March 2025

I love the name Mia!<3 sounds like a name Will would choose for her.

When you said 'disruptive' and 'hide secrets' made me think of something...Like, maybe she would talk a little around her father at some point, maybe as a way to make him think she wants his attention? But I mean in a way like she wants to know how her father would react to that, even if small. And then to bigger yells of attention.🤔

I kind of imagine Mia as a girl who analyzes whoever is there in front of her and gives a critical judgment in her head first, finding imperfections and small signs that usually escape the eye of all people. And so she did to her father, but it's hard to analyze him fully. That's probably a secret she keeps by heart, because she'd go to the line of 'not everyone deserve to know every secrets you have.' , including her own father.

Mia means mine in some languages, so I thought it would be fitting that possessive dad Will would choose that name :).

She’d be a very smart girl, I agree. I believe Mia would be a tricky kid to deal with, due to Will’s inability to reinforce boundaries, and so she would not know how to draw a line at what’s her problem and what’s her dad’s problem.

How do you think Will's daughter he raised on his own differs from the one with Hannibal? I loved the analysis but they seem different and I was wondering why.

The difference between Mia and Amara is rooted in the men who raised them, their circumstances, their needs, the versions of Will Graham they belonged to.

Mia was raised by season one Will. A man isolated, desperate for connection yet terrified of the ache that comes with it. She was not an individual to him but a creation, a totem of unconditional love, affection, and acceptance, the things he craved but could never truly touch. She became every feminine archetype in his life: maiden, mother, lover. The embodiment of the illusion that he was good, something he clung to with white-knuckled desperation.

She was born when Will was barely twenty, so before he had control, before he understood the shape of his own mind. She was a product of that chaos, a little insect trapped in the web of his need. He kept her close, too close, because he had no one else. She was his, and that meant she was him.

Amara was different. Amara was forged by love, not need. She was not a desperate grasp for stability but a calculated act of defiance, a miracle Hannibal created simply because he could. A challenge to God, a work of art. She was perfect, sculpted by two men who wanted to prove that they could make life itself bow to their will, defying the laws of nature.

But perfection dulls. The shine of her infancy wore off.

This Will was no longer searching for meaning through another person, he had Hannibal. He no longer needed a companion to tell him he was good. Now, he feared connection, because Hannibal destroyed everything he bonded with.

And so Amara became an offering, an attempt at something untouchable. If she belonged to both of them, then perhaps Hannibal would not ruin her. Because she belonged to him as well.

Ouch, that was too deep. But I still loved reading it piece by piece.<3

Amara is a pretty name, and I can't help but wonder if it was inspirated by an italian word perhaps?🤔 Because 'Amara' would mean 'bitter', but refering to a girl. And 'Mia' means 'mine', still refering to a girl. I'm asking because I'm actually Italian myself, so these were my observations to the matter!

And about Amara again...Ouch, I never experienced anything like she did, but as an empathic person myself, my heart feels sore for her. I can imagine her being so in sore about the whole situation (refering to her teenager years), that she would unload all the pain on sheets of paper with her signature on each ones. Those sheets contain sadness, anger, and acceptance. A mix that even she has difficulty understanding and explaining. But she has the feeling that Hannibal, her own father, is the cause of her constant confusion and eternal sadness. (Maybe that's also why Will is so scared to know what she may feel, maybe because he tried to read one of those sheets..)

And so she would try to turn the damage they have done, in some ways. Maybe one day when she strangely managed to get the attention of both her fathers, she would unload some kind of realization, that she always wanted to use as a dagger. To see a reaction, to be seen. To be understood. After all, Hannibal insisted so much on having an educated daughter, a lover of writing and literature, who knows how to communicate.

Hm, maybe she'd something like…

"Imagine being skinned alive, and then being told to function normally for the rest of your life. Get. Over. It."
(I read this somewhere, but I have some ideas in my head about what she would say or how she would express her feelings...If I get some ideas, I would totally share if that's okay.<3)

-🐛

Yes, Amara means both bitter and love (variations of it) in different languages! I thought it was fitting hahaha.

I think she would be a Margot type of woman, you know? Keeps to herself, only finds strength later in life. I wonder about the dynamic of some universe where she and Mia meet each other. I know Mia would resent Abigail, but I wonder how she’d feel about Amara.

I'm super excited to read Rotten Meat as soon as possible, thank you so much for taking your time writing it. I do really enjoy your blog and headcanons, I'm so happy to be able to express my thoughts here and to discuss, it's like I've found my people.<3

A little thing I did enjoy about the series Hannibal Lecter, apart the whole plot and characters, I'd say would be the clothing choice. I know it sounds so random, but I think they play an important role and speaks about the characters if this makes sense. I also just personally love people who have taste in fashion ahaha.

So I was wondering if Amara needs to have that elegance in clothing like her fathers? I feel like with Hannibal there's no doubts. But with Will? I don't know, it wouldn't be the same. But it would be curious to know if Mia have a 'dress code' as well or it's just pure casual. I do feel like I'm asking a nosense but I hope this somewhat made sense.😅

-🐛

Ahhh thank you so much for providing me with an excuse to just:

Amara:

Mia:

Savannah (you didn’t ask about her but I might as well include her):

Amara’s fashion sense is a careful, calculated game. She’s a mini Hannibal: elegant, poised, but still young enough to care about how others perceive her. She dresses with intention, blending classical style with youthful edges, always aiming to present herself as both alluring and unapproachable. For her, fashion is a weapon, an extension of her will to manipulate those around her. If she wants to gain something from Hannibal, she’ll wear pigtails or braids, and the color yellow, knowing it will invoke memories of his younger sister or of when she was more innocent. Each outfit is a silent negotiation, and Amara knows how to dress to reach her goals.

Mia, on the other hand, is a more unconscious force when it comes to fashion. Her style reflects the practical, nature-driven life she lives, but it is also, in its own way, a weapon, though one she doesn’t fully understand. She has been cast into the roles of maiden, mother, and wife by Will’s unspoken expectations, and her wardrobe echoes these pressures. Her clothes are cutesy and feminine, with pieces that have an innocent charm but often reveal more than she intends, reflecting the subtle imbalance in her relationship with Will. She’s rarely seen in pants, adhering to a stereotype of femininity that she didn’t choose but was shaped into. Her body, which she’s come to see as something used against her, has become her tool, her weapon of self-assertion, though she may never fully grasp how much power she’s wielding with it.

Savannah is the antithesis of both Amara and Mia. Reserved, introverted, and deeply self-conscious, she hides in loose, neutral-toned clothing that serves as armor against the world. Like Dolarhyde, Savannah prefers to not be noticed, and her style reflects this need for invisibility. She rarely shows skin on purpose and makes no attempt to stand out. Her clothes are her shield, keeping her hidden from the gaze of others, allowing her to exist without being noticed. In her world, being seen is a risk, one she’s not willing to take.

Mia's sense of fashion looks like she's trying to draw attention to herself..🤔 Either from Will or from the people around her

You’re very right! Mia has a lot of complexities around her femininity, her role in her dynamic with Will, and with men in general. She grew up without a mother, so that also plays a big factor in her sense of self. She tries to fulfill every single gap in Will’s life, which comes from a deep set fear of abandonment.

Is there any sweet/memorable moments Amara or Mia had when they were young kids? after all of these headcanons we need to hear a little of sweetness 😭

Aww of course! We will be hearing some during the fic, but here’s a bit for you now:

- Will gave Mia a piano and they would play together in the evenings when she was a toddler. She’d sit on his lap and watch as his fingers moved across the keys, trying to follow with her little hands. The piano’s still there, dusting away but she plays every time she feels sad.

- Hannibal used to create elaborate plays for Amara during bath time, with all kinds of characters and plots, teaching her about mythology in a fun way. She still remembers the scent of chamomile from her shampoo, and how she’d fall asleep between foam and bubbles.

Amara would hug her fathers randomly during the day by surprise when she was a young kid, and so Mia with Will, change my mind

I will not change your mind because you are correct hahaha!

Amara Lecter-Graham would come barreling toward Will, colliding into him with all the force of a child who doesn’t yet understand restraint. He’d let out a startled laugh, catching her little head with his hands, wincing playfully as he murmured, “Ouch.” Then, with a gentle touch, he’d push her away, tapping her lightly as if sending her off like a wind-up toy, watching as she took off running in the opposite direction.

Lecter-Graham Will, accustomed to his own melancholic disposition, never quite knows how to handle Amara’s relentless sunshine energy. He’s awkward with it, hesitant in the face of such unfiltered joy. Hannibal, in contrast, takes to it differently, at first just as uncertain, but quickly adjusting in his own peculiar way. He’d scoop her up onto his shoulders, lifting her as though she were weightless, playfully twisting and maneuvering her as if she were made of clay. Amara, delirious with laughter, would cling to him, shrieking in delight as he spun her around.

This is what Will prefers. To watch them together. To stand at a slight distance, observing. His lips would curve into a quiet smile, something indulgent, something warm. And it would make him unbearably, inexplicably aroused. Hannibal, so controlled, so deliberate, displaying something so contrasting, so playful, was intoxicating. The sharp edge of his usual presence softened into something intimate, something Will found devastatingly attractive.

Mia Graham, on the other hand, would never run up and throw herself into Will’s arms. Not Just-Graham Will. Not Before-Hannibal Will. Instead, she would approach gently, silently, stepping behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his back as she shut her eyes. He would pause, feeling her presence before responding, placing his hands over hers, grounding her there without breaking the moment. Sometimes, though, he’d shift, turning to pull her into him, smothering her with a flurry of tiny kisses until she was gasping, laughing, shouting between breathless giggles, pretending she was suffocating beneath his affection.

I'm curious to know how exactly the lack of boundaries manifests in Will and Mia and Hannibal and Amara or a hypothetical son!

For Hannibal, there is no perversion in his own perception of his nature. When he examines his daughter for breast cancer prevention, his touch is nothing but clinical, detached in the way only a man utterly at ease with himself can be. There is no lingering doubt, no moment of discomfort, just care, precise and untroubled.

Will, however, would feel wretched about that. It would gnaw at him, the difference between them, the unbearable weight of his own self-loathing and relentless self-judgment. Where Hannibal moves through the world unburdened, Will is trapped within his own mind, his every thought twisting in on itself, corrupting even the purest of intentions.

And so, Hannibal’s child can curl up in his lap without it meaning anything beyond affection and protection. There is no second thought, no underlying tension, just warmth, just closeness. But Will’s child cannot. Because the moment it happens, his repressed mind twists it into something else, something shameful, something dark. He recoils before the thought can fully form, but it lingers, poisoning everything. It’s why he keeps himself at a distance, why intimacy terrifies him, why he avoids relationships at all costs. It’s why, in season three, he saw Molly slaughtered. Because his mind sours everything.

We know that both Hannibal and Will doesn't want their daughter Amara to have any romantic relationships, is there some reasons why? Maybe Hannibal doesn't want his daughter to be 'distracted' or potentially getting hurt?🤔

And so with Mia, I see it difficult for her to find a lover if she mostly craves her father's attention.

I don’t think it’s a matter of them not wanting her to, but more so a fear of losing her, but also the fact that they have to be careful because she knows everything so they can’t allow her to get close to anyone without risking everyone’s safety.

Mia on the other hand can’t even get interested in other men. She had some controversial flings in the past, but even those are echoes of her complexes with Will.

I think anon who said Mia's fashion seems like she's trying to call attention to herself is extremely misogynistic and shaming.

You’re not completely wrong. I said they were correct that she was trying to call attention and weaponized her body (because it has been used against her already), but I do agree that for someone to say that even though they don’t know the character profoundly can be a huge sign of a person who will shame women for wearing what they want. I noticed that too but preferred to just let it go haha.

What would you say the daughters of Will and Hannibal could be diagnosed as? Considering the vast amount of trauma they'd go through.

Will’s daughter could be HPD (histrionic personality disorder). Hannibal’s would likely have OCD.

I rarely hear about histrionic disorder, can you expand on why Will's daughter would have that?

Her existence is tied intricately to her father’s presence, and her sense of self is fundamentally shaped by his actions, needs, and the roles she assumes in relation to him. From a young age, she was conditioned to see herself not as an independent entity but as an extension of his desires and a crucial part of his psychological and emotional world.

At her core, this character embodies a deep, unrelenting attachment to Will. She constantly finds herself oscillating between varying roles of a spouse, mother, and child, depending on how she perceives Will in any given moment. When Will is vulnerable or unwell, she assumes the nurturing role, stepping into the role of a mother. When he exudes power or dominance, she reverts to a child-like state of submission, and when he is distant or withdrawn, she may even feel a need to chase him for affection, embodying the dynamic of a partner seeking validation. This fluidity, however, is marked by an underlying eroticization of every role, a complex internalized sense of sexualized attachment that is tied to how she perceives Will’s affection and attention.

Her attachment to Will is not simply emotional but physical and constant. Her sense of self, her emotional stability, and even her physical well-being depend on his presence. Her constant need for proximity to him speaks not just to an emotional dependence but to a profound disconnection from herself when he is absent. When separated from him, she experiences a persistent hum of longing, an ever-present anxiety that she cannot escape. Her attempts to soothe this unease, however, are only temporary. She may engage in self-soothing behaviors like physical relief or relaxation, but these measures, while they may calm her body momentarily, do not resolve the deeper hunger for connection with him.

The character’s traits and behaviors align closely with the diagnostic criteria for Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD), though it is important to note that this is a fictional character and not a clinical diagnosis. HPD is marked by excessive emotionality and attention-seeking behavior, both of which are key features of the daughter’s personality. Her entire existence is, in many ways, predicated on seeking validation from her father, and she expresses an overwhelming need to be the center of his emotional world.

The daughter is rarely comfortable when Will is not focusing on her, and she often seeks his attention through dramatic gestures or exaggerated emotional responses. Her sense of worth is intimately connected to his affection, and if he withdraws or becomes distant, she feels a sense of panic and anxiety, which only subsides when he returns his focus to her.

The daughter’s attachment to Will is not purely emotional or intellectual; it is highly sexualized. She eroticizes the roles she assumes, regardless of whether they align with what is socially or morally acceptable. Her behavior may not be overtly sexual, but her actions toward Will often carry an undercurrent of seductive behavior, especially in the way she tries to elicit emotional reactions from him.

She displays extreme emotional shifts, from intense affection to frustration and withdrawal. These emotional fluctuations are often used to maintain Will’s focus on her and are sometimes exaggerated to ensure that she keeps his attention.

Her sense of intimacy with Will is distorted, she perceives their relationship as more intense or emotionally significant than it may truly be. She may misinterpret his gestures or words as signs of deeper connection, leading to a constant cycle of expectation and disappointment.

The sexualized behavior that often accompanies HPD is seen as inappropriate, manipulative, or even immoral in certain contexts, leading to severe shaming of individuals who exhibit these traits. Women with HPD are often perceived as oversexed, dramatic, or attention-seeking in a way that dismisses their underlying emotional pain or psychological struggles.

This shaming often centers around the sexual behaviors associated with HPD. Women who show seductive, provocative, or overly intimate tendencies are often dismissed as “loose” or “manipulative.” These labels strip away the deeper psychological struggles at play, reducing a complex emotional experience to a simple moral failing. Women with HPD are often seen as ‘asking for it’, and their emotional needs are minimized or belittled.

Can you explain how Mia was born? How did it happen, was it an accident?

The voice in his head sounds like his father. It always has.

“Will, you’re just like me.”

No. He isn’t. He wasn’t. He refused.

But there are things that creep in at the edges of refusal. Thoughts that slide in between the cracks, thick and oil-slick. No one ever tells you that running from something means dragging it behind you.

He remembers his father’s eyes—dull, wet, calculating. The way his voice would flatten out when he wanted Will to obey, to understand the weight of his disappointment. The way it could shift, too, when it needed to. When coaxing was more useful than control. There was a slow-burn seduction to his father’s affection, a give-and-take that made Will hungry in ways he didn’t know how to name. That hunger stretched out inside him like something cavernous, growing in the dark.

And then Joseph happened.

Joseph, who saw that hunger and fed it, but only when it suited him. Joseph, whose hands were steady and instructive, whose praise felt like a baptism—warm and thick and staining. Joseph, who made Will feel wanted. Special. Who could make pain feel like proof of something holy.

It taught him, in quiet, shattering ways, that love was not a soft thing. That love was a wound you tended to, that bled beneath your hands. That love was something to earn.

So he would build it. He would craft it from the ground up. A child. A child would love him as he had never been loved. A child would tether him, make him whole. But not a son. Oh no, no, no.

A son would be a mirror, and Will could not bear to look at himself.

A daughter, then. A daughter would see him as something perfect, untouchable, godlike. She would never look at him with the kind of eyes he had once had—the ones that searched for weakness, for an opening, for the moment love would be revoked.

Lilly. Pretty, ruined Lilly. The kind of woman that moved through life like a ghost, waiting to disappear. She had only daughters in her family, she had said, and once, a long time ago, she had had one too. A girl. She died as a baby. Not enough care.

That was the moment something clicked. Something old and starving and deeply, deeply quiet.

He laid his claim in sweat and tangled sheets and the way Lilly looked at him when he bought her drinks—like she couldn’t decide if he was salvation or damnation. And when the test turned positive, it was never a question of if the child would be his. Only when.

Lilly didn’t fight him. She was too tired, too lost, too far away even in her own body. The grief of loss had already hollowed her out. One shot away from overdose. When she left—faded away before Mia could even form memories of her—Will felt something settle inside him.

She was his. His perfect little girl.

And when she looked at him, wide-eyed, worshipful, with the kind of trust he had never been allowed to have, something in him sang. Something fit.

But there were questions, sometimes. Late at night, in the too-quiet hours, when the voice in his head got louder. When his father spoke, or Joseph, or someone else entirely.

“Why does it feel like this?”

He knows exactly why he empathized with Garret Jacob Hobbs.

Can we know more about Amara's and Mia's apparence? really curious to know😆

I kind of imagine Mia having her father's curls for some reasons😅

-🐛

Will had tried so hard not to have a son, to not have to stare into a mirror and see himself staring back. But Mia, is him but a girl.

Who has his face softened, refined, twisted into something impossible to look away from. The big blue eyes, the thick lashes that cast shadows. Rosy cheeks that bloom too easily, cherry lips that glisten wet. Plump. She is always plump. Soft, thick thighs, a body that welcomes the world instead of shielding itself from it. She does not harden herself, she cultivates her flesh, keeps it lush, keeps it something to be touched.

Her nails are always long, red or black, curling delicately when she gestures. Her hair, thick and dark, moves like silk in water, gleaming under light as if it has been spun from something richer than keratin. She smells too much, sickly sweet, sugared rot, something that burns in the back of the throat. Incense, old wood, something acrid beneath it all.

She looks like dessert filled with poison.

Amara is a thing sculpted rather than born, a composition rather than a coincidence. Where others stumble into beauty, she wears it like a garment tailored to her form. She moves with intention, with grace. When she enters a room, heads turn without command, breath catches without permission. She does not demand attention, she simply exists, and the world bows accordingly.

She is delicate but not fragile, tall but slight, something elongated and refined. Her hair, pale as light itself, spills down her back like silk thread, each strand impossibly smooth. Her eyes honeyed, are set beneath perfectly carved brows, her cheekbones high, hollowed, pronounced. There is an elegance in her structure, an artistry in her form. A porcelain doll, but alive.

She is Hannibal’s perfect creation.

And she knows it.

Obsessed with your characters 😭. Curious if there's something Mia does that drives Will insane, or a pet peeve?

The carelessness, the casualness, the way she does things without a second thought, like she isn’t living in a world full of men who watch too closely, who think too much.

She gets into cars with guys he doesn’t know that well. She throws herself into their passenger seats with that lazy, languid ease, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her lips glossy and parted just enough to make his stomach turn. She’s too trusting. Or maybe she isn’t trusting at all, maybe she just likes to see what will happen. He can’t tell which is worse.

She doesn’t pick up his calls at night. When she doesn’t answer, something ugly crawls up his throat. She knows better. She knows what kind of thoughts get in his head when she doesn’t answer.

She walks into the bathroom when he’s showering. Just walks in. No hesitation, no announcement. She’ll lean against the sink, talk about something unimportant, completely unbothered.

She opens the door for deliveries in those damn pajamas. Thin, little things. He sees the way the delivery guys pause, the way their eyes hesitate before they hand over the package. She doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she does. He’s not sure which possibility is worse.

oh mia hates alana doesn't she? lol

Mia thinks Alana is irrelevant but is susced out that Will likes a woman who has the same coloring as her.

I love the way you answer with narrative, I feel like I'm reading tiny fics!😩 Can I ask about Mia's first relationship or kiss and if Will knew that and he reacted? -🪿

Mia learned about love the way she learned everything else…through Will.

She was six the first time she saw him kiss someone. A redhead, the neighbor. Just a passing moment on the front porch, nothing serious, nothing deep. But Mia had stood there, frozen, eyes wide with fury, demanding an explanation like he had just betrayed something sacred.

Will had laughed. She was so dramatic. He told her that’s how adults kiss.

That seemed to satisfy her, until she saw a pair of teenagers tangled together in a park, mouths locked, hands wandering.

“You said that was for adults.”

He glanced at her, unimpressed. “They’re criminals.”

And she believed him.

For years after, she would point at couples making out in public and declare them outlaws, sometimes even scolding them outright. Will thought it was hilarious. Until she came home one day, around eleven.

She had seen a teacher kissing a student. Mia confronted the student, trying to make sense of it, and the girl told her that’s just what people do when they love each other.

So Mia had come home and told Will, with complete conviction, “You don’t love me.”

The absurdity of it made him laugh. But beneath the amusement, something curdled. What teacher? He had her tell him everything. What she said, what she saw, who it was. He handled it. It turned into a mess. The man was arrested. It should have ended there. But it stuck with her. The way she held herself afterward. The way she looked at people. The way guilt gnawed at her.

She never talked about it.

At thirteen, she kissed a girl friend. She told Will, and he told her not to do that in public because people were cruel. Then she kissed a boy, and he yelled at her.

She was confused.

He never answered. Just apologized, like that could undo it. He pulled her from school soon after.

She learned to hide things from him.

The first time she was with a man, she came home shaking, bile rising in her throat. She locked herself in the bathroom, threw up, cried until her face was raw. Then she found him and spat the words like they were poison—this is your fault.

He didn’t understand. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t explain. Just curled into herself like something had broken inside her.

Years passed before he found out.

When he did, it unraveled something in him so violently that Mia locked herself in her room for two days.

wow that description of the last ask...why did she blame Will and what exactly did he do that freaked her out so much?

The letters. The drawings. The picture of them.

It was all laid out in front of him like something profane. It should not exist. It should never have existed. His vision blurred at the edges, nausea climbing his throat in thick, wet waves. His body rejected it before his mind could. He turned, heaved, emptied himself onto the floor.

Then he found him. Ended the man.

But he let him live. That was the worst part. The cruelest part. He let him live so he could feel it, could know, every second, that Will Graham had peeled back his skin and poured something dark inside him that would rot him from the inside out.

Then he came home. Blood dried stiff on his shirt. He tore it from his body and threw it at her.

She flinched.

He had been drinking.

Way too much.

His hands found her hair. Her back hit the wall.

She gasped, but he wasn’t looking at her. Not really. He was looking at something inside her, something that was made because of him, because of all of it, and he understood now. Why she said it was his fault. Why she came home shaking. Why she hated herself.

His hands found her face.

He could barely see her through the static in his brain.

He would never know of anything she did anymore.

Does young Mia collects toys? Like asking Will, sometimes, to buy some specific toys because they are appealing to her? she seems a kid who observes a lot

I accidentally entered Will’s mind too much and thought about other types of toys my oh my. Anyhow,

It started with a gas station bear. Cheap, small, stiff-furred, with a red bow tied around its neck like a promise. He had been late, too late, and she had been curled on the couch, silent in that way that wasn’t silence at all. He placed the bear in her lap, awkward, guilty. Sorry, baby.

She stared at it. Then at him. Then at it again.

And then she smiled.

That was all it took.

So the next time, there was another bear. Same stiff fur, same glassy eyes, but this one had a blue bow. Then green. Then pink. He bought every color the gas station had. Then, when he ran out, he bought cat bows from craft stores, from pet shops, little satin ribbons in plaid, in polka dots, in floral prints. Late nights, missed dinners, words left unsaid, he tied apologies around their tiny necks.

By the time she was sixteen, her room was full of them. Shelves stacked with tiny bear bodies, soft soldiers lined up in silent devotion.

He still does it. Even now. When he misses her being small enough to fit in his arms. He still finds them, the little bears, still ties the bows, still places them in corners of her room like offerings.

She never says anything about them. But she never throws them away.

When Mia enters highschool, what are the subjects she likes to study the most and why?

Same question for Amara, and if you want to share, also for Savannah!

-🐛

Mia loves literature, she has a teacher she really likes, he notices her penchant for the analytic. She’s good at understanding the depth of fiction or poetry. Amara loves any excuse to poke things, so she loves biology, she’s extremely competitive so she also enjoys sports, but she’s naturally good at history (great memorization skills) and philosophy (of course). Savannah likes English, she loves writing, and she’s a great artist, too!