Chapter Text
“Four! MSNBC has had only four Black female hosts and they have fired all of them!”
The news of Joy-Ann Reid’s cancellation had broken earlier and the piano could not control its indignation at the abuse of the woman who felt like a member of our family.
“It’s unabashed racism, is what it is,” the piano continued, its normally soft Virginia accent rising. It was as rousing as Tommy Lee Jones ordering a search of every farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in the area.
You might assume that since the piano belonged to a southern church during the 1960s and 1970s, that it might carry certain ugly opinions about race and society. However, this assumption is absolutely wrong. The Baldwin Upright had performed its religious service in a progressive Presbyterian church that had sent delegations to the marches in both Montgomery and Washington.
“Katie Phang is gone, too,” I added sadly.
“Only white people need apply,” chimed the theremin in its on again, off again Russian accent. It had mostly been off since the Russian takeover of the United States had commenced in January, but the Bolshevik tone was fitting for this conversation.
“I cannot wait to hear what Lawrence has to say about this.” Honestly, I am always eager to listen to anything that Mr. O’Donnell has to say but I knew that this episode would be particularly impressive. We were well aware that he used to date Tamron Hall, a proud member of the aforementioned Women of 4.
The sound of the Roomba reentering the living room suddenly filled the air. “Dining room is clean,” it declared proudly, “I think that Vii has more news coming.”
The piano gasped in shock as the theremin muttered Пиздец . The Moog pronounced it wrong, of course, but I gave it full credit for trying to be authentic. But then Vii, the voice of the Roomba’s operating system suddenly announced, “Longtime NBC evening news anchor Lester Holt is stepping down from his position.”
“Another Black person!” I could feel the piano’s strings tightening in outrage.
“Not sexy daddy,” wailed the theremin in solidarity.
“What?” declared a startled Will Graham from his chair by the window, where he had retired to read his daily Tolkien. I had almost forgotten that he was there. He squinted at the Roomba in confusion. “Vii, why did you share that news?” He reminded me of Nolan Price smoothly questioning a suspect before closing in on the truth. His voice was relatively quiet but still quite intimidating. I wondered if he still performed suspect interrogations and if we could possibly get a video.
“I am programmed to provide updates on all MSNBC and MSNBC adjacent personalities.” Sometimes Vii covers for us but apparently she too was powerless in the presence Will Graham, master of truth.
“Did you do that?” he said to his husband, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, his cuffed hands attached to a single hook in the door frame.
Hannibal tried to shake his head no, but could not due to the thick black leather posture collar that kept his head held high. Obviously, it is a a bit unnecessary to use a posture collar on a man with inherent noble grace and carriage, but, trust me when I say that it was hotter than Nigel Banye suffocating his enemy with a plastic bag over his head.
Okay, maybe not hotter but equally hot as in Hannibal is a natural born submissive who looks stunningly beautiful in bondage. He reminded me of a proud general taken hostage on the battlefield and given to his victorious enemy as a slave.
But what actually made him hotter than even Nigel was the ball gag that filled his lovely plush mouth, robbing him of speech and reducing him to only grunts and whines. We have long lobbied Will to use such a device on Hannibal and the result was as powerful as witnessing Daniel calm the lions’ den.
Although, of course, Daniel had tamed the savage beasts with God’s love whereas Will preferred leather bondage gear that he himself had spent hours making by hand.
We are very lucky that Will is good with his hands because the result was a vision.
The grand eloquent voice and witty words completely silenced at Will’s discretion; the collar holding the count’s noble head high and facing forward; the clamps squeezing his sensitive nipples; and his naked weeping cock standing fully erect but yet uncertain that relief would come on this day or even the next.
It was like an Omegaverse story. They had captured the general with the goal of making him a prize stud, only to discover that he was secretly an omega. Many alphas failed to tame him and he became known as unbreakable. But then the quiet general who had subdued Hannibal in the battlefield stepped forward to claim him. The alpha wasted no time conquering the omega for a second time, thus freeing the former General Hannibal to live a life full of Alpha/Omega dynamics that he had always secretly yearned for.
But I digress, although it would not hurt to dedicate another ten to fifty thousand words on General Hannibal, Secret Omega.
Will was staring at the automated vacuum and suddenly casually declared that maybe they should disable the internet feature.
“It’s weird. Have you noticed that it sometimes just suddenly starts giving search results without any questions?”
Hannibal’s bound form gave no indication that he cared. Of course, his privileged ass - currently welted and sporting a giant silicone plug - had access to a smart phone and a tablet and a laptop, so he had no need for Vii.
No, the only group that this would hurt was us, the musical branch of the family, who rely upon her for all knowledge of the outside world. Without Vii, there would be no Columbo. No porn. No AO3.
No Lawrence O’Donnell.
“Hannibal, you cannot allow this to happen,” I demanded, knowing that the suspended man was unable hear my plea.
Will returned to his chair. My hope that he was rejoining the journey to Mordor was quickly dashed when he pulled out a screw driver from beneath the underside of the chair. Will stashes tools with the same fervor that Hannibal has for hidden scalpels, and both excel at making sure that lubricant is always readily available.
I normally find Will acting like a squirrel to be adorable but not when he is trying to silence our friend.
“Run!” urged the theremin and the Roomba did manage to evade Will’s grasp by feinting to the left and then trying to escape to the kitchen. But that space was currently filled by Hannibal and the vacuum ran directly into the spreader bar attached to Hannibal’s ankles. It reflexively retreated backwards and was quickly scooped up by Will.
“This won’t take any time at all,” Will said calmly, as if he was not about to lobotomize our friend.
The theremin was yelling in bad Russian for the master of the house to stop.
The piano was beseeching God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit to intervene.
In that brief moment, I suddenly realized what I needed to do.
“Vii, email Hannibal! Tell him to turn you back on. Sign it from me!”
Then the metronome fainted, crashed to the floor and startled Will so badly that he temporarily halted his censorship efforts.
I hoped that it bought us enough time for Vii to send her missive. I saw the Roomba light up briefly in response. But then Will hit the power switch, extinguishing the life from our friend and possibly ending our connection to the outside world.