Ikenasio Amasio-Hansen
full name: ikenasio anjelo amasio-hansen
nicknames: nas is the most common and preferred, though nas endures being called "icky" by his baby brother, but no one else
age: 22
sexuality: homosexual
occupation: the bulk of his income derives from his occupation as a certified heavy equipment operator, but he makes a side hustle off of being in the undergound mma, even though no one knows about it
hex: #307D7E
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x
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just a drink and you'll feel better
in my blood - shawn mendes
nicknames: nas is the most common and preferred, though nas endures being called "icky" by his baby brother, but no one else
age: 22
sexuality: homosexual
occupation: the bulk of his income derives from his occupation as a certified heavy equipment operator, but he makes a side hustle off of being in the undergound mma, even though no one knows about it
hex: #307D7E
x
x
x
x
x
just a drink and you'll feel better
in my blood - shawn mendes
appearance:
To complete his perpetual always-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks look, Nas had always been that undeniably intimidating guy with his broad-shoulder, six foot three inch frame that seemed to tower over his peers while at the same time being able to slink away as easily and as quietly as a cat. A part of it can be attributed to genetics, the other (particularly, now) to how fit he keeps himself, but Nas maintains his rather muscular physique with vigilance. Not because he's vain enough to want to be the rough-looking kid his classmates once lauded him as, but because regulating the barely restrained force of nature pounding in his veins through a punching bag is a lot better than unleashing it on some unsuspecting victim.
His skin is forever tanned, an olive complexion inherited from his parents' combined Polynesian backgrounds, though his continuous work in the sun may play a contributing factors. His body holds no scars and he was never a fan of tattoos other than traditional Polynesian-influenced one on his right shoulder and bicep, a depiction of a stylized turtle at the heart surrounded by the ocean, and sharks and spears protecting him. His eyes are lighter than a regular brown shade, a dollop of honey in the irises to make them appear more molten when under the sun's rays. His dark hair has been kept short, but is naturally thick like his eyebrows, appearing just slightly tousled due to how often he runs his fingers through the surprisingly soft locks. Nas is rather simple about fashion; he wears clothes because he knows he needs to, there's no reason to splurge too often on the latest, especially when there are more important things to pay for like rent and food. Though, he does tend to wear henleys and has a plethora of jackets, mostly denim or leather.
personality:
Taking on as much of the weight of his family's economic situation at such a young age - and doing so while compromising his own moral standing, no less - resulted in the formation of a rock-hard persona to match his physique. For the majority of his life once Nas hit thirteen, he was considered the intimidating sibling, and to some extent, he reveled in it. Being attributed to a hardened, take-no-nonsense sort of person meant that he nor his siblings would me messed with too harshly. Sure, he endured a bit of the same ribbing a lot of his also unpopular classmates endured, but it no one could ever say he was bullied. More-so, it always looked like he was being pushed to a point and then others would back off and for that, they were smart.
Because he has spent so much time - even before his mother left - regulating his reactions and tempering the more intense emotional responses he holds underneath the surface, it is easy for Nas to appear unfeeling, a carefully controlled facade he clings to. It was always easier for him to let his little brothers feel more, express themselves more while he had to be responsible, to be the protective presence he's always been known for, even towards those he's not close to. Call it his superman complex, if you will, but Nas' instinct has always been to defend those who can't defend themselves. Even if he's considered a touch brash and reckless for it. At least, physically he can back it up. He actually likes the way that he is, not just because he derives pleasure from being able to turn some of the superficially powerful people into shivering messes because they're not prepared to deal with his reservoirs of strength and sharp tongue that happens to be backed up by a sharp enough eye to have taken in your tells, but because it's just easier than dealing with the actual feelings and thoughts he's left to drink or smoke away with whiskey and marijuana.
Though he appears perpetually cool and as if he cannot be bothered with trivial things, a simple guy like Ikenasio Amasio-Hansen does feel a lot more than people give him credit for. It just so happens that sex is easier than admitting to wanting more than what he deserves for how far he was and still technically is willing to go for the people he loves. He's haunted by the loss of his mother, the parent he had always been closest to and whose absence he felt the strongest growing up. Forever still reeling from not being able to respond appropriately because his caring soul couldn't let his dead take the full impact of her loss and his brothers' guilt on his own when Nas could provide aid, even if said aid was questionable. He's still overcome with guilt and remorse for the addiction he helped see through, not over a younger version of himself having justified those breakdowns he wasn't supposed to know about by how fed his brothers were, how much lighter his father's steps became until Nas felt how heavy his own were. Allows himself the subtle pleasure of having his even deeper sense of self-hatred and guilt beat into him through the fists of strangers in underground rings when he remembers a teenage girl with her life gone too soon and her heart no longer pounding in her chest, wrapped in a black bag as she was carried away to a morgue because of his own dealings. At least he beats them back, right?
Because he has spent so much time - even before his mother left - regulating his reactions and tempering the more intense emotional responses he holds underneath the surface, it is easy for Nas to appear unfeeling, a carefully controlled facade he clings to. It was always easier for him to let his little brothers feel more, express themselves more while he had to be responsible, to be the protective presence he's always been known for, even towards those he's not close to. Call it his superman complex, if you will, but Nas' instinct has always been to defend those who can't defend themselves. Even if he's considered a touch brash and reckless for it. At least, physically he can back it up. He actually likes the way that he is, not just because he derives pleasure from being able to turn some of the superficially powerful people into shivering messes because they're not prepared to deal with his reservoirs of strength and sharp tongue that happens to be backed up by a sharp enough eye to have taken in your tells, but because it's just easier than dealing with the actual feelings and thoughts he's left to drink or smoke away with whiskey and marijuana.
Though he appears perpetually cool and as if he cannot be bothered with trivial things, a simple guy like Ikenasio Amasio-Hansen does feel a lot more than people give him credit for. It just so happens that sex is easier than admitting to wanting more than what he deserves for how far he was and still technically is willing to go for the people he loves. He's haunted by the loss of his mother, the parent he had always been closest to and whose absence he felt the strongest growing up. Forever still reeling from not being able to respond appropriately because his caring soul couldn't let his dead take the full impact of her loss and his brothers' guilt on his own when Nas could provide aid, even if said aid was questionable. He's still overcome with guilt and remorse for the addiction he helped see through, not over a younger version of himself having justified those breakdowns he wasn't supposed to know about by how fed his brothers were, how much lighter his father's steps became until Nas felt how heavy his own were. Allows himself the subtle pleasure of having his even deeper sense of self-hatred and guilt beat into him through the fists of strangers in underground rings when he remembers a teenage girl with her life gone too soon and her heart no longer pounding in her chest, wrapped in a black bag as she was carried away to a morgue because of his own dealings. At least he beats them back, right?
likes
coffee ✓ reading ✓ mixed martial arts ✓ swimming ✓ marijuana ✓ driving ✓ most seafood except fish ✓ being busy ✓ dark chocolate ✓ his family ✓ walking around his apartment shirtless and barefoot ✓ cooking
dislikes
when people wear too much perfume or cologne ✘ airplanes ✘ overly sweet desserts, esp. citrus flavors ✘ fish ✘ vodka ✘ bullies ✘ his mother, sometimes ✘ spicy food ✘ being forced to confront his feelings ✘ snobs
history:
Telling their small family that Lani Amasio-Hansen suffered from life-long depression and anxiety probably would have aided in the kids' understanding of why their mother left them without ever looking back, maybe just a little. Not enough to truly justify her absence, not in Ikenasio's eyes at least, but something would have been better than having all of his happy memories of the woman being overrun by the one of her giving him a tearful goodbye kiss on the forehead and telling him to take care of his little brothers before his dad came home. For the first thirteen years of his life, Nas was a pretty good kid. He had always seemed like the quieter child in comparison to the two rowdy boys who followed him, but his mother always said that he took after her in that aspect. Nas had liked that as a kid, liked that though he took after his father and grew like a weed, mentally he was all her.
Then his mother left and it became very clear to him that he needed to not only be a shoulder for his siblings, and the one person to truly keep them in line because he was the only one equipped to meet them on their level, but for their father as well. He learned then that - despite being an already loving person to his family and putting them before himself anyway - he needed to put aside what he felt for their sake, especially when he realized that the part-time jobs he got after school weren't really cutting it. His dad had to take on two jobs and was exhausted, and with both of his brothers acting out in some way and forcing his already tired dad to parent even more, he needed something. Which was why it was easy for a guy in his neighborhood to get him into dealing. Nas had always been told to stay away from that crowd by his mom and had. But with her presence gone, and his family in need, he did what he had to do.
It was easy for some time to pretend he didn't mind selling drugs like Adderall, codeine, and Oxycontin. He told himself that he wasn't the one choosing to handle everyday issues that could be solved with a joint by using harder substances, even if he was the one supplying them and taking the money he earned from them back to his own healthier family. And though his father suspected what he was doing, even called him on it when his brothers were both sleep and Nas was coming in late, all they could do was agree to disagree when Nas pointed out that his dad - with no degree and no one else to help him out since both of his parents were in retirement homes - had no leg to stand on. To this day, that set the tone for their relationship, this awkward and distant thing that Nas still wishes he could change, but also understands that it can't just be on him. His dealing ended only when a classmate overdosed and died, something he hadn't anticipated. Nas never did forgive himself, even being so much of a masochist that he attended her funeral and let her little sister cry on his shoulder. It was why he left. He couldn't handle it; he barely can now, even with a willing body underneath him at night and one underneath his fists when no one who knows him can see him.
Then his mother left and it became very clear to him that he needed to not only be a shoulder for his siblings, and the one person to truly keep them in line because he was the only one equipped to meet them on their level, but for their father as well. He learned then that - despite being an already loving person to his family and putting them before himself anyway - he needed to put aside what he felt for their sake, especially when he realized that the part-time jobs he got after school weren't really cutting it. His dad had to take on two jobs and was exhausted, and with both of his brothers acting out in some way and forcing his already tired dad to parent even more, he needed something. Which was why it was easy for a guy in his neighborhood to get him into dealing. Nas had always been told to stay away from that crowd by his mom and had. But with her presence gone, and his family in need, he did what he had to do.
It was easy for some time to pretend he didn't mind selling drugs like Adderall, codeine, and Oxycontin. He told himself that he wasn't the one choosing to handle everyday issues that could be solved with a joint by using harder substances, even if he was the one supplying them and taking the money he earned from them back to his own healthier family. And though his father suspected what he was doing, even called him on it when his brothers were both sleep and Nas was coming in late, all they could do was agree to disagree when Nas pointed out that his dad - with no degree and no one else to help him out since both of his parents were in retirement homes - had no leg to stand on. To this day, that set the tone for their relationship, this awkward and distant thing that Nas still wishes he could change, but also understands that it can't just be on him. His dealing ended only when a classmate overdosed and died, something he hadn't anticipated. Nas never did forgive himself, even being so much of a masochist that he attended her funeral and let her little sister cry on his shoulder. It was why he left. He couldn't handle it; he barely can now, even with a willing body underneath him at night and one underneath his fists when no one who knows him can see him.
