The Art of War and Waffles
There were a lot of things Daniel Parker didn’t trust in this world. The government? No. Social media? Absolutely not—he basically ran half the algorithms and still didn’t trust them. People who put pineapple on pizza? Hell no, get those abominations out of his life.
Dorian DeLoughrey? Absolutely not—Daniel was still convinced that man’s entire personality was a malfunctioning AI experiment gone horribly wrong. Dan was just waiting for it to malfuction OUT of his life. Malachi Azure? Please. Trusting Kai was like trusting a raccoon not to dig through your trash. Fckin impossible. And Andy McAllister? The man couldn’t even keep track of his own children/bastards, let alone his life. But above all else, Daniel Parker didn’t trust silence.
So naturally, the deafening quiet currently radiating from his entire house was a bigger red flag than… well… him. Which was saying something. It was saying a lot actually. Not going to lie - Dan was fully scared.
Let’s rewind for a second. It was supposed to be a normal Saturday morning. Valerie had left for some interview or photoshoot or… series short? God who knew anymore, she was so bloody busy — but, it was one of those “don’t fck it up, Dan” days—which meant Daniel was left in charge of their 7-year-old daughter, VC, his 8-year-old niece, Laurel, and their 2-year-old son, Peter. Oh—and Jezebel was out handling something at the office, so of course he got roped into babysitting with Laurel duty even though he had his own sh!t to do. Not that he was bitter or anything (okay, maybe a little).
He was working out bugs on the latest Parker Tech phone—one that wouldn’t hit shelves for a few years because, unlike Apple, Dan was super ahead on his next few models. And also, Parker Tech didn’t just make the screen bigger and call it innovation. But fine. No problem. He was Daniel Parker. World-renowned genius, hacker, and owner of one of the most successful companies in the world. He could handle three tiny humans for six hours AND finish his work. He could totally do it. Yep. No doubt… no… doubts at all… yep… fck.
But here’s the thing: parenting? Not his strong suit. Especially when his “perfectly normal” morning routine involved finding his daughter and Laurel perched on top of the kitchen counter, melting gummy bears in the microwave.
“What the hell are you two doing—” Daniel started, before sighing and muttering under his breath, “Fck.” Great. He immediately winced, already picturing Valerie’s don’t curse in front of the kids lecture in his head—especially after the *Great VC Swearing at the Principal *Incident of last month which ended up with Dan donating a library because apparently, you couldn’t call principals “dork asshats” to their face anymore without being suspended.
“Science experiment daddy.”
…was her excuse before the microwave sparked, and Daniel was sprinting across the room like he was defusing a bomb.
And that’s when it happened. That’s when everyone disappeared. Daniel stopped the microwave just in time, pulling out the half-melted… burnt… on fire gummy bears which he had to shove under the sink water. “You two are in so much—” he started, only to turn around and realize that VC and Laurel were already gone. Vanished. Weird. Annoyed, he strode toward the high chair where Peter had been just minutes earlier, ready to keep one child in his sight at least—but nope. Peter was gone too.
Cue the panic.
Daniel’s entire house was outfitted with top-tier surveillance—hidden cameras, motion sensors, JARVIS-style AI security. It should’ve been impossible for anyone (even his kids) to outmaneuver it. But when he pulled up the security feed, all he saw was static. Static and a single line of text flashing across his system:
“Nice try, daddy (and uncle dannnn). xoxo, VC (and Laurel).”
“WHAT THE FCK—”
It wasn’t a glitch. It was his daughter—his 7-year-old evil genius daughter—and his equally as evil niece—who’d managed to… apparently hack his entire home system. And worse? They disabled his GPS tracking on them and Peter. WAS HE GETTING THIS SLOPPY?
“VALERIEEEEE,” he groaned, already knowing his wife wasn’t here to fix this disaster. He dialed her anyway, pacing back and forth in front of his screens. For a man who relied on his technology - and seeing that he couldn’t hack it back on because they had disabled the online router and spending the 14 minutes to reset the system to get control would take too long - this was a nightmare.
Click.
Valerie. Thank god. Some sanity.
“Your daughter staged a coup,” he said the second Valerie picked up as he typed some codes on his computer to set up an automatic restart.
“Our daughter,” she corrected, amusement in her voice.
“Nope. Yours. Fully yours. She hacked my security system. I’m pretty sure she kidnapped her brother. Valerie, she’s turning into me.”
“Terrifying. What’s your plan, Sherlock?”
“Plan? My plan is to call the Pentagon and—”
“Dan.”
“Fine. I’ll figure it out.”
Step one? Bribery. Or… an attempt at bribery. While his system did the work for him, Daniel went straight to VC’s bedroom, knowing there had to be clues. The issue was that Dan’s house was huge… with multiple hidden rooms… and doors… and… YEAH HE NEEDED his security system. damn it. Sure enough, he found a map. An actual, hand-drawn treasure map taped to her wall like this was a scene from Indiana Jones with an x marking the kitchen.
“Are you serious right now?”
The map led him through a series of clues—Post-It notes with ridiculous riddles that made Daniel question his life choices. The first note? Stuck to the fridge and covered in glitter. “Solve for X: 2X^3 - 8X^2 + 16 = 0.” Seriously? Math? At least his kids were learning? That was a plus right?
Right? But honestly, this was a basic ass math problem and he knew vc did an easy one to annoy him.
He groaned, quickly factoring it out to X = 2, flipping it over to find various answers with locations next to them. Signaling out his answer, he found that the next location: the laundry room. These kids… god damn it who raised them? Yes… him. He knew the answer was him. What did he do.
In the laundry room, he found Peter’s high chair—with Peter missing—and another Post-It stuck to the seat. “Roses are red, violets are blue. Go find the next clue near where we ‘do number two.’”
“You have GOT to be kidding me.”
His irritation grew as he followed the ridiculous scavenger hunt, finding clues in increasingly absurd places. One was… on the back side of the toilet… another was in VC’s pet lizard’s tank. Another was at the bottom of VC’s ball pit. DO YOU KNOW how long that one took to get out? FOREVER. That note said: “You’re getting warm, but if you need to chill, head to the backyard where waffles thrill.” What the hell did that even mean? By the time he stepped outside, Daniel was ready to throw his phone in the pool.
And there, standing triumphantly on the roof of their backyard playhouse, were VC and Laurel—covered in glitter—who had constructed what looked suspiciously like a miniature catapult. Oh, and Peter? Peter was strapped to one of Daniel’s rotating drones, spinning in slow, delighted circles while clutching a waffle like it was a prize. The drone hummed steadily as it carried him in a wide arc around the yard, and Daniel could only stare in disbelief as his 2-year-old waved at him like this was some amusement park ride. “Oh my fcking god,” Daniel muttered under his breath, resisting the urge to facepalm as Peter let out a squeal of laughter, completely oblivious to the chaos around him.
“VC, WHAT IS THAT?”
“It’s for launching waffles, duh.”
“WHY ARE YOU LAUNCHING WAFFLES?”
“Artillery. Obviously.”
Daniel didn’t even know where to begin. Instead, he grabbed Peter off the drone (thankfully unharmed but definitely sticky with syrup) and called Jezebel. Or tried to.
Alexa, call Jez.”*
“Calling Jessica Pierce.”
No! Cancel—Alexa, cancel!” YEARS IT HAD BEEN YEARS and alexa still hadn’t figured out how to differentiate between Jessica and Jezebel. COME ON MAN.
Too late. Before Daniel could shut it down, the ringing stopped, and he heard Jessica’s voice on the other end, loud and full of amusement.
"Whatssssss upppppp, looooserrr?” Real mature Jess, real mature.
Daniel groaned, already regretting every decision that had led him to this moment as he held his son far from his body, a glob of pancake syrup hitting the floor.
“Jess, not now—”
“Why do I hear screaming? DO I HEAR WAFFLES DROPPING ON THE FLOOR? What the hell is going on over there?”
How did she know… how… god damn it. Jess and her food. It’s weird man. It’s weird.
“Nothing! Nothing. I have it under control.”
“Sure you do.” Her laughter rang through the speaker. “Sounds totally fine and not at all like you’re having a full-blown meltdown. Today’s your solo day with the kids right? Anywayssssss, good luck with that. I’m hanging up before I get dragged into babysitting duty. Byeeeee!”
And just like that, she was gone. Great. Thanks for the moral support, Jess.
Finally—after manually dialing it this time and putting peter to walk around on the ground—he got Jezebel. Why was he trying to call her? JUST TO LET HER KNOW, just like he LET HIS WIFE KNOW, that her child was crazy.
“JEZEBEL. WHAT. THE. HELL. DID YOU PUT IN YOUR CHILD?”
“Good morning to you too, Dan.” Jezebel said, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? WHAT’S WRONG?” Daniel gestured wildly, even though she couldn’t see him. “Your spawn just hacked my security system, built a waffle catapult with my daughter, and turned my son into a human drone pilot. I REPEAT—WHAT THE HELL DID YOU PUT IN HER?”
“Oh, be sooooo real, Dan. That’s all you right there. Chaos runs in your DNA. I mean, what did you think was going to happen? You made the kid. It’s like building a nuclear reactor and being shocked when it explodes.”
“She strapped Peter to a drone, Jez! A drone! Like a syrup-covered missile!”
“And? Sounds like he was having a great time. Also sounds like something you did when we were kids.” Jez was unbothered. Years of Daniel’s antics had prepared her for this exact moment. “Look, Dan, you created this problem. You built that security system, and clearly, VC inherited your chaotic nature. Laurel’s just riding the wave.”
“Well, the wave needs to stop!”
“Then figure it out, genius. Isn’t that literally your whole thing?”
“Ugh, you’re useless.” Daniel hung up before she could say anything else and turned back to the glitter-covered kids sitting smugly on the roof.
“Get down here. Now.”
Twenty minutes later…
After bribing them down with cookies and threatening to ground them until 2050, Daniel had all three kids cleaned up—or at least somewhat cleaned up. VC and Laurel were still sparkling with glitter, and Peter was sticky no matter how many wet wipes Daniel used.
Seriously. HOW did Valerie do this when he wasn’t around? Was there some kind of secret mom magic? Did she have cheat codes for parenting? Because right now, Daniel felt like he was one minor disaster away from throwing himself out the window.
He lined them up on the couch, arms crossed as he paced in front of them.
“Alright. What do we not do?”
VC and Laurel exchanged a look before letting out a synchronized sigh.
“Strap Peter to a drone and swing him around the backyard.”
“What else?”
“Hack your security system.”
“And?”
“Have a waffle coup.”
“And?”
Laurel chimed in. “Make Uncle Dan cry.”
“Exactly… wait…no not…”
Of course, that was the moment Valerie walked in—because of course it was. She froze in the doorway, her eyes scanning the wreckage. The glitter. The syrup. The catapult. The drone resting suspiciously in the corner.
And then her gaze landed on Daniel, who was holding a suspiciously sticky Peter and looking like he’d just gone through five rounds of psychological warfare.
“So you… flubbed it, huh?”
Daniel gestured helplessly to the disaster zone. “Define ‘flubbed it.’”
Valerie sighed, walking over to Peter and lifting him out of Daniel’s arms.
“Oh my god, why is he sticky?”
“Don’t ask.”
Val raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned to VC and Laurel.
“Upstairs. Showers. Now.”
The girls trudged away, muttering under their breaths, and Valerie turned back to Daniel with a smirk.
“You owe me wine. Lots of wine.”
“I’ll buy the vineyard.”
Valerie just laughed, shaking her head as she carried Peter toward the bathroom.
And Daniel? Daniel flopped onto the couch, rubbing his temples and silently swearing that next time, Jezebel was taking the kids.
Yep. No doubts at all… fck.
@Littlefeets - Laurel + Jez + Kai
@CerealKiller - Val + VC + Andy
@astxrism - it’s not a dan misc without dori bashing for at least a sentence so