[michiel huisman — 40 — he/him] Introducing BOUDEWIJIN 'BOB' BEKKER. Word on the street is they are a FACT CHECKER at THE POST for the past NEW YORK POST. Though they are FLIPPANT and NOSY, they can also be CHARMING and HUMOROUS. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in.
— BASICS
Name: Coen Hummel Boudewijin 'Bob' Bekker Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis male, he/him, homosexual Affiliation: Media Relationship status: Taken
— BIOGRAPHY
( tw: kidnapping, death, suicide, mention of car accident )
Growing up with a single father is hard; even harder, still, when said father was half-drowned in debt. Coen was forced to grow up faster than his peers. He had to be scrappy and figured out ways to help his father wherever he could. Admittedly, his father wasn’t a perfect person or parent; most of the time he numbed their shitty situation with the promise of liquor. And, yes, there were times where he was a little heavy-handed with him if he did something foolish, but they both loved each other all the same.
Nothing could have prepared Boudewijin when his father fell ill. They couldn’t afford the treatment required, and he had to stand witness to the slow decline of his father’s health. The man went from being a sizable man to bone-thin in a matter of months. And one day Coen didn’t see him at all. At the time, he’d thought that his father was working overtime – that he’d be back home later or sometime during the night. Then one day became two, and then two became three… Worried, he called everyone that knew his father and filed a missing person, but his answer wasn’t brought to light until the police arrived at his doorstep by the fourth night. Suicide, they had said. The evidence was clear with the note left in the passenger seat, and the pistol gripped in his father’s hand. Coen was only sixteen at the time, and never acclimated to foster care. Two families tried to adopt him for the next two years, but neither lasted. When he was of age, Coen set out to make a life of his own – still at a loss in life and in immeasurable pain. Even then, he managed to make ends meet; mainly through anger and spite. Coen did everything he could to better himself in order to get more and more money; honorable or not. Night classes, acts of thievery, double shifts – whatever it took to get a CPA and a stable job. So much so that his sticky hands got him tangled with something, or rather someone, that he couldn’t shake. A member of the mob caught him red-handed and offered a transparent ultimatum – either he joins the mob or he dies in a watery grave. Though brash and standoffish, Coen was no fool. He followed along and trekked his way through the initiation and ranks of the family. Up until he found his place as a financial advisor for the mob. By the time he was in his late twenties, a close friend, Helena, was known to be a steadfast part of his life. So much so that they toed the line between platonic and ‘romantic’. As romantic as the cardinal sin of pure lust could be considered anyways. All it took was that one time for the both of them to grow closer than ever. Nine months later they were gifted with the absolute apple of their eyes, Bram Walker-Hummel. Life was good then – just for a short year, at least. Coen had been convinced that he was safe from the rumors of waning loyalty within the mob. Sure, Helena had offhandedly mentioned a safer lifestyle to help raise their child, but the conversation always ended with Coen dismissing it as useless and impossible. And it was the exact same blind faith that brought him misfortune in the worst of ways. His best friend and son disappeared in thin air one evening. A ransom was then posted the next day; the same kind that the mob was notorious for. Coen knew that it was a test of fidelity to the corrupt family, but that didn’t staunch the outrage. Naturally, he scrounged up the expected sum as soon as possible. After that, he waited.. and waited.. and waited. Helena and Bram were never seen or heard from again. Unlike most civilians, he knew what happened and it struck more than one nerve. Deep-seated hatred for the mob planted its roots and consumed him, but again – he was no fool. A one-man riot would’ve been a suicide mission. So he waited once more. This time with his ears strained to catch wind of other members that experienced similar heartache and detested all that the mob stood for. Coen put forth his all when the upheaval of power ensued. If the unkindly grace of fate wanted to have him drop dead then so be it. There was hardly any worth to his life, after all. Yet he somehow survived the bloodbath; not without significant bodily damage but still very much alive. While peace eventually settled, he continued his days with unrest. The sizable abode he once lived in was no more as he started to pinch pennies. The pristine visage he once carried so proudly diminished into a mere husk of vanity for years after. Then, somehow, by some miracle, one good deed of a trusted friend led to the next chapter of his miserly life. A fresh start under a new guise. One that required him to at least try and shape up in the grand urban crawl of New York.
— MISC INFORMATION
Boudewijin was involved in a car accident when he was fourteen. It resulted in a fractured clavicle and concussion. The latter of which cost him his sense of smell. As off-putting and terrifying as that was, his doctor reassured him that the chances of it being permanent were only in the ten to the twentieth percentile. Yet a year passed and he never regained the sense. So he was forced to acknowledge that he had anosmia.
Anosmia is the loss of smell & it impacts the sense of taste as well. So while Hayes is unable to taste the nuances, he is able to taste the basic taste sensations of salty, sour, sweet, bitter, and umami.
It can still be a struggle for Boudewijin to retain the determination to uplift himself and live in a healthier / safer manner. Though tedious, he keeps track of nutritional values and calories to make sure his body got enough nutrients. Harder still, he makes sure he exercises somewhat regularly in order to balance out his physical and mental health.
Notable features: Scarring on back of both hands ( tends to wear gloves often ) and prosthetic eye. ** NOTE: All questions about hands and eye are always answered with a different reason that's stupidly far from the truth in character, but if you'd like to know the actual reason ooc then just ask away ( disclaimer: there's body horror involved ).
Personality: First and foremost, he is a workaholic that just so happened to lose most of his manners along the way. An absolute stickler for details ( learned that it’s better to cover all aspects / asses before anyone can place the blame on him and be right ). Cheeky, sly, has some capacity for mischief, lazy when it comes to anything aside from work, humorous ( crude ). Always willing to respect someone until they give him a reason not to.
Pets: Bo ( short for Boatmeal ) – Rottweiler. Certified emotional support dog & scent training.
Boudewijin was very much an alcoholic with self-sabotaging tendencies. But has started to make an actual effort to sober up and is now 7 months sober. That being said, he still visits bars from time to time with the stipulation of maintaining alcohol free drinks.
— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS
Friends ( 0/? ). Yes, Bob is quite a peculiar person that says the dumbest shit known to man. Yes, he’s not the most careful person around. But that’s not all to him, though. Despite what some might believe, he’s always flexible when it comes to making acquaintances and friends. He’s a, dare he say it, decent person; just with a few altered quirks.
Messed up with the mix up ( 0/? ). Random, weird situations – Bob’s has plenty of ‘em. Anything from first encounters to constant encounters of the same oddness goes here. Found him vehemently sick in a Taco Bell bathroom? Plausible. Witnessed him get sucker punched on the gob for saying the unfiltered truth to some asshole? Definitely happened. One of his distant neighbors when the fire alarm went off for the nth time this month? More likely than you’d think.
Foodie squad but bastardized ( 1/? ). If there’s a new eatery in town you can bet Bob’s fixin’ to go. He’s willing to try anything once, but be warned - the combos he crams down his gullet can be a bit horrendous in theory and texture.
That one bestest of best friends ( 1/1 ). Aka the person that called him up, verbally dragged him for all he's worth to 'get his ugly mug over here because there's a job opening at x,y,z and you need someone to actually look after you until you seek therapy'. And after another two dozen phone calls, he did just that. How and when these two met is up for discussion to whomst ever is interested! ** NOTE: This person would have to be involved with media or was once involved.
Ghost of his past ( 0/1 ). But instead of an actual specter, they're a legitimate, living person that Bob didn’t think he’d see again. Be it a friend, enemy, frenemy, someone he valued as family – he acts clueless as Boudewijin Bekker.
Ghost of his past but with spice ( 0/1 ). But instead of an actual specter, they're a legitimate, living person that Coen once worked with for a long time. Their bond had begun before the usurping of the mob and doubled past it. Yet, as things went on, Coen wanted to maintain minimal connection with that life. So much so that he discarded his identity and all the ties with it.
Romance ( 1/1 ). Let’s be frank, Boudewijin has never fallen in love with someone before. His ex hardly counted since it was just physical for him. Don’t get him wrong, he wants to know what all the hub-bub’s about, but that’s all uncharted land for him. He’s never felt butterflies swarm in his stomach, had his heart nearly drop out of his ass from panicked misunderstandings, or had that ah ha! moment about how this must be what it’s like to be fully in love.
