downplaying: ((( ascending )))
Claude Bérubé.

Freelance correspondent and journalist.

Full-time writer and biographer.

"Tell a story and tell it true."





This is the HMD post for Claude, currently being played at [community profile] boomtown. If you have any critique or concerns in regards to how I portray his characer or my gameplay in general, this is the post that you can reply to. Constructive criticism is preferred and wank will go ignored.

Thank you for your consideration.
downplaying: ((( suspending belief )))
You've reached Claude Bérubé.

I'm currently not available.
Please leave a message
and I'll call you back as soon as possible.

If you're contacting me
regarding any kind of journalistic work,
you can also reach me via email:
claudeberube at freepress dot com.

Thank you.





[This is the post for IC contact with Claude.
Text, audio and action - everything goes.]
downplaying: ((( drinking buddies )))





[Characters:] Claude & Jean Louis
[Date:] 31.12.2017 / 01.01.2018
[Summary:] Oh God, they are so drunk.
__________

[He's drunk. So drunk. He's not stupid, he feels it in his fingers, he feels it in his toes... Nevertheless, he abandons Vincent in Mireille's otherwise wholly engaging company, in order to cross the room to where Jean Louis has just poured himself another shot of their most expensive whiskey (a gift he's brought himself) and sit down next to the other man. Vincent's boss. Their once so highly profiled State Minister. Icarus fell, huh?]

You better have brought us something good.

[He gestures to the bottle of whiskey, half-empty already next to Jean Louis' full glass.]
downplaying: ((( old photo )))





[Title:] family name
[Prompt:] Family
[Summary:] He can't run from his surname.
__________

"I'm French," he answers when he's on job and people ask him where he's from - it's an old habit, accentuating his nationality, from way back when his father left for the Ivory Coast, leaving Claude with nothing but a big hole in his childhood naivety and a surname that could give people the wrong idea.

"I'm French," he says, cutting off half of his family tree. The half whose roots extend beyond the pond to a country Claude never visited willingly. Because he might not be able to run from his family name, but he can definitely run from them.


downplaying: ((( 2 in a series of 3 )))





[Characters:] Vincent & Claude
[Date:] 03.06.2010
[Summary:] You don't get closer than this. Not to anyone. Not to yourself.
__________

[Claude is sitting up in bed, popped up against the headboard with a (still unpublished) book in his lap - a poetry collection that Didier has sent his way for a friendly review before it hits the streets. He reads over the various contributions with a slight frown on his face, concentration drowning out all other thoughts than those concerning the poetic composition of a French-Senegalese vocabulary.

He saw his doctor yesterday, though, did Claude - to hear the results of the various tests and blood work he's had done over the past couple of weeks. All clean, of course. Not that he'd expected anything but, but even so. Some things aren't worth throwing caution to the winds for and STDs definitely count amongst them.

Besides, if he's (they're) going to start practicing unprotected sex... It better not be on Vincent's account.]



downplaying: ((( mr trench coat )))





[Title:] back cover
[Prompt:] History
[Summary:] Every book tells the same story about him.
__________

Claude Bérubé (born 1965)

Claude Laurent Bérubé is a French-Luxembourgian journalist and author who has lived and worked in various countries such as France, the Ivory Coast and Senegal as well as worked regular correspondent jobs all over the African continent.

Trained as a journalist from three different universities, he began his professional career as an author at age 22, contributing to an independent French-Senegalese poetry collection under the pseudonym Lau de C. In terms of genre, however, he now primarily writes celebrity biographies.

Privately, he resides in the vicinity of Luxembourg City with his spouse since 2010, Vincent Fortesque.


downplaying: ((( remember remember )))





[Title:] oblivious
[Prompt:] Without
[Summary:] There's no luxury to an unrequited love.
__________

It quickly becomes a romance he travels to and from, leaves (for Africa) only to return to later and on top of it, it's an unequal romance as well. Claude knows none of his feelings are reciprocated, not the affection (not in any way that matters) and certainly not the overwhelming desire. To fuck or be fucked, whatever would suit Matthieu better, but Matthieu regards him as a close colleague, hardly even as a friend and is as straight as an arrow anyway, even when dead drunk at Le Monde's annual Christmas party, hanging over Claude's shoulder. Oblivious.


downplaying: ((( the opposite )))





THE OLD MAN'S LEFT ARM

they are as useless
as an old man's left arm
these words we throw
to the wind
that blows in our faces
like indirect slaps
we won't have to take responsibility for

punched with an amputated left arm
the arm of a cynical old man
who refuses to miss it
and its once gentle touches

we throw words around each other
like arms
disembodied
unattached to our shoulders
so we can walk away
shedding no tears

- From A Good Day to Go, Claude Bérubé


downplaying: ((( bowing down )))





[Characters:] Vincent & Claude
[Date:] 22.12.2016
[Summary:] It's a question of cause and effect.
__________

[He isn't exactly seething inside (anymore), but he definitely isn't pleased. If Vincent hadn't been so God damn attached to his job, Claude would have contacted the high and mighty Jean Louis Duroc himself and asked for an apology. In written form. Claude might not be all that active in the journalistic world anymore, but he still has all his contacts left and someone would be bound to find it an interesting angle - homophobia endorsed in the State Ministry of Luxembourg. Again, if Vincent wasn't so bloody dedicated to his new position as spin doctor for the State Minister. Claude couldn't do it to him. Not even if it's right. Not even if he'd really like to.

So instead he undresses quickly, to the sound of Vincent showering. Chases the cats out of the bedroom before crawling under the covers, Plato bouncing for the door and Socrates following after at an entirely unhurried pace as is his style. His groove. Claude loves that cat, it's so damn relaxed. Relaxing. There's nothing better than the evenings when it crawls up onto his lap and deems him worthy for pillow, purring gently and inviting a scratch on the head and some heavy (cat) petting. Well, maybe sex is better, but that falls under another category and involves different parties.

... Great and now he's horny, too - on top of being irritated.]
downplaying: ((( browns and blacks )))





[Title:] a native tongue
[Prompt:] Meaningful
[Summary:] Two conclusions about Vincent's French.
__________

You can tell two different and very distinctive things from listening to Vincent speak French.

One, he’s definitely not of French descent. Sure, it’s a subtle difference, but Claude knows most of the French dialects by heart now, having travelled throughout his home country for so many years and the sort of… flatness to Vincent’s French corresponds with none of them.

Two, it’s obvious that Vincent has spoken French since birth – no pun, no wordplay is ever lost on him and you can try as you might to hide anything at all in your words, he’ll find it.

Easily. Effortlessly.


downplaying: ((( gentleman )))





[Title:] strauss, op. 114
[Prompt:] Obvious
[Summary:] He knows that waltz pose was perfect.
__________

It's just practice - and not even for any big contests. A small show at the annual Christmas market nearby, that's all. Nevertheless, Liliane drags them both to a halt in the middle of a perfect waltz pose, shoving his shoulder slightly as she steps back.

"You're doing it wrong, Claude!" Her voice is frail from teary frustration. Her beautifully shaped shoulders rising and falling in time with her breathing. In and out, the same motion he'd fucked her with. With about as much impact, too. Empty exhalations. So Claude doesn't defend himself.

Because they're not really talking about dancing anymore.


downplaying: ((( mr trench coat )))





[Title:] tastes
[Prompt:] Writer's Choice (Woman)
[Summary:] What if... Claude had fallen in love with Mireille Duroc.
__________

Claude realises – during one of their hour-long interview sessions – that he would really like to kiss her. Because Mireille is incredibly beautiful like this. Relaxed, with a cup of tea held gingerly between her slim fingers. There are several reasons as to why the urge should disturb him, of course. They’re both married, not to mention that he is, for all intents and purposes, very much… well, gay. But it has ceased to matter. Somewhere along the road, he’s fallen in love with her.

Months later, when he finally does kiss her, it’s like tasting a new kind of freedom.


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