FULL NAME: Kermit Aubrey Creekmore.
NICKNAMES: Kermie, Creekless
AGE/DOB: 17 / December 24
YEAR: Senior
BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn
GENDER: Male, but open to interpretation.
SEXUALITY: Goes with the flow.

HOMETOWN: Brooklyn, NY.

APPEARANCE:
Kermit will take any excuse to wear a costume. It would be the absolute death of him if he were ever to be seen as mundane, and he just delights in draping himself in glitz and glamor and thrift store jewelry to keep that reputation at bay. It's hard to get a bead on Kermit's actual default style, though; he spends so much time trying to stand out, he can never just chill and wear a t-shirt and jeans, or even keep one damn hair color longer than a few weeks. Kermit is a big fan of diving through secondhand junk to find diamonds in the rough and shining them up to get something that's truly one of a kind, and if anyone ever said they had the exact same rhinestone tank top as him, he would have an actual aneurysm.

What would others say is their most prominent personality trait — what's the first thing people notice about them?
Kermit is flashy, he enters a room with fanfare, he calls attention to himself with everything that he does. Every gesture has to be sweeping, every emotion has to be BIG, every outfit has to be borderline blinding. This fucking guy lives his life like he's allergic to mundanity, and every time someone tries to dig a little deeper than that bright and shining exterior, he finds a way to redirect them. Maybe he's really just not that deep and doesn't have much to say, but it really does feel like he wants to keep everyone at arm's length, and hopes you'll be distracted by the glitter he just tossed.

How would this character describe themself? What do they think are their best and worst qualities?
Kermit is not prone to a lot of self-examination. That's what other people are for! He looks for who he is in how other people see him, and that's how he knows he's a good friend. He's fun when you need a distraction, and he's got the most comfortable shoulder you ever done cried on. Kermit wants the absolute best for his friends, and he is one hundred percent ride-or-fucking-die for them. If that means embarrassing himself to keep someone else from getting in trouble or scraping together his very last dragot to bail a pal out of jail, he's fucking on that shit.

On the flip side, Kermit knows he is exasperating sometimes. Like, he's too fucking much. He's kind of needy and clingy, he will always seek out even the mildest acquaintance at any social gathering and talk their ear off, and he's way too nosy. The nice way of putting it is that he has an inquisitive mind, and he's genuinely curious about the hopes and dreams and passions of everyone he talks to. It's just that he also really wants to know all your hot goss and family drama.

What drives them to action? Doing good? Getting rich? Receiving praise?
It's all about A T T E N T I O N. Kermit doesn't necessarily want to be the center of attention, and he'll often pass the mic to someone else almost immediately, but he loathes the idea of being forgotten or ignored. He will do a lot to make sure everyone knows he's still here, even if it's just in your orbit. It's a quality that can veer annoying in a hot second, and Kermit has hopped from one loud identity to another in an attempt to keep all eyes right where they belong.

Is the glass half empty, half full, or something else?
Kermit's glass is stubbornly full, and he spreads his good will and glitter far and wide for as long as he can. He's always looking for the silver lining in any dark day, and he loves when he can turn someone's entire day around by finding the bright side. Don't worry!! There's always something you can do to get out of this hole!! The idea is, if he yells positive things loud enough, it'll keep the dark thoughts away. Yeah, sure, there's a possibility we won't get out of this jam with all our fingers, but if he just ignores that possibility, then it'll be fine.

How social are they and, introvert or extrovert, what sorts of people do they gravitate toward?
It's clear Kermit is an extrovert. If there's a crowd, Kermit's in the middle of it, chanting and cheering louder than anyone else. If it's more intimate, Kermit glues himself to someone and talks their ear off, whether it's a class or a Quidditch game he's yammering at them through. He just really likes to meet people and get to know them, and he would rather miss every big plot reveal in the latest Marvel movie if he has someone to talk to.

While Kermit will find an excuse to talk to literally anyone, he finds himself drawn toward big personalities. He likes someone with a presence and a strong sense of self, usually people who like to be different and don't bow to the crowd. Kermit wants to spend time with someone who won't let him bowl them over, and if they have a fascinating backstory then that's even better.

LANGUAGES: English, with snippets of Polish he learned from a neighbor that used to babysit him. Trzymaj się swojego fiuta, yeah?
HOBBIES: Performing! (singing! dancing! acting! making pizza!), gossiping, exploring where you're not supposed to explore, snooping, sleeping in a pile of laundry, beer pong, petting cats, collecting obsolete music in obsolete forms of media
SKILLS:
Singing: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Kermit has a great singing voice, and he sings constantly — while he’s doing homework, on his way to class, in his sleep, you know, whenever. His voice is unpolished and he doesn’t know when to hold back and preserve it, but the raw talent is there.
Dancing: ⭐⭐⭐ - Kermit got most of his dance “training” from the many hours he spent just bumming around the Community Center. It’s a mixture of knowing three cool moves and then just daring someone to tell you the rest is wrong.
Acting: ⭐⭐⭐ - He’s a little hit-or-miss when it comes to acting. He goes so completely fucking ham when performing, and sometimes he’s going in the completely wrong direction. When he strikes the balance just right, he can turn in a really outstanding performance, and it’s killing Madam Beridze that he’s so unpredictable.
Reading texts over someone's shoulder: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Not that he’s reading yours.
Makeup: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - He does a great smokey eye.
Thrift Store Warrior: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Most of Kermit’s belongings are thrift rescues, and that’s how he started his vinyl world music collection.

FAMILY:
BACKGROUND:
x. Kermit doesn't have much to say about his first life. The stretch of time between birth and the day he went to live with his Auntie Angel is a montage of cereal for dinner and watching TV in Some Guy's apartment, Mom laughing in another room. They never seemed to live in the same place for more than a couple weeks, crashing on couches that smelled like mildew and cat pee. Mom flitted in and out, never too concerned with who was watching Kermit, mostly indifferent toward her role as a parent, sometimes resentful.

He's not sure how Angel came into the picture. As far as Kermit can tell, his mother was never that close with her family. Maybe it was Angel's idea. Maybe someone called her. Maybe his mom did. Maybe it doesn't matter, because Angel took Kermit home, gave him his own room, and his second life began.


x. Kermit's second life was still lonely. It was hard not to be. Angel was young, single, and had to pull down provider-level income for two people and a cat now; there was rarely a job or a shift she could afford to turn down. As much as she wanted to do right by Kermit, as hard as she looked for after-school organizations and youth groups to take him bowling and keep him out of trouble, it was unavoidable that sometimes Kermit would have to make his own dinner, put himself to bed, get himself to school in the morning. But the other times — when Angel had a weekend off, when they could eat dinner together — they made him forget everything. Angel really wanted to come home to Kermit, she actually seemed like she cared about what he saw on TV that day and the seven dogs that passed by their front door earlier today.

He really didn't mind it that much, being alone, anyway. That was the only time his magic would happen. No matter how much he had tried to prove to Angel or that snotty kid Curtis at the community center that he could change the channel just by blinking, it never worked with other people around. Not on purpose, at any rate.


x. In a city as big as New York, the overworked agents in the underfunded Muggleborn Outreach Office (MOO) spend most of their time putting out fires caused by Muggleborn kids getting a little too confident in their weird abilities. Kermit ruined MOO worker Andrea Chewning's first night off in six weeks that one night at bowling, when every kid in the youth group got their fingers stuck in their bowling balls except Kermit. Or maybe it was everyone else that ruined her night. Maybe they shouldn’t have been talking so much shit about his form.

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x. Heading into Magic Middle School was a scary time for the Creekmore household. Moreso for Angel than for Kermit, who was just happy he’d finally proven he was right about being able to change (and, uh, break) the TV with his mind. Angel couldn’t follow him into this new world, and if there was a problem, she didn’t know how she could even help. Anxious and desperate to be involved, Angel did what she could to make sure Kermit never had an free moment — idle hands are the devil’s playthings, but idle boys are just the devil themselves.

For every muggle after-school program she found for Kermit, there was a magic youth group, and for every magic grocer that needed a delivery kid, there was a muggle paper route looking for enthusiastic morning people. And guess who got signed up for fucking all of it.

Sometimes Kermit would skip out on Sparrow’s dance classes as the WizAmerican Community and Cultural Center (the WACCC), and there were only so many times he could go bowling with that Nicky Loren guy from Big Brothers. But she didn’t need to know all of that, and Kermit was surprisingly adept at hiding his need for a free afternoon once in a while.


x. Kermit was thirteen when he started working at the theater. He was a little young for a real job, but with Angel’s efforts and his bright demeanor, he scored a handful of under-the-table jobs. The muggle paper route was so early in the morning, and the wizard deliveries gig ended when the box of illegally imported doxies kind of exploded on the sub-subway. He wishes he could still work at that theater, though.

It was mostly sweeping floors and taking tickets when the elderly owner wasn’t feeling up to it. Not that there were too many tickets to take. Most days, the theater had a screen pulled down and a projector playing old movies — magic, muggle, sometimes just old sports games, none of which have a particularly large wizard fanbase. Occasionally groups would use the space to put on small-scale productions, which was Kermit’s favorite part of the job starting out.

Then he saw her.

There had been rumors that the old Wizelodeon Theater was haunted. Magic Middle School had taken some of the excitement out of knowing a building was ~haunted~, and Kermit had quickly learned that every old (and most new) wizard building had haunting rumors. He also learned that the alleged haunting was usually the most mundane aspect of most wizard buildings. But almost no one had ever seen this ghost. An imperious woman, thin and elegant, with oversized sunglasses and a cigarette dangling at the end of a long holder. A little Holly Golightly with sixty years on her, a little Norma Desmond if she ever left her house.


x. The ghost only ever appeared to Kermit while he was cleaning, and never when he was looking for her. Usually when someone was rehearsing on stage, and always when someone was stinking it the fuck up. She never said anything, but she would laugh at every wooden line delivery and prop mishap.

Sometimes Kermit would take too long in sweeping up just to see if she had anything to say, to him or to the performers. It wasn’t until the very last day Kermit worked there, before he had to head off to high school in some whole other state, that he saw his ghost friend do anything but scoff at earnest and hard-working performers. On a stuffy Thursday afternoon, while an old movie was playing and Kermit cleaned up the balcony one last time, he saw the old woman sitting in the corner, smoking a cigarette, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Up on the screen, the woman herself was giving the performance of a lifetime, and really kind of stinking up the screen.

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x. There should have been a perfectly good high school for Kermit to attend in New York. It’s home to one of the largest Wizarding populations in the country, and there were plenty of schools — overcrowded public schools, overpriced private schools, magnet schools and charter schools that were beyond inconvenient to reach, and one perfectly convenient, Brooklyn-based public school, where all of Kermit’s middle school friends planned to attend.

And then that school closed. Welp. It wasn’t that big of a deal for kids with magical parents who could Floo or Apparate them around the city, or maybe kids whose parents didn’t mind sticking them on a two-hour sub-subway ride to a completely different island. Angel couldn’t help with the first part, and knowing the New York subway, she really didn’t want Kermit on something even deeper and weirder than that on a daily basis. She just didn’t know what to do or how to help.

It was when Kermit saw his aunt trying to budget renting in Manhattan and if they could get by with just four jobs between the two of them that, for the first time in years, he started to feel like an inconvenience.


x. It was Sparrow, who taught dance classes as the WACCC, that mentioned Peckenpaugh. There were other schools, there was Ilvermorny and that west coast school, and Vercoer would probably find some way to say he was out of their district, but they had gone to Peckenpaugh. Plus, Birdie Beridze was rumored to be starting a teaching job there, and don’t you dare say you’ve never heard of Pillywickle! Kermit, I swear to Wizard Jesus.

Angel was not on board with a boarding school at first, but Kermit was adamant. She wouldn’t have to pay for his food or boarding for four years, she could stop worrying about where and how busy he was, and she could maybe, maybe, go on a date just every once in a while. It took about six weeks of constant badgering for Angel to finally give in — which is probably a good thing, because Kermit had already filled out all the paperwork and was about three days from forging her signature.

WAND: 10.5”, Applewood, Kelpie claw core. Its spells tend to hit a little harder and bigger than necessary, like your strong friend who doesn’t know how hard he hugs.
FAMILIAR: A lynx-pointed siamese cat named Party Nugget. He tries to make people spell it P A R T Y N U G G E T but only Jup ever humors him.
CAREER GOALS: Oh, man. He likes the atmosphere of the theater, but he doesn’t know what he can do in it aside from performing. Huh. Maybe he should have figured this out already.

PART-TIME JOB: Walking the plank at Pizza Pi(e)rates.
CLASSES:
Charms: Are you saying he’s not charming enough already??? Kermit tends to miss the mark on more nuanced charmwork, but he tries hard enough to get good grades.
Transfiguration: Oh, who has the attention span for some of this stuff?? He ADORES Miss Min, though, so he really tries for her.
Potions: He’s on his fourth cauldron and this one’s a twisted mess, if that says anything.
Astronomy (H): L O V E this class. Look at all those STARS, and it’s something he can share with Angel!!
Hermeticism: Okay, the first two years were a slog, but Kermit’s really come into his own in Hermeticism now that they finally get to get their hands a little dirty.
Home Mag-Ec: Now that he can sew his own monstrosities, Kermit will never be caught dead in the same gold lamé leggings as anyone else.
Music (H) (Tuba & Timpani): He prefers to sing, but took up the tuba when no one else showed any interest.
Animagus Studies (Elephant): He really, really, really wants to be an animorph, and has been trying his damndest in Transfiguration.
EXTRA-CURRICULARS: Bowling Club (President), Performing Arts, AV Club, Culinary Club, Gaming, Appalachian History, Band (Marching/Tuba & Concert/Timpani)

SORTING?: Kermit’s Sorting took a long time, and not because he fell in the pond. He did, but that's not why. He wanted to be absolutely certain about every one of his choices, even when the winter room asked him if he would rather be a cake or be eaten by a cake and it didn't really seem like there was a right choice?? In the end, he knew he was meant for Deeplurk, where his Truly Unique energy and unhealthy defense mechanisms really get a chance to grow.

NAME: Alex
EMAIL: heydudeshutup at gmail
CDJ: thisisalex / 24601
OTHER CONTACT: Dropbox
TIMEZONE: PST