where is she?” said Reimu with a cold tone, her air of indifference already on the burst of wavering now that she knows they at least are making an attempt, that it doesn’t end here and now.

“As if I’d ever tell you.” Akyuu barks back with a heavy edge, one of her hands slowly moving under the desk, an obvious threat really or a true attempt to take out a weapon, it won’t matter.

“Akyuu, w

"What's this, a crossover episode?"

---

The alien woke up and found, to its bafflement, that it didn't have any memories to recall. He may not have remembered anything, but he figured he knew enough to be confident that this was not natural, at least not natural for him.

He had awakened somewhere warm, probably provided by the great burning mass resting far above where he stood. Claws shifting uneasily in the dirt, his single, great eye roved around at what looked to be miles of green vegetation, intermittently spliced through by streams of water. Nothing was strikingly familiar.

Ack, he said inwardly, This might be where I live. Or work. A clawed appendage rose to rest just beneath a gnarled, hideous gape. Do I work? What kind of work am I supposed to do with all this green stuff? How will I know if I ever worked or not? It doesn't matter. The thought was terminated shortly. Although he knew zilch about himself, he quickly latched on to the notion that he was a thinking, rational, whatever-he-was. While his current predicament would've been a cause for concern to someone else, he felt it wasn't the same for him, that he was made of something stronger. He lifted one of his longer appendages and flexed.

After all, I do seem to have...considerable muscle mass. Hah.

Yes, he was a thinking, rational, and strong creature, and he would find a way to reorient his poor, frazzled mind. That was all that mattered now.

[] - He had a strange-looking device attached to one of his lovely appendages. It squirmed.
[] - Perhaps a clue would lie in the plant-life that surrounded him. Was it edible?

The red dusty land around you has been thoroughly baked by the unblinking noon sun. Innumerable green and gray brittle shrubs speckle the hills like a forest for inchlings. Against this backdrop you ride casually. Broomstick, your trusty horse, had been pushed quite hard the last few weeks, and not being pressed for time, you are happy to give him a break. Head and neck shielded by your signature navy blue broad-brim, you hum gently, savoring this peaceful moment as your destination crawls forward. The rhythmic thudding of hooves on dirt is the only other sound in the still desert air.

At the end of the dirt path is a ramshackle settlement reclining against a stony mound. Plenty of pebbles line the faded streets. Judging from the shoddy buildings and gaps in the rows of tents, there appears to be little silver. Silverpebble makes an appropriate name for the dying mining town. Your current map marks it as a full town, but you have the feeling by the time of the next survey, nothing but bleached wood and rusty tools will remain.

Hope does take a while to snuff out, though. Closer now, you can see a man smoking by the single remaining saloon. A couple of children gather water from a well. A woman hangs laundry over by the miners’ tents. They, and a few others, stare at you warily. Midday, no actual miners are seen, away and busy, you presume. You locate the stables and dismount. Unsurprisingly, a stablehand has already seen you, a freckled boy grinning at you as he approaches.

After arranging for a single night’s stay for Broomstick and handing over a couple coins, he attempts to unload your luggage while you are distracted putting away your money. The kid yelps, his skinny arms straining. Your swaying bags prove to be heavier than he expects. Metal and glass clink through thick cloth.

“Careful now! Hup!” You reach over and relieve him of your precious equipment, gently placing the bags on the ground.

“I’m really sorry, miss.” He quickly apologizes.

“Nah, I should’ve warned ya.” You reassure him. You need to double-check of course, the long journey being just as dangerous as a careless child.

“We don’t see many visitors thes

A land of illusions on the brink of civil war meets the man who once declared he would plunge the world into chaos.

This is a crossposting of a fic I have been writing on AO3. It is a crossover between Touhou and the VN/anime Steins;Gate (part of the broader Science Adventure franchise). The original can be found here: archiveofourown.org/works/35380462

Soft winds brushed his hair as he awoke, he winced as he opened his eyes, shielding them with his armored hand. Looking around he found himself to be supported by a tree in a field of odd red flowers, quite a change from the Badlands. Though, how he ended up here, he really didn’t know, the last thing he could remember was the damn cyborg stabbing him through his gut. Patting himself down, he found that all of his wounds were healed, even the wear of his Exo-Suit was repaired, the man sighed, shaking his head he decided that he was not going to question why God deigned him worthy of being saved


Standing up, the man took a look around, seems as if there were more of the red flowers all around him, hills upon hills of red flowers, the air thick with their spores of sweet nectar. Though that was not what caught his attention, all around him were cobblestone paths stretching from the tree all the way beyond what he could see, snaking around the hills until out of sight.
Smiling, the man simply shrugged, if he was still alive and kicking, then he wouldn’t question why someone built these cobblestone paths in the middle of nowhere.


He expected the stone to either crumble or chip beneath his weight, he was pleasantly surprised when they simply held him up, whatever those stones are, they certainly are made from the tough stuff. He had to stop a few times, the air in this place was thick with the sweet smell of the nectar that the flowers secreted, with his head swimming he had no other choice but to wait until the nausea went away, if the vertigo wasn’t the enough, his limbs were getting heavier and heavier to move. Despite all of this he finally managed to get up the hill.


And what lay beyond stole the rotted stale air from his throat.


Gargantuan cherry blossoms now occupied the landscape, their petals slowly falling through the air in a way that spoke of peace and finality, the red flowers from before were now fully bloomed, showing their purple innards to whatever unfortunate soul wanted to gaze within.

This is you.
Your reflection, but also you.
"Hello, you." He says.
You don't answer, and you get the little satisfaction of seeing his smile grow a bit forced.
"Hello." He says again, in a happy tone that doesn't sound forced.
"Hello there!" Says your tie, in a British accent, like in that one movie you watched once, when things were still pleasant.
"How are we doing today?" He says.
You close your eyes, and briefly remember.
The white coats, the medicines, the coworkers. It was tough. Not that patients would die, real life wasn't as dramatic as TV shows, but you'd often see the same faces, coming for two weeks or a month, just enough to get the alcohol out of their system. You would put a smile on your face, say something pleasant, and usually mess up by adding "glad to see you again", and your coworkers would cringe.
They would come, spend a few weeks, and leave, thinking that their problems were behind them. Then they'd come back after one or two months, and you'd see it. The red on the nose, the pink on the cheeks, that little shaking in their fingers.
Sometimes they would smile, lie, and swear that they were serious this time, but once the trial was over, they'd leave and never come back.
And then she left, and you began to notice your coworkers' smiles. When you realized what was going on, it was too late.
You force your eyes open before the memories start piling you, and you breathe deeply. You take a deep breath, puff your cheeks like a child, and expires slowly.
"Feeling calm, now?" Your reflection asks.
"I feel nervous."

Your name is Reimu Fuck-Mothering Hakurei the 16th, and there's an incident going on. You can tell because the author is a hack, who probably can't even make this shitty trope work, much less anything with actual characterisation, or depth. That however, is besides the point, because as was previously mentioned: Incident. Your job is resolving those probably. That still leaves the ever so pressing question however of where to start.
Deliberating on the issue, you stare into the sunrise like a badass before deciding to:

[] Get a goddamn move on, you have places to go, youkai to exterminate, there's probably a space hamster in there somewhere.
[] Sit here and look cool until someone comes along to exposit at you. Maybe the stage one boss will clear themselves by tripping on a rock if you stall long enough.

It was a fortunate time after all...

"This youngest of seasons had been one harsher and more resentful than the siblings of its kind that had visited the years before.
It had started as all smaller sisters had, hysterically thrashing, calling attention to itself. To this end the weathers of springtime had been wielded to disasters at her infantile hands.

Throughfuls of water had showered from the greyed skyward carpet, had dampened the place and had soaked the floors. Firm clay had lost its healthy constitution, becoming more akin to sponge-like moss. Further rain had punched pans and then potholes in the softened, weakened grounds. Day by day, two times seven-times, the clouds had given to drink.

Sickly had swelled the thirteen-times gulping earth; it had vomited at the last pouring.
Light sediments, humus and its growths had been thrown up to an ugly grey-brown broth that had flooded over everything. Sands and heavy things coming within the barf had punched away anything in their way, leaving fields with scars and houses as pathetic bumps. Rocks and detritus had stayed on as a painful blanket after the floods end.
The living earths had been washed away.

The season had matured over the forthnight and its violence had grown derisive.
For seven days it had bored the wicked winds from the bare mountains. Bare they had been apart from the high and wide quartz monuments decorating their inanimate ridges and their testaments of lives bygone; the wilted corpses and bleached and dried bones of strangers and therebetween those of comrades had lain scattered.
They had blown the tarnished remainders of the grounds they crossed away as dust, but Sand and small things had become hurting missiles. The homes that had yet survived became a trapping for the poor environmental refugees when the wild air had punctured their shelter's openings, ripping them open and ripping them, those inside, apart.