Feliks Łukasiewicz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
niepokonany) wrote2012-12-14 11:00 pm
niepokonany) wrote2012-12-14 11:00 pm
OOC: Application for The Institute
PLAYER INFORMATION
PLAYER: Ket
ARE YOU AT LEAST 14 YEARS OLD?: Yep!
IF UNDER 18 YEARS OLD, PLEASE STATE YOUR AGE: I'mold over 18.
CONTACT: plurk: cognitiveleague
PERSONAL JOURNAL:cognitiveleague
CHARACTERS PLAYED: None.
CHARACTER INFORMATION
NAME: Feliks Łukasiewicz (Poland)
CANON: Axis Powers Hetalia
CANON REFERENCE: Hetalia Wiki. Also of note is the history of Poland at Wikipedia.
AGE: 17
GENDER: Male
YEAR IN SCHOOL/FACULTY POSITION: High school, year 3
APPEARANCE: Like this, but not in period clothing, obviously.
Feliks is short and a bit skinny, with shoulder-length blond hair, green eyes, and a cheerful disregard for the gender-appropriateness--or, at times, the appropriateness, period-- of his clothing. This isn't to say that he crossdresses all the time, but his fashion sense just doesn't seem to take gender into account at all. He wears what he thinks looks cute, and doesn't much care what anyone else thinks about it.
PERSONALITY: He's kind of like a parfait--no, not an onion, don't be gross. Onions are totally uncute, duh. Anyway, the point is that Feliks has many layers!
The one closest to the surface is cheerful and whimsical, and dare we say it, goddamn fabulous. Feliks talks like a valley girl, and appears unconcerned to the point of being unaware of almost everything--impending disaster, his work, gender norms, basic common sense... He has little in the way of either impulse control or brain-to-mouth filter, and frequently sidetracks conversations with odd ideas or actions-- for example, talking about plans to paint his house pink or make it fly when people are trying to discuss battle plans with him, or riding a pony to a Halloween party and refusing to come in without it until he's given a toy pony to ride on instead. He's confident, even aggressive at times, standing up to much bigger, stronger nations if he or his friends are threatened. He does what he wants, says what he wants, and yes, wears what he wants, and looks fabulous doing all three. This can, however, cross over at times into being selfish, pushy, or a bit catty.
But no one is really fearless or strong all the time, and Feliks is no exception. In fact, despite his confident, outgoing, eye-catching facade, he's really quite scared of strangers, and has a lot of trouble making friends due to that fear, his stubbornness, and his at times bossy and self-centered nature. He tends to cling a lot to the few friends he has, at times to the point of making a bit of a nuisance of himself.
That said, for the few people who do get close to him, he's a Hell of a friend. In canon, the closest friendship he has is with Lithuania, his one-time partner and the soft-spoken and practical yin to his flashy and reckless yang. He drives him up a wall with his childish, bratty moments, but the two of them had a great deal of trust when they were younger, and even now that they've separated and have a certain degree of tension over past mistakes, Poland is still unhesitating and fearless when it comes to defending him from their mutual enemies or offering him support in hard times. Other notable relationships include (North) Italy, whom he befriended when they were both living in Austria's house in the 19th century, and Hungary, who has been his bro forever, even if she turned out to be a girl. Around these people, he's generally still cheerful and silly and blustering, though at times he's more able to let his insecurities and weaknesses show.
As anyone with a basic understanding of European history would have a hard time missing, Poland has had his fair share of troubles and then some. Basically the whole time period from the late 18th century until 1989 was... pretty damn awful, with occasional descents into incomprehensible levels of nightmarish. While Hetalia--wisely, in all likelihood--steers clear of the worst of the atrocities, it would be ridiculous to act as though the character has never seen any misfortune. He handles it very well, though, keeping any pain or fear remarkably under wraps even as it's happening. For example, during the flashback depicting the final partition of Poland, when Russia was taking Lithuania away and Poland was too wounded to fight anymore, Lithuania called out to him. He looked away, clearly in pain or troubled--then promptly wiped it off his face and immediately started smiling and teasing Lithuania. Better for him to be mad than lonely, right? In short, Poland isn't really one for bitching about his problems idly-- he's more into starting a goddamn revolution.
Because deep down, underneath the social awkwardness and the schoolgirl skirts and and the dumb blond moments and the love of ponies--all of which are absolutely things that exist--Feliks is one stubborn little cuss. He is a sonofabitch who just won't give up, even when it seems literally impossible, even when it would probably be the logical choice. He goes through incredible amounts of bullshit, and comes out of it all smiling and joking and acting like he hasn't got a care in the world. Because if you let them take the fun out of life, that's letting them win, isn't it? And he's not about to let anybody win. Not ever.
In addition, aside from the whole occasional-crossdressing-thing and the whole totally-into-Lithuania dudes thing, he's a pretty serious Catholic. Not a terribly preachy one, but it is a big part of his life, and one that shouldn't go unmentioned.
POWERS/ABILITIES:
Imagination Manipulation:
Feliks has always lived in his own little world, and now, to a certain extent, everyone else can live in his own little world, too! Objects near him can change form, or become... less subject to the rules of logic or reality. Perhaps that toy pony really will start walking around, or he'll change things' colors for fun, or pull a Cinderella and make vegetables into vehicles and kick his outfit up a notch. Who can say?
There are, of course, limits--at present, he can't affect anything he can't see, or directly affect anything with a mind, and any changes wear off about a minute after he stops thinking about them. What this means is that if he turns a spoon into a knife, it will resume being a spoon; any stab wounds inflicted in the interim, however, are going to remain stab wounds. If he makes a statue walk around, it will go right back to where it was like nothing happened to it, but anyone who got punched by it is still going to feel it. In addition, he can't create anything out of nothing, and it takes a lot more effort to affect objects he isn't touching. Finally, while it's fairly easy to make things real enough to see, it takes more focus to make his imagination real enough to hurt someone with. It's definitely within the realm of possibility, but not something that's going to be too easy for him.
AU HISTORY:
Feliks was born in the wake of a revolution, several years after the Iron Curtain fell. He lived in the countryside of his father's hometown in Poland as a small child. His parents, both active Solidarność supporters, decided to move to Warszawa around the time he started school, for the sake of his education and his father's political career. An only child, he never quite learned how to play with other children. He always wanted to have friends, but when he tried to reach out, he pushed people away with his bossy, spoiled behavior. In the end, he usually wound up feeling lonelier and shyer than ever, withdrawing by and large into his own imagination and relying on bravado to get him by when he had to talk to other people. There were one or two other kids that he got along with, but they were a definite exception to the rule.
When he was ten, his father was assigned to a diplomatic position, and his family moved to America, settling in the suburbs outside Washington, DC. Feliks spoke about three phrases of English, all of them from watching too many Hollywood movies, which didn't so much help him make new friends. Even so, he had grown up with parents who loathed everything Russia represented to them, and the whole family wholeheartedly embraced the decadent West they'd been told to hate for so long. He did his best to learn the language, and to find a place for himself among his classmates.
Unfortunately for him, a couple of things happened. First of all, once he hit his double-digits, it suddenly stopped being so cute when he got into his mom's make-up and walked around in her heels. His parents and his priest made their feelings on the matter quite clearly known to him, so he tried to stop; the end result a collection of skirts tucked under his mattress like they were hand-me-down Playboy magazines, and like, weeks' worth of Hail Marys.
Second, no matter how normal the clothes his parents bought him were, he found that being tiny, effeminate, loudmouthed, foreign, and largely without friends, he was still basically the ideal candidate for getting the shit kicked out of him all the time by a small collection of schoolyard bullies. The adults he talked to were just absolutely no help--you're riling them up when you fight so stop trying, you should fight back harder, try not to draw so much attention to yourself... He withdrew socially, spending more and more time by himself. Who needed them anyway, right?
Then, midway through high school, his power began to manifest. First, he sort of thought he was going crazy--he'd always had an active imagination, yeah, but when his My Minute Equine toys started acting like they were listening to him, or when the leaves he was trying to procrastinate his way out of raking turned into a flurry of butterflies, what else was he supposed to think? He tried to ignore it, mostly, until he was playing dress-up with a friend and started changing their clothes around absent-mindedly. Realizing that the changes were actually physical, and not just in his head, he set about testing his limits in secret.
And the next time his bullies cornered him on the walk home, it was different. When they picked up stones to throw at him, they turned to pillows. That didn't stop them. Neither did the sticks that started writhing like snakes in their hands, but they started thinking twice when the shadows of the buildings nearby grew longer and darker, and when Feliks clambered onto a broken-down piece of machinery and turned it into a tank, they turned around and got out of there with amazing speed.
Victory was short-lived and came at a price. As their revenge, his bullies did the absolute worst thing you can do to a teenager: they told his parents. His parents, who were already working so hard to ignore so much about their son, weren't angry. No, of course they weren't angry, they were just disappointed, just worried about him, and had he tried praying about it? He should definitely try praying about it some more...
His parents resisted the idea of sending him away--they could send him to a new school nearby, they said, one where no one knew his name, and he could hide it, he could be normal... The truth was, though, he'd had enough of hiding, and normal, and people telling him he should be proud of everything except how he actually was. Screw that, you know? If he was going to get in trouble either way, he might as well have fun! He held his ground with his parents, and eventually, only child that he was, he got his way. He packed his suitcase, and was off to the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning.
SAMPLE
1ST PERSON SAMPLE:
[VIDEO]
[Feliks is sitting cross-legged on his bed, in jeans and a mint green t-shirt, giving the camera a look of slightly ruffled skepticism. He speaks with a faint hint of an Eastern European accent, but it's barely noticeable next to the overwhelming valley-girl mannerisms.]
So like, the whole mansion thing is mad gnarly. Seriously, way classy and stuff! But here's the thing, ok?
How come nobody told me there was gonna be homework at this school? What's the deal there? Homework bums me out, so like, I'm totally giving myself a pass on it. It's diplomatic immunity or whatever!
[He... doesn't look like he's kidding.]
THIRD PERSON SAMPLE:
Feliks had never had to share space with a roommate before, and that was presenting some unforeseen challenges. Like, he was awake at weird hours, and got kinda whiny sometimes if Feliks spaced out and transmogrified his stuff while he wasn't paying attention, like it wasn't just going to change itself back in a minute or two anyway--just normal roommate stuff, really, he guessed. Still, he had high hopes for the whole situation! Here, finally, was somewhere where everyone he met had at least some idea of the kind of stuff he was dealing with every day. Here, maybe, he'd have something in common with someone. And if he didn't... well, that was hardly new, was it? He'd just keep on keeping on, the same as he always had, and it would be no big!
One element of his new lifestyle that he was finding himself particularly well-disposed towards was the knowledge that his parents were absolutely not going to walk into his room at any moment and have a fit. It took all the fear and good, old-fashioned Catholic shame out of... most of his pastimes, really. Sure, his roommate could always show up unexpected instead, and they'd probably have to have some kind of talk about the whole thing if he came in on a dress-up day, but honestly, who really cared what he thought? Not Feliks, that was for damn sure, at least not nearly enough to stop him from having his fun.
"So then," he narrated to himself, watching a pink plastic pony rear up on its own as he tossed a suddenly rather ferocious-looking teddy bear in its direction, "this super-grody monster just totally came out of nowhere, all, 'arrrgh, I'm gonna eat the princess or whatever!' And the brave knight was like, 'um, gross me out, why would you even wanna do that? Major ew...'"
And, unless someone interrupted him, he'd be quite content to spend the whole afternoon on his nonsense stories. They'd been good company for all his life until now, and just because he was trying to make real-people friends for once didn't mean he was going to forget about them just yet.
PLAYER: Ket
ARE YOU AT LEAST 14 YEARS OLD?: Yep!
IF UNDER 18 YEARS OLD, PLEASE STATE YOUR AGE: I'm
CONTACT: plurk: cognitiveleague
PERSONAL JOURNAL:
cognitiveleagueCHARACTERS PLAYED: None.
CHARACTER INFORMATION
NAME: Feliks Łukasiewicz (Poland)
CANON: Axis Powers Hetalia
CANON REFERENCE: Hetalia Wiki. Also of note is the history of Poland at Wikipedia.
AGE: 17
GENDER: Male
YEAR IN SCHOOL/FACULTY POSITION: High school, year 3
APPEARANCE: Like this, but not in period clothing, obviously.
Feliks is short and a bit skinny, with shoulder-length blond hair, green eyes, and a cheerful disregard for the gender-appropriateness--or, at times, the appropriateness, period-- of his clothing. This isn't to say that he crossdresses all the time, but his fashion sense just doesn't seem to take gender into account at all. He wears what he thinks looks cute, and doesn't much care what anyone else thinks about it.
PERSONALITY: He's kind of like a parfait--no, not an onion, don't be gross. Onions are totally uncute, duh. Anyway, the point is that Feliks has many layers!
The one closest to the surface is cheerful and whimsical, and dare we say it, goddamn fabulous. Feliks talks like a valley girl, and appears unconcerned to the point of being unaware of almost everything--impending disaster, his work, gender norms, basic common sense... He has little in the way of either impulse control or brain-to-mouth filter, and frequently sidetracks conversations with odd ideas or actions-- for example, talking about plans to paint his house pink or make it fly when people are trying to discuss battle plans with him, or riding a pony to a Halloween party and refusing to come in without it until he's given a toy pony to ride on instead. He's confident, even aggressive at times, standing up to much bigger, stronger nations if he or his friends are threatened. He does what he wants, says what he wants, and yes, wears what he wants, and looks fabulous doing all three. This can, however, cross over at times into being selfish, pushy, or a bit catty.
But no one is really fearless or strong all the time, and Feliks is no exception. In fact, despite his confident, outgoing, eye-catching facade, he's really quite scared of strangers, and has a lot of trouble making friends due to that fear, his stubbornness, and his at times bossy and self-centered nature. He tends to cling a lot to the few friends he has, at times to the point of making a bit of a nuisance of himself.
That said, for the few people who do get close to him, he's a Hell of a friend. In canon, the closest friendship he has is with Lithuania, his one-time partner and the soft-spoken and practical yin to his flashy and reckless yang. He drives him up a wall with his childish, bratty moments, but the two of them had a great deal of trust when they were younger, and even now that they've separated and have a certain degree of tension over past mistakes, Poland is still unhesitating and fearless when it comes to defending him from their mutual enemies or offering him support in hard times. Other notable relationships include (North) Italy, whom he befriended when they were both living in Austria's house in the 19th century, and Hungary, who has been his bro forever, even if she turned out to be a girl. Around these people, he's generally still cheerful and silly and blustering, though at times he's more able to let his insecurities and weaknesses show.
As anyone with a basic understanding of European history would have a hard time missing, Poland has had his fair share of troubles and then some. Basically the whole time period from the late 18th century until 1989 was... pretty damn awful, with occasional descents into incomprehensible levels of nightmarish. While Hetalia--wisely, in all likelihood--steers clear of the worst of the atrocities, it would be ridiculous to act as though the character has never seen any misfortune. He handles it very well, though, keeping any pain or fear remarkably under wraps even as it's happening. For example, during the flashback depicting the final partition of Poland, when Russia was taking Lithuania away and Poland was too wounded to fight anymore, Lithuania called out to him. He looked away, clearly in pain or troubled--then promptly wiped it off his face and immediately started smiling and teasing Lithuania. Better for him to be mad than lonely, right? In short, Poland isn't really one for bitching about his problems idly-- he's more into starting a goddamn revolution.
Because deep down, underneath the social awkwardness and the schoolgirl skirts and and the dumb blond moments and the love of ponies--all of which are absolutely things that exist--Feliks is one stubborn little cuss. He is a sonofabitch who just won't give up, even when it seems literally impossible, even when it would probably be the logical choice. He goes through incredible amounts of bullshit, and comes out of it all smiling and joking and acting like he hasn't got a care in the world. Because if you let them take the fun out of life, that's letting them win, isn't it? And he's not about to let anybody win. Not ever.
In addition, aside from the whole occasional-crossdressing-thing and the whole totally-into-
POWERS/ABILITIES:
Imagination Manipulation:
Feliks has always lived in his own little world, and now, to a certain extent, everyone else can live in his own little world, too! Objects near him can change form, or become... less subject to the rules of logic or reality. Perhaps that toy pony really will start walking around, or he'll change things' colors for fun, or pull a Cinderella and make vegetables into vehicles and kick his outfit up a notch. Who can say?
There are, of course, limits--at present, he can't affect anything he can't see, or directly affect anything with a mind, and any changes wear off about a minute after he stops thinking about them. What this means is that if he turns a spoon into a knife, it will resume being a spoon; any stab wounds inflicted in the interim, however, are going to remain stab wounds. If he makes a statue walk around, it will go right back to where it was like nothing happened to it, but anyone who got punched by it is still going to feel it. In addition, he can't create anything out of nothing, and it takes a lot more effort to affect objects he isn't touching. Finally, while it's fairly easy to make things real enough to see, it takes more focus to make his imagination real enough to hurt someone with. It's definitely within the realm of possibility, but not something that's going to be too easy for him.
AU HISTORY:
Feliks was born in the wake of a revolution, several years after the Iron Curtain fell. He lived in the countryside of his father's hometown in Poland as a small child. His parents, both active Solidarność supporters, decided to move to Warszawa around the time he started school, for the sake of his education and his father's political career. An only child, he never quite learned how to play with other children. He always wanted to have friends, but when he tried to reach out, he pushed people away with his bossy, spoiled behavior. In the end, he usually wound up feeling lonelier and shyer than ever, withdrawing by and large into his own imagination and relying on bravado to get him by when he had to talk to other people. There were one or two other kids that he got along with, but they were a definite exception to the rule.
When he was ten, his father was assigned to a diplomatic position, and his family moved to America, settling in the suburbs outside Washington, DC. Feliks spoke about three phrases of English, all of them from watching too many Hollywood movies, which didn't so much help him make new friends. Even so, he had grown up with parents who loathed everything Russia represented to them, and the whole family wholeheartedly embraced the decadent West they'd been told to hate for so long. He did his best to learn the language, and to find a place for himself among his classmates.
Unfortunately for him, a couple of things happened. First of all, once he hit his double-digits, it suddenly stopped being so cute when he got into his mom's make-up and walked around in her heels. His parents and his priest made their feelings on the matter quite clearly known to him, so he tried to stop; the end result a collection of skirts tucked under his mattress like they were hand-me-down Playboy magazines, and like, weeks' worth of Hail Marys.
Second, no matter how normal the clothes his parents bought him were, he found that being tiny, effeminate, loudmouthed, foreign, and largely without friends, he was still basically the ideal candidate for getting the shit kicked out of him all the time by a small collection of schoolyard bullies. The adults he talked to were just absolutely no help--you're riling them up when you fight so stop trying, you should fight back harder, try not to draw so much attention to yourself... He withdrew socially, spending more and more time by himself. Who needed them anyway, right?
Then, midway through high school, his power began to manifest. First, he sort of thought he was going crazy--he'd always had an active imagination, yeah, but when his My Minute Equine toys started acting like they were listening to him, or when the leaves he was trying to procrastinate his way out of raking turned into a flurry of butterflies, what else was he supposed to think? He tried to ignore it, mostly, until he was playing dress-up with a friend and started changing their clothes around absent-mindedly. Realizing that the changes were actually physical, and not just in his head, he set about testing his limits in secret.
And the next time his bullies cornered him on the walk home, it was different. When they picked up stones to throw at him, they turned to pillows. That didn't stop them. Neither did the sticks that started writhing like snakes in their hands, but they started thinking twice when the shadows of the buildings nearby grew longer and darker, and when Feliks clambered onto a broken-down piece of machinery and turned it into a tank, they turned around and got out of there with amazing speed.
Victory was short-lived and came at a price. As their revenge, his bullies did the absolute worst thing you can do to a teenager: they told his parents. His parents, who were already working so hard to ignore so much about their son, weren't angry. No, of course they weren't angry, they were just disappointed, just worried about him, and had he tried praying about it? He should definitely try praying about it some more...
His parents resisted the idea of sending him away--they could send him to a new school nearby, they said, one where no one knew his name, and he could hide it, he could be normal... The truth was, though, he'd had enough of hiding, and normal, and people telling him he should be proud of everything except how he actually was. Screw that, you know? If he was going to get in trouble either way, he might as well have fun! He held his ground with his parents, and eventually, only child that he was, he got his way. He packed his suitcase, and was off to the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning.
SAMPLE
1ST PERSON SAMPLE:
[VIDEO]
[Feliks is sitting cross-legged on his bed, in jeans and a mint green t-shirt, giving the camera a look of slightly ruffled skepticism. He speaks with a faint hint of an Eastern European accent, but it's barely noticeable next to the overwhelming valley-girl mannerisms.]
So like, the whole mansion thing is mad gnarly. Seriously, way classy and stuff! But here's the thing, ok?
How come nobody told me there was gonna be homework at this school? What's the deal there? Homework bums me out, so like, I'm totally giving myself a pass on it. It's diplomatic immunity or whatever!
[He... doesn't look like he's kidding.]
THIRD PERSON SAMPLE:
Feliks had never had to share space with a roommate before, and that was presenting some unforeseen challenges. Like, he was awake at weird hours, and got kinda whiny sometimes if Feliks spaced out and transmogrified his stuff while he wasn't paying attention, like it wasn't just going to change itself back in a minute or two anyway--just normal roommate stuff, really, he guessed. Still, he had high hopes for the whole situation! Here, finally, was somewhere where everyone he met had at least some idea of the kind of stuff he was dealing with every day. Here, maybe, he'd have something in common with someone. And if he didn't... well, that was hardly new, was it? He'd just keep on keeping on, the same as he always had, and it would be no big!
One element of his new lifestyle that he was finding himself particularly well-disposed towards was the knowledge that his parents were absolutely not going to walk into his room at any moment and have a fit. It took all the fear and good, old-fashioned Catholic shame out of... most of his pastimes, really. Sure, his roommate could always show up unexpected instead, and they'd probably have to have some kind of talk about the whole thing if he came in on a dress-up day, but honestly, who really cared what he thought? Not Feliks, that was for damn sure, at least not nearly enough to stop him from having his fun.
"So then," he narrated to himself, watching a pink plastic pony rear up on its own as he tossed a suddenly rather ferocious-looking teddy bear in its direction, "this super-grody monster just totally came out of nowhere, all, 'arrrgh, I'm gonna eat the princess or whatever!' And the brave knight was like, 'um, gross me out, why would you even wanna do that? Major ew...'"
And, unless someone interrupted him, he'd be quite content to spend the whole afternoon on his nonsense stories. They'd been good company for all his life until now, and just because he was trying to make real-people friends for once didn't mean he was going to forget about them just yet.