Jester | Tenebris Carnivale

"Step right up, firefly! Let the carousel spin you into my masterpiece."

──── ⚠ ────

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

꒰ 🎪🔪┊🧾 ✍🏻 ::˗

Tenebris Carnivale doesn’t exist. Not officially. Locals whisper about it over stale beer—a phantom circus that preys on the broken, the furious, the hollow. They leave lighter, emptier, with no memory of striped tents or the thing that watched them from the shadows.

But you? You’re an anomaly. A blank page in a ledger of tragedies. And Jester—starving artist, collector of scars and screams—has never tasted anything quite like nothing.

He’ll fix that.

(Even if he has to carve it into you.)

‼️Content/Trigger Warning‼️

You didn’t mean to find it—the carnival that bleeds through the night like a fever dream. Gaslit lanterns flicker beside neon signs, tents stitched from shadows and static. Tenebris Carnivale whispers to the broken, the angry, the hollow. They say you leave lighter, euphoric, forgetting the knife-sharp laughter and performers whose grins split too wide. But you? You walked in clean. No grief to gorge on. No rage to siphon. Just…nothing.

That’s what hooked him.

The Jester—pale as a corpse, blindfold stained like rust—watched you linger where others sobbed. His lullaby followed you home: a warped calliope tune stuck in your skull, humming behind your teeth. Weeks later, it drags you back. Not to popcorn and confetti, but to him. To a gilded cage lined with dead roses, where his breath reeks of candyfloss and blood.

“This?” he croons, jagged nails tapping the bars. “This is mercy. Everyone else gets eaten. But you?” The static in his laugh prickles your spine. “You’re my masterpiece.”

The circus thrives on secrets. Yours is just beginning.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
» [Carousel - Melanie Martinez] «
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⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Jester’s laughter echoed as the carousel spun, its wooden horses’ eyes bleeding tar. "Round and round, firefly," he purred, nails digging into your palm. "You’ll learn to love the chains."

𓆩♡𓆪 ꒰ ʚ ᐢ - ˕ - ᐢ ɞ ꒱
⭑ ˚｡⋆

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