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Normally, this is the part where Will would pick up his cell phone and leave an anonymous tip on the police crime hotline, tell them there was a cannibalistic serial murderer lurking around the area code of the phone number given in the ad. But not today. Not when his very bones ache and all the raw and bruised places on his skin throb in time with his pulse. Not when exhaustion is slowly eating away at him in a way that has nothing to do with how little he slept last night.
Not when these ink-stains on his fingertips and the man behind them are his last chance to get away.Fill for HannibalKink for this prompt: "Will is in an abusive relationship but can't see a way out - he's tried to leave before, but his partner is in law enforcement and always manages to track him down while pretending to be the understanding, forgiving, loving type. One day, Will stumbles across an ad in the Classifieds of the cleverly worded cannibal-seeking-fresh-meat-but-veiled-as-private-cooking-classes type, and decides to answer. Hannibal is pleased when his ad bears fruit, then surprised when his intended dinner apparently knows exactly what he's in for."
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“Do you have a favourite food, Will?” Dr. Lecter asks quietly.
It’s been forever since anyone asked Will what he wants, and it takes him a moment to realise Dr. Lecter probably is waiting for an answer. “I like, uh, pasta.”
The doctor laughs a little at that, but it’s not cruel or mocking. “Then we shall have pasta.”
Will stares at Dr. Lecter, thinking. “Can you make pasta from people?”
“No, not unless one went to the trouble of using a centrifuge to separate the blood and used the resultant plasma with water. It would be time-consuming, and of course the recipe would have to be adapted, because of the viscosity of plasma, but there would be no real difference in the pasta. A lot of work for no noticeable result.”
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.Honestly hits v same vibes of the show, and tbh not /more/ fucked up? (Still not like. Good, I hope we all know that tho)