Meg sat in her small LA apartment, a mix of exhilaration and nervous energy buzzing through her. She stared at her phone, debating whether or not to hit the "Go Live" button on Instagram. She'd never done anything like this before, but her rapidly growing fanbase was practically begging for it. Every time she opened her DMs, they were flooded with messages like, "When are you going live?" and "We need a Relatable Queen AMA!"

"Well, here goes nothing," Meg muttered, taking a deep breath. She propped her phone up on a makeshift tripod (an old cereal box and duct tape) and tapped the button.

The little red LIVE icon appeared on her screen, and within seconds, viewers started trickling in. She watched the numbers climb: 10, 50, 100… 200 people?

"Uh, hi, everyone!" Meg said, waving awkwardly. "Thanks for joining. This is my first time doing a live, so… bear with me."

The chat exploded with messages.

"Hi, Queen!"
"We love you, Meg!"
"What's your skincare routine?"

Meg chuckled nervously. "Wow, you guys are super nice. Um, skincare routine? I guess… wash your face? And don't touch it too much? I don't know, I'm not great at this stuff."

Her self-deprecating humor seemed to hit the right note, as the comments poured in with laughing emojis and affirmations. She was starting to relax when suddenly, her phone buzzed with a FaceTime request.

Brian.

"Oh no," she whispered to herself. "Not now."

But before she could decline, the call dropped, and instead, a new participant requested to join her live: StewieTheBaby.

"What the—?" Meg blinked, hesitating for a moment before accepting. She knew she shouldn't, but curiosity got the better of her. The screen split in half, and there he was: Stewie Griffin, baby genius, smirking at her from his high-tech crib.

"Ah, there she is," Stewie said with mock enthusiasm, his face filling the screen. "America's latest 'It Girl.' Or should I say, the Relatable Queen of Fashion?"

The chat went wild.

"Who's the baby?!"
"OMG is that Stewie Griffin?"
"This is iconic!"

"Stewie, what are you doing here?" Meg hissed, her voice low but clearly irritated.

"Oh, relax, Meg," Stewie replied, waving her off with his tiny hand. "I'm merely here to ensure that your newfound fame doesn't go to that unfortunate head of yours. You know, as a favor."

Before Meg could respond, another request popped up: BrianTheDog wants to join your live.

"Nope, not happening," Meg muttered, but her finger betrayed her, and suddenly, the screen was split three ways. Brian, holding a glass of scotch, appeared on the feed, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Meg! Stewie!" Brian greeted with a lazy grin. "This is great. The whole gang, live on Instagram. What's up, internet?"

The comments were going berserk.

"A talking baby AND a talking dog?!"
"Are we being punked?"
"This is better than reality TV!"

"This isn't 'great,' Brian," Meg said through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to talk to my followers, not have a family reunion!"

"Family reunion?" Stewie scoffed. "Oh, please. This is the content they want, Meg. Look at the numbers. You were at 200 viewers before, and now you're at… oh, 800! You're welcome."

Meg glanced at the viewer count and groaned. He wasn't wrong.

"Fine," she said, throwing up her hands. "But don't embarrass me, okay?"

"Darling, you've embarrassed yourself plenty over the years," Stewie said with a wicked grin. "Anything we do here is merely… icing on the cake."

Brian chuckled. "So, Meg, what's it like being the internet's favorite underdog? I mean, you've gone from Quahog's punching bag to LA's 'it girl.' That's a glow-up if I've ever seen one."

The chat immediately latched onto this.

"Tell us about the glow-up, Meg!"
"Brian is spitting facts."
"Wait, is this the Meg Griffin from Quahog?"

Meg sighed. "Okay, first of all, thanks, Brian, for bringing up my wonderful past. And second, I don't know if I'd call it a glow-up. I'm just… doing me, I guess."

"'Doing you,'" Stewie repeated, pretending to gag. "What a profound statement. Tell me, Meg, is this newfound fame going to turn you into one of those dreadful influencers who films themselves crying in their Tesla while holding a smoothie?"

"Stewie, I don't even have a car," Meg shot back.

"Well, not with that attitude," he retorted.

The chat was eating it up.

"Stewie is savage!"
"Brian and Stewie need their own live show."
"Meg, how do you deal with them?!"

Brian, clearly enjoying himself, leaned closer to his phone. "Hey, Meg, serious question. Are you planning to move on from modeling and maybe… write a memoir? You know, From Misfit to Model: The Meg Griffin Story. I'd read it."

"Wow, Brian, thanks for the vote of confidence," Meg said, rolling her eyes. "But no, I'm not writing a memoir. I'm just taking things one day at a time."

"Oh, how inspiring," Stewie said dryly. "Let me guess: 'Stay true to yourself, and one day you'll stumble into success like I did!'"

"Stewie, why are you even here?" Meg snapped. "Don't you have evil baby plans to work on or something?"

"Meg, Meg, Meg," Stewie said, shaking his head. "This is my evil plan. Disrupting your live stream and reminding everyone that no matter how famous you get, you'll always be you."

"That's oddly touching, Stewie," Brian said, raising his glass. "Cheers to keeping Meg humble."

The chat exploded with laughing emojis.

"Stewie is the real MVP."
"Brian is such a mood."
"Meg, we stan you, but your family is hilarious."

Despite her initial frustration, Meg couldn't help but laugh. It was chaotic, sure, but it was also… kind of fun. She glanced at the comments and realized that people weren't just laughing at her family—they were rooting for her.

"Okay, fine," Meg said, shaking her head. "You guys win. Thanks for crashing my live and turning it into a Griffin family circus."

"Anytime, darling," Stewie said with a smug smile. "Oh, and before we go, one last piece of advice: invest in a decent tripod. Your cereal box setup is tragic."

Brian nodded. "He's right. A ring light wouldn't hurt either."

"Thanks, guys," Meg said sarcastically. "I'll get right on that."

As the two troublemakers signed off, Meg turned her attention back to her followers. The viewer count had hit 1,500, and the comments were still rolling in.

"Okay, so that was my baby brother and my talking dog," she said with a sheepish grin. "Welcome to my life. If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking around. You're the real MVPs."

The chat erupted with support, and Meg felt a genuine smile spread across her face. Maybe she didn't have it all figured out, but for the first time, she didn't feel like a joke. She felt… seen.

As she ended the live, her phone buzzed with a text from Brian: "We're proud of you, kid. Keep killing it out there."

Meg stared at the screen for a moment, then smiled. LA might be her new home, but it was nice to know her family—chaotic as they were—had her back.