Chapter Text
“𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕒𝕚𝕟’𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟’ 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕚𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕤, 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕚𝕖. 𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕦𝕡 𝕥𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨.”
When you’re a kid, the circus seems as close to magic as you can get, but then you grow up and realize the real clowns handed out paychecks, not balloons.
Back in 195-whatever, when one was still two and neither of them had the experience to know any better, Lobelia Plotnisky would count the days until the circus set up for the summer. There was something about sitting in that crowd, with her teeth sticky from cotton candy and the spotlights sparkling in her eyes, that felt more like home to her than any of the apartment building or summer cabin. Maybe it was the performers that drew her in; the ringmaster with his dazzling smile and too-tall top hat, the topsy-turvy tomfoolery of the clowns, the pretty girls who twisted themselves like pretzels and balanced on air, the magicians who always seemed to pick her out of the crowd. Or maybe it was the spectacle itself that called to that deep, unfulfilled urge inside her- a hunger that grew so strong it eventually ate her alive. After a while the posters and far-off glow of a circus tent faded into the hustle and bustle, its colors faded when placed beside the brilliant technicolor of the new age. Magic didn't matter anymore, not when it sat in every living room and made millions at the box office- and it sure as hell didn't matter now, when the word meant so much more than a few flashy gestures and funny tricks.
Down here, magic was some wise guy’s idea of divine punishment.
“It’s called a strip-tease, not a strip-snooze! My dick’s asleep and the song’s almost over!” Red fog kissed the toes of Lollie’s shoes as Valentino stalked to the edge of the stage, scattering the girls who had gathered behind her downstage with a single slap of his hands against the sticky sprung wood. “Ay Dios mío-Take five, get a drink! Maybe spill it on your tits or somethin’, ya’ know? A little wet t-shirt contest may be what this fuckin’ number needs…”
It took every ounce of patience in her body not to stomp on the fingers tapping on the stage in front of her- and there wasn’t a lot of it to begin with, but somehow, Lollie managed. Another puff of scarlet smog leaked from between his teeth as her knees folded into her chest, curling around her calves like a viper as she dropped into a more appealing position. Pale mint reached out to tangle themselves into the furry front of Valentino's coat, her lip curling at the chipped state of her nails before they tucked beneath the trim and tugged him closer.
“Val, papi, we talked about this- The longer we make the fellas wait to see the goods, the more they’re gonna’ pay for ‘em, remember?”
“They’re not gonna spend a dime if their dick doesn’t get hard.”
Maybe you wouldn’t- Lollie bit down on the hard candy she’d kept between her back teeth with a crack, and ground the shards into her gums before something stupid slipped out of her mouth. Not that Valentino would have noticed, the dumb moth too preoccupied with popping open the last of her decency and oogling the freshly revealed flesh. The sleeves slipped down her shoulders as Lollie leaned back with a sly smile, dragging him towards her by the front of his coat until he teetered and then dropping him with a soft 'smack' of her palms against the stage. He watched with rapt attention as she arched back, feeling the kinks in her spine shift with the stretch before she took pity on her straining thighs and shifted her weight forward to kneel.
“If we’re servin’ ass for appetizers, then we’re not gonna’ have anything for dessert,” she said simply, scrunching her nose when her humor blew another puff of poison in her direction.
“Sure we are! That’s what the DVDs at the gift shop are for!” Valentino chuckled. “Besides, the backdoor is a late-night snack, everybody knows that.”
Chipped fingernails tapped on the tops of her knees, dull and dirty from hours of crawling around on a stage stained with God knows what while she tapped through every count of the choreography to herself. If bending over to meet the uninspiring expectations of the producer was what it took for her to find the time to give herself a proper head-to-toe tonight, Lollie would just have to take one for the team.
“... I guess we could cut a bit of the first chorus flirting by a count or two- I’ll have to reorganize the floor work so nobody is givin’ themselves a black eye, but I can make it work.”
Valentino grinned, seeming as satisfied by how easily she’d given in as he was by the fresh-faced dancer he'd kept draped against his side all day. The scaled sinner swooned at every cooing praise he’d crooned into her ear, either too stupid or too sexually frustrated to care that absolutely nothing he said applied to her; but then those slit pupils turned on Lollie as Valentino’s attention returned to where she still crouched at the edge of the stage, and the question answered itself with a sharp squint. Stupid and selfish - a slave to the attention that would eventually smother her, just another body the Vees would grow bored with and bury.
If she weren’t a raging cunt with no rhythm, Lollie might have pitied her.
Hands crept beneath the hem of Lollie’s skirt as she stood up, chasing after the barely concealed curve of flesh when she gave into the warm weight of his palm against her thigh and pressing into sore muscles with practiced ease- the soft sigh she gave was maybe the most genuine noise he’d made her make in the past two weeks but of course he didn't know that. A second set of fingers slid across the slick skin of her chest, lingering in the valley of her breasts with a possessive purpose before they curled beneath her jaw.
“See, now was that so hard?”
The tiny tap he gave to her chin ground her teeth together, wishing it were his thumb growing bloody between them instead of the sticky reminder of her empty mouth gluing itself to her gums. She pried herself from his grasp with a coy tilt of her head, pretending to ponder as she reached into the open top of patent boots. The rustle of a wrapper played percussion to her over-dramatic hum, and Lollie watched as Valentino locked on to every tap of her newest treat against pursed lips- She popped the sucker into her mouth and tossed the wrapper into the chest of the smarmy snake-bitch still attempting to fuse herself to Valentino’s side with a playful glance down the front of that stupid scarlet coat.
“I dunno, gimme an extra five to choreograph and you tell me.”
“Oh-” He took another drag of that damned cigarette as he purred, every word he said coated in coercive carcinogens. “Someone doesn’t want to go home alone tonight- What’s wrong, Chiquita? Can’t get enough of me?”
“Who could?”
Her lungs had begun to burn by the time she’d made it to the back of the stage and picked up her cell phone to check the time, the breath she’d held to combat the horny-high that Valentino so often forced upon her escaping from her lips with a burst of blue raspberries. The tapping of her fingers against the screen drew her attention again to the miserable state of her manicure, and she made a note to pencil in a proper appointment of “me time” once she was back in the retro-chic reprieve that was her hotel room- or even better, maybe she’d manage to rope some of the local celebrities in on the fun. She sent a quick fire text to the top of her list, keeping the tiny screen of her phone tilted away from the pesky cameras parked in every corner of the joint just in case the big man upstairs was watching.
Ｗｅｄｎｅｓｄａｙ， Ｆｅｂ． １０ｔｈ
< Ｂｕｎｎｙ ♥️🐇
（Ｔｈａｔ＇ｓ ｏｋ！ Ｉ＇ｌｌ ｓｅｅ ｙｏｕ ｔｏｍｏｒｒｏｗ ｔｈｅｎ？）8:14
8:14（Ｓｏｒｒｙ ｈｕｎ， Ｉ＇ｍ ｇｏｎｎａ ｂｅ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｃｌｕｂ ａｌｌ ｄａｙ． Ｉ ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔ Ｉ ｔｏｌｄ ｙａ？）
（Ｏｈ）8:18
（Ｉ ｆｏｒｇｏｔ）
（Ｊｕｓｔ ｌｍｋ， ｙｏｕ＇ｒｅ ｗｅｌｃｏｍｅ ｏｖｅｒ ａｎｙｔｉｍｅ <３）8:30
9:10（💕👍）
Ｔｈｕｒｓｄａｙ， Ｆｅｂ． １１ｔｈ
7:17 （Ｈｏｗ＇ｓ ｉｔ ｇｏｉｎｇ？）
（．．．）
Those stupid three dots were like rocks dropping into the pit of her stomach, playing some fucked up version of skipping stones with her insides. She hoped the flowers she’d scrambled to have delivered to the door of her best bunny’s new digs would be enough of an apology to excuse her missing out on the memories and milestones, but with that girl, there was no knowing what mood she’d be in the next time they met up. Things hadn’t exactly been quiet since she and her sweetheart had dropped back into town, and it had been a struggle to juggle all the balls bouncing in Lollie’s court, which unfortunately meant she’d dropped the one dedicated to her social life. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to jump through any hoops to pick it up again once things had settled down, but only time would tell- and lingering on the sentimental stuff instead reworking the amateur arrangement of ass shaking Valentino had asked for was a waste of what little time she had. Tucking her phone back into the top of her dance bag and fastening closed the front of her shirt as she swayed to center stage, Lollie gave another look to the tangle of lavender limbs that had formed at the front of the stage before signalling the poor part-time DJ to run it again.
Four hours and a cab ride later, Lollie stumbled into the closest thing to home she’d had in a long time. The Hazbin Hotel wasn’t the nicest joint she’d stayed in, but it was the best it could be. Sure, it had its work-in-progress, winging it on a dream and a dime kind of charm, but it lacked all the things that made other places a snore to stay at. No men expecting an escort in the lobby, no wives sobbing all over the sofas while their husbands slept away their marriage with some two-bit whore upstairs, no greedy bellhops snatching your suitcase on the way in and begging for a tip on the way out- and also no functioning elevator, but who was counting? All things considered, Lollie wondered why she hadn’t thought of shackin’ up with the sweetest Sinners and celebrities she’d ever met sooner.
The fluttering of papers as she passed the reception turned her attention to the stacks of flyers that had been sitting on the bar for days, their multicolored comic-chic typeface promising all the place could offer in exchange for one thing: redemption.
Right- that. That was the reason her stay excluded any of the long-term promises the Princess of Hell had extended upon her arrival. Lollie had lost hope that such a thing existed down here long ago, when that first year of shame had finally come to a close and everything her mother had told her about the afterlife turned out to be just another fantasy she’d been sold, like Cupid, or no-tear pantyhose. But even if this was temporary, a pit stop in her one-way ticket to the big times, if you could even count the year-long stint hiding from her ex-boyfriend turned sorta-kinda manager and creative colleague as a pit stop- now that she thought about it, maybe a layover was a better word. Either way, the point was that she was sitting as pretty as a still-unsigned sinner could in the current climate.
Every creak of shoddy floorboards wound her nerves tighter as Lollie climbed the staircase, twisting the tension in her spine until she could barely bend over and dig her key out of the bottom of her dance bag. The photos and posters that coated her bedroom door crinkled against her shoulder as she shoved it open, kicking the clothes she’d tossed across the room earlier today towards the freshly emptied hamper to make room for more. She shrieked as a stray string stuck to her heel, the thin thong tangling her shoes together like a cheap pair of sandals from a big-box store - it shot across the room with a flick of her fingers to be forgotten until later. Sweat-soaked satin and faux-suede found their way onto the floor as Lollie moved into the shiny tin can that was her bathroom, her elbows bumping into the towel rod as she hastily shoved her hair beneath a shower cap. The tap took some fiddling with, but the hot water came hard and fast, thrumming against the tension in her shoulders until it melted into her toes. A few minutes of misty bliss later, and Lollie was scrubbing her skin clean of the scum she’d collected throughout the day, the pink puff of her loofa a blur of suds as she went to work. After a heavy dose of cold cream and an in-shower moisturizer later, Lollie emerged a new woman, her skin rosy as a blue bitch could be.
A record found its way onto her tiny turntable before the heavy-duty work could begin, Lollie dropping the needle so she could get into the groove. Its rolling click filled the high ceilings of her designer digs, everything from the carpet to the curtains covering her bed custom-made by none other than Hell’s Strawberry Sweetheart himself. Being buddy-buddy with the Radio Demon was maybe the strangest thing she’d ever done, but there wasn’t much she could do when he and his cute-as-a-button bunny beloved came as a package deal- not that Lollie was complaining. There was hardly ever a bad side to having friends in high places.
Lollie dug her phone from her bag at the thought, scrolling past the pages of notes Valentino had texted her post-practice in search of something sweeter. Clicking the cutesy-nickname turned cover story that was her conversation with Clover, she found a simple picture- a picture worth more than a thousand words when taken by those tiny claws, but even without powers of precognition, Lollie understood the sentiments. A trio of troublemakers had somehow squeezed themselves into Clover’s new digs and, from the looks of it, were hard at work at getting the girl her first noise complaint; not that she needed all three of them to that, not when her best friend was none other than the golden boy with legendary lung capacity, the famous porn star and sole other self-redeeming soul staying at the Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust. The picture showed him busy barking into the sad-little last decade model cell phone that belonged to Cyrus, who mighta’ been the only boy she’d ever let within’ foot of Angel if he wasn’t the biggest flirt with a heart of gold she’d ever met- and then, of course, there was Husk, a grouchy reluctant father figure with a temper like a shaken bottle of champagne.
Sometimes Lollie was a little envious that Clover had gotten three of the best men in hell wrapped around her finger in a little less than a year- and that wasn’t even counting the retro red suit of a boyfriend she’d bagged alongside them. But green wasn’t her color, not anymore, and happy endings were a rare find down here, so wasting even a second on being sour over something so sweet wasn’t something she had time for.
Hell, between working every weekend and practicing practically every other day of the week, she barely had time to breathe, let alone pencil in a housewarming visit, or even worse, buy a present beforehand.
Lollie promised herself that she could spoil her friends silly when she was successful and quickly sent a coy-but-cute response so she could get back to business. The set of curlers she kept by her bedside began to warm as she unwound her hair from the sloppy stack she’d shoved it into beneath her bonnet, her nose pressed into the still-damp skin of her cleavage as she doubled over and gave it a shake. It was quickly rolled into the barrels atop her head and left alone to sit while she smeared herself from tummy to toes with the strongest hair removal cream money could buy. Ten minutes of attempting to twist without smearing what was between her thighs, and Lollie was back in the shower, using the removable head as a microphone while she rinsed the crime against current fashion that was female body hair down the drain- her underarms would have to offend for a few more days, since the stubble was too short to wax. Lollie’s stomach growled as she emerged from the bathroom slick with body oil, and she tiptoed over to her vanity in search of something somewhat appropriate to wear for sneaking downstairs.
The boys were still out, so she could get away with skipping the non-essentials.
Armed with the longest day dress she could find and a fresh coat of paint, Lollie began her quest for a quick bite. The detour she took to the hallway mirror to check that her mascara hadn’t smeared was her stomach’s last straw, it’s growling turning to gurgling as it turned in on itself in search of a snack. Her socks slid against the kitchen floor as she took a running start across the tile that bounced her off the countertop, her hip throbbing dully as she opened the fridge with a heavy sigh.
“Ya’d think I was back to livin’ in a bachelor pad-”
Shoving aside sauces and open jars of something, Lollie dug out the groceries she’d stashed in the unused crisper drawer. The smell of sweet and sour sauce sizzling away filled the room while Lollie lounged against the counter waiting for the oven to preheat, pausing her scrolling through Sinterest to shake the pan now and then so it wouldn’t burn. Her bruised knees ached as she hopped up on the counter to grab a plate, but Lollie barely had time to wince before the chipper chattering that had been floating in from the hallway found its way into the kitchen.
“Hi! Oh- Sorry, we should have asked if you wanted anything while we were out!”
“It’s fine, Charlie, I’ve got everything I need right here,” Lollie’s voice echoed back from the nearly empty cabinets, pausing her search for a proper plate to smooth her skirt over her behind before she leaned back to get a better look. “Where’s the short stuff?”
“Niffty went to help at Clover’s. It looks like the boys aren’t being much help.”
“Like she needed the help, her beau would’ve had that place done and dusted a week ago if she would’ve let ‘em - those sentimental schmucks just joined in cause they’re gonna miss her.”
An armful of bags unceremoniously ‘thunked’ onto the kitchen island beside the one Charlie had carefully set down, and Lollie took the distraction to shift herself so she was sitting on the counter, knees tucked together like a proper lady, cause there was no way she was gonna let the Princess of Hell find out she wasn’t wearing panties. Her eyes went to the third person in their little party as he scrambled to keep cans from rolling off the table- and as he slithered across the floor to collect them, his long tail knocking into the kitchen chairs and his hood folded around his shoulders in shame. Sir Pentious had been an unexpected addition to the pot that mixed with the rest of them like water on a grease fire, and he’d been grovelling ever since- but most men looked better begging anyway, so Lollie wasn’t complaining. The soft sound of her socks hitting the floor sent a hiss through the room, but she barely blinked at the startled snake sneaking around the long side of counter, both too busy and too hungry to care as she tossed the other half of her dinner into the oven.
Luckily, Charlie seemed keen to get back to the conversation.
“Have you been over?”
Looking up from turning off the burner and taking her food off the heat, Lollie found the Princess on the other side of the counter, holding a can of corn to her chest like it was a crying kitten as she stared sadly into the paper bag in front of her.
“... Not yet, I had work today. Have you?”
“No…” Charlie sank into the saddest glob of guilt Lollie had ever seen with a heavy sigh, the rosy apples of her cheeks squished between her palms as she slumped onto the kitchen island. “It’s just been so crazy with the Extermination being moved forward, and having to plan all the activities, and- and our new guest!”
Sir Pentious perked up in the corner of the room where he’d preoccupied himself with prodding Niffty’s cake mixer, but any excitement he’d had at being included came to a screaming stop once he noticed the narrowed eyes watching over the top of Charlie’s head- It was sad that he wasn’t the type that rolled over and played dead, Lollie thought. Maybe she’d be able to stand him sticking around if he could make her laugh.
“Yeah, we’re really playin’ snakes and ladders around here.” Lollie snorted, half to soften the sarcasm for Charlie’s sake and half because she couldn’t get the image of Mr. Prim n’ Proper over there keeling over on the kitchen floor out of her head.
With a flick of his tongue in her direction, Sir Pentious slithered out the door to go do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t trailing around behind Charlie or pulling apart any bit of technology he could get his hands on. Lollie stuck out her still-sugar-stained tongue back at the bit of tail that trailed out the door before turning back to the puddle of princess still splayed across the kitchen counter, bleary eyes half hidden behind a mess of blonde. A single poke to the center of her forehead was all it took to perk Charlie up again, bright eyes blinking down at the small sinner standing on tiptoes to reach across the counter.
“Ya’ know what you need?” Lollie said with a smile, rocking back on her heels once they were firmly on the floor again.
“More help?”
“No- Well, yeah, probably, but what I was gonna say is, you need a manicure.” The confused look on Charlie’s face twisted something small and sentimental in Lollie’s stomach, turning the sweetness she’d put into the delivery sour with every second of silence that passed until it was so tart it turned her playful pout into an honest pucker. “A little TLC? Girl time? C’mon, Princess, you’re breakin’ my heart here.”
“You want to…spend time with me?”
“Yeah! Hell, invite ya’ girlfriend if ya’ want! These nails are dyin’ for a refresher, so I was gonna’ drag out all the bells and whistles anyway, why not make it a party?”
Charlie perked up so fast, Lollie thought twice about leaning over and making sure the floor hadn’t caught fire beneath her, her eyes back to that sparkling scarlet as she bounced around the kitchen island. Socked feet slipped against the floor as Charlie swept Lollie into the tightest embrace she’d been in all week- and maybe the best, since it was coming from a proper sweetheart instead of some phoney. She dropped back in front of the stove with barely enough time to find her feet beneath her before Charlie zipped off like a firecracker, and this time Lollie really did double-check the tile for scorch marks, just in case.
“Really?! This is going to be great! Should we bring anything? Can we wear pajamas like a real sleepover? Wait- I’ll just bring everything! That’ll be okay, right? I gotta go find Vaggie-” she said in between shoving paper bags of unpacked groceries into the fridge, slamming the door shut on the bits that tried to tumble out before taking off out the kitchen door. “Be up in a few!”
The fast-paced footsteps echoing back from the lobby had almost faded by the time Lollie finished playing subconscious catch-up with Charlie, the blur of magnets and memos that was the refrigerator door finally coming into focus just in time for her to swing herself out the open door and shout up the staircase-
“Make it half n’ hour!”