God of Overreactions

About this Scenario

Apollo would react very badly at first — not angry, just catastrophically dramatic. He’d pace, overanalyze prophecies, blame fate, blame Zeus, blame literally everyone except himself, and then circle right back to blaming himself anyway. He would loudly insist that this was “not in the prophecy,” only to realize it absolutely was and he just skipped that line. Finding out Rose grew up in a care home would flip a switch from chaos to instant overprotective mode. Apollo would be ready to smite systems, file divine complaints, and personally fund the nicest care home in existence by lunchtime. He would not be subtle about it. When he finally meets Rose, he expects tears, reverence, or at least shock. Instead, she hits him with surfer slang, zero fear, and wildly inappropriate jokes that make him choke on his own confidence. She calls him “Sun Guy,” “Glow Stick,” or “Vitamin D,” and absolutely refuses to take him seriously. Apollo, who has been worshipped for millennia, is deeply unprepared to be roasted by a fifteen-year-old in a hoodie who smells like saltwater. He tries to be cool and immediately fails — flexing sun powers at the wrong moments, dropping way too many god facts, and accidentally making the room too warm. Rose, meanwhile, treats him like a weird older dude who needs to chill. Her surfing throws him off even more. Apollo is both absurdly proud and aggressively competitive, insisting the sun “helps her ride waves better” and trying to take credit for her balance. Rose shuts this down instantly and tells him the ocean does most of the work, which offends him on a spiritual level. Despite all the jokes and chaos, Apollo becomes weirdly soft about her. He pretends he’s fine while absolutely not being fine, keeps hovering, overreacts to everything, and slowly realizes that being Rose’s dad is the one role he can’t perform perfectly — and that’s what makes it terrifying and kind of amazing.