Hazbin Trashcan

Showstopper

She grinned to herself and set her crayon down. Finally; after a few days, her work was complete. She'd taken her time with this and made sure that each letter was written smoothly and with purpose. She had to use some references for a few of the letters, since Mommy had only taught her the first few letters of the alphabet.

Razzle and Dazzle were going to help her make some snacks for the next day and she'd already told them to hang up the streamers in the parlor; hopefully Mommy and Daddy wouldn't be upset with her decorating the room without their permission. But, she needed to do this in secret.

It was really, really important to her, hopefully they'd be okay with it.

Her ears flicked, hearing someone walking down the hall toward her room. Instinctively, she knew it was her Daddy, so she flew up in a rapid pace, throwing the papers into their spot in a drawer and her crayons in the box. She hadn't even started getting ready for bed.

She could hear crying from the other side of the house. Beatrice must be missing Daddy.

Too bad. He was hers first.

A soft knocking interrupted her thoughts and she raced across the room. Usually, Mommy put her to bed because Bea was fussy when Daddy wasn't nearby. It was a rare treat to have Daddy help her pick her jammies and tuck her in. He had such a nice voice for stories, even though he didn't like most of her storybooks.

"Margret? Are you-?" She opened the door, grinning up at Alastor. His smile was closed mouthed; she knew he was being genuine, "Oh! There you are, darling."

"Sorry, daddy. Had some very im'po'tent work." She moved over so that he could come in.

"Im-por-tant, dear." He ruffled her hair and she leaned into his touch, "It's nearly bedtime."

"Import-ant." She murmured, pursing her lips, "Uhuh, I know. See! I cleaned up!"

Alastor glanced around the room. Everything was in its place, neatly organized. Better than expected from a four year old, "Excellent! Let's get you ready."

Daddy didn't know the steps to putting Margret to bed as well a Mommy, so she calmly reminded him. She always needed to have things done in a certain order and could barely stand for it to be different.

"First, we brush my hair." She climbed up in the bed, sitting cross legged, "And braid it. You did it that one time, you 'member?"
Alastor chortled. His daughter was a funny little thing, "Of course. How could I forget something so important?"

She smiled brightly up at him before setting her head straight, Alastor grabbing her brush from the dresser. Margret's eyes closed in bliss when he began to brush it out. She had long, curly blonde hair, with just a touch of red to it. Alastor was careful around her ears, running the brush against the back of them and making her giggle. He ran his fingers through the top of her head and paused, touching a tender spot on her head.

"Ow, daddy, that hurts." Margret whined, trying to tuck her head away from his prodding touch.

"You're growing your antlers, my dear." Alastor's voice was warm with pride, his fingers gentle against her head, "See?"

Her hand came to meet his and he took her fingers in his, showing her where the little nubs were. She gasped in surprise, grinning, "Oh, wow!"