Tomer Berelowitz

[Tomer Berelowitz]

The Basics

Name: Tomer Joshua Berelowitz
Nicknames: Tomy (only his mom and grandma are allowed to call him this, period)
Age: 14 (DOB: Nov 27, 1999)
Orientation: Not there yet.
Desired Rank/Job: Student, 8th Grade for the '13-'14 year
Powers: Storage and redirection of kinetic force.

All kinetic energy absorbed by Tomer's body, from his feet hitting the ground walking to using a keyboard, is stored in his large skeletal muscles, leading to partial paralysis and stability issues. The muscles most affected are in his trunk and limbs, the ones least to not affected are in his fingers, toes, and face.

It is a power of conscious release. Tomer can feel the energy building up, primarily in how much/how little he can move. He has to want to release it, and can aim it along an outstretched arm or hand but can't currently control how much energy is in each blast. If he holds the energy in too long, the build up will continue to remove mobility, though he'll gain it back upon discharge.

Tomer can store enough energy for a single blast to create a ten-foot diameter hole in a two-foot thick brick wall, but afterward he would be tapped out, and the energy would never expend itself fully without very fine control he will not have for many years. Currently the most energy he could expel consciously would create a three-foot diameter hole in a six-inch thick brick wall.

The power has the potential to be fully controlled in every aspect except for the muscle paralysis, and the amount of energy Tomer will have at his disposal will be linked proportionately to his weight.

Play By: Liam Aiken

The Details

Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Any Piercings? ---
Any Tattoos? No, but he wants one. Do not tell his mother.
Any Scars? Three faint half-moon shapes on the back of his left shoulder made when his father's antique brass menorah fell on him when he was four. One of Those Stories, Tomer tells anyone who asks that they're from a bear attack.

General Appearance: At 5' and 95 lbs, Tomer is a little on the skinny side for his age, always has been and always will be. He’s got long, graceful fingers and dexterous hands, and they look a little out of place on an otherwise coltish and somewhat uncoordinated boy. Tomer stands and moves as if he lost the user’s manual for his body early on and is constantly discovering new functions that change everything, and it is indeed as exhausting as it looks. Part of it comes from his bashfulness, the way he strives to make himself physically as unobtrusive as possible, and part of it is a lack of awareness of his surroundings, which means he trips a lot and still spills on his clothes. When not reading or otherwise occupied, Tomer often appears deep in thought or consideration (and probably is), and looks more serious and opposed to fun than he is.

Tomer is a jeans and sneakers kind of kid, though he prefers (short-sleeved) button-down shirts over t-shirts in the summer, and the long-sleeved version with the addition of a sweatshirt or sweater in the winter. A little formal, maybe, but Tomer's never cared about his clothes and only his mom's intervention means he doesn't have a closet full of identical shirts and pants.

Since becoming meta, Tomer wears a number of braces under his clothes, though the one at his neck is visible, as are the ones on his lower arms/hands. He also uses crutches to get around and walks with visible stiffness.

Personality: The word most often used to describe Tomer is 'shy'. And in certain situations, it's more than obvious. He still has a very mild case of Social Anxiety Disorder, but he's also learned to live with it and how to deal. Whenever Tomer is in a group of more than three and some sort of attention is called to him that makes the other two look at him, he is intensely uncomfortable. To the point he's never volunteered an answer in class, only takes private music lessons with the stipulation that he never has recitals, didn't have any birthday parties past the age of six, and is most often found hiding with a book during family gatherings. Tomer can't stand people looking at him. He thinks they see all his many faults as clearly as he can and he's terrified of embarrassing himself further. He also hates any sort of spotlight or special attention, whether a friend calls his name in the hall or a stranger on the street helpfully points out that one of his shoes are untied. He's mortified of bothering anyone, even if they say it's not a bother, and has worked relentlessly on independence and on being helpful himself. The last one is hypocritical, he knows, wanting to help but not wanting to accept any when the giver might be as sincere as he is, but he can't help but feel that he shouldn't need any if he applies himself enough. Tomer also feels anxious in new settings - the first week of school was always stressful for him, and even in new places he wants to be he feels nervous, like on field trips to museums he's never been to.

Talking to strangers is not as bad for him as being in a group and having to talk to one is, but unless the other person is either talkative or very kind, he has trouble opening up. That said, once you are a friend of Tomer's, he will seem like a completely different kid. Tomer's friends and those he's close to see his wit, intelligence, intuitiveness, consideration, and thoughtfulness. Tomer really is a good person, perhaps prone to overthinking and fear of offending, but also genuinely nice.

At age seven, Tomer came home with blood on his shirt collar and a note from his teacher that said a kid had beaten him up and taken his lunch. This prompted his father to have a long talk with him about how being an introvert was okay, but not standing up for himself was not. What struck a nerve in this discussion was his dad saying that he knew Tomer respected himself. It was in the way he was thoughtful and polite, and in the way he strove for self-improvement through his studies and self-reflection. Tomer had never thought of it that way before, but it felt like the right word. What letting another child bully him did, his dad said, was remove that respect. When other kids bullied him, they were not respecting him. But when Tomer let them, he was also disrespecting himself. And no matter how much it hurt him to speak up in front of a group, Dad said he'd raised his son to do the right thing, and the right thing was to not empower another child who had done nothing to earn it. Maybe he'd lose, maybe he'd win. But he'd made his voice and thoughts on the matter known. Tomer thought about this for almost a week, and talked about it with Bee. And decided that his father was (as usual) right. Besides, people were already looking at him during these altercations, so standing up for himself wouldn't make it any worse. Ever since then, the idea of respecting himself has been a source of strength, something he considered when making decisions and came back to when he thought about his actions. It's also been something his mother has had to contend with, and over the years they've made an unsteady peace, her pride in him and her love of making a big deal of things warring with Tomer's quiet insistence that she respect his position.

This self-respect has also lent itself to a stubbornness that was always there but had not truly expressed itself before. Tomer is quite used to doing extensive research to back his arguments (when there is a correct answer) and is more than willing to reevaluate an opinion if the argument is logical and can be supported. But once he's locked into a train of thought or stance, he will dig his heels in to and past the point of ridiculousness. Case in point, Tomer does not dance. Not for laughs, not if his mother begs him, not if his grandma begs him. Rivka says he's hardcore. Tomer says he's a very bad dancer. End of discussion.

Your Vices

Likes:
~ His dad - Tomer is a total daddy's boy
~ Rivka - best. sister. ever. Tomer's nickname for her is Vivy.
~ Bee Johanssen - his best friend
~ Books - nothing is off limits. Tomer has read everything from his sister's copies of Twilight to long sections of his father's law books.
~ Comic Books - Daredevil, the Flash, and any series featuring Robin are his favorites
~ Math - it's comforting
~ Music – he likes pretty much everything and plays the viola, is practically never without his iPod
~ Spaghetti - his favorite meal
~ Gadgets - from now and from the past. While tablets and smartphones are cool, the old spy toys and mechanical stuff was awesome.

Dislikes:
~ Talking on the phone – it’s never for him anyway
~ Bullies - any bully making fun of anyone
~ Beans that aren’t green – they taste like spackle
~ Being the center of attention – even having a birthday party was torture
~ Lots of people looking at him - school plays and concerts are terrifying
~ Loud noises - the fourth of July is his least favorite holiday
~ Being sick
~ Cake - it has no taste to him and feels pointless except as a vehicle for frosting
~ Bugs - Tomer does not mind spiders, but he minds things that fly at him
~ Teachers - Tomer enjoys school but teachers make him wary. They don't like leaving him alone and often make him uncomfortable, usually by drawing attention to him or by forcing him into a leadership position or group activity.
~ Wheelchairs - now that he has one Tomer does not want to use it
~ Stairs - they used to be exotic and now he dreads them

Strengths:
~ Intelligence - Tomer's 4.0 the whole way
~ Analytical thinking - Tomer is definitely left brained, excelling at logic, linear thinking, numbers, and anything that involves fact over just making stuff up
~ Research - if Tomer wants to know a thing, he knows where to look and his answer will always be right
~ Self-confidence - being shy doesn't mean he's a pushover
~ Kindness - he's just a Nice Kid

Weaknesses:
~ Creative writing assignments - his kryptonite
~ Shyness - just... stop noticing him, please
~ Stubbornness - occasionally to a fault
~ Group situations - he'd rather just be assigned his part and do it without contributing to the dynamics
~ Accepting help - embarrassment and mortification all around
~ His mom - Tomer is still not comfortable being as open with her as he is with his dad, and there's things he will not tell her if she's the only parent available. He loves her, and she's improved a lot since he was little, but she still doesn't really understand how to deal with him.

Fears:
~ thunder and lightning - storms are fine, but when these two are involved Tomer's bowels turn to ice and he's convinced the next bolt will come right through his bedroom window. And like any good science geek, he's much more afraid of lightning (despite knowing the odds of being hit). He's only afraid of thunder because it tells him exactly how close the lightning came.
~ not being a good person - Tomer is very aware of his faults and shortcomings, and worries a great deal about being selfish or thoughtless.
~ his meta ability and how it affects him - the idea he might be stuck in a bed someday, barely able to move, terrifies him

Secret: Tomer believes in Santa Claus. Not in the literal interpretation of a man in a red suit who brings toys to well-behaved Christian children, but in what he believes Santa Claus represents - the idea that goodness is ultimately rewarded. Not with material things, but with a better world. Tomer believes even the smallest kindnesses (like saying please or thank you) can make a difference, and he considers these acts of kindness Santa Claus. Bee knows about this, because they discussed it extensively when they were younger, but he obviously can't tell anyone else.

Family Ties

Father: David Berelowitz (49)
Mother: Talia Berelowitz (47)
Siblings: Abigail, 16, older sister; Rivka, 12, younger sister.
Any Other Important People: Robert "Bobby" Bernstein, 83, maternal grandfather; Charlotte "Charlie" Bernstein, 85, maternal grandmother. Matthew Bernstein, 55, uncle; Michelle Bernstein, 49, aunt; Noah Bernstein, 18, cousin; Jeremiah Bernstein, 16, cousin. Joshua Bernstein, 53, uncle.

Tomer Berelowitz, 80, paternal grandfather; Henrietta "Hetty" Berelowitz, 81, paternal grandmother.

History

"I thought his name was going to be Tomer Robert." Charlie Bernstein was amused as she rocked gently, newest grandson sleeping in her arms.

"I know." Talia shrugged helpless at her mother. "But when he looked at me, with his little scrunched up face all serious and angry..."

At that moment, Tomer Joshua Berelowitz opened his eyes. His tiny brow furrowed and he began to voice his displeasure at not being in the right woman's arms. His grandmother burst out laughing. Talia was right.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Social Anxiety Disorder," the therapist repeated. "It's mild, and specific rather than general, but left unaddressed it has the potential to become serious. What Tomer has amounts to stage fright, with or without a stage. He's fine until people either are looking at him or he believes they are."

Talia thought of all the times she'd bullied her son into going to birthday parties or ignored his tearful pleas to skip playgroups. She remembered all the times she'd loudly touted his achievements at family gatherings or dragged him out of wherever he'd been hiding to join in activities, seeing his pinched, unhappy expressions with new eyes. Having once aspired to be an actress (and still prone to dramatics) Talia could not comprehend not wanting attention, not loving the spotlight. She'd thought Tomer's bashfulness was the hesitance a lot of children had in new situations, quickly overcome once play began. The thought she'd been hurting him, damaging him, took her breath away.

"What happens then?" David took his wife's hand gently in his own and placed the other on her shoulder. He knew his son's introversion and his wife's extroversion kept them from the kind of closeness Talia had with her daughters and wanted so desperately with her son, but the idea of fostering a relationship by backing off was alien to her.

"At first it was fear. Discomfort. And it all evolved into what you mistook for asthma attacks."

"Panic attacks, correct?" Tomer's father was no less distressed that he'd been either misinterpreting or dismissing his son's signals, but as a lawyer he could look at and process facts more dispassionately than Talia.

"Yes."

"But he's six." Talia's voice was a squeak.

"Panic attacks are more common in people who are teenagers or older, but they can happen at any age." The therapist smiled sympathetically. "It's not anyone's fault, Mrs. Berelowitz. You have a sensitive, perceptive, intelligent son. I can't tell you he'll never be anxious again, but we can help him learn to deal with his emotions more effectively. And-" her lip quirked "-you might have to accept the idea of not singing Happy Birthday to him for a few years."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Oh my gosh, a C. I didn't know you could do that." Rivka's eyes were wide and her expression was much more amused than Tomer thought reasonable.

"Vivy. It's not like I don't already feel bad about it."

"Oh Tomer, it's only one assignment. Mom won't even be mad."

"No, she'll want to show it to everyone."

"The story is pretty bad."

"Hey, I tried. How'm I supposed to know how a turkey would escape being Thanksgiving dinner? I'm not a turkey. I don't even like Thanksgiving."

"You like Black Friday."

"Book sales, Viv. Priorities."

"So how can you have read all the books you have and still write 'Oh no, I am about to be killed! Oh well.' Seriously, this is so bad it's almost good again."

"If you breathe one single word of this to Mom I will tell her where that lipstick went."

"You'd be getting Abby in trouble too."

"I'm prepared to deal with that."

Rivka sighed loudly and flopped onto her bed. "You're the least fun brother ever. I bet Mom could read this at Thanksgiving at Uncle Matt's and have it be funny every year."

"Exactly."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"No."

Before that day, Cory Johnson didn't think he'd ever heard Tomer Berelowitz's voice. And he sure as hell hadn't expected to hear it now. "...What?"

"No." The smaller boy stood there, not running, not showing any fear, but looking at Cory the way he might at a difficult word problem. Intently, with perhaps some distaste.

At 12, Cory was five and a half feet tall and used to getting his way. Berelowitz never said a thing in class, but his papers all came back with As on them and he gave off vibes that hinted at prey. He closed the gap between them till their shirts were almost touching and looked down. "I said give me your math sheet, asshole."

Hugging his math book and folder tightly to his chest, Tomer never blinked. "No."

In the scuffle that followed, Cory tried to take Tomer's paper by force, attempting to wrestle the folder and book out of a surprisingly tenacious grasp. When Tomer finally released his arms after a heavy stomp on the foot, the other boy fell back, papers spraying the hallway and the book narrowly missing Mrs. Derkins as it flew from Cory's hands.

"Mr. Johnson."

As Tomer quietly picked up his homework and old assignments, no one saw the tiny smile on his face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Don't cry, Bee. It doesn't hurt."

"It's not fair!" Bee was on Skype, her tearful face small on David Berelowitz's phone. "It wasn't your fault!"

"But I still did it," he said. His face was bigger to Bee on her laptop screen, but even if it hadn't been she could've still seen how tired and anxious he looked. "And... it's a sensible thing to do, till we know what I can do. If I can keep it from happening again."

Bee sobbed. She wished she could hug her best friend, but right now it was best no one touch Tomer till everything was straightened out. "My parents don't have to be such... such... douches about it!"

She said it so loudly, so defiantly, that Tomer laughed. Bee laughed weakly with him, but tears kept running down her face. "You're not dangerous, Tomer. The school already said you couldn't come back. The least my parents could do is let me see you before you leave."

"I don't know if I'm dangerous or not, and I'd hate to prove everyone wrong and hurt you," he replied. "We can still talk like this." He laughed a little again, because he was starting to cry. "Go... put a hat over your face or something. You're making me..." Tomer half laughed, half sobbed. "I miss you already. I don't want to go to Vermont."

"Your uncle's there though, isn't he? The one your mom says you look like." Bee tried to smile, tried to joke, but she couldn't stop crying. Her best friend was leaving, had been branded a threat, and her heart was breaking. But she tried. For him. "And your Grandma and Grandpa."

"I don't look like Uncle Josh. He has hair all over his face. And it's darker. And he has glasses." Tomer hiccupped. "But yes, he's there. Him and his doctor." He sighed again, shifting in the bed with that odd feeling of making the effort to move without anything actually happening. "I don't know if Grandma would be any better than mom, and Grandpa probably wouldn't know who I am."

"But you have family there," Bee said stoutly, swiping her sodden sleeve against her eyes again. "You won't be alone."

"I'd never be alone with you calling me."

About to burst into tears again, Bee suddenly laughed instead. "And your mom!"

"Oh god..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tomer Berelowitz arrives at the Hammel Institute in the last weeks of July 2013.

Roleplay Example

Tomer thought he'd resent the braces more than he did. He was covered in them. He was like a reverse Iron Man. Except, as he'd told Vivy, he was not a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. Not yet, she'd replied loftily, and while he loved her for that, Tomer did not think that career path he had in mind would lend itself to the last three. And if he was a genius he'd be one already, and have figured out crutches by now. Or, if he were really Tony Stark, he'd have figured out a way to make the braces let him walk without them. But he was surprisingly grateful for them, because he knew what he felt like without them. Like... he was either made of Jello or had dead things clinging to him. It was a lot of work now, moving. Without the tight shirt and long socks (he was not calling them spandex and he was not calling the socks tights) Tomer felt like he would just... dissolve into a puddle. Or cease to exist. He had enough feeling left to know exactly how much other stuff wasn't working. But add in the braces, and Tomer felt like he had a body again.

He did resent the wheelchair. It was electric and going with him to Vermont. His father had had to lift him into it bodily when he'd refused to sit in it. That memory still made his face hot enough he thought it would melt off. Tomer had not previously believed he was prejudiced. He had friends who used wheelchairs and didn't think any less of the elderly people at his grandparents' nursing home who used them, but the thought of himself in one made him afraid and ashamed and all sorts of other terrible things. And he knew it would make people look at him. God.

Grasping the handles of his crutches, Tomer levered himself out of bed to practice. Again.

What About You?

Name: Captainomega
Age: So very past legal.
Experience: Around ten years?
How Did You Find Us? RPG-D
Ready To Play? I don't have to tell you! You're not my real mom!

[Dryope *]

Accepted

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I am looking forward to this. Go do those claims!
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