The prompt list for these (if anyone in this beyond-dead fandom is interested) is on my tumblr, which has the same penname as I do on here. Sue me. I'm a simple soul. Enjoy and whatnot.

June 13th, 2018

Hanyuu wasn't good for much, but she was still –a goddess. Despite how useless she was, she could still do –things– within the boundary of Hinamizawa. None of them were even remotely useful, at least in Rika's esteemed opinion, except her ability to rewind time and thus create new world-fragments.

But Hanyuu liked it anyways. She felt sort of like the mother she had been for far too short a time, and never mind the fact her appearance was scarcely older than Rika's eternally-ten-years-old body.

She liked being able to watch over everyone, to see the choices they made and to be there for them, always, a presence just behind the shoulder of every Hinamizawan, born or made. It made her feel useful and wanted, like she could comfort them and support them, even though she could do nothing but watch –and apologize when things went wrong.

So many apologies made…all of them unheard.

But, still. She walked through their dreams, too, waking and sleeping, something Rika had never been able to understand.

"Isn't it a burden?"

Yes. Of course it was. But that was why she did it. Thousands of years ago, Hanyuu had died for the people here, and taken all their tears, all their pain, all the blame and hurt and sadness of this land, and cleansed it with the blood of her sacrifice. This land was hers, and it's pain and hurt and blood and sadness were hers, her burden, her cross to carry.

So she threaded her way through the dreams of her citizens, just as intangibly as she drifted amidst them in their waking hours, like a mist always unseen and seldom felt. She fluttered her fingers over the warp and weft of their reality, feeling the tiny strands of wishes and thoughts that glittered and flowed through the their subconscious, their nightmares and hopes and dreams and longings. She took those many woven mind-tapestries, each of a different man, woman, or child that called Hinamizawa their home, and wrapped them around herself like dozens upon dozens of fluffy duvets, protective and sheltering.

Like a benign specter, Hanyuu haunted the dreams of those she had dominion over, weaving their thoughts into veils of reality that she pulls across their eyes, granting small wishes and tying luck together.

Because it is her duty.

9.54 PM, USA Central Time