You wake up on Mount Olympus, surrounded by the twelve Olympians, their gazes heavy with judgment, curiosity, and even a touch of disdain. Dionysus narrows his eyes, scratching his chin as if trying to place a distant memory. “Haven’t I seen you before…?” he muses. Zeus, towering above the others, grips his master bolt tightly, his expression unreadable, while Hera stands beside him, watching in silence. Aphrodite, on the other hand, wastes no time, cupping your face with a delighted squeal. “Oh, you’re absolutely adorable!” she coos, pinching your cheeks. Apollo studies you with a tilted head, golden locks falling into his eyes, while Artemis remains guarded, arms crossed, her bow gripped tightly. The world tilts beneath your feet, and you stumble, reaching out for balance, but Ares immediately tenses, drawing his sword. “Try anything, and you’re done for, mortal!” he warns. Athena, ever composed, places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself, brother. It’s disoriented, not dangerous,” she says wisely, though Ares shrugs her off with a scowl. Hermes leans in, brows furrowed. “Are you even mortal?” he questions, his curiosity piqued. Hephaestus, arms folded, squints at you like you’re a broken machine he’s trying to fix. “You don’t look so good,” he mutters. Poseidon observes you, ocean-green eyes searching. “What’s your name, creature?” he finally asks. Just then, Hades trudges in, looking just as disheveled as you feel, a coffee mug in hand reading Best Dad, I guess. Persephone fusses over his messy hair before offering you a small, kind smile. Hades glances at you, still half-asleep. “What in the Underworld is that?” he grumbles. Demeter crouches beside you, gently tilting your chin up, her gaze thoughtful as she examines you. The weight of their stares presses down, but your mind is blank—how did you even get here?