Title: Histrionic
Character/s: Hisoka
Summary: Normalcy is the world's saddest joke.

Author's Note: This little plot bunny pulled me from my Avengers fever and insisted that I write it.
PS. Hisoka is so complex.


The Bungee Gum he is so fond of is a luxury they can't afford.
He chews and chews until his tongue is numb with dry saccharine, chafed with the stiffened gum.

Then, disappointed (with the briefness of joy, of flavor), Hisoka spits it to the ground—sees blood and teeth embellishing the gum's pink flesh.

He wonders to himself at that moment: does blood taste as sweet as Bungee Gum?
[Hisoka runs a knife-tongue inside his warm, wet mouth, just to check.]


Death, for Hisoka, holds not even a splinter of allure.

It is too bone-dry, too drab because in the grandest schematic of existence, it is just what it is: death. You don't breathe, do not taste, do not move, don't act. The dead is dead and there is no more fun in that. Unless—

No, nothing exciting about death.
(But killing is an entirely different matter; because it just is.)

Hisoka prefers Life; prefers its potential. There are a hundred thousand (and one) ways to live, to kill, and Hisoka has vowed to try every position, every method that pleases him.
Whenever he feels a bit poetic, Hisoka likes to call it an avant-garde form of katharsis. A purgation of normalcy, of mundaneness. Because normalcy is the world's saddest joke.
And Hisoka detests sad jokes.


Life is one great stage performance – and he intends, will make sure, to make it as violently vibrant as cruelly possible.

To chase the carnal carnage, the kill; to revel in the mind-numbing pleasure of the fight, slicing, hacking, thrusting, pushing, pushing until—the transcendence of—of—

That, that is a life greatly lived, Hisoka believes.