god bless the friendly ghost {caspar}

[CHARITY CLARKE]

Charity Clarke never asked much of her family. Since she was born, she had never begged for attention like her other siblings had, nor did she grow up like a sterotypical baby of a big family. She did as she was told and she let her siblings have most of her parent's attention. If her older siblings, twins, had not been born nearly a year before she was, maybe she would have been seen as more of a baby. But no, she was the youngest, but behaved more like the middle child.

Christmas was the biggest deal in the Clarke household, however small and crammed it was, and money was always saved every year for the holiday. The budget was divided so that each sibling had enough to get a small gift for the rest of the children, though they always pooled a small bit of the money to buy their parents something. They all sat at the small table with the mismatched thift store chairs, eating the dinner that made up the rest of the budget, and opened presents afterwards. It was under a cheap plastic tree with very little ornaments (most of them broken), near-completely-stripped-bare tinsel, and old lights that flickered constantly.

Charity had grown up believing in the spirit of Christmas, that this is what brought whole worlds together. Even if you didn't celebrate Christmas, it was still a season of caring and giving, and that was what Charity saw it as. A celebration of the birth of Christ, yes, but also a way to care for your neighbors. To love and give, even if expecting them in return.

So when she found out her best friend had nowhere to go on Christmas Eve, she made the second biggest request she had in her household, the first being to ask if she may go to Baum Academy. She was hesitant, at first, as she never liked asking for anything, but she eventually got the courage. Caspar was her first real friend at Baum, after all, and who was she to leave him alone on a holiday that should be spent with family?

But the Clarkes simply didn't have the room nor the money to include him in their feast, at first. They were strict budgeteers and the sudden inclusion would mean everything would have to be shifted - and even though it was before the budget was given out, it was still too late of a notice. Charity offered to give him her place, since he had nowhere to go, but the Clarkes dismissed that idea as it was ridiculous that she would want to miss out on her favorite holiday for some boy. Several accusations of something more than friendship were made, then denied, and her parents were still firm about the decision. Charity was heartbroken, but didn't argue any further. She knew it had been too much to ask and she felt guilty about it.

Then, as miracles happened, her eldest sister Marnie was going to her boyfriend of 10 months' home for Christmas Eve. The whole family was shocked and somewhat offended, but Marnie was an adult and could make her own choices. Not to mention, as she had whispered to Charity, the only one of her siblings who could keep a secret: she thought her was going to propose then. So Charity helped her convince the Clarkes to let Marnie go, and they did. Her parents told her that it was alright if her friend came and took the empty seat.

She was so excited, she could hardly contain it. After giving Caspy the news, she had made preparations. She bought him a present, though some assembly was required, and it was all wrapped up and ready to go along with the presents she bought her siblings. Her siblings didn't buy him presents (she didn't expect them to!), but her parents did, after they awkwardly asked her what he liked.

She had mentioned the fact that he was vegan, so they tried to accommodate the best they could. Charity and a couple other of her siblings were vegetarians, anyways, so it wasn't like it was that much of a reach. Though, the cookies were a little hard to make, but they figured it out and they were made 100% vegan. The potatoes were made from their garden, as they were every year, though instead of mashed and mixed with milk, they were cubed and baked with herbs they also grew organically. They made ratatouille instead of the usuall roast, and it turned out to be cheaper when they bought it from the market than from a grocery store. They made the bread rolls themselves, as per usual, purchasing the ingredients.

Charity didn't ask for the dinner to be altered in such a way, but her parents did it anyways. They also felt guilty for not being able to let Caspar come over in the first place. They didn't get to be hosts very often, so they wanted to be the best they could be. Charity was so happy, so thankful that they had done this for her, but also sad because she had no idea how she could repay them.

But that wasn't quite in the spirit of Christmas, and as per usual, Charity had to remind herself that other people could give without wanting to recieve. She would still find a way to make it up to them, though, just... maybe after Christmas. Since it didn't involve so much movement and walking, Charity was able to go without her crutches, but kept them nearby just in case as she waited for Caspar to arrive.

Her siblings were very unused to having guests, so they were fidgeting uncomfortably in the living area, distracting themselves with talk of "I bet my present is better than yours" and other things of a competitive nature that Charity didn't participate in. She merely waited in the seat closest to the door, anticipating the ring at any moment. It was a very small space made smaller by the three beat-up couches that were needed for the big family, as was the kitchen / dining room, but Charity hoped Caspar wouldn't mind.

[/justify]

{ outfit }
{ this is a terrible starter filled with fluff i'm sorry }

[CASPAR CRANE]

Well, on the plus side, after fifteen years, he finally didn’t have to spend Christmas with his abhorrent douchebag of a brother.

He’d spoken to neither Curtis nor his father since the party incident, so he wasn’t sure how much of the house had been salvageable, or whether the two of them were even still living there. He hoped the piano had survived, at least. Not that either of the bastards could ever do it justice. Fuckface was probably doing science experiments on it or something.

But in any case, that wasn’t an option, and he’d assumed he’d be spending Christmas with his mother and that gorilla of a stepfather. Luckily, Charity Clarke, the girl he sat with every lunch period because she was the only student at that godforsaken school who didn’t blindly reject his articulate opinions simply because they were too deep and complex for such simpletons to understand, had taken pity on him. The invitation from Charity hadn’t seemed like the most appealing thing in the world, exactly, but if the fact that he’d spent this Thanksgiving eating Chinese food on his mother’s couch was anything to go by, it certainly beat the alternative. And maybe they’d have a piano. That would be nice. If Caspar had to play one more bar on that underage-Chinese-manufactured plastic toy of a keyboard, he was going to scream. His ukulele was in his backpack, as usual, but he’d have been surprised if the cold air hadn’t snapped its strings already.

The conversation where he’d told his mother he’d be spending Christmas with a friend had been surprising, to say the least. ”You have a friend?” she’d asked, and even over the phone, Caspar had been able to hear the eyeroll and the dripping skepticism. But her next sentiment was more unexpected. ”Well, you’ll be needin’ to buy ‘em all presents, won’t ya? How’s 100 bucks sound?”

All his better instincts had told him to screw presents and spend the money on weed. He’d never really seen the point of Christmas anyway; it was clearly nothing more than a corporate scheme to milk the public for all the money it was worth. He’d spent multiple hours staring at the check after he received it in the mail, trying to come up with some moral justification for taking it and running. But in the end, his stupid and vague sense of principle prevailed, and he’d ended up ditching Biology class the next day to run downtown and purchase the contents of the red bag that currently sat in his lap.

Up next, Jacobs Apartment Complex. Up next, Jacobs Apartment Complex.

Ah, the robotic monotone had finally announced his stop. Caspar heaved himself up from the bus seat, strolling towards the opening exit door. ”I highly encourage you to change the advertisements your bus is currently featuring,” he noted to a rather perplexed-looking bus driver as he hopped down the steps to the sidewalk. ”’Soilfree Oven: It’s a Wifesaver’? Really? Really? Haven’t we got enough blatant misogyny in this world without the media splattering it all over our public transportation?” He turned and stalked away without a word.

Okay, what number had she said? First floor, number…three? Or five. No, three sounded right. Clearing his throat, he knocked twice on the door.

outfit

[CHARITY CLARKE]

Charity wasn't impatient, but she was starting to wonder what was taking so long. But he was probably just on time, it just seemed like a long time because she was so excited for him to get there. The clock on the wall opposite her hadn't ticked in four years, so she couldn't rely on that. She didn't tap her foot, she didn't fidget with her cardigan, she just sat there, staring at the clock as if that would make it move.

Finally, she heard a knock on the door, and nearly jumped up in excitement. But she got up slowly, as the breaking of a bone would have put a damper on the occasion, and walked to the door, peering through the thing to make sure it was him, then opened it with a wide smile. "Hi Caspar! Merry Christmas!" she led him in, where her sibings had all stood up politely to greet their guest as their parents told them to. "Everyone, this is Caspar." They all greeted him, ranging from awkward to cheerful. "My eldest sister Marnie is having Christmas at her boyfriend's. This is Linda, my second eldest sister." Linda waved, being one of the cheerful ones. "That's my eldest brother Peter." Peter stepped forward to shake his hand, ever the businessman. "And that's Matt and that's Jennifer. They're twins! And only about a year older than I." They awkwardly waved, not really caring. Charity didn't notice because she was so excited. She wondered if they would warm up to Caspar if they knew he was a twin. But that was Caspar's information to divulge, and besides, her parents had stepped into the room.

"Dinner will be ready in a minute," her mother said, and her father nodded in agreement. He always helped with Christmas dinner because it was such a handful, and Emily Clarke stressed over it enough as it was. "Caspar, these are my parents," Charity said, beaming because she loved them so, and after all, they were the ones who had allowed Caspar to come in the first place. "You don't have to bother with 'Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, dear. You can just call us 'Emily' and 'Robert', if you like." Her mother was so great at making people feel like they were in the family, even people she just met. Charity considered Caspar family, too, so it was a very good thing. He was welcome to come over any holiday dinner he liked, and Emily wanted him to know that. "You can set you bag over by the tree," she added, smile as warm and motherly as ever. Charity hadn't noticed the bag and was thankful that her parents had bought him small presents and had written on the tags that they were from each of her siblings.

"Mom, is dinner ready yet?" Matt asked, impatiently as usual. Charity glanced at him, but there was no scolding or message in her eyes as she had hoped. Besides, he had never listened to her advice, anyways. "If you guys would like to take your places at the table, your father and I will bring the food," Emily said, then they both disappeared into the kitchen. Matt and Jennifer went eagerly, while the others patiently waited for them to go through the small window into the dining room before continuing. Charity waited to go last, and gently grabbed Caspar's hand with a smile, leading him into the cramped dining room. One of the tablelegs sat on an old phone book, and the thing looked about ready to topple, though thankfully it hadn't yet. The Christmas-pattered tablecloth was at least thirty years old, dusted and washed this morning but still covered in old stains from previous years and other wears and tears. Each chair was different and everyone got to pick theirs out when they had bought them at the thrift store almost seven years ago.

Charity was thankful that she had picked a tall chair, for she hadn't grown that much in the years following. It was a comfortable height for her to eat at the table, and that was all she needed. "You can sit here, Caspar,"

[/color] she said, pulling out Marnie's chair, which was practically a throne. It was the most extravagant at the table, wonderfully carved with fabric that was probably on the 'girly' side. Again, she hoped Caspar wouldn't mind. She then went into the kitchen to see if her parents needed help, but they ushered her back in quickly, knowing that Caspar would probably feel awkward sitting with people that were currently strangers.

Charity took her place at the table, and almost as soon as she did, her parents brought out the rolls, two baskets full of them, and set them at either side of the table. Matt and Jennifer tried to sneak one each, but Emily smacked their hands gently, but firm, with a stern look to match. They looked at each other, and then down at their empty plates, sighing.

They then brought out the potatoes and the ratatouille, setting them near the center of the table. They would bring out the cookies near the end of the meal, as certain siblings of hers were notorious for trying to have dessert first.

"Charity, would you like to say grace this Christmas Eve?"[/color] her father asked, though she knew it was her turn anyways. They went in order by age as to who would lead every year, and the twins had gone last year. "Of course, Daddy."[/color] She looked at Caspar a bit apologetically, still unsure of what his beliefs were, but hoping he wouldn't mind. That was becoming a theme for this evening. She took his hand and Jennifer's on her right, and Emily offered her hand for Caspar on his left.

"Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal tonight, and know that you have blessed us with a wonderful Christmas. We thank you for our guest here tonight, that he was able to come, and for our sister Marnie, who is surely having a wonderful Christmas Eve of her own. We thank you for the clothes on our backs and our health, and for out lives. Amen." "Amen." "Amen."[/b] Charity always thanked the Lord for her health, even if it wasn't in peak condition, because she was still alive and well and that was all that mattered, though she would be blessed to join him when her time came.

Everyone started filling up their plates, and Charity waited until everyone was done, as she always did. Her family always waited until everyone's plates were full until they started talking, and it was no different this year. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

{ i kind of went wild with this post so if i need to change anything let me know }

[CASPAR CRANE]

Oh hell. This was…quite a lot of people.

Caspar could feel his throat closing up. No. No. Stop. There’s only… He counted ferociously in his head. Eight. Or nine. Or something. It’s not a crowd. It’s not a crowd. It’s not a crowd.

When he felt that he’d finally calmed himself down enough to not be fearing for his respiratory system, he stepped forward into the house. Well, the lighting looked good. It was all fluorescent, as far as he could tell, with none of the terrible energy-zapping, fossil-fuel-draining bulbs that were used at Baum. An energy-conscious family was a good family, in Caspar’s book. He crossed his metaphorical fingers that at least one of them was a vegan.

And suddenly, he felt himself being bombarded by a hailstorm of dialogue. ”Hey!” He shoved as much cheeriness into his voice as he could, hoping it wouldn’t ring hollow. He was grateful to this family. He really, really was. He just…God, the sheer commercialness of the entire affair was practically making his nose run. And Christianity was such a patriarchal, misogynistic religion anyways. Caspar found himself uncomfortable being even distantly associated with it. Still, being doted upon here was better than being ignored at home, he supposed.

”Merry Christmas!” The phrase and the almost childish enthusiasm into which he contorted his voice made both made him want to gag.

He looked on, slightly bewilderedly, as he was introduced to each assorted family member in quick succession. ”Marnie absent. Linda. Peter. Matt. Jennifer. Got it. Twin…” He felt a twinge in his chest. Sorry, he felt a sudden urge to say. Shit, no, he had to be polite here. This family was too nice and happy for him to be spreading his own stupid bullshit all over. And fraternal twins were probably a different deal anyways. ”I have one of those too.” He grinned at the two of them, who didn’t look anything alike, in his opinion. But he wasn’t one to judge. ”Uh, nice to, uh, meet all you guys.”

He shook hands vigorously, and was practically panting by the end of the ordeal. ”Emily, Robert. Oh, alright, sure.” He set the bag of presents next to the tree, grimacing at the sheer conformity implied in the presence of such an artifact. ”Thanks a lot for having me over, by the way.” Caspar didn’t thank people a lot. The whole concept of “thanking” was such an antiquated social construct, in his opinion. The clause felt awkward in his mouth.

Caspar was led into the dining room, and had to duck to keep from smacking his head on the ceiling. Wow, this place was small. He took a seat and tapped rhythms on his thighs with his fingers, wondering what would be okay to talk about here. Was this a liberal family? Oh dear, if they were conservative, he was probably going to give himself an ulcer in the next hour. They’re doing you a favor, Caspar. You can afford to shut your trap for the next hour.

"Charity, would you like to say grace this Christmas Eve?"

Oh dear God.

Alright, he’d survived the present-buying so far. He’d survived the presence of the Christmas tree. He’d survived the festive pleasantries. But grace? An actual, physical prayer? This was going to test him like no other. He could feel rants and rampages of all shapes and sizes pushing themselves forward, but he clenched his teeth together. You could be home eating Lean Cuisine right now, you ungrateful bastard, he mentally growled to himself. This family took your pathetic little ass in.

He was surprised he managed to suffer through the prayer without biting through his tongue. He wouldn’t even allow himself to open his mouth to mutter the “Amen” for fear that he’d accidentally vomit out a rant about the heteronormativity inherent in the typical concept of the Christian God. When the ordeal was finally over, he felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He scooped some potatoes onto his plate, hoping there wasn’t any meat coming. ”Uh, so, you guys have a piano anywhere?” he asked carefully. He couldn’t let himself slip into normal social justice rage mode.