twinkpeter

[twinkpeter]

I'm not ignoring your asks, things have just been "a lot" lately. I'm going through some financial stuff, trying to find a job one that doesn't make me want to rip my face off, but my car is currently broken, and a lot of other personal things I'm not going to get into. I don't normally promote my Ko-fi, but if you can contribute anything it would be very much appreciated. I know everyone is exhausted and broke, so I want to say only donate if you can. And if you have any suggestions for remote jobs, that will be helpful too!

Anyway here's my Ko-fi and I'll try to get more active soon.

[twinkpeter]

Peter leaned over to read the estimate, nodding attentively—even if numbers clearly weren’t his strong suit, based on the little scrunch of concentration his brows pulled into.

“Oh! That’s totally reasonable!” he chirped, fishing out his checkbook with practiced, slightly overzealous grace. “I mean, for the craftsmanship alone—and the glitter budget! It’s a steal!”

He carefully perched the checkbook on the counter, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he began to write with looping, meticulous penmanship.

“Deposit… here we go…” he murmured, humming softly as he scrawled the amount. Once the check was signed and torn free with a tidy zip, he handed it over with both hands and a little sparkle of pride. “There you go! And if you ever do decide to swing by and see the show, let me know! I’ll save you a seat near the front—unless you’re more of a back-row person, which is totally valid, too!”

He straightened up, wings fluffing in that happy, fluttery way. “Really, Betty, thank you again. You’ve been a dream to work with! I cannot wait to show the club—they’re going to be absolutely rapturous!”

The soft jingle of the doorbell announced Peter’s return, and in he came, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest. His wings gave a little excited flutter as he stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the shop with that familiar mix of wonder and nerves.

He was dressed a little more formally this time—his choir robes freshly pressed, hair combed into tidy curls, and a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. With careful reverence, he made his way to the counter, setting the folder down like it held the crown jewels. Inside were reference photos, fabric samples, and handwritten notes—some with doodles in the margins.

Peter smoothed out the front of his robes, cleared his throat softly, and gave the bell a gentle ding. ( @twinkpeter )

Betty had been waiting for him to appear and he was right on time. Not that they’d given a specific time frame for this, but he stepped through the door and rung that bell at exactly 10 am, the same time he had arrived the week before.

Andy grumbled something under his breath about throwing the bell off the edge of heaven as he continued hemming the cuff of a suit jacket with more force than necessary. He was imprisoned in the back until St. Peter left. Considering he hadn’t shut up about how much he couldn’t stand the angel all week, Betty decided it was probably a better decision that he just continue his work in the back until he left.

She collected her file full of sketches, a few options for the star depending on opulence or extravagance. He seemed pretty interested in making her into something of a shining specter above the crowd, something with trains and wing extensions but the size of the outfit would be an issue depending on the set. To avoid that issue, she also gave an option that was a little smaller and was in part inspired by the transformation to full seraphim of the High Seraphim, utilizing battery operated lights to almost blind the audience as her wings came out and then left her shimmering.

“Welcome back! I have your sketches here! How’s the show coming?”

[twinkpeter]

*A large thump and crack boomed on the floor of Heavens entrance, a loud yelp accompanying it when the individual hit the floor. Katie struggled to her knees, groaning in pain, and manually snapping her neck back into place. Never had she expected nor desired to reach the pearly gates, but this was the sole exception, retrieval. Tom had been successfully rehabilitated, and with nobody to replace her punching bag of an anchorman, Katie intended to drag him back down.*

*Once on her heels, she readjusted her shapewear dress, and stormed to the front gates. A mystical glow dawned upon her eyes, and while it was admittedly beautiful, it wasn't convincing her to engage in any form of rehabilitation, ever.*

*She waited and waited, until a well dressed, blonde haired angel came into sight*

*Clearing throat*

"Hello?? fuckin finally someone shows up.."

Peter’s head snapped toward the sound of the newcomer’s voice, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of her. He was no stranger to welcoming souls—he’d seen all sorts—but something about her made him pause. Maybe it was the attitude. Or the heels. Or the red eyes. Or all of it.

Still, he shook off the surprise with practiced cheer, smoothing his robes and stepping forward with a polite, fluttery grace.

“Goodness! My sincerest apologies, Miss—ah, may I ask your name? I didn’t quite catch it.” He offered a warm smile, already thumbing through the book of winners with one hand, the other pressed gently to his chest as if steadying himself.

[twinkpeter]

“Oh, that’s wonderful! You’ve clearly been in theater forever—no wonder you’ve got such a gift for bringing stories to life through fabric!” Peter’s wings gave an admiring flutter, his whole face lighting up with awe as he leaned in again, eyes gleaming.

He studied the sketches with reverent focus, humming softly as he traced the outlines in the air with a fingertip. “I really think the simplicity works in its favor. It lets the story breathe—and gives the actors room to move, which is super important with all the water illusions we’ve got planned. That stage is going to be a slip ‘n slide by Act Two!”

He paused, then gently tapped the dove’s costume with a single finger. “Maybe… just a tiny bit more shimmer in the lining? Nothing wild—no sparkle-palooza! Just enough to catch the light when she turns. Like... a wink from the stars!” He beamed at the thought, then pointed to another sketch. “And if it’s not too much trouble, could we deepen the trim on Noah’s coat? I was thinking that forest-green linen—it’d ground him a bit more and tie into the natural palette.”

Then, with both hands clasped at his chest, he gave a delighted sigh. “But otherwise, it’s perfect. You’ve captured it even better than I imagined from my silly little scribbles.”

Peter looked up at Betty, his smile warm and earnest. “Truly—thank you for putting so much heart into this. It means the world to everyone in the drama club.”

The soft jingle of the doorbell announced Peter’s return, and in he came, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest. His wings gave a little excited flutter as he stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the shop with that familiar mix of wonder and nerves.

He was dressed a little more formally this time—his choir robes freshly pressed, hair combed into tidy curls, and a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. With careful reverence, he made his way to the counter, setting the folder down like it held the crown jewels. Inside were reference photos, fabric samples, and handwritten notes—some with doodles in the margins.

Peter smoothed out the front of his robes, cleared his throat softly, and gave the bell a gentle ding. ( @twinkpeter )

Betty had been waiting for him to appear and he was right on time. Not that they’d given a specific time frame for this, but he stepped through the door and rung that bell at exactly 10 am, the same time he had arrived the week before.

Andy grumbled something under his breath about throwing the bell off the edge of heaven as he continued hemming the cuff of a suit jacket with more force than necessary. He was imprisoned in the back until St. Peter left. Considering he hadn’t shut up about how much he couldn’t stand the angel all week, Betty decided it was probably a better decision that he just continue his work in the back until he left.

She collected her file full of sketches, a few options for the star depending on opulence or extravagance. He seemed pretty interested in making her into something of a shining specter above the crowd, something with trains and wing extensions but the size of the outfit would be an issue depending on the set. To avoid that issue, she also gave an option that was a little smaller and was in part inspired by the transformation to full seraphim of the High Seraphim, utilizing battery operated lights to almost blind the audience as her wings came out and then left her shimmering.

“Welcome back! I have your sketches here! How’s the show coming?”

[twinkpeter]

Peter leaned in with wide, reverent eyes as the sketches were laid out before him like sacred scripture. Each design drew a soft gasp or a whispered “ohhh” as he followed the flow of fabric and color across the page.

“Oh wow… wowww, these are just heavenly!” he murmured, fingertips hovering just above the paper as if afraid touching them might smudge the magic. “The color pops are such a clever touch—like little halos for each character!” His wings gave a delighted twitch behind him, nearly knocking into a nearby display stand.

He blinked back to focus at her suggestion, nodding thoughtfully. “Hmm, that does make sense… we were worried about how the weight might affect her wings during the lift in the finale—oh, it’s very dramatic, she’s suspended midair while the Ark turns on the moutains pinacle! It’s giving divine judgment and inner peace!”

Peter tilted his head, clearly turning the options over in his mind. “I think scaling it down just a smidge might be the wisest choice. We can still make it shimmer like starlight on holy water, but we won’t have to worry about her accidentally getting yanked out of the rafters... again. I’ll have the staging team measure the rigging again just to be sure.”

He looked up at Betty with a bright, earnest smile. “You really get it, you know? You’ve got such a strong eye for storytelling through fabric—it's like... wardrobe gospel! We are so blessed to have you on this!”

The soft jingle of the doorbell announced Peter’s return, and in he came, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest. His wings gave a little excited flutter as he stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the shop with that familiar mix of wonder and nerves.

He was dressed a little more formally this time—his choir robes freshly pressed, hair combed into tidy curls, and a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. With careful reverence, he made his way to the counter, setting the folder down like it held the crown jewels. Inside were reference photos, fabric samples, and handwritten notes—some with doodles in the margins.

Peter smoothed out the front of his robes, cleared his throat softly, and gave the bell a gentle ding. ( @twinkpeter )

Betty had been waiting for him to appear and he was right on time. Not that they’d given a specific time frame for this, but he stepped through the door and rung that bell at exactly 10 am, the same time he had arrived the week before.

Andy grumbled something under his breath about throwing the bell off the edge of heaven as he continued hemming the cuff of a suit jacket with more force than necessary. He was imprisoned in the back until St. Peter left. Considering he hadn’t shut up about how much he couldn’t stand the angel all week, Betty decided it was probably a better decision that he just continue his work in the back until he left.

She collected her file full of sketches, a few options for the star depending on opulence or extravagance. He seemed pretty interested in making her into something of a shining specter above the crowd, something with trains and wing extensions but the size of the outfit would be an issue depending on the set. To avoid that issue, she also gave an option that was a little smaller and was in part inspired by the transformation to full seraphim of the High Seraphim, utilizing battery operated lights to almost blind the audience as her wings came out and then left her shimmering.

“Welcome back! I have your sketches here! How’s the show coming?”

[twinkpeter]

Good afternoon, Mr. Saint Peter.

Do you happen to know if the mother of a sinner named Alastor is in heaven?

Since Mr. Alastor has said many times that she should be up there.

"Good afternoon to you as well! Oh, what a thoughtful question you bring. Now, as much as I’d dearly love to share stories of every soul’s family tree, I must confess that I don’t have access to those private details—strictly confidential, you see! Even if I did, the rules here keep such matters under heavenly wraps.

That said, I do hold onto hope—hope that those who live with kindness and grace find their way to the light. If Alastor’s mother carried goodness in her heart, then surely she’s shining bright among the stars. Heaven’s doors are always open to those worthy of peace."

[twinkpeter]

Peter practically lit up the moment Betty greeted him, his wings giving a flutter of delight as he approached the counter, clutching his own folder just a little tighter.

“Oh—hi!” he beamed, cheeks already a touch pink with excitement. “Oh gosh, thank you so much again for doing this! I’ve been so looking forward to seeing what you’ve come up with!”

He carefully set his folder down and leaned in, clearly eager, but also with the reverence of someone about to witness something sacred.

“The show’s coming along beautifully! We’ve been rehearsing the Act II monologue, the one where the star speaks to the floodwaters—very dramatic. A few tears have already been shed. From me, mostly.” He gave a sheepish little chuckle, then tilted his head. “I can’t wait to see the sketches! I hope the inspiration struck you like, um… divine lightning?” His voice went up a pitch at the end, clearly unsure if that metaphor worked, but too chipper to let it hang for long.

The soft jingle of the doorbell announced Peter’s return, and in he came, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest. His wings gave a little excited flutter as he stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the shop with that familiar mix of wonder and nerves.

He was dressed a little more formally this time—his choir robes freshly pressed, hair combed into tidy curls, and a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. With careful reverence, he made his way to the counter, setting the folder down like it held the crown jewels. Inside were reference photos, fabric samples, and handwritten notes—some with doodles in the margins.

Peter smoothed out the front of his robes, cleared his throat softly, and gave the bell a gentle ding. ( @twinkpeter )

Betty had been waiting for him to appear and he was right on time. Not that they’d given a specific time frame for this, but he stepped through the door and rung that bell at exactly 10 am, the same time he had arrived the week before.

Andy grumbled something under his breath about throwing the bell off the edge of heaven as he continued hemming the cuff of a suit jacket with more force than necessary. He was imprisoned in the back until St. Peter left. Considering he hadn’t shut up about how much he couldn’t stand the angel all week, Betty decided it was probably a better decision that he just continue his work in the back until he left.

She collected her file full of sketches, a few options for the star depending on opulence or extravagance. He seemed pretty interested in making her into something of a shining specter above the crowd, something with trains and wing extensions but the size of the outfit would be an issue depending on the set. To avoid that issue, she also gave an option that was a little smaller and was in part inspired by the transformation to full seraphim of the High Seraphim, utilizing battery operated lights to almost blind the audience as her wings came out and then left her shimmering.

“Welcome back! I have your sketches here! How’s the show coming?”

[twinkpeter]

Blitzø has gifted me this account to help me adjust to my new life as a…poor. I am not quite sure how to use it. 💫

Stolas is a former Prince of the Ars Goetia. He currently resides with @imp-poster-blitzo, trying to adjust to life as a poor.

Read more about him here!

Mod: @joy-eris-joy

Lutual Statement

After a pretty rough week with a lot going on, the Lutuals have decided that moving forward we will be a bit more selective regarding certain things. We love sharing our characters and developing new and interesting storylines for people to read and interact with and want to continue doing so while protecting ourselves and our mental health. Please see below on the things we expect moving forward.

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At the time of writing, the ONLY Lutuals are as follows:

@joy-eris-joy

@able-juice

@silvireal

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My commissions are always open, so feel free to DM any time about them!

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Any amount is appreciated!

[twinkpeter]

"What genre of music do people in heaven listen to the most?"

"Oh! A very good question indeed! Well, here in Heaven, folks tend to gravitate toward all sorts of genres—uplifting hymns, classical masterpieces, contemporary hits, and of course those timeless classics that always lift the spirit! If I had to pick a standout, I’d say we’re pretty well-known for our Sera-ymphanies—but, that might just be my bias showing!"

[twinkpeter]

"L-listen here, b-buster! Y-you're not even canon! I was the first Peter, I invented Peters! Now, I think I've been quite n-nice, but I-I think it's time for you to leave! ...p-please?"

Peter

"Oh! My stars! Yes! Saint Peter, at your service! How can I assist you today?"

[twinkpeter]

are you the only worker there? you don't seem to be the person with a standard work schedule..

“Oh! Um… well, yeah, I guess I’m kind of the only one working the gates full-time. Some of the other apostles pop in to help now and then, but… it’s mostly just me! I only really have to be there when someone’s, y’know, arriving, so I end up with a lot of free time on days when not a lot of folks die… or, um, when only the sinful ones do. Heh...”

[twinkpeter]

“Other Peter, you can’t just… just become me! That’s not how this works! Y-you’ve got your own color to speak in— leave mine alone!”

Peter

"Oh! My stars! Yes! Saint Peter, at your service! How can I assist you today?"

[twinkpeter]

hey 😏

"O-Oh! Hey there… you"

[twinkpeter]

"I... uh... oh my stars."

Peter stared wide-eyed at Peter, completely taken aback by the uncanny resemblance.

"I-I don’t... I don’t understand. What in Heaven’s name is happening right now?"

Peter

"Oh! My stars! Yes! Saint Peter, at your service! How can I assist you today?"

[twinkpeter]

Saint Peter stepped through the door of Suits-N-Such, his wings fluttering softly as he glanced around with wide-eyed curiosity. His eyes landed on the colorful swatches of fabric neatly displayed on the counter, each one more vibrant than the last. He couldn’t help but run his fingers over a few, admiring the soft textures. After a moment of contemplation, he gingerly tapped the bell on the counter, the chime echoing in the quiet shop. He straightened up, standing a little too eagerly, waiting for the shop owner to make their appearance.

(( @twinkinthetabernacle ))

“Yes! How can I help-”

There. In the middle of his shop, his safe space.

That fucking twink who almost didn’t let him through the gates to begin with.

Andy’s voice turned stern, his posture suddenly defensive. “What do you need?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

[twinkpeter]

Peter blinked in surprise at the mention of a "free" talk, his pen hovering mid-air as he was about to write a generous down payment. He quickly shook off the confusion, nodding enthusiastically as he put the pen back in its place.

“Oh, right! Of course! You’ll need a week to get the sketch done,” he confirmed, closing the checkbook with a soft thump.

“You won’t be taking anything upfront? Are you sure? I—I mean, I’m more than happy to—I mean, of course! See you in a week!” He fumbled slightly, his hand awkwardly swaying between offering a handshake and going for a hug. After a brief, flustered moment, he opted for a quick, flustered wave, then hurried out the door, his wings fluttering as he zipped off.

Saint Peter stepped through the door of Suits-N-Such, his wings fluttering softly as he glanced around with wide-eyed curiosity. His eyes landed on the colorful swatches of fabric neatly displayed on the counter, each one more vibrant than the last. He couldn’t help but run his fingers over a few, admiring the soft textures. After a moment of contemplation, he gingerly tapped the bell on the counter, the chime echoing in the quiet shop. He straightened up, standing a little too eagerly, waiting for the shop owner to make their appearance.

(( @twinkinthetabernacle ))

“Yes! How can I help-”

There. In the middle of his shop, his safe space.

That fucking twink who almost didn’t let him through the gates to begin with.

Andy’s voice turned stern, his posture suddenly defensive. “What do you need?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

[twinkpeter]

Peter clasped his hands together, eyes going wide with awe as he watched Betty begin to sketch. He leaned in closer, utterly enchanted by the graceful flow of her pencil across the page.

“That sounds absolutely perfect! And you’re totally right—we’ve got sandals on hand, but using linen and fur to elevate Noah’s look? Genius! It gives him that grounded, yet elegant touch! And the dove—oh my goodness, that’s just so clever! The silks, the feathers, the glitter in the wings—ugh, that transformation moment is going to sing! I’ll bring it up at our next meeting—they’re going to be sooo excited!”

He practically beamed as he reached into his robes, pulling out a checkbook and pen with a flourish. “God, your artistic vision is amazing, I knew I came to the right place! Do you need a downpayment now? Just name an amount!”

Saint Peter stepped through the door of Suits-N-Such, his wings fluttering softly as he glanced around with wide-eyed curiosity. His eyes landed on the colorful swatches of fabric neatly displayed on the counter, each one more vibrant than the last. He couldn’t help but run his fingers over a few, admiring the soft textures. After a moment of contemplation, he gingerly tapped the bell on the counter, the chime echoing in the quiet shop. He straightened up, standing a little too eagerly, waiting for the shop owner to make their appearance.

(( @twinkinthetabernacle ))

“Yes! How can I help-”

There. In the middle of his shop, his safe space.

That fucking twink who almost didn’t let him through the gates to begin with.

Andy’s voice turned stern, his posture suddenly defensive. “What do you need?” he asked, eyes narrowing.