However, Lea literally isn't Romeo's mother, she's his teacher, in canon. I'm not particularly obsessed with the ship myself, but there's literally nothing wrong with it. People shipping them isn't all that weird. The only valid criticism I saw was people argue it was weird because Romeo might have been a teen, but that is never confirmed in canon. (As far as I'm aware)

If people are shipping Lea x Romeo as two consenting adults, and you look at their post and see it as 'mom and son', and comment that: you come off as weirder than you comparatively think they are being. Teacher x Apprentice, in THIS particular fandom is likely the tamest thing you will find. I've been in this fandom since Oct 2023, and I've seen plenty that got swept under the rug, seen discourse caused by blogs that clearly haven't been in fandom for all that long. Excessive dad x son and/or incest (Most ironically ignore this side of the fandom, which is better left alone). As well as just straight up rudeness about theories, ideas, and even hate for innocent head-canon's like the original poster, for example.

Either way, people getting unnecessary hate over something as stupid as what they ship is pretty sad, I miss when there wasn't pointless complaining over what you ship, or like.

Also, just as a disclaimer, I'm only trying to mediate. This isn't intended as any hate towards the people who dislike Lea x Romeo and simply spoke their opinion. I just used that post as a catalyst to bring up an issue I see often in this fandom: Which is people complaining or giving unnecessary hate about fictional ships that are not hurting anyone.

Like P x Sophia, or Venigni x P, as yet another example of innocent, well intended ships that get needless hate. And now we have Lea x Romeo being added to that list. There's no reason you can't just ignore it and block the tag. Thanks for reading my little unsurprising post about something I've been observing. Obviously feel free to comment if you have anything to add or say about this.

   over and over and

   Describing Carlo was like trying to describe life from start to finish. You would strive to no matter how long it took, if there would ever be enough words to befit him, that could even embody what it meant just to know him. To be close to him, speak with him. To witness his every emotion and gesture. How it felt to be touched and embraced by him. What it meant to the very fortitude of your being.

   Carlo’s skin is smooth, a peachy tinge to it, with an undertone of olive and crushed prune. Scent of argan and faintly of rosemary. Skin so soft, so warm and pliable and defined. Eyes deep, like the reaches of a forest, an auburn fox running distantly through it, happy and free. A quiet being of the night, like a barn owl watching over the sheep and the hay. Like a dove that coos at the break of sunrise, dew over chimneys and eavestroughs, shadows of tender clouds taking shape and a soft peck to a lover’s cheek.

   He’s like that. Distracting and reserved, generous and audacious, amusing and so very lovely. A moon that reflects the sun, and a sun that reflects the moon, so augmented, so dreamy.

   There is more to him of course—there always is—but it can’t be described in words. You would have to be there to comprehend the tune, the sound of the music that followed the path to his side. He looks at you through that same rose coloured tinge, a fervid reflection, like ripples in each other’s wake. The awe of being with someone so different, and yet so alike. There really couldn’t be any other.

   Carlo’s admitted that he’s never loved before—never felt love like this, but yearned for it all the same as anyone else. He didn’t know what it was meant to look like, feel like, but his heart flutters and thuds all the same when your eyes meet. When you’re close to him, that amicable proximity to you that leaves him wishing for more. Your sweet soprano voice that graces his ears every time you hum to yourself as you toil about. He’s devoted all of himself to you, that much is clear.

   And every morning and every evening you’re around one another, banded together by the four walls, the floor and the ceiling of your shared home. Brought together by the music whose notes travelled around you like the wind blowing dandelion seeds. Through the kitchen where you made each other meals. To the piano where the music flowed unabashedly, and to the bedroom where the sheet music hasn’t been turned, but the notes await to be performed.

...

Perhaps the Legendary Stalker grew up as an orphan in the Charity House or went to the Rose Estate when it became a school, and learned to become a Stalker there?

In doing so, she and Sophia grew up together?

I like to imagine the two met at some point and had teasing banter that kept them both thinking of each other, not really being able to shake that secret—perhaps even uncharted longing to talk to each other again.

Them having a similar hairstyle could be a common style the girls wore at the Rose Estate? Or just a popular feminine hairstyle in Krat that many women wore during the era.

I’m imagining them doing each others hair… so cute ugh.

Maybe as the two got older, the Legendary Stalker got around to becoming Sophia’s bodyguard and tried to keep her out of harms way? 

That idea does get snagged a bit in canon though.. because of a certain individual… (Simon)

Besides the first idea, the two could have met through Carlo or even Romeo, since the two know Sophia.

The guys could have introduced them both, and they became friends, and then a little something more.

Historians definitely wrote about them being ‘best friends’ 😹

Little did they know... they were smooching.

...

   This love, this love is a strange one. Not in how it was, as it wasn’t wrong, but unexpected. One doesn’t simply look for love, as it will always find you in ways unforeseen. Like how your heart continues to beat without worry that the next thump won’t come.

   Love is a factor. A chance encounter. A moment of pause. Perhaps that is the one time your heart does miss a beat; when eyes meet for the first time in a candlelit concert hall.

   Your mind was ever sodden with music, as you whisper your latest tune to yourself. An original creation, now sung simply for the passing of time. You keep to yourself, patient for the opening of the opera you’ve been wanting to see.

   And so you sit, utterly unaware of what surrounds you, continuing your soft singing, humming the tune you’d created to follow. You could imagine the instruments that carried, how each sounded alone. Soft thrumming, the hardly there tap of keys and the burn of string on bow.

   Then, when brought together, it will create a sound so beautiful, you could practically hear it. Could hear the vibrato of the piano as if it came to life, a melody so perfect it was like it uprooted from your dreams to trail alongside you. Each intonation simply followed along the words that pursued your perfectly memorized vocals.

   Except, it was when the keying changed to something deeper, that your eyes snap open. Your tone no longer matched its lower key, but the melody was no less beautiful. Your voice hesitates, losing that harmony to startle. What is that? You ponder, brought back to the world that surrounds you, eyes drifting to the recesses.

   Around you, the hall is expansive and glorious, a place you’d wish to live if not for lacking anyone to share it with. There’s the marble floors, the curved white panels and gold trimmings, the painted ceilings and the statues placed nearby. The candelabras that spark both joy and moodiness, bringing out the warmth that encircles you. The couch you wait on is burgundy velvet and comfortable, practically hugging your frame. Nestled below your legs that are crossed over the other is an area rug and to your left is a man. A man?

   You turn your curious gaze to him where he sits with fine posture in a dark waistcoat and white flowing sleeves. His tailored coat is tossed over the width of the stool he rests in. He’s so close to you, how you hadn’t sensed his arrival fascinated you, but not as much as how he knew the exact notes to your song.

   The unlikely stranger then turned to look at you. You weren’t expecting such a kind face, a friendly smile to his lips, hair the colour of brindle in the candlelight, with soft amber eyes to match.

...

Come up behind you when you least expect it and then scare you. You think its not on purpose, but it it is. Get mustard on a white shirt.

Take you to a scary movie thinking he could comfort you when you’re scared, but he ends up being the scared one.

Do a duo halloween outfit and then also make a smaller version for Spring. He likes to include her even if she’s not enthused.

Get complimented often.

Have good fashion sense.

Hoard things.

Forget to take care of himself and take proper breaks.

Pay close attention to the things you like.

Tie his shoe laces in a juvenile way.

Forget to use both his hands while multitasking.

Send everyone and their grandma a Christmas letter.

Hate socks, but still wear them reluctantly. Be a lightweight, but hides it well.

Cry into Springs fur until she’s hissing at him.

Pass out in random places. (i.e: the kitchen, right next to the bed, the toile-)

Have cat fur all over him.

Never say a swear.

Hug you before doing anything where you’ll be apart.

Try and ‘hide’ gifts for you, but you end up finding them because he hides it somewhere like in the washing machine. It’s the thought that counts, even if you only found it after it got wet.

Not know how to tie a tie.

Kiss his teeth when he’s annoyed or frustrated. Struggle with keeping a normal amount of eye contact, he just likes to stare.

Feed Spring better than he feeds himself.

Give really gentle hugs. He’ll hide his face in the crook of your neck.

Avert his eyes when embarrassed, maybe even turn a lil’ pink on the cheeks too.

Not understand dirty jokes right away, then have an ‘ohh’ moment a minute later.

Not notice the stares he gets in public.

Use hand motions rather than speak.

Listen to the same song on repeat for weeks.

Let you borrow his clothes.

Want you to read to him every night.

Not realize that he’s fallen in love right away.

Sleep dead on his back like he’s in a casket, even his hands are positioned similarly too. Use cheap soap and then come out with soft silky magazine hair somehow. Not admit when he’s feeling ill/sick.

Lose track of a lot of his items to ‘the void’ only for you to find them right where you told him it would be.

Make random popping noises with his mouth for fun.

Win most games you play together, especially if it’s a card game. Adopt a nervous habit of chewing on the inside of his mouth.

- - -

Be nosy. He can’t help it, he wants to know the tea.

Poke you to get your attention.

Not be able to grow facial hair.

Be unable to restrain ‘cuteness aggression’ upon the sight of a cat.

Drain the hot water tank with how long his showers take. R.I.P the water bills. Take everything too literally.

Want to bake treats with you, but ends up getting in the way since he’s got no idea what he’s doing.

Pout and say he dislikes his freckles so you’ll kiss his face to convince him otherwise.

Say something he didn’t realize was funny and be surprised when people laugh.

Tell you to drink water when you’re dizzy.

Have the blankets stolen from him while he’s sleeping.

Occasionally forget to blink or breathe.

Rarely voice his opinions, if anything, all he does is raise an eyebrow or sigh.

Eat you out (of house and home), he’s hungry, always.

Steal food from your plate, but he’s not secretive about it. This has caused many fork battles between you both. Brush his teeth after every meal. (Geppetto scared him into it as a kid, and he’s still freaked out over it as an adult).

Think ligma was real.

Almost burn the house down while ‘cooking’. (he was making cereal).

Need Spring snuggled up to him in his bed, he will not sleep without her. Have a really soft voice, it’s a little unexpected, but obviously nice to listen to when he does speak. Lend himself as the little spoon a lot of the time. Either that, or he’s laying right on top of you.

Get set on fire while standing too close to the fireplace. (Pino-tisserie).

Shyly read to you. 

Allow you to put stickers on his legion arm. He’s confused, but likes the attention.

Read the entire english dictionary. That was also the day he learned english spellings can be rather stupid.

Say smart-ass comments under his breath.

Challenge you at every opportunity, he thinks it’s fun.

Have numerous speeding tickets. He doesn’t know the law, just the gas pedal.

Let you straighten his hair once out of curiosity and quickly discovered he should have stayed curious.