AN:
ROB's Director Cut Version— 1000-word meta interlude (the divine office), as an extra chapter or a hidden epilogue
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Int—Neil Dunphy's Dream
The dream wasn't mine. It didn't feel like drifting through crayons or hearing Claire snore like I usually would. No. This one buzzed like bad TV static until it snapped into focus.
An office. Huge. Cosmic.
Desks floated in star-speckled space like islands. Filing cabinets glowed with light. Monitors stacked in infinite rows showed everything: sitcom reruns, Wall Street tickers, even Jay shouting at a golf caddy. A whiteboard read in sloppy marker:
"Do NOT let Seinfeld cross with Gundam — AGAIN."
And at the center sat ROB.
Not on a throne, not on golden clouds. No. On a wobbly IKEA desk with one missing screw, sipping a latte, wearing slippers.
ROB: "Ah, kid. Welcome back. Dreamline call. Don't trip on the fax machine, it bites."
The fax machine hissed. I backed up.
'What absurdity has ROB pulled me into now?'
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Screens of Worlds
He gestured, and screens rearranged.
One showed my world — Claire pacing with Alex in her arms, Phil balancing the Monopoly box like it was escrow paperwork.
Another screen flickered, showing something worse: me and Hailey alone. No Alex. No baby crying. No Monopoly night.
A chill climbed my small back.
Neil: "That's… a world without Alex? Parallel Timeline?"
ROB: "Yup. The base timeline. Alex wasn't supposed to be there after your request—I kept Ariel Winter out of sibling casting, just like you asked. So, I slotted a new Alex in DLC. Bonus character. Expansion pack. How cool is that? Hehe"
'I just hope this DLC is not a virus.' He sipped. Shrugged.
ROB: "Worked great! But bonus characters? They're entropy magnets."
His voice disgruntled and then the door sprung open dramatically.
---
A tall figure stepped out of the dark. Cloaked, sharp-eyed, carrying a ledger that looked heavier than Jay's guilt.
Other God: "ROB. Again, with the edits? Adding two characters? Changing the original cast? This is reckless. Especially one like her."
He pointed at the monitor, the one with both my sisters—Alex.
Other God: "Faith recorded the highest variance this cycle. You never edit a high-faith main character. Too much entropy, and the Origin notices. Not only you edit that, but you also even inserted the main cast somewhere else. This is careless, even from your standards."
ROB rolled his eyes.
ROB: "Relax. Just because you own the IP, doesn't mean I can't make the changes. Also, their fans aren't cultists yet. No one's lighting candles to the Dunphys'. Sitcoms don't become religions. At least not that quick. Hehe"
He looked at me, smirked.
ROB(stares at the camera): "Not talking about you web-novel fans. Enjoy the laughs, ships, maybe the occasional cursed navel joke. Don't join a cult. Ok?"
The other god scowled. "This isn't about cults or religion. It's about stability. If faithful mock the AU, it brings horror to the whole realm. You remember the TVD AU—"
The Other God stopped before revealing any further.
Next moment. One of the screens glitched: Jay repeating "closets, closets, closets" like a broken NPC. Then another, three Mitchells shouting "Objection!" in a courtroom.
Neil: "That doesn't look stable."
ROB: "Nothing. Comedy, tragedy, horror. Same stream, different laugh track."
ROB leaned on his desk, eyes twinkling.
ROB: "And before you even ask — no, Alex isn't Ariel Winter. Yes, Ariel still exists out there, living her actress timeline. Separate people. Promise kept." He smirked. Evil.
I let out a long breath.
Neil: "Good. Because if Alex was Ariel… that'd be wrong. I'll have to leave the house."
ROB smirked.
ROB: "Exactly. But you'd be shocked how many reincarnation offices love those sisters but not-related loopholes. Especially the Chinese and Americans. Stepsister's hot, cousin's hotter, taboo equals click. Numbers go brrrr. Me? Nah. I don't touch that market. You're not that guy. And I'm not that god."
Other god (muttered): "This is why you get audits. You should follow the trends, rather than dramatically change the AU and alarming the Origin."
ROB: "Please. I passed my last audit. Barely—I might add."
---
The Warning
The other god closed his ledger with a thud. Not happy with how the conversation seemed to have no effect with ROB.
Other God: 'These cyclic Gods are most troublesome. Even if they are erased, they come back. Time is cyclical bullshit. Ugh! Why did I have to be part of the linear gods. It's fine. At least, I can control the timeline and jump in whenever I like... Time in temporary. Fanservice is permanent. Straight motion, Circular Motion. All are fine. (^///^)'
He looked at me.
Other God: "Listen to me, reincarnate. Existence of an edit attracts entropy. Entropy attracts the Origin. You think sitcoms are just jokes? They're universes too. And when universes duplicate, the Origin stirs. Yours have stir a new juice. What do you think happens when people don't get their wanted food? They go crazy. I can only wish you luck. Don't let this world end too quickly. Also don't break the timeline too much."
My toddler chest tightened. But then I thought,
(staring at the camera) I won't let this end if the encouragement keeps coming.
Neil (inner): So, Alex isn't just a newborn. She's a glitch in the Matrix!? The fracture point. And I'm Neo. ROB is Morpheus! The Matrix movie hasn't even been released in my timeline yet. I must go for the premiere.
ROB: "... Hmph! Doom talk. He's been saying this since Cheers ended. Sure, the Origin might stir. But hey, that's Act 3 stuff. Season finale at the worst. You've got years before it matters."
Still, I caught it — the flicker of unease behind his grin.
---
ROB spun his clipboard like a bored teacher.
ROB: "Look, kid. You asked for a sitcom life. You got Modern Family, which, frankly, is the Dark Souls of slice-of-life. You're doing fine. Ask questions, poke holes, hug your sisters. Build your party. That's your job."
He leaned closer.
ROB: "...And don't worry about this Faith and Origin bullshit. Your fandom. They're not cultists. Yet. At worst they'll argue ships in the comments. Nobody's going to write hymns about Phil comparing childbirth to taking a dump. …Actually, scratch that. They might."
Somewhere in the cosmic distance, a laugh track played.
ROB stood, ruffled my hair, and sent a static jolt down my toddler spine.
ROB: "Anyway! Enough lore dump. Time to send you back. It was a nice surprise to meet you here. For a non-magical world to access the upper realm. You don't see this too often... Maybe Origin has been disturbed. But who cares. We are all just stardust. And you've got pee streams to dodge, diapers to change, and railroads to mortgage."
As I started to fade, he called after me:
ROB: "Oh, and kid? Don't let Phil explain the birds and the bees. I've seen that script. Trauma."
The laugh track swelled like thunder. Cosmic voices of laughter echoing in the empty vast endless void.
I jolted awake in my bed, clutching Monopoly money, staring at Alex's bassinet.
---
She wasn't a glitch to me. She was my sister. And if the Origin wanted her? Too bad.
Anime fire-eyes. (🔥_🔥)/ Promise made.
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Next Day: Neil didn't remember the dream. But he did find something amiss on his bed. Someone had poured a glass of water on his sheet when he was sleeping. He blamed Hailey.
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AN:
Don't think much of this chapter. Like mentioned, it is an—Extra.
I just wanted to lay little groundwork for something genre-bending later on, if I ever felt like taking the story in another direction. I channeled my inner Eiichiro Oda—senpai for this foreshadowing.
For now. It is a simple and humorous slice-of-life story. So, enjoy the light humorous nature of our famous characters.
Btw. Thanks for the support and encouragement!