Tuesday tries to be what she looks like, but knows her Look seems a lot more interesting than she really is. Ever since finding stunt rodeo flying, she's decided that she'd like to be cool. Suave. Kind of a female James Dean in a collection of silky pink bomber jackets, looping around to her possible death on the Quidditch Pitch. It's a really cool idea. So she bought the clothes, mastered the smirk, and sometimes winks at girls in the hallway. She projects a very charming person sometimes; just witty enough for her peers to think she's fun, just confident enough so that the seniors only use her as an owl occasionally. It's just too bad that when she actually gets a wink back, she's sent into a fit of panic and hides in the bathroom for half a class period. Somehow,just being a normal teenager is far more stressful than flinging herself through rings of fire on weekend. She's high strung, but she's able to keep that largely on the down-low. Or at least she pretends like she is. She doesn't have her act together quite as much as she'd like.

For all her winking, she's a secret ball of tangled anxieties under the surface. She's sensitive, and overthinks almost everything anyone's ever said to her. Tuesday can overreact very easily, and it always gets very dramatic. When she had to stop gymnastics, for example, she acted like her Olympic dreams had just been crushed. She was never even a little going to the Olympics. But through the years, she'd been treating it with all the professionalism and dedication that she would've any bigger dream, and so the loss felt like a very real one. She does pour her soul into everything she tries. Unfortunately, she also has the tendency to blow things out of proportion, and then to run and hide from the consequences that will probably never even come. That's exactly what she did with gymnastics, for instance. No one ever really told her that she needed to leave her competitive league; she just assumed because she was over 5'5", she may as well drop out. She would be a lot worse at this if she wasn't tempered by the circumstances of her life. Tuesday's family, with their five children and two homes, can't afford for her to take up and drop interests willy-nilly. She doesn't love staring down her true nature and facing her fears, but she makes sacrifices for things she thinks are worth it. She knows that she can't work down her parents too much.

While Tuesday is really not wired for manipulation, she knows how to talk her way into getting what she wants some of the time. She perfected this trick at home when she sensed her parents were at odds. Sometimes her over-sensitivity pays off, and she's not afraid of using that to her advantage a little. She is, however, very loathe to tell any lies. It's hardly worth it, as she constantly obsesses about getting caught in a lie, and she doesn't love the idea of deceiving people anyway. No. She's better at the big eyes and earnest pleas that she will work toward what she wants, if someone helps her get it in the first place. It's a tactic that wouldn't work quite so well if she didn't usually follow through. She's a generally very trustworthy person who keeps her word. But she'll tell you if she doesn't like it, and pouts and sighs so much that you won't want her to ever keep her word again.

She's very prone to sighs and pouts in general. Honestly, that's part of the Image. Happy-go-lucky isn't really a personality she thinks meshes well with broom rodeo, so she's perfected her eye-roll. God, please let her be Cool. Of course, she's naturally the least stoic person ever. So as much as she'd like being the type to go sit down and think out her problems, she doesn't find any relief until she subjects one of her dearest friends to her latest crisis. She relies a lot on other people's assessment of her and their advice to make sure she's doing things correctly. She trusts what they tell her a little too easily, and infinitely more than she trusts herself. She's susceptible to peer pressure, and if people think that she needs to party, or break a rule, she'll probably do it. Tuesday functions best when there are people she can trust to emulate, feed off, and who also encourage her. She doesn't really love being alone, and tries to at least travel in a group of a few of her roommates. There's power in numbers, and Tuesday likes having people telling her that her social moves aren't digging her into any graves nigh constantly.

In return, she's maternal in often the most reluctant way possible. To Tuesday, who has helped raise far too many children already, being a good friend and being caring is tied up in sitting down with a plate of cookies and ears that listen with unconditional love. She has a soft core and a caring heart, and it gives her some relief when she thinks she has helped her friends instead of inevitably making the situation worse, which is not something she'd put past herself. Tuesday would like to do more, more loudly. She's occasionally assertive, but she isn't aggressive. Sometimes, Tuesday wishes that was different. She likes the idea of striding up to the people who've wronged her or anyone else she loves and yelling at them or punching them in the face. (It'd be VERY rodeo.) But she knows she'd probably end up apologizing, which is honestly what happens in half her confrontations anyway. Her bark is short-lived, and infinitely worse than her bite. She can snap off retorts and flip her hair in eye-blazing fury, but you bet she's going to find a reason to be mortified about it in about three seconds. Luckily, for all her absurdly high-strung, second-guessing tendencies, Tuesday is able to calm down quickly. She flames quickly to both anger and laughter, and they're both done with in short bursts that she's inevitably a little ashamed of. Her embarrassment is short lived, which is good, seeing as it recreates itself multiple times throughout the day.

Because Tuesday is very young, and has not really had a lot of big expectations or world responsibilities yet, she sees it as a place full of adventure and possibility more than anything else. She has the tendency to want to tear through that and discover everything she can right away. That's what she does with books, classes and even people. A voracious learner, she throws herself into something (or someone) she's interested in. She's exhausted books, teachers, and god, so many friends by doing this. When she forgets herself, she tends to insert herself in the lives of people she wants to befriend a little too much, and sometimes needs to be told that being a good friend means giving a little space. It's in the same way that she needs to be told that perhaps practicing flying should be limited to several hours a day, not 24. She's just enthusiastic. Her childlike wonder is still pretty deeply in place, and she finds a lot of things in the world are downright delightful. She has exactly two years before she really has to worry about the long term effects of any of her behavior.

That's shown in the way Tuesday flings herself off cliffs on to brooms in attempts to use the school as a modified jungle gym. Tuesday likes the fun of maybe-not quite-almost dying. If she said it wasn't born a little of wanting the attention of her parents, who had five children to focus on, that would be one of those lies she hates. Much of her jumping off of things is just for fun. She thinks adrenaline is hilarious, and the best drug ever. Catching her at one of her daring pursuits means catching her at her most overjoyed. Almost most. She also has a not at ALL high-brow sense of humor that means she finds (maybe a little too much) amusement in other people's failure, especially accidental acts of physical comedy, or say, anonpost mishaps. Some people are genuinely funny when they're mortifying themselves. She thinks it's all right if she's laughing at herself falling over, too, which she can manage at least sometimes. She's rarely mean. Insensitive and crass, maybe. Caught up in her own neurosis, definitely. But honestly, she thinks people should know that about her by now.

MOTHER: Melanie North-Halfblood-Magical Architect
FATHER: Randolph "Randy" Romaine-Muggleborn-Magical Surgeon (Healer)
SISTER: Monday Romaine-18-recent Ilvermorny grad. Still Figuring Stuff Out
BROTHER: Wednesday North-Romaine-13-Ilvermorny Thunderbird
BROTHER: Thursday North-11-Is starting Ilvermorny this year!
SISTER: Friday North-Romaine-8-Child

Randy Romaine and Melanie North met at Ilvermorny, where they seemed fated to keep running into each other. They were not ever best friends in school. Melanie was a lot more popular than Randy, a muggleborn. She was captain of the quodpot team and would've been prom queen if the school had prom. He coasted. With very little interest in actually playing professional sports, she went to a magical side of a university for architecture when he left school. Randy was there too, studying Healing. They bonded over difficult classes, and went out to dinner a few times. To their own surprise, it quickly became a tender, loving relationship. They were each other's best friends by the time they both graduated and started their careers amid a lot of floo-calls.

In the early days of Randy working at a hospital, and Melanie working in a large company in LA, planning out homes for the rich and famous, they kept in touch. They both longed a little for the days when all they had to do was cross a common room to see each other, or apparate across a town. So one night, they just apparated across a country instead of a town, and it was all relatively downhill from there. They would never marry. Both relative high-fliers in their respective careers, Randy and Melanie thought that holding each other down would just lead to resentment. (It was a very hippie sentiment.) They kept an open relationship, and have each dated several other people, even after having children. They did that together. They didn't want to have children with multiple partners, however, recognizing that this could be messy for both the children and their relationship.

When Melanie was expecting their first child, they decided it was best to consolidate, a little. They moved out of their respective homes to a place they found on brochures, where there wouldn't be too many people paying attention to this unconventional living arrangement. And what better way to avoid attention than moving to a place most people would see a landfill? Melanie got an architecture job in Fargo, ND, Randy at the magical off-shoot of Mayo Clinic in Minnesota,they bought two houses in the same village. They'd live separate lives, with the same family.

Tuesday Morning (Yeah. The kids were all weekdays, with alternating last names to be "fair",) was born second of this tribe. It put her in prime position to change diapers at age six, much to her eternal dismay. Tuesday began her education in the town's tiny one-room-grammar school. Magical and non-magical education basics were integrated. Often, the things they learned were easy for Tuesday. She studied, but spent the rest of her time at the little jungle gym in the back of the school, and hang off the monkey bars by her knees. Someone made the remark that she should learn gymnastics. She was very intrigued.

It wasn't always the case, but sometimes Melanie and Randy fell into the habit of trying to coax the children to 'their side.' They both wanted the children to like them as parents, but it turned into a subconscious competition a little too easily. Tuesday caught on to that around this time, and had the foresight to beg her parents individually for gymnastics classes. As she'd hoped, they both said yes, and she started classes. The little girl, used to blending in to four siblings, downright preened under the spotlight and expectations. It wasn't a very big spotlight. But she treated every Saturday match with every bit of the seriousness she would any Olympic trial. She had a certain propensity for vaulting herself through the air on the balance or uneven bars without evidence of fear or restraint. It was terrifying to her parents, but she did it with enough grace that it impressed some judges.

She went to Ilvermorny when she was eleven, and languished a little there. There were no gymnastics. Tuesday turned to school to have something to focus on, albeit half-heartedly. Luckily, her classes had enough material to feverishly absorb that she was never bored. In her heart, she just wanted to get back to her gymnastics team. Sadly, it was a little late. When Tuesday was about twelve she got tall quickly, and she found herself towering over the much smaller, more compact gymnasts on her tiny home league in the summer. She didn't get quite as good scores as she used to. Frustrated all too quickly, Tuesday quietly gave up. She spent the rest of that summer pouting around both her parents' houses, stress-cooking and then sighing at her creations because they'd probably just make her grow taller. This worried her parents, as it seemed like their preteen daughter had already thrown herself into proxy-motherhood to cope with a lost dream.

Against their better judgment, they chose that year to go to the nearby wizard fair's broom rodeo, as a rare full-family field trip. Predicting a certain reaction, Melanie already had a broom waiting for her daughter in the closet. And Tuesday spent the rest of that summer, and whenever else she could escape on to a field with grass trying to re-create acrobatic tricks on a broom, just like they did in the rodeo. There were a lot of falls involved before her father (his turn to be the favorite) hired a private tutor. Melanie didn't think that was quite fair. Tuesday, far removed from the parental tangles, didn't care. She struck a deal with her parents; they'd let her have a rodeo tutor during the summer if she got all As, and also babysat without complaint from that point forward. In a big family, getting what she wanted had become kind of like crisis negotiation, and she was quite good at that. These were small sacrifices. Her parents did some budgeting, agreed, and little Tuesday Morning was the smallest blue ribbon winner in the broom rodeo when she was 13. She started doing tricks on Sunday afternoons for the kids in Ilvermorny during the school year, which garnered several detentions for lack of personal safety, but they were sure cool.

Tuesday found that she liked this slightly dangerous reputation she was gaining. She could've been big in Ilvermorny, if she'd stuck to hallway tricks. But Tuesday had been bitten by the success bug on a very small scale, and wanted more of it. Plus, by the time she was twelve, two of her siblings would be imminently in her school at the same time. Tuesday didn't like that idea. She was used to being something special now, so she followed the lead of several students in years above her, and asked for an application to Gooseberry. It was a smaller school, and she'd get to use their pitch more frequently for her tricks. Her intense dedication to her classes paid off. She got enough of a partial scholarship that her parents saw fit to cover the rest. The prize money she won with some of her broom rodeo competitions helped, too.

Entering Gooseberry held a host of reasons for her to be a nervous wreck for the first week, until she saw the potential for reinvention. Very few people knew that she was a failed gymnast here. As far as they knew she was only a broom rodeo star. So she tried very, very hard to make herself as convincing a confident, easy figure as she possibly could. There were mixed results. Her classes were more difficult, but she tried to quelch her nerves and get on with it. That still had mixed results. It was obvious immediately, though, that she was itching to get back on a broom. Her roommate, Corrigan, had decided she loved Quidditch and so for support, Tuesday started regularly attending matches. And she was struck by how many bludgers they all had to dodge. How difficult catching the Snitch looked. It was Perfect. She began stalking very attentively watching every player as much as she could, especially the other trick-type flyers who looked like they could fly just like her. Snagging a team spot really seemed doable.

The social atmosphere was a little different than Ilvermorny here, so Tuesday clung to the people closest to her and tried very, very hard to project her new attitude straight out into the universe. She liked Gooseberry, and found it had a perfect balance of things that scared her, (parties, the idea of kissing people,) and things that made her feel very comfortable (camping, flying). It was a good place to mend the vague homesickness she'd sometimes get when she remembered she came from a tight-knit family. This was too, in its own way. The fact it was far away from her actual family didn't hurt. She wasn't concerned by the kidnapping of the students at the end of the year. It wasn't her, who was kidnapped. It wasn't even anyone she knew. That was the reason she gave to her parents, along with presenting them with scads of facts on how great this new Quidditch thing was, and plus she was getting scholarship money again!

More to save her from further heartbreak than anything else, her parents relented. And she's so excited to be back at school, with all her friends, a year older in a place where she can absolutely convince people she's the daredevil on the broom who can sweep them off their feet and definitely not feel sorry for it after.

NAME: Lyss
EMAIL: facemcfacerson@gmail.com
CDJ: Nah
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TIME ZONE: CST