New Age Craftsman
Ace is the sort of guy who has two looks; cheerful and contemplative. The cheerful one is the kind of smiling dope that all your friends take advantage of because when you ask him day of if he’d mind you helping a grand piano four blocks down the street on foot, he’ll say yes and maybe buy pizza afterwards. Then there’s those moments when he thinks too long, staying quiet and thinking about things at a pace all his own. Maybe he’s gone a little brain dead or he really does just need to consider everything over from every angle, but it at least makes you feel heard, you know?
If you want fashion sense, look no further! We’ve got the ever popular black turtleneck, the massive collection of hats, several jangly bits of jewelry, and some homemade accessories. While it can look decent, the vast majority of what you’re about to behold is witch chic. Get used to it.
“Please tell me this is a hallucination driven by my bouquet of atropa belladonna.”
Ace was the love child of two moderately well off lesbians at the beginning of the New Age movement. It shows. He’s very passionate at things in the way that many stoners are passionate, with a long-winded ramble. He’s someone you can find on a personal site or strange occult blog arguing about whether or not there’s merit to using the word aconite versus monkshood.
- Eyes: Brown
- Hair: Black
- Height: 6’2"
- Build: Athletic
- Distinguishing features: Often dressed like an American Horror Story extra. Dat jawlline tho.
- Known things:
- A sympathetic ear and helping hand
- Buys into that witchcraft bullshit
- Always mildly smells like Yankee Candle met a stoner
- Fidgets a lot with clanky balls
- How Soon Is Now? by Love Spit Love
I am the son
I am the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
- Why Worry by Set It Off
Chin up, quit actin’ like you’re half dead.
Tears can only half fill how you’re feelin’.
Don’t worry, be happy baby.
Stand up, life is too damn short,
That clock is ticking.
Man up, if ya feel me,
Everybody sing it.
- Chronophobia by Bad Religion
Maybe there’s a science or technology,
To help me come to terms with my maker.
Since natural selection never banked on me,
I must be an exception to the plan.
And someone help me understand, now…