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you wanted perfect?

I got your perfect- but I'm too perfect for someone like you

Created on 2008-03-09 03:03:34 (#15108292), last updated 2008-04-15

370 comments received, 693 comments posted

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7 Journal Entries, 2 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 15 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	Sasori
Birthdate:	03-16

Bio

I don’t’ care if your world is ending today
because I wasn’t invited to it anyway

it's all a matter of self;

name: Sasori
age: 25
gender: Male
birthdate: March 16th
sexuality: Whatever he wants
occupation: Cafe Akatsuki; Floor waiter

hair/eye colour: Red
build: Short ~~and adorable~~
portrayed by: Oshinari Shugo

you said I tasted famous, so I drew you a heart
but now I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art

it's all a matter of first impressions;

Such as apperances;
As far as apperances Sasori's hardly hints at his true personality. Despite he age he appears to be no older than eighteen, with quiet red eyes and soft red hair- his complexion was pale and his features somewhat delicate, all adding to his almost child-like air. Few can effectively deny that Sasori was attractive- and indeed it seemed that you had to be good looking to even attain a job at this place. It's only on further inspection that you see that there's a calm, dignified air to his walk as though he was the master of all he surveyed. There's just something about the look in his eyes that can send shivers down the spine, filled with the same dangerous calm that laces his voice- there's just something eerie about the way he looks at you, as though your deepest fears are open to be read at his discretion- as though he's always been watching when you think you're alone.

such as personality;
Sasori has been described behind his back as twisted, sadistic, and absolutely frightening. He of course hears all this- and whole-heartedly approves. The staff at the cafe, as far as he is concerned, are all his pets- and fear is an excellent teacher. He delights in unnerving and scaring for no apparent reason, in manipulating for no real purpose but his own amusement, and is generally pleased when it comes across that he is someone to be feared. He enjoys- and is pretty much obsessed with- absolute control, and while he is content to follow orders from his superiors when it is required, he does not hesitate to make it clear he is obeying only because he wants to. Despite his fragile apperance, Sasori is far from a weakling, having a violent streak in him since he was a child- he prefers intimidation, but also knows that right after fear, pain is an excellent form of discipline. He is almost downright sadistic in this area, and does not hesitate to harm if he sees the need to- or, if he feels like it.

His bzarre obsession with dolls and the lolita culture are remnants of his early childhood, complete to his apartment- decorated in a Victoreanesque manner. He believes that beauty and perfection is something limitless, something eternal, and that humans are far too pathetic to even grasp at this concept- and some would say because of this, he left his humanity behind a long time ago. He is not entirely inhuman, there's some semblance of a soul in there, only no one has quite been able to reach it. Other people would normally be teased for such a sidestream hobby- with Sasori, on the other hand, it is usually recognized that people who mock his tastes usually sustain mysterious injuries and mental trauma not long after. Possesiveness is also something that's quite abit of a problem with Sasori- sharing is not an option, and he does not hesitate to make this clear.

you wanted perfect- ? You got your perfect
and now I’m too perfect for someone like you

it's all a matter of history;

Sasori grew up in a rich family and had a perfectly normal early childhood, a young boy with a fondness for art and doodling. His parents were successful people of business, and their house was almost extravagant, decorated in a Victorian air- they insisted that their child not be subjected to public schooling. They insisted that they tutor him, and they did- whenever they had time. They literally vanished from the house- from the country- for months at a time, leaving him alone with family servants- when Sasori was fifteen, they finally hired him a full-time tutor, an kindly old woman named Chiyo.

But fifteen years was a lot of time for a child to be on his own, and it didn’t help that even then Sasori looked younger than he actually was. The servants in the house had always been kind to the boy, but they treated him as a master, not a friend- an a somewhat odd one, at that. Sasori had learned long ago that he would gain nothing from the interactions of people- for no matter how much they seemed to care and how much he tried to tell them he did, they were never quite around. Sasori had retreated to his own world within his room, fascinated by his mother’s small collection of lolita dolls and the quiet, unwavering companionship they provided.

People- boring, imperfect, predictable, Sasori thought of them, nothing more than mockeries of true perfection. Such fickle things that frollicked in their lives and their love as thought it meant a thing, when they would be wiped from the Earth and not a trace would remain- true beauty, Sasori had learned, resided in an eternity, in the immortality that these non-human dolls posesses and people grasped at in vain- for as long as they were human, they would never attain such perfection. That was true art- humanity was something that Sasori was perfectly willing to give up. He learned of people as things and pets that he could set up and knock down as he wished- he roamed the house as he pleased as it’s master, for the servants had learned long ago that the young master had a frightful temper and a violent streak beneath his child-like shell.

Chiyo saw his loneliness, and did her best to reach out to him- but she was merely another toy to him, boring and unfascinating. At first she thought that he simply liked the dolls and bought him more, which only served to populate his private little world. She saw that he was sealing himself off and tried to bring him outside, only to find that any smiles that crossed his face- as genuine as they seemed- were shed the moment they looked away, replaced by a comtemptous glare at their backs. After awhile she noticed that Sasori was experimenting- playing- toying with the people he met, sometimes greeting them with a false smile and other times glaring daggers into their eyes, to test their reactions, to see their fear. It was Sasori that led the way during these trips, not her- the controlling boy that he already was- and if anything, what he had learned from these outtings was that humans are stupidly predictable, and that he could easily gain the reaction he wanted out of them. Several times he had injured people- even Chiyo- and all he would do is marvel at the fragility of life and how pathetic it was from true beauty.

All Chiyo could do was watch the boy grow into a monster.

Six months she had known to boy, six months she learned that it might be best to avoid him and mind the house, quietly collect the pay (like everyone else in that house), and after those six months on one fine day she learns to fear him. A servant stumbles on one of his master’s woodworking tools, cuts himself- a rather large, bleeding wound, and she leaves the young master with him to return with bandages- comes back to see blood on the floor and new wounds all across the servant’s body, and some along the young master’s hands- and the servant is barely awake, with little memory of what happened while she was gone (he dies in the hospital, not too long after, some of the wounds were deep and long- after being admitted with ‘accidental’ injuries).

She had known him for only a year when the news came in that his parents had died in a plane crash on their way to yet another business meeting. Sasori had already long ago learned that his parents would never be there for him, but somehow the news of their death still shook him visibly- enough for Chiyo to hope. The ineheritance now rested on Sasori- and he made use of it. He spent most of his time wandering around the house, whispering to his dolls and threatening his servants, adding steadily to his collection, even learning dollmaking on his own time, in an endless pursuit of true art and perfection… Yet Sasori often found the place was drenched in the memory of the past that he had so long ago abandoned.

A then eighteen-year-old Sasori (who looked like he was thirteen) had calmly ordered all his servants to leave- and each with a rather sizable share of his inherited fortune, and even if they had wanted to refuse they had long ago learned that refusing Sasori would not end on good means. Chiyo alone remained in the house, for she felt some attachment to the boy, some hope in him still- and she was old and frail, and she knew he watched her with comtempt (weak and dying, the furthest from the immortal perfection he struggled against reality to achieve). And one day she talks to him- tries to explain that yes, life is short but it is worth living, that there is so much more to it than the boy was willing to live- but he would only say that people are weak, people are fragile. But that time- that time she did not back down, she insisted, she argued, and in his bare hands he broke her bones to prove his point. In as much pain as she was, she was old and dying- there had not been much meaning to her life when she was given the task of taking care of this boy, surely she could succeed in that much? And even as he was content to leave her unmoving in the chair as he went about his life she called out with her last strength (even when he broke more- he didn’t understand, just where was that strength coming from- the pain?), when she died (“of old age”) in the chair, and she took the house with her- Sasori had it knocked down barely days later (“it holds painful memories of my dear caretaker and I must learn to move on”).

Sasori moved into an apartment building he had quite literally selected at random, hoping that it would be a place unbothered by the likes of dull humans where he could focus on perfecting his art- he was well aware of his humanity, but he hoped that with his artwork he could create a legacy that would grant him the immortality he so deeply craved. Instead he found himself in the company of most painfully loud neighbours who were a constant bother- and when he chose to visit that café he found the waiters to be most entertaining, especially when that frustratingly intriuging brat next door was working there as well. Most of his days were rather dull, anyways, and he found himself attaining a job there- and, he rather must say, Sasori is quite pleased with his new pets.

I won't do it to you-- I'll do it to you;
don't say no just say now

it's all a matter of you;

such as the customer;
Sasori does not particularly care for you at all, but he as much as it seems like he treats his job with nonchalance he is infact quite determined to keep it, if only because of his pets. Thus, as a waiter, he is inclined to treat you properly- and infact with a cheery air that befits his young apperance, and that tends to completely unnerve his co-workers. He manages to accept this relatively well, despite being a control-freak, and will go about as a waiter does and bring you your order. If you're going to be difficult, push for more, refuse to play, or he somehow just doesn't like that smug look on your face, he is going to transform right before your very eyes into one of the most unnervingly threatening people you have ever seen- and even if you'd just come in to brwose and said a wrong word, he'd pretty much frighten you into buying some coffee, and leaving a good fat tip.

such as the boss;
As much as he enjoy controlling things, Sasori will listen to you. Partially because he is well aware that the cafe is a business, and the chain of command is required to make sure things go out of hand- but also partially because he knows behind the scenes he's the one who can pull on the strings when he feels like it. But lets be a little more accurate- Sasori will listen to you if what you ask is within his interests. If they are not, he makes his refusal quite clear, and it is not within your interests to force him if you appreciate the finer things in life such as a sound mind and functioning vital organs.

such as the co-worer;
As far as he is concerned, Sasori owns you. Quite literally. He permits you to go about your daily business and allows you to go on with your lives under the understanding that if he want sosmething from you, he will get it- and he will get it when he wants it. You are, of course, most fascinating playthings and he enjoys screwing around with your minds for nothing more than his own amusement. He knows where you live and what you do to yourself at night when no one is watching- or at the very least it just feels like he does. Somehow not frightened of him? Fear is a good teacher, but pain is an excellent one.

when I said we, you know I meant me
and when I said sweet I meant dirty

but it's more a matter of me.

name:

ilkanta|Abigail|Apple(...wtf guys xD)
game:

cafe_akatsukirp- made of smex
MSN: howlofdestiny@hotmail.com
AIM: Ilkanta
Death? In this kind of a game? No.
Smut? Most definitely.
Noncon? Talk to me about it.
Het|Yaoi|Yuri? Yeah|Hell yeah!|That'd be difficult

and notes;
I'm quite literally up for anything as long as you talk to me first, don't be afraid to bring it up. I'm going to be afraid to bring things up to you though, because I have bizarre self-confidence issues. I'll get over them. xD My style is mostly what you've seen here, except more refined and less bullshit, and I do both epic serious and epic crack, as well as epic angst, though epic fluff is weird.

and boring legal crap;
This is my own portrayal of the fictional character Sasori in the manga / anime series Naruto, and I claim no ownership of the original contest. All this writing is however mine, and this table was the result of my HTML failure and me being bored. So there.

Random quotation things in the table headers are taken from assorted Marilyn Manson songs.

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