isabelle “izzy” fitz. twenty-six. nightmare baby.
the clinking of ring clad fingers. containing multitudes. “girls who lived with their grandmas are real.” falling in love with strangers. the gossipy hairdresser stereotype personified. owner of at least sixteen pairs of sunglasses. chain smoker. sex as self harm. laughs because if she doesn’t she’ll cry. never not running from something.
isabelle fitz’s parents were not ready for children. they could barely handle themselves, spending most days after their twins were born ashing cigarettes into empty baby bottles and assuming that things would be “just fine.”
izzy’s brother noah was a colicky baby. the twins were with their parents in the rundown house in chicago for two months before noah’s crying got to be too much and the two were promptly shipped off to their grandmother’s small farm home in glen ellen. she lived there alone, largely dismissed as a crazy old lady. she spent most of her time feeding her sheep and tending to her garden.
izzy and noah were incredibly different children. izzy could talk to a brick wall. she was excited by most things, bounced off the walls, and could generally have fun anywhere. noah was quiet, usually letting his sister talk for him, and would much prefer to sit in his room and read than go to any of the wild parties his sister would attend.
when izzy was seventeen, the farm house burned down. it was a whole to-do, and was determined to have been an intentional fire. most people assumed it was set by noah. he was an easy one to blame, and he never denied it.
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when high school came to an end, izzy didn’t really know what to do. she wasn’t very good in any of her classes, would’ve much preferred to marry rich and settle down in a gorgeous mcmansion in some quiet suburb and raise three kids, who she’d lovingly name mason. all three of them.
so she went to cosmetology school. she found a real love for hair and style, and stuck with it, which she very rarely does with hobbies and tasks. she works at tres beux now.
personality wise, izzy is super outgoing, personable. loves to be loved, generally speaking, and will go to great lengths to feel liked, or even loved. sometimes she’s not sure who she really is any more, because she’s so focused on being who she thinks someone else wants her to be. sometimes she gives off an almost manic pixie dream girl vibe in a more chaotic way just to appeal to those around her. she’s volatile and impulsive, doing whatever feels good in the moment with little regard for the later consequences. a lot of this includes heavy substance abuse and a lot of sleeping with people just to feel loved.
she hasn’t seen her parents since she was twelve. they sometimes send her birthday cards, but they’re usually about a week late and hastily scribbled on. a quick “have a good yr” at most. her grandmother died two and a half years ago, celebrated by a small funeral and leaving to izzy her flower beds and about twenty dollars. she lives in a trailer now.
i am a mess for wanted connections im so sorry but i love to brainstorm. also i’m sorry this is nawt my best work but my brain is scrambled eggs trying to put izzy into words. iykyk.
here’s her pinterest. here’s her playlist. here’s her musing tag. here’s her wc inspo tag.
