helloworld1027

Latest Posts by helloworld1027

I should be learning for the test tomorrow, but a stupid thought comes up.

"What if we turned real life struggles into gods or Titians?"

The “Primodumbals”

Ackless – Goddess of eternal sleep-deprivation. The first being to yawn before the universe was born. Worshipped by stressed-out students and parents.

Aitherium – God of overly pure vibes. Emits so much positive energy that people around him get nauseated. Has an annoying meditation podcast.

Aeonald – The god of eternal wait times. Often mistaken for Time itself, but just responsible for DMV lines and train delays.

Annoynke – Goddess of unavoidable awkward silences. Appears whenever someone says "you too" after a waiter says “enjoy your meal.”

Chaz – God of the Infinite Bro-Void. Came before Chaos and invented the first cosmic beer pong. Sometimes considered the patron god of “just wingin’ it.”

Chronoblob – God of procrastination. Time, but only loosely. Traps souls in loops of “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Errorbus – God of tech glitches and corrupted files.He causes all printers to jam in complete darkness.

Ehros – God of confusing crushes and emotionally unavailable people. Shoots love arrows with boomerang tips.

Gaiaiaia – Goddess of awkward environmental small talk. Can’t finish a sentence without trailing off into “so... like... trees?”

Hemorrha – Goddess of daylight savings confusion. Rises one hour too early or late, depending on the calendar.

Hypnops – God of micro-naps and Zoom fatigue. Known for whispering “just 5 more minutes” into the ears of the living.

Nuhmesis – Goddess of minor but relentless vengeance. Specializes in slow revenge like uneven chair legs and socks that slide down.

Nesnacks – Goddesses of forgotten snacks in every couch cushion. Known for their mysterious offerings of stale chips.

Netflix – Goddess of night binges. Sister of Nyx, lures mortals into “just one more episode” until sunrise.

Oorah! – Gods of mountain gyms. Shouted into existence by primal bros deadlifting boulders.

Pontoon – God of inflatable seas. Father of all beach floats and pool noodles. Often mocked by being a ripoff Poseidon.

Tartarsauce – God of the deep-fried underworld. Punishes the wicked with soggy fries and bad fish.

Thalassnack – Goddess of salty cravings. Wife of Pontoon, known for bestowing seafood cravings at inconvenient times.

Thanots – God of death-by-overthinking. Twin of Hypnops, causes people to die inside when recalling an embarrassing memory from 10 years ago.

Uranuts – God of inappropriate cosmic dad jokes. Was overthrown by his kids for relentlessly punning during serious rituals.

The “Tit-ish-ans”

Crumbus – Titan of expired granola bars. Once ruled the pantry until overthrown by the Fridge Gods.

Raya – Titaness of clumsiness. Causes “flow” only in the sense of spilt juice, coffee, and regret.

Oceanius – Titan of water cooler gossip. Controls office hydration and rumors.

Teet-sys – Goddess of annoying drizzle and mid-level water pressure. Known for making showers “just slightly too cold.”

Hyperron – Titan of dazzling overachievers. His children include Burnout, Deadline, and Ambition.

Thigha – Goddess of glowy influencer filters. Thea’s flashier cousin who invented ring lights.

iPatus – Titan of screen addictions. Father of binge-watchers and online shopping habits.

Crisis – Titan of retrograde panic. God of “something feels off today.” Patron of anxious astrology followers.

Clueless – Titan of “just vibes” intelligence. Married Phoeble, the goddess of wrong prophecies.

Phoeble – Goddess of horoscope scams. Every prophecy begins with “you might be feeling emotional today.”

Them’s-us – Goddess of passive-aggressive rules. Every law is followed by “but you probably knew that already…”

Mnemosigh – Goddess of fake memories and cringey flashbacks. Accidentally causes people to text exes at 3am.

This post is a joke I made based on my thought of ‘What if we turned real life struggles into gods?’.

Not a series and I will probably never write another :)

A little story in the Middle Zone’s Chimeveil Codex

Adimus and Vaelis are both my OC, and I’m in the mood of writing a fic about their first time meeting :)

The overall (detailed) description of these two will be up here, so no worries about having to scroll at the very end to understand what the hell is going on.

Name: Noctaire Vaelis

Nickname(s): Vaelis, “Goat Librarian,” “Sleepy Spook” (by Xiangli), “Mr. Chimes” (by Alvoz)

Age: ~300 years

Race: Goat Beastman

Gender Identity: Gender-neutral (he/him used for simplicity, but Vaelis doesn’t care what you call him, Vicent once try to call him ‘babygirl’, get no reaction.)

Height: 169,7 cm (excluding heels)

Role: Keeper of the Chimeveil Codex, Librarian of the Forgotten Threshold

Appearance

Hair: Short, greyish-white, naturally tousled

Eyes: a color of candy pink, I don’t know what else to say, it’s like a pastel pink or something ;-;

Skin: Vitiligo patterns bloom softly across his tan complexion, like celestial maps scattered over his frame, beautiful.😌

Horns: Two smooth black goat horns, curling gently back from his forehead

Ears: Long, droopy goat ears, soft and expressive

Footwear: Wears custom-crafted heels (8cm), black with golden embroidery – fancy enough to be worn to a gala.

Earrings: Twin wind chime earrings—delicate, haunting, and melodic with every turn of his head

Belt Accessories:

A ring of keys (some mundane, some ethereal)

A simple cross, old and faded

A pure aesthetic chain, just for the vibe

A stunning golden dreamcatcher-like charm, feathered and whispering faintly with enchantment

Description: Finding solace in the Middle Zone, he took up a quiet life as a librarian, tending to an enormous and ancient collection of books. His soul-like hands, once feared, became an invaluable tool—helping him retrieve books from impossible heights, clean the endless halls, and organize forgotten knowledge.

But even in his safe haven, he never quite escapes his fears.

He still flinches at the sight of ghostly figures, despite wielding spectral hands himself.

The wind chimes on his earrings were a gift, meant to ward off evil spirits—but to others, they look eerily like a priest’s bell calling restless souls.

The chains on his belt, carrying a cross, a key, and a dreamcatcher-like charm, are all remnants of his past—symbols of faith, imprisonment, and longing for peace.

Personality & Fun Details

Awkward but Well-Meaning: He has a scary smile despite his delicate, cute appearance. He’s not trying to be creepy—he just doesn’t know how to react in social situations.

Struggles with Self-Acceptance: He once considered using makeup to cover his Vitiligo, but in the end, decided against it. He’s on a journey to try to love himself instead.

Aesthetic Taste: He wears subtle lipstick, eyeshadow, and sometimes eyeliner, adding a hint of elegance to his otherwise solemn aura.

Despite his Trauma, He’s Kind: Even after everything, he never turned bitter or cruel. He prefers silence over conflict, books over arguments, and will avoid unnecessary fights if he can.

Full Name: Adimus

Age: Unknown

Race: Celestial (Angelic Being)

Gender Identity: Male (he/him)

Height: 179,8 cm

Occupation: Bartender at Viccent’s Bar (Middle Zone)

Appearance:

Hair:

Muted grey-blue, shoulder-length

Worn in a low ponytail tied with a black ribbon, or braided to the side depending on his mood

Sometimes styled into a half-up, half-down bun when in deep thought or focused work

Eyes:

Striking vibrant cyan, glowing subtly in low light

Often noted for the way they reflect both serenity and deep sorrow

Skin:

Pale, almost moonlight-like, delicate and cool to the touch

Celestial Traits:

Three sets of wings sprouting from the back of his head—elegant and symmetrical, lightly feathered, appearing more aesthetic than functional

A constantly glowing halo floats above his head, soft golden in color and reacting subtly to his emotional state (brightens with joy, dims with sorrow)

Attire:

Wears a classic formal bartender uniform, well-fitted and clean-cut

Always dressed neatly, often with dark gloves or a black tie when working

When off-duty, he still prefers structured clothes, hinting at his dislike for disorder or vulnerability.

Description: Once a proud angel who believed in the beauty of mankind, Adimus now walks the liminal streets of the Middle Zone—a city suspended between worlds—serving drinks and silent comfort to souls too tangled for heaven or hell. He pretends not to care, but his eyes always linger a second too long on those who hurt, and his hands never falter when mixing drinks meant to soothe more than the tongue.

Personality:

Composed & Calm: Adimus exudes a quiet grace—serene, measured, and almost soothing to be around. Rarely raises his voice, even in moments of crisis. He carries the air of someone who has lived many lives, each one leaving him more patient.

Empathetic but Detached: Deeply understanding of others’ emotions and traumas, yet maintains a certain emotional distance. Not because he doesn’t care, but because caring too much has burned him before. He's the type to listen to everyone’s problems and keep his own tightly sealed.

Wise but Wounded: His advice is often laced with experience and old-soul wisdom, yet there's a faint melancholy to his words—like a being who has seen too many things go wrong. He has made peace with pain, but not necessarily healed from it.

Protective in Silence: He won’t tell you he cares. He’ll just show up when no one else will, fix what you broke, and leave before you can thank him. He’s the type to take burdens quietly, especially those he feels only he can carry.

Dry Humor & Sass: Though dignified, he has a surprisingly sharp wit. His sarcasm is elegant and always delivered in a dry, deadpan tone. He enjoys light teasing but knows when to draw the line.

Loyal to a Fault: Once he trusts you, you have his unwavering loyalty. That’s why betrayal (even unintentional) cuts him so deeply—he holds bonds close, and takes their breaking as a failure on his part.

Notable Traits and Quirks:

Mood Hair Styling: How his hair is styled often reflects his emotional state, even if he doesn’t show it outwardly. Braids often mean he's reflective or emotionally tangled. A neat bun can mean he's focused or burdened. Low ponytail means he's calm or passive.

Wing Movements: His wings twitch or ripple when his emotions fluctuate, acting like subconscious tells. When frustrated, they may fold inward. When peaceful, they slowly flutter.

Subtle Halo Behavior: The halo glows brightly when he’s joyful, and dims or flickers when he’s anxious or hiding sorrow. It sometimes flares if he’s deeply moved or in protective mode.

Signature Drink Mixing Style: Known for creating drinks that seem to match the customer’s mood, even if they don’t say anything. He remembers drink preferences by heart and uses them to cheer people up silently.

His Smile: When Adimus genuinely smiles, it’s rare and carries deep warmth—enough to disarm even the most bitter heart. But most people will only ever see his polite bartender smile, reserved and courteous.

A Library Between Life and Death

Adimus had stepped into many places in his life. Grand halls of gold and marble, silent gardens untouched by time, temples where the wind itself seemed to hum prayers. And yet, nothing compared to this.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt it.

The air was thick, not with dust or decay, but with a presence. Not oppressive, nor hostile—just there. An undeniable existence, like something ancient watching, not with eyes, but with knowing.

His feet met water instead of stone. A shallow, glass-like surface barely reaching his ankle, stretching as far as the endless bookshelves. Not a ripple disturbed it—until he moved. Each step sent gentle waves outward, the sound echoing in the silence, swallowed only by the towering walls of books.

And then, there was the illusion.

The water reflected the towering bookshelves perfectly, creating a dizzying effect—as if the world had been turned upside down, as if there was no ground at all. For a moment, it felt as though he was standing midair, suspended between an infinite abyss of knowledge.

Yet, a single path cut through the mirrored world—a long, crimson carpet, unfurling across the water like a lifeline. A stark contrast to the pale glow of the aquamarine souls floating lazily between shelves, their presence the only light source in this strange place.

Above him, the ceiling stretched into a void of pure darkness, swallowing the tops of the shelves. No end in sight. It was as if the library itself stretched endlessly upward, reaching toward something unseen.

And the sound—

Flip. Flip. Flip.

Books hovered in midair, pages turning by unseen hands. The steady, rhythmic rustling of parchment created an atmosphere neither eerie nor welcoming, but something else entirely—something that made it impossible to look away. It was as if the library itself was breathing, whispering, waiting for something.

Soft mist curled around his form, brushing against him like a mother shushing a child. The whispers weren’t words, yet they carried meaning. "You are safe here." "No harm will come to you."

It was surreal. It was beautiful. It was—

—completely and utterly abandoned.

Or so he thought.

At first, Adimus didn’t notice him.

Tucked away between two massive bookshelves, on a wooden desk half-submerged in water, lay a figure. Noctaire Vaelis, draped in dark robes, his face half-buried in his arm, fast asleep.

Above him, a dozen spectral hands floated, each moving with purpose. One was holding a book, another lightly tapping his shoulder, and another—perhaps the most insistent one—was shaking him awake.

“Mmnn… No,” the librarian grumbled, voice muffled. “Go away. No one ever visits this place anyway.”

Adimus raised an eyebrow.

One of the spectral hands suddenly froze midair. Then, as if sensing something amiss, it turned its palm toward him—almost like an eye blinking open. A second later, the others followed, their fingers curling slightly, hovering between curiosity and caution.

Noctaire groaned, rolling onto his back, still half-asleep. His earrings—wind chimes that softly tinkled—shifted with his movement.

"No one ever comes here," he repeated, stretching. "So why should I—"

His voice cut off.

His eyes, sleepy and unfocused, met Adimus’s. He blinked once. Twice.

Then, with all the grace of someone biting back their own words, he bolted upright, nearly slipping off the desk in his panic.

"Oh."

A beat of silence.

Then, softly, uncertainly—

"Hello?"

Adimus glanced around. He had been in many libraries before, but none like this. The outside had been deceiving—a small, shabby-looking bookstore, the kind one might find in an old countryside town. No windows, just a door with a simple, weathered sign:

“Library.”

Yet, inside, it was as if he had stepped into another plane of existence entirely.

"You work here?" he asked.

Vaelis sighed, rubbing his temple. "Something like that."

He gestured vaguely at the library around him, spectral hands mimicking the motion. "This place… The Chimeveil Codex. That's what it’s called."

"You named it?"

"No." A pause. Vaelis glanced at the spectral hands, his expression unreadable. "I asked them what this place was called. That's the answer they gave me."

Adimus looked up at the towering bookshelves that seemed to go on forever. "How tall are these shelves?"

Vaelis scoffed, leaning against his desk. "No idea. But I do know they're at least two kilometers high—because I once spent an entire week trying to climb one, and I didn't even reach the top."

"...That sounds like a terrible idea."

"It was."

Adimus hummed, stepping further into the maze of books. "And how much of it have you read?"

Vaelis let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Not even a single shelf." He gestured toward the endless rows of books, the ones that hadn’t been touched for centuries, gathering no dust—because there was no dust here. "It's been centuries, and I still haven’t finished even one."

"Centuries?"

Vaelis shrugged. "Time is... strange here. This place isn't normal. It feels like a pocket dimension, like it shouldn’t exist at all. And yet, here it is."

He let his fingers trail against the surface of the water, watching how the reflection rippled, distorting the endless bookshelves.

"And yet... I stayed."

Adimus tilted his head. "Why?"

For a moment, Vaelis said nothing. His wind chimes swayed with an unseen breeze. The spectral hands hovering around him seemed to pause, as if waiting for his answer.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Because I think... this place holds answers about me."

His fingers curled slightly, eyes flickering toward his spectral hands. "I don't know how I got this ability. Or why these hands feel so familiar with this place. But I do know that this library was abandoned... forgotten."

A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips.

"And maybe, in some way, I saw myself in it."

Adimus exhaled softly, glancing around once more. The mist, the water, the glowing spirits, the turning pages—this place truly was unlike anything else.

"...I see," he murmured.

He could have left then. Could have turned back and walked out the door, back to the world where time moved normally, where books had ends and libraries had limits.

But instead, he pulled out a chair, the water rippling beneath him, and sat.

"If you don't mind," he said, reaching for a book, "I think I'll stay a little while."

Vaelis blinked. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something that was almost—not quite—a real smile.

"...Suit yourself."

And with that, the spectral hands returned to their work, the whispers of the library resuming their endless hum.

I completed this writing that was abandoned for about two months instead of sleeping, why am I feeling productive at a seriously wrong time-

About the Middle Zone in my fantasy world.This time, with the rough concept of what it’s like outside :)

Sorry I don’t know how to do the linking thingy that allowed you to go to my previous post about the train platform from Mortal Realm to Middle Zone.If you are a person who want to read my previous post about this Zone, deepest apologies for trouble you into clicking onto my block and having to scroll down to find my other post, I hope the tag #MiddleZone will help :(

The Middle Zone Station: The Crossroads of Existence

Perched at the center of four opposing realms—Death, Living, Heaven, and Hell—the Middle Zone Station is neither here nor there, yet it is the only place where all paths intersect. It is a liminal space, a meeting point for beings who do not belong wholly to one world or another. Time does not move in a straight line here, and reality bends in ways that can be both fascinating and deeply unsettling.

The Middle Zone Station: The Heart of the Crossroads (I have an obsession for fancy and dramatic names, don’t question why)

The station itself is an ancient structure, yet impossibly well-maintained. Its architecture is a blend of every civilization that has ever existed—towering Gothic pillars stand beside intricate Eastern wooden carvings, while Deco lamps cast shadows against ceilings painted with celestial constellations that shift when no one is looking.

The Station’s Features

A Clock That Doesn’t Follow Time: At the center of the station is a colossal, hanging clock, suspended in mid-air by unseen forces. Its hands tick forward, backward, and sometimes in circles (I meant by the whole thing spins, not just its hand), completely ignoring the concept of linear time. Some say it shows the time of a person’s fate, while others believe it displays events that have yet to happen.

The Silent Announcer: There are no loudspeaker announcements here. Instead, the air itself whispers train schedules directly into passengers’ minds in a language they instinctively understand.

A Floor That Remembers Every Step: The station’s marble floor is alive in a way—it records the footsteps of every being that has ever passed through. If you look closely, you might see faint, glowing footprints appearing and disappearing as echoes of travelers long gone.Or is it?

Ticket Booths Manned by Shadows: The ticket clerks are featureless silhouettes, vaguely humanoid but without faces or expressions. They do not speak, but if you hand them the correct fare—a secret, a memory, or a fragment of your soul—they will slide you a ticket to your desired realm.

The Station Guards—Sentinels of Balance: Unlike mortal stations, this place needs no police—but it has Sentinels. Towering, armored beings with no visible faces patrol the platforms, ensuring that nothing disrupts the balance of the realms. They do not interfere unless a rule is broken, and those who break the rules are never seen again.

Platforms & Trains

Each platform leads to a different realm, marked by glowing sigils floating in the air, their symbols shifting and rearranging depending on who is looking.

Platform 1 - The Mortal Realm: The most desolate platform, barely used, as few mortals ever come here, and even fewer leave. The train to the mortal world looks almost…ordinary, except it is always empty when it arrives.

Platform 2 - The Underworld: Shrouded in mist, this platform always feels colder than the rest. The train here is silent, sleek, and appears aged yet untouched by time. Souls board here with an eerie calm, guided by unseen hands.

Platform 3 - The Celestial Realms (Heaven): Warm golden light filters through this platform, and the sound of soft bells and distant, unearthly music fills the air. The train doors do not open for just anyone—only those "invited" can step through.

Platform 4 - The Infernal Depths (Hell): A faint sulfuric scent lingers here, though the platform itself looks surprisingly inviting. The train is a massive obsidian locomotive, its windows swirling with flames that show glimpses of infernal cities beyond. Strangely, some demons board the train while casually sipping coffee.

There are hidden platforms, accessible only to those who know how to look—leading to forgotten realms, lost timelines, or places that should not exist.

The Waiting Area: Where Time Has No Meaning

While waiting for their train, passengers can explore the station’s amenities, which seem tailored to each traveler’s desires.

A Library of Unwritten Stories: A massive library exists within the station, filled with books that change depending on who reads them. Some books write themselves in real-time, detailing the reader’s possible futures.

A Café That Serves Impossible Drinks: The café doesn’t have a menu—you simply sit down, and the waiter brings you the drink you need most at that moment. Some receive warm tea that reminds them of home, others receive glowing, shifting liquids that taste like forgotten emotions.

A Music Hall That Plays Memories: Instead of a live orchestra, the music hall plays the sounds of a person’s past, woven into hauntingly beautiful melodies. For some, it is nostalgic. For others, it is unbearable.

Outside the Middle Zone Station.

Stepping outside the Middle Zone Station is like walking into a dream—or a nightmare—depending on who you are and what you expect from reality. Unlike the station itself, which has a structured and timeless elegance, the world beyond is an ever-shifting, boundaryless cityscape where logic and physics are mere suggestions rather than rules.

The City That Shouldn’t Exist

The Middle Zone is not one city but a fusion of many, a paradoxical crossroads where remnants of different worlds overlap. Some parts feel ancient, others impossibly futuristic, and many are simply…wrong, existing in a way that breaks mortal understanding.

A Skyline That Changes with Your Perspective – Looking straight ahead, you might see a sprawling, lantern-lit city reminiscent of old Eastern capitals, with curved rooftops and floating banners. But turn your head, and suddenly the skyline has changed—there are neon-lit skyscrapers stretching into the void, their windows filled with shifting, unreadable symbols.

Floating Islands & Gravity-Defying Structures – Entire districts float in the sky, anchored by enormous chains or held in place by forces unknown. Some buildings are upside-down, yet people walk inside them as if it’s normal. Occasionally, an entire street folds in on itself, like a piece of paper being turned.

Streets That Loop Back on Themselves – You can walk down a narrow alleyway lined with old teahouses and street vendors, only to find yourself back at the station, even though you never turned around. Some roads lead to places that shouldn’t exist—an underground city visible in the sky, a garden where time stands still, or a forgotten battlefield where spectral warriors fight an eternal war.

Doors That Open to Other Worlds – Scattered throughout the city are doors—some set into walls, some standing alone in the middle of the street. Opening one might lead you to a bustling marketplace, a quiet forest, or an endless void filled with stars. There is no way to tell where a door will lead unless you step through.

The Inhabitants: Who (or What) Lives Here?

The Middle Zone is home to beings who do not fit anywhere else—those who have been forgotten by time, lost souls, wandering gods, and anomalies that should not exist.

Ghostly Vendors & Marketplaces – The markets here sell things you cannot find in the mortal world—bottled dreams, lost memories, whispers of forgotten names, and even time itself. The vendors are often spectral, flickering between existence and nothingness, their faces blurry and indistinct. Some may have multiple faces, shifting with every blink.

Wandering Gods & Higher Beings – Deities from forgotten pantheons, castaway angels, and eldritch figures walk these streets, sometimes appearing human, other times revealing their true, incomprehensible forms. They do not interfere with mortals, though their presence alone warps the space around them.

Demons and Devils on Business Trips – You might see a well-dressed demon, briefcase in hand, discussing contracts over a steaming cup of impossible coffee. Deals are struck in casual conversations, and a simple handshake might cost you a century of your life without you realizing it.

Mortals Who Have Lost Their Way – Few humans ever step foot here, and those who do either have a reason or have made a mistake. Some are desperate to return home, while others linger, enchanted by the allure of a world outside of time.

The Atmosphere: A Beautiful, Unsettling Dream

The Air is Heavy with Forgotten Voices – If you listen closely, the wind whispers in languages you don’t recognize, carrying fragments of conversations that happened centuries ago—or perhaps haven't happened yet?

A Warm Glow with a Bone-Chilling Cold – The lanterns, streetlights, and shop signs emit a comforting golden glow, making the city seem welcoming. Yet, for some reason, the air is always unnaturally cold, no matter how many layers you wear.

The Sound of Distant Music & Bells – Somewhere, a bell tolls in the distance, yet no one knows where it comes from. The music of ancient instruments drifts through the streets, but when you try to follow the sound, it always leads you somewhere unexpected.

Time Moves Strangely Here – The sun never rises, nor does it set. Some places are locked in an eternal evening, while others seem frozen at the edge of dawn or twilight. If you check a clock, it might say three different times at once.

I will do another post about OC’s I have that lives here :)

This is about the Middle Zone I mentioned in the post about Orphyria

I will explain how exactly do people get there, what live there and what it is.

I have this crazy idea about what if I create a zone between Death and Live in my fantasy world like what we saw in TBHK? Like the area that full of waters???I even make a codex based off it-

Time to lock tf in and start fixing my draft writing I guess :

Attention please: This post is not about the Middle Zone, it’s about the train platform that will take you there :)

Platform 12A (Platform 13): The Gateway Between Worlds

Hidden at the farthest edge of the station, just past the bustling platforms, Platform 12A—or, as the locals whisper, Platform 13—is a liminal space that exists somewhere between the mundane and the supernatural. On paper, it is just another platform, but to those who truly look, it is a threshold between realms, where mortals and the denizens of the underworld share the same waiting space.

The Vibe & Surroundings

Despite looking nearly identical to the other platforms—wooden benches, rusted lampposts, and the occasional vending machine—the air shifts the moment you step in. The warm, golden lights flicker just slightly, casting shadows that seem to stretch a little too long before snapping back in place. The atmosphere is unexplainably cold, as if winter permanently lingers here, no matter the season. Breath fogs in the air, goosebumps prickle along exposed skin, and the faint scent of incense and aged parchment drifts through the station.

A large, antique clock looms above the platform, its hands occasionally twitching backward before correcting themselves. Unlike the modern, electric displays of the main station, the departure board here is an old-fashioned split-flap display, clattering rhythmically as it lists destinations to places few humans have ever heard of. Names in lost languages flicker for brief seconds before vanishing again, unreadable to most.

The train schedules are unpredictable—there is no fixed time for departures, yet the train is never late.

The Train Conductor

The Train Conductor is an unsettling yet oddly comforting presence—a towering, robed figure with a skeletal face hidden beneath a tattered hood. Their cloak moves like mist, shifting and unraveling at the edges, as if they are not entirely bound by physical form.

Despite their eerie appearance, they are one of the friendliest entities on the platform. They do not speak in whispers or ominous riddles, but rather in a calm, professional voice, greeting passengers with the same patience as any regular station worker. For human passengers who freeze in terror at their presence, they reach into their cloak and hand out small, colorful candies—usually meant for lost spirit children but now repurposed to calm anxious mortals.

"No need to panic, kid. Take the candy. It's peach-flavored."

Sometimes, they even hum old lullabies under their breath while checking tickets.

(I took their appearance inspired by Death Eaters from Harry Potter, did you notice?)

The Platform's Unique Features

A Ticket Booth That Wasn’t Always There: Unlike the other booths manned by humans, the ticket booth for Platform 12A seems to appear and disappear, depending on who is looking for it. An unseen entity mans the counter, exchanging tickets for unusual fares—sometimes a lock of hair, a secret, or a memory. Money is not accepted here.

Passengers Who Aren’t Always Alive: On normal days, the number of human passengers is few, but wandering spirits, youkai, demons, and even higher deities casually wait for their train, mingling like it’s an ordinary part of daily life. Some read newspapers, others sip from steaming cups of strange teas, and a few exchange gossip about the latest happenings in the mortal realm.

Benches That Carry Echoes of the Past: Sitting on the benches for too long causes strange whispers to brush against the ears, echoes of conversations from past passengers—some from centuries ago. If one listens too carefully, they might hear their own voice from a future journey yet to come.

Mirrors That Reflect More Than Yourself: There are old, dusty mirrors standing against the platform’s columns. The reflection usually seems normal—until a person turns away. Their reflection lingers just a second too long, watching, as if debating whether to follow.

The Ghostly Newspaper Stand: There is a small newspaper stand that sells publications not found anywhere else. The headlines range from mundane mortal news to otherworldly affairs—“Demon Lord Retires, New Succession War Begins,” or “River Styx Floods Again, Spirit Boats Delayed.” Some of the newspapers seem written in shifting languages that only the intended reader can understand.

The Train to the Middle Zone & Underworld

The train itself is a contradiction—an old-fashioned steam locomotive, but with sleek, modern interiors that seem far too advanced for mortal craftsmanship. It is completely silent when it arrives, no screeching of brakes, no rush of displaced air—just an eerie stillness before the doors open.

The first few cars are for mortal passengers, decorated like an elegant Oriental Express, complete with warm lighting, velvet seats, and soft jazz music playing from an unseen radio. (Take inspiration from the Astral Express from HSR)

The middle cars shift in design depending on the needs of the supernatural passengers—some filled with dense fog, others with floating, upside-down furniture, or even pocket dimensions leading to entirely different landscapes.

The last car is permanently locked. Nobody knows what’s inside. Not even the Conductor.

Once the train departs, it vanishes the moment it leaves the station, disappearing into mist—only to reappear at its next destination, wherever that may be.

So in a nutshell:

Platform 12A is a space that defies logic yet follows its own set of unspoken rules. It is welcoming, yet unsettling—a place where time doesn’t flow as expected, where passengers from different realms coexist, and where even the most terrifying figures might hand you a piece of candy just to ease your nerves.

For most, it is a place of mystery.

The fourth country, finally. (There’s 12 in total, can be more)

This nation is a sacred land, deeply devoted to divine beings and the spiritual balance of the world. Here's my concept:

Nation Name: Orphyria (Placeholder, because I feel like I have seen this name somewhere already)

Orphyria is inspired heavily by Greek mythology, blended with influences from other polytheistic religions (such as Hinduism, Norse mythology, and ancient Egyptian beliefs). It is a land where gods, spirits, and celestial beings are deeply intertwined with daily life.

Main Gods they will be worshiping: A vast pantheon of gods, including deities of war, wisdom, nature, love, fate, and death. (Can possibly get changed in the future.)

Prophet system: A single, divinely chosen prophet serves as the mortal voice of the gods, delivering their messages to the people.

Celestial & Infernal balance: Angels, elves, and devils coexist, believing that good and evil must remain in balance rather than one overpowering the other.

Geography & Society

Holy Capital – A grand city built atop floating islands, said to be blessed by the gods themselves.

The Sacred Temples – Vast temple complexes dedicated to different gods, each with unique architecture and rituals.

The Oracular Mountains – A place where the prophet communes with the gods and receives divine visions.

The Underworld Gate – A site where souls are believed to pass into the afterlife, guarded by celestial warriors and infernal judges.I think I should make this connected to the Middle Zone… (Post about Middle Zone I will be posting later, or probably never.)

Society perhaps?

Theocratic Government – The nation is ruled by a Council of High Priests, but the Prophet’s word is absolute, as they are seen as the direct voice of the gods.

Divine Hierarchy – Different races take on various roles based on their connection to the gods:

Angels & Celestials – Serve as priests, scholars, and warriors of divine justice.

Elves & Spirits – Tied to nature deities, acting as guardians of sacred groves and elemental forces.

Devils & Fallen Beings – Believe in atonement and balance, often serving as judges or warriors who maintain cosmic order.

Religious Beliefs & Mythology

1. The Pantheon of the Twelve Thrones

Orphyria worships twelve primary gods, each overseeing different aspects of life and the universe.

The most powerful gods include:

Zethyros, King of the Skies (God of Lightning, Justice, and Kingship)

Nyphira, Mistress of Fate (Goddess of Destiny and Prophecies)

Tyradon, the Flame-forger (God of War and the Forge)

Ephyra, Keeper of Souls (Goddess of the Afterlife and Rebirth)

Azael, the Fallen Star (God of Chaos and Forbidden Knowledge)

2. The Cycle of Judgment

Orphyrians believe in a balance between virtue and sin, where all souls must pass through trials after death.

Souls are judged at the Underworld Gate, where divine and infernal beings weigh their deeds.

Those who prove themselves worthy ascend to Heavens, while those who fail are either reincarnated or serve the gods in penance.

3. The Prophetic Cycle

Every few centuries, a new Prophet is chosen by the gods through a celestial sign (such as a falling star or a divine eclipse).

The current Prophet is an Archangel with rare amber eyes, said to possess visions of the past and future.

Potential Conflicts (in my opinion)

The Balance of Divine Races – Can angels, elves, and devils truly coexist, or will tensions rise?

The Silence of the Gods – In recent years, some believe the gods are no longer answering prayers. What does this mean for the nation? Will the angels fell ill due to the lack of Devine energy?

The third country for my fantasy world yayyy

This nation will be a paradise for artists, musicians, performers, and visionaries.Here is my rough idea of its concept:

Nation Name: Velmaria (Placeholder, can be changed because my naming skills sucks)

Cultural Inspiration:

Velmaria is inspired from countries renowned for their artistic contributions that I knew, including:

Italy & France (Renaissance, classical art, fashion, architecture)

Spain (Flamenco, surrealism, bold expressions of color and emotion)

Greece (Mythology, sculptures, epic poetry, theater, I love them 😍)

Japan (Delicate aesthetics, calligraphy, ukiyo-e, theater traditions like Kabuki)

Mexico (Vibrant folk art, murals, and music, how I love the way they colors-)

India (Intricate dance, spiritual storytelling, detailed craftsmanship)

Geography & Society

The nation is divided into artistic districts, each specializing in a different form of creative expression.

Grand cities are filled with museums, theaters, opera houses, and breathtaking architecture, I don’t know if I should make the streets looks modern but with many form of arts scattered around, or just use traditional architecture and buildings.

Countryside villages focus on traditional craftsmanship—pottery, textile weaving, and ancient storytelling traditions.

Floating gardens, mural-covered streets, and sculpted statues make every corner of the nation a masterpiece.

Types of Art and Their Influence

Fine Arts – Painters, sculptors, and calligraphers flourish, with world-renowned art academies training future masters.

Performing Arts – Theaters host operas, plays, and experimental performances blending old and new styles.

Music – From classical symphonies to passionate flamenco and lively jazz, the nation is filled with melodies.

Fashion & Design – Known for extravagant styles, detailed embroidery, and fashion that doubles as artistic expression.

Literature & Poetry – Philosophers and poets are highly respected, with epic stories passed down through generations.

Gastronomy – Food is considered an art form, blending flavors and presentation into masterpieces.

Possible Historical Events

Velmaria was established by a collective of artists, poets, and musicians who rejected war and sought a land dedicated to creativity.

Art became the heart of governance, influencing politics, architecture, and even warfare through strategic illusions and psychological tactics.

Mythology Ideas

The Legend of the Eternal Canvas

It is believed that hidden deep within Velmaria lies an unfinished painting that, once completed, will reveal the true nature of the universe.

Many artists dedicate their lives searching for it, believing it holds ultimate creative enlightenment.

Possible conflicts

Art vs. Technology – As the world advances, will Velmaria embrace modern tools or stick to traditional methods? (Yes, AI art is involved in this one)

Is there anything that I missed?

Wait, what if Halloween in my fantasy world is celebrated like this?

The night of the Festival of Departed Souls began in an eerie stillness. The air was thick with anticipation as families gathered along the riverbanks and in front of their homes, cradling delicate lanterns infused with spirit energy. Each flickering flame cast a warm, golden glow, their reflections dancing upon the water’s surface—except the water did not move. It was an unsettling stillness, as if the river itself had forgotten how to flow. Not a single ripple disturbed its glassy expanse, not a whisper of current beneath the lanterns. The surface was too smooth, too perfect, as though the world itself had paused to pay its respects to the dead. Against this frozen tableau, the lanterns gleamed like scattered stars, their light a defiant warmth against the cold, uncaring abyss of the night.

The lanterns, once set adrift upon the river, pulsed gently, their ethereal glow acting as beacons for souls who had yet to find their way. Some lanterns hung from wooden beams or were strung along doorways, guiding spirits home for a single fleeting night.

Then, the bell tolled.

A deep, resonant chime echoed through the land, signaling the arrival of the lost. The first ripple disturbed the water, and with it, the air grew thick with unseen presences. Some were faint, mere whispers in the wind, while others coalesced into translucent forms, eager to reunite with the world they once knew.

As the spirits emerged, the living welcomed them with outstretched hands, guiding them toward the festival’s grandest tradition—the Dance of the Departed. In the town square, lit by the glow of lanterns and moonlight, the music began.

A haunting yet playful melody rose into the night, its rhythm dictated by a drumbeat that mimicked the steady, inevitable march of time. The living and the dead stepped in unison, partners grasping hands, twirling and swaying in seamless harmony. Every four verses, the circle shifted—partners swapped, hands released, and new ones found. Some dancers held firm grips on familiar fingers, faces alight with bittersweet joy. Others twirled into empty space—yet, in the stillness between movements, they felt it. A lingering warmth, the ghost of an embrace, a whisper of laughter.

They danced in a flowing, hypnotic pattern, the steps simple yet mesmerizing. A gentle step forward, a slow twirl, a playful bow, then a sweeping motion of arms as if embracing the air itself. The spirits moved without weight, their feet gliding just above the ground. The living followed the same motions, their bodies swaying in a rhythm that felt eternal, as if this dance had been performed since the dawn of time.

And through it all, voices lifted in song, accompanied by ghostly laughter and eerie chimes.

“Tip-tap, hear the bones snap,

The living shiver, the ghosts all clap!

Shadows dance in the midnight ring,

Everybody hail the Pumpkin King!”*

The dancers clasped hands, twirling in unison as lantern light flickered across their faces. Spirits grinned, their luminous eyes glinting with mischief.

A sweeping turn, a playful stomp. The dancers clapped their hands as they shifted partners, the spirits flickering like candlelight. The energy grew wilder, more frantic, feet tapping faster as the verse quickened.

“Knock-knock, who’s at your door?

A ghastly guest, a friend once more!

Say my name and don’t you scream,

Or I’ll haunt you in your dreams!”

As the chorus rose, the dancers moved faster, weaving between seen and unseen partners. The spirits glowed brighter, their laughter blending with the chorus.

“Oh-ho-ho, the veil is thin,

The dead march out, the fun begins!

Feed us sweets, we'll play along,

Or we’ll drag you to our song!”

They lifted their arms in unison, hands joining before twirling apart. A misty breeze swirled through the square, carrying laughter that had not been heard in decades.

“But fear not, love, it’s all in jest,

Tonight we dance, tonight we rest!

And when the final bell does ring,

Everybody hail the Pumpkin King!”

Another shift, another swirl. The rhythm slowed, movements becoming gentle once more. The spirits, though still alight with joy, began to flicker faintly. The song neared its final lines, and with it, the dance came to its close.

“A debt is paid, a gift is owed,

The Reaper walks where lanterns glow.

For every soul who’s lost their way,

He guides them home, he lets them stay.”

With one last bow, the dancers parted, their breath coming in quiet gasps. The spirits, flickering like candlelight, lingered for only a moment before beginning to fade.

"So eat, and drink, and dance around,

Before we go beneath the ground!

Farewell, farewell! ‘Til next we sing—

Everybody hail the Pumpkin King!"

When the final verse echoed into the night, the bell tolled once more, signaling the time for remembrance. Families gathered before their ancestors’ graves, sitting cross-legged in the cool grass. This was not a moment of mourning but one of celebration. Stories were shared, laughter rang out, and the spirits, visible only to those who listened closely, sat beside their living kin, whispering of days long gone.

It was also the time of renewal. Some spirits, dissatisfied with their original funerals, made their demands known. A long-dead grandfather scolded his descendants for letting the family house fall into disrepair. A mischievous brother who had died young demanded his funeral be redone, this time with an entire band playing an overdramatic battle theme. A mischievous voice carried on the wind: “My first send-off was dreadfully dull! I want a rap battle instead!” And so, with grinning faces, the living honored the request. A makeshift stage was built upon the grave, and one by one, family members took turns exchanging verses, their rhymes playful yet heartfelt. The spirit, delighted beyond words, watched with a broad, spectral grin.

For others, the ceremony was more traditional—tombs were cleaned with utmost care, graves reburied if necessary, and spirits were consulted on their final wishes. The Watchers of the Departed, clad in skeletal garb, roamed the graveyards, tending to the forgotten souls, ensuring that even those without families were honored.

Finally, as the last tales were told and the graves gleamed under lantern light, offerings were prepared. The living crafted delicate candies and treats, placing them upon altars and grave markers. The dead received these gifts not as sustenance, but as blessings—wishes for a peaceful passage and a painless death when the time inevitably came for the living to join them. “May you die old, not young. You’re far too interesting to go so soon.”

All the while, atop the highest ground, the Grim Reaper stood. Cloaked in shadows, scythe in hand, he watched over the festival with quiet solemnity. It was his duty to ensure every soul had enough energy to take form, if only for this single, fleeting day. And for that, many came to him in gratitude.

As the final bell tolled, the spirits began to fade. The lanterns dimmed, one by one, as the river carried them further and further into the horizon.

And as the last flicker of spirit light vanished into the dark, the Grim Reaper turned, his work complete for another year.

This time it is the idea about the second country.

English is not my first language, I write like a bot, don’t mind me :)

The second nation I made is the nation that has the best technology, inspired by France, Japan, South Korea, United States, Singapore and Germany.Its countryside is more of Asian culture while its cities and main land is more Europe, mainly France and Germany. (Yes, I took most inspiration from Fontaine in Genshin Impact.)

This has to be the roughest draft so far because its only based on my personal knowledge, feedback is needed.

Nation Name: Elyzium (Only a placeholder, can be changed if I found something more fitting)

Geography & Cultural Divide

Mainland & Cities – Highly advanced, influenced by France and Germany, with towering skyscrapers, cybernetic infrastructure, and an emphasis on art, innovation, and efficiency.

Countryside & Outer Regions – Have Asian influences, with traditional wooden houses, spiritual temples, and a slower, more nature-integrated lifestyle.

Climate & Terrain – A mix of rolling hills, futuristic megacities, and old-world villages. The capital city is a beacon of progress, while rural areas maintain deep-rooted traditions.

Key Aspects of the Nation

Technology & Innovation

The undisputed leader in science, robotics, and magic-tech fusion.

Artificial intelligence, high-speed transport, and sustainable energy power the cities.

Cybernetic enhancements and biotech research are common, with ethical debates over their usage.

The countryside is a contrast—while people have access to modern technology, they prefer to maintain a spiritual, nature lifestyle.

Culture & Daily Life

For the Urban Areas, I think it will be something like very fashionable, futuristic, and highly efficient. Mostly inspired by Paris, Berlin, Seoul, and Tokyo, with neon-lit streets, smart buildings, and an artistic culture blending classical music, cyberpunk aesthetics, and cutting-edge design.

Countryside will be influenced by Japan, Korea, and China, with a deep connection to nature, temples, and traditions passed down for centuries.

Cuisine blends European cuisine with Asian street food, making it a hotspot for culinary innovation.

A strong education system ensures that everyone is well-versed in science, arts, and philosophy.But high taxes ;-;

In my opinion, the people will probably have problems like:

Tension Between City and Countryside Populations – Will the countryside resist technological expansion forever?

AI and Cybernetic Dilemma – Are artificial beings considered citizens? Should cybernetic enhancements be limited?

Im here to simply dump my world lore (because I need a place to write it down before I actually forget all of it)

I simply here to note down my OC world.And I think, since I am making a world with so many cultures, maybe a bit of feedback from people with the same cultures I used to build this fantasy world where my OC lives would help making it more accurate :)))

(The nations here will be inspired by real life countries, there are currently only 12 countries in this world)

The first nation I made is inspired by southeast Asia, this nation is known for their rich soil and perfect environment to grow a lot of food.They have 11 tribes, these 11 will be inspired by all the countries in Southeast Asia (info mainly on google) Brunei, Burma (Myanmar), Cambodia, Timor-Leste, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam.But I want to mix in the Vietnam culture slightly more than other cultures, since I have a bit of an attachment to Vietnam, and it’s also because I have live there before.

The nation name, currently it is Pahadana, its only a placeholder so I might change it later on :)

Pahadana is blessed with fertile soil, tropical climates, and a vast network of rivers and lakes. Its rivers, particularly the Lúa River, are vital to agriculture and trade. Its vast rainforests, rice paddies, and tropical fruit groves support a diverse and flourishing economy.

Each tribe has its own distinct customs, dialects, and governance but all share a deep connection to nature and the land. The nation thrives on unity despite these differences. The tribes are often represented by the flora and fauna they protect and grow.

Brunaya (Inspired by Brunei) A coastal tribe that controls trade routes. They are known for their stunning palaces, elaborate clothing, and wealth accumulated from seafood and pearls. The Brunaya tribe has a monarch who governs with a focus on diplomacy.

Thuryan (Inspired by Myanmar/Burma) Known for their warrior traditions and deep spirituality. The Thuryan people practice powerful martial arts, and their monasteries serve as places of learning and inner peace.

Kambalya (Inspired by Cambodia) Rich in history and art, the Kambalya tribe excels in architecture, creating beautiful temples and shrines. They are deeply connected to ancestral spirits and maintain a reverence for nature through traditional herbalism.

Timoli (Inspired by Timor-Leste) A rugged tribe that resides in the mountains. Known for their strong independence and resilience, the Timoli are exceptional navigators and explorers, often leading expeditions into the wild lands surrounding the nation.

Indarno (Inspired by Indonesia) Famous for their diverse culture, the Indarno people are skilled at crafting intricate textiles and have mastery in the art of shadow puppetry. They are also renowned sailors and traders.

Laolai (Inspired by Laos) Known for their peaceful nature and devotion to Buddhist principles. The Laolai people live harmoniously with the land, practicing sustainable farming and thriving in their simple, serene lifestyle.

Malaya (Inspired by Malaysia) The Malaya people are known for their trade hubs, bustling cities, and dynamic culinary heritage. Their markets are full of spices, exotic fruits, and rare goods. They have a vibrant mix of cultures.

Suluk (Inspired by the Philippines) A tribal group of islanders famous for their intricate sea navigation. The Suluk people are skilled artisans, creating jewelry and carvings from coral and seashells. They live in harmony with the oceans, often diving to harvest resources from the deep.

Singdara (Inspired by Singapore) A prosperous tribe known for their architectural marvels and technology. Their cities are a blend of futuristic buildings and lush greenery. Singdara thrives on innovation, combining tradition with modernity.

Siamarai (Inspired by Thailand) Famous for their elaborate festivals, Siamarai are known for their elegance and refinement. The tribe is also famous for their martial arts and their mastery of dance, which they perform during religious and social ceremonies.

Vinhong (Inspired by Vietnam) The largest and most influential tribe in the nation, Vinhong has a strong agricultural tradition. The people grow rice, tea, and lotus flowers, and their culture is deeply intertwined with ancestor worship. Vinhong’s people are also known for their legendary dragon lore, storytelling, and martial traditions.

Economy and Trade

Agriculture is the backbone of the nation, with rice being the staple food grown in abundance.

Spice trade, seafood, textiles, and gemstones are also major exports.

The nation’s strategic location and rich resources make it a central hub for trade between the surrounding nations.

The influence of Vietnam would be present in the architecture (e.g., pagodas, ancient temples), festivals (e.g., Lunar New Year and ancestor worship), and daily life (e.g., rice farming, tea ceremonies). The Vinhong tribe’s traditions, including the cultivation of rice terraces and dragon dance performances, are seen as the cultural heart of Pahadana, though the other tribes participate in these rituals to varying degrees.

This is a rough outline of the nation’s history and structure I came up with, and I know it is very lacking, I will also have to come up with how the government works and develop specific aspects further, such as key historical events, religion, and mythology…

It would be much appreciated if you can tell me if I got the information about the cultures wrong, since I am afraid of accidental misinformation, especially when it comes to countries and its culture.Also, maybe you could also help me come up with better names (my naming skills sucks) and ideas for religion and mythology that exists in this world.

I sincerely thank you for your feedback and opinions about how I can build my world more accurately.It will help me a lot.