#zoe kravitz.

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*.:｡♦ ⋅ ⋆ — zoe kravitz gif icons.

by clicking here, you’ll be redirected to 50 125 80px gif icons of zoe kravitz. all of the gifs located in this hunt were made from scratch by yours truly, so please like and/or reblog if you find them useful. please don’t redistribute, repost or include any of the following gifs in another gif hunt. i’ll also be updating this regularly so be sure to keep an eye out for that. enjoy !!

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tw: eating, drinking

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Hi angel baby - I hope that you know how much I miss you. I know you're probably a busy woman these days but we have to have a day to ourselves at some stage, please and thank you. How have you been? Fill me in on all the goss. @llzoekrav

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imsg | zoe

Gigi: hi. i miss ur face. a lot. it's kind of an issue, tbh. when can i see you again??? for a belated birthday get together pls @llzoekrav

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It's been so long since I saw or heard from you and that's not okay in my books. Fill me in on everything - how have you been? @zkrvtz

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CHARACTER INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Ezra Alesha Weissler

DATE OF BIRTH: February 4th, 1992

AGE: 29

BIRTHPLACE: Dallas, Texas

GENDER: Cis Woman

PRONOUNS: She / Her

OCCUPATION: Electronics repair technician, co-owner of Byte-Sized Repairs computer repair shop

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Harbour City

FACE CLAIM: Zoe Kravitz

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: infidelity, underage drinking & drug use, overage drinking & drug use, divorce, oldest daughter syndrome.

Ezra is born in the back of a cab three blocks from the hospital. Eager from the jump, her dad jokes lovingly, laughter wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he retells the story for the thousandth time. Her folks love a good story so long as the right parts are cut out: in the telling they manage to never mention that her dad wasn’t even there, that it was not him but her aunt in the back seat, berating the driver. Childhood is one endless dinner party, glossy buckled shoes and bright smiles for her parents’ colleagues, then a relegation to the kid’s table. Questions and backtalk are permitted, even encouraged by her parents—they believe in education, intellectual development, and openness—but they certainly don’t belong in public. They don’t say, children should be seen, and not heard, because it’s archaic and outdated. Instead they say keep your head down, nose to the grindstone, finish your homework, don’t be rude, be your best self, turn the other cheek, dream big but work hard. None of this comes natural; it’s only after her little brother is born, and Ezra’s put upon to be responsible, watch your brother, that she starts to learn how to behave. Propriety becomes a second skin, a costume to slip in and out of; she loves her parents, and they love her, but as she ages she feels they know each other less and less.

In 2008 her father is offered a job at NYU; dad blinded with enthusiasm, mom reluctantly giving up her job, little Elijah thrilled and dreaming of adventure. and Ezra, fifteen and furious, devastated to leave her friends. (She discovers the true reason for the move only after they’ve resettled: her father had caught her mother with another man. They’ve never told a soul beside their marriage counselor, and are still together to this day.) Ezra continues to show the public a perfect presentation: piano and painting lessons, impeccable GPA, turtleneck sweaters and private school pleated skirts, Ivy League aspirations. A kid any parent would be proud of. But her New York classmates are cooler, harsher and to fit in she finds herself lying as easily as breathing. Watering down whatever she can get away with from her parents’ liquor cabinet, smoking weed, playing bad music and darts at a friend’s parents’ lake house for the weekend. She pretends to have lost the sweater with the cigarette burn in it, passes a hangover off as a headache, and so long as she keeps her grades up and her reputation clean her parents are too distracted, too busy, too pleased with her performance to notice.

Her artistic aspirations are nurtured, but as a hobby and nothing more; something to round out her extracurriculars, to hang in the hall and point out to visitors. Look what a brilliant, talented renaissance person we’ve made. When she wants to study art, her parents say she’s free to, just not on their dime. It’d be a bad investment, and that’s the end of that. They didn’t get to where they were trying to make things pretty, and fingerpainting away their parents’ hard earned money. Electrical engineering and computer science, on the other hand, is a nice prestigious-sounding program her parents can get behind. They’re so enthusiastic Ezra manages to trick herself into thinking it’s what she wants. She’s passable at it, there’s a career in it, the tuition’s paid for, so the mantra goes; it’s convincing enough to pull her through, though not without her damages. She starts taking classes in art history and never tells her parents, they already think she’s wasting her time. No money in the idle appreciation of Botticelli, but maybe that’s the point. She cleans up her act—doesn’t stop the drinking, just gets better at it, calls home less and only when she has good news. She introduces her first love over the phone, her folks smile and say Oh, is that your new study buddy? You two hitting the books later?

A self built on performance, achievement; a family that loves more than anything the painted veneer of perfection, who knows better than anyone how to be two people at once. No wonder she looks for escape, falls in love with artists because she wants to be one, likes the look of anyone who looks like they talk back. Love always find its way to her quickly, but she never acts on it, never lets it back out—but this is different. Ezra meets the love of her life and hardly hesitates to follow them, wherever they may lead—soon she’ll stop being a student and have to become a person, and they’re the only person she wants to do that with, so after graduation they go north together. And I thought New York was cold! she complains all throughout their first winter, in that apartment with the bad heating and single-pane windows. But they keep each other warm, at least for a while. Their wedding is a modest affair, a quiet little ceremony and a rager of a party; they’re the first of their friends to get hitched, can’t afford an open bar but they can afford a few kegs and a party tent, which is all their guests seem to need or want in the end.

Work isn’t always easy to find, even with a good, practical kind of degree. She rolls her eyes at her parents daily, as she works her little freelance gigs around Fordbay—helps the high school set up their new computer lab, the gallery with a digital art installation, or the town’s elderly with setting up their email. It isn’t much, but it pays the bills for a time. The curse of a small town: there’s not as much of a market for her skills, no corporate offices, no tech startup culture. (That, of course, is also part of the appeal.) The upside is that word gets around fast and it doesn’t take long for Ezra to make herself a go-to. She does good work, keeps her rates low, uses her customer service voice, doesn’t intimidate. It isn’t making her parents proud by any means, but it’s sustainable for a time; when the opportunity to lease a retail space presents itself, though, she can’t pass it up. Small business owner just sounds better than freelancer, as long as it doesn’t turn into failed small business owner; a real and looming possibility, considering the turnover of little businesses in the booming Harbour City.

Things are not running smoothly, no. There are starts and stops. But things are running nonetheless, and this, Ezra thinks, this is a life i can live for the next forty years. But over time she finds herself saying it like a mantra in the mirror, in the same voice she uses to lie to her parents and tell them everything’s fine; her insistence that she’s happy is not longer reassurance, but reproach. At home the fights, once sporadic, are par for the course, and some nights she stays at work just to avoid going home. They fight, make up, fight, make up, and fight again, rarely explosive but no less painful for all that, until they fight one last time and break the cycle. Ezra moves out, a gesture both self-sacrificing and spiteful, and spends a few weeks, longer than appropriate, sleeping at work or crashing at friends’ places. It’s only when it becomes clear that it’s real, that they’re not making up again, that she finally caves and leases a new apartment. Months pass as the paperwork is processed, and she still doesn’t tell her family, can’t face the shame. Instead she goes on, day by day, doing what she’s always done: keep her hands busy, her head down, her heart hidden.

WRITTEN BY: Kit, 23, She/They, CET