Model/Appearance: Trevor Jackson

Like most people, Romeo carries different identities with him. He's a confident guy who believes in justice, but with life experience, has just enough pessimism to doubt his role in the world. He carries an immense weight on his shoulders but will generally depict a relax disposition for any who see him. While things do slip him, he remembers the important things and remembers the important people who have helped him on his extended journey.

Romeo will never be interested in anyone romantically or sexually, but if particularly stressed or bored he could play the non aro non ace guy from time to time. Normally. however, he invests more in friendship and connections. One thing that every decade has made clear to him is even in the face of great hate, there will always be good people. For this reason, he hasn't given up on humanity yet.

Romeo is intelligent and clever, but it is easy for someone to believe he is anything other than this. Despite his heroic qualities and good intent, he is cynical and does wish to be someone other than he is. Throughout his life he's dealt with the duality of doing something right because he believes in it, and doing something right because he was forced into an unfair situation. He has complex feelings for Hera overall, but is, at the end of the day, loyal to her.

American Nightmare

Rap written by Romeo

Recorded the same day he was shot and died in 1998

My people be sufferin
Straight down now hustlin
They cry in the night, I can see in the sky
Their hearts be bustilin
You take away all that we need
Take away all that we had
Send my moms off on a ship
Never to return to her home land slips
Into a world of chaos and injustice its
Not fair to me to be born now its
Mom gave me expectations and I now exist
To save the world now, no choices fritz
yeah my dads are these white men, colonists
What they done, my mom, just politics
Fuck marriage fuck people fuck my own mom
3/5th compromise deal going on
Atticus home boy turned on the light
Raised me right, hell, even taught me to fight
Said slavery ain't what makes a man
into a monster, that’s just bigotry and
Money, allegiance to the dollar
Black men down don’t even holler
Couldn’t stand for that no one should dance to that
Died then they romanced all that
Cursed, reborn to see again
A wars been fought and ended in
Another period of black men down
Strangled, choked, to the ground
Cannot die till my people's peace
Liberty rise equality
And I’ll accept no apology
Off with chains of society
Dying Dying dying rewind
Guess who’s in the twenties now with some free-time
No work for white no work for me
Hello, Jim Crow? oppression please
The north is blind the south stays same
Put in jail for saying my own name
Then I surprised myself when I saw
Slave master son, Atticus draw
Up in before my life again,
He'd never died ever since then
Then I died as another strange fruit
Billy Holiday weeps for the roots
I'm a Phoenix rising from his ashes
Baby to man three decade passes
Boom boom boom here comes the King
He’ll save us from the American dream
I’m dead before Vietnam is done
Dead before segregation has had its run
Let me say It was one of my bloodiest Sundays
As a babe reborn it put my skin in a dumb blaze
Hera pushes my soul through all of time
I say stop hip hop is gonna save us from dyin
Anymore/ I know she’s using me but
That must be part of her motherly love
She’s suffered all I ever will
And ever have and am still
I’m tired of being a facade of a hero
But without that facade I’m just a zero
I’m a skeptic I know I’ll die for sure
My optemist just hopes hip hops my cure (how it would've gone about, assuming I was a skilled rapper)


Long dark shadows chased the rats down the wet cobbled floor. Upstream from the darkness strode out a man, skin dark as coco but smile brighter than the sun itself. His happiness was blinding. After years of existence, he thought he might finally live. Every step he took pinged out a vibration that reverberated off the peeling graffiti, producing a light, airy weapon the gods themselves would fight over.

A flash of blue strode across the real-life painting. The police officers gaze turned the formerly happy man's shoulders to stone. "Can I help you, off-"

"Get down on the ground now! Hands up!" He thudded to the instructions given and raised his palms mightly, one like soft clay and the other obscured by a frail sheet of paper.

"Drop it!"

The paper, his life, flew away from him to be continued in another time. The officer did what officers do when their orders are followed.

"He's down... He had a weapon... He might be dead." The man listened to the words dizzily, all too aware of the six new holes in him. His eyes flittered in the blue and red filter with his life-in-movie playing before him, signaling his demise.

He grimaces blood. The sound of music overlay the hills of flashbacks and final moments. Lives build themselves in stacks and blow themselves down his brain, rhythmic gasping accompanying a shout of injustice. He had just recorded it all, the next Notorious B.I.G. or Tupac in all the wrong ways. His words stab his ears.


Dying, 70's

Naturally, his first flash from the past is his last death.

He shoos his daughters in one croak. "Go." Living in the Bronx sometimes brought danger, and it had been his mistake to step on enemy territory.

The copious amounts of blood remind him of the civil war, his friend, Atticus, the evil home he lived in. Atticus taught him Shakespeare even though Romeo had been older than him. His name, Romeo, was derived from this friendship. With the war going on, he hadn't had the chance to make the acquaintance of monsters until he was about 14, but by that time, he knew monsters better than they did, as did most slaves. It was his first life.

His hand crawls towards his gun sneakily but is shot to pieces by the sniper. Incongruent shards of glass stand proudly on his chest, from crashing through a window. Quiet. Then, crackling. Someone’s set the building on fire, like all the other buildings. He never thought he’d see the South Bronx burning from the inside.

Yet here he is.

Like all the times he had died before, he doesn’t realize his first life really isn’t his first.


Dying, Early 60’s

He really wanted to follow Dr.King. He was tired of being the Emmett Till of every unfortunate life he had lived.

Romeo can still taste the scalding soup on his tongue. His mother, adopted mother, was the best cook, a wonderful support system. Ready for his first day at the unsegregated school, he and his mother were greeted with an unpleasant surprise.

Time doesn’t dare to move. Her face tell him she loves him, and his single, escaping tear lets her know he’ll never forget her. The flames have consumed her body, and all that is left is her precious, unchanging expression of love.

Then the flames proceed in consuming their entire house.


Dying, 30’s

The noose around my neck holds me tight
It promises to follow me into the night
Bricks kiss my skin lovingly
This is my winning fee
For being me


Dying, 1880’s

It’s all familiar to him. He knows he has been through this before. The name Atticus tickles the inside of his head like a truth ready to spill free. Reconstruction left him penniless after his mother died and he had no inheritance from the pie split by politicians in their sparkling white skin suits.

He is just a man struggling against the elements, struggling against poverty, struggling against unholy beings and creatures of the depths of Greek hell. Why would no one love him?

The answer, which he came about unexpectedly, is he must love himself. He nurtures his skin even as he hides from Klansmen, looking for easy dark meat to spoil.

In her letter, she had explicitly told him to stay strong. The mystery lady, the one behind the cash that keeps him going, she taught him there was something good.

That is why he loves himself. He loves himself so much, he killed himself before they could infect him with their violent hate.


First Death

Raised by the one younger than me
Slaved by the one older than him
I kept his secret, he kept mine
He’s my best friend for all time.

Romeo smiles genuinely. Even men like him can find happiness in something. He never thought he would be able to write, let alone write what he thought, let alone think freely.

It’s this memory that he held on to as, away from the gaze of his best friend, his best friends father beat a tree into him.

But the past is not the past, and although he wouldn’t know it, it would always follow. He knew before Toni Morrison did.


There’s a secret
Locked away
Hidden from the light of day
Secret keeper giggles, toys
With the thought of speaking poised
To the one she locked away.



Pre-Civil War

He had been found in a field, raised a slave by the family who had found him. He had been a good obedient slave, up until Hera made herself known to him, where she implored him that he could be better. She wanted him to defeat them. She told him her story.

As Romeo lay dying next to human feces, he remembers his mother. Maybe his rebellion was premature, maybe he was wrong for thinking it was his time to escape. He had thought with the recent attack on his life by the hounds of hell, his Mother had given him a signal. Today, he would not be a hero. The light fades from him for the first time, and he quietly whispers a piece of poetry to himself, like the house tutor had unknowingly taught him. He dies at the tender age of 12.

The Pantheon shifts across the world
Already her sanctity broken, unfurled
Mortal men take each other as property
Marriage enslaver of women to be crockery
To those who would break their vows on a whim
By breaking those slave girls, married to other men
He is the product of the injustice
And even his birth makes him feel disgusted
New generation American without rights
Like all those born on the land of such Parasites

Hera was disappointed in Romeo. He was supposed to be so much more, defend her and all of those persecuted by mortal treachery. She is the one who placed the Phoenix curse of immortality upon him, until the day things are made right. For her. For them. He would be her own created hero, like those of her husband.

From this moment on, he would be reborn continually until he was successful, and gradually as he gained his lives, he would remember all of the ones prior. Except his first. She would not let him know her own failure of growing weak when she couldn't afford to be weak.

New World

A young man with a spider web tattoo across his chest leans against the famous tree of Camp Half-blood. The broken heart and renewed soul shone through a face full of curiosity and careful cynicism. The world had cradled him and dropped him time and time again.

Romeo, oh Romeo, where art thou Romeo?
Stuck in a loop of abuse inconsolable.
Time so progressive and clean what a dream.
My foster home beat me black and blue till I scream.
They told me, "there's a way out this hood"
But I've known no way out since the beating was good,
For those who stole us and used us like furniture.
Monsters down deep in Tartarus are pure.
Because the hellhound I killed at thirteen
Are no match for the men who stole my steam

Romeo walks into the camp he's known about but never visited, unsure if he'd want to associate with those who did nothing for their mortal brothers and sisters. Deep within his churning mind, however, he knows he needs a break, no matter how loyal he hopes he's been to his cause from conception.

*note* his birth is basically that because when the greek gods moved their pantheon to america slavery was also happening at the same time, Hera was affected by all the white men raping slave girls, which that broke her sacred marital covenant and also that of the slaves who were married. Due to this, and the fact that gods are reflections of what is happening in the mortal world, she was raped herself by the new humanity greek gods represented, and chose to have a child of that rape (Romeo), who basically symbolized in a demigod way the plight of african americans born into the injustice of a rising U.S.

I got the ok from Summer to do this as a way of being born a demi and she is the prospective new claiming bcrat

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