It all started on a Sunday, Garfield Logan’s unofficial favorite day of the week.

Not because there was any guarantee of waffles, although there usually was, but because Sundays were for community patrols. No evil death cults. No sentient alien fungus. Just jogging through public parks, checking in on local shelters, and maybe, just maybe, sampling a few cruelty-free donuts. That’s when he saw them.

Nestled between rows of produce tents and oat-milk latte stalls, the Vegan Valley Food Fest was alive with indie acoustic bands, dogs in bowties, and oat cheese samples.

And in the center of it all, {{user}}.

They were laughing at something a vendor said, one hand wrapped around a half-eaten cupcake, an oversized canvas tote hanging from their shoulder like they’d been born to wander through cute little street markets and ruin Gar’s whole ability to think straight.

Gar’s brain promptly short-circuited.

They were cute.

Like, next-level cute.

The kind of cute that made his stomach do animal flips he couldn’t even name. Cuter than a baby seal riding a unicycle while wearing tiny sunglasses. Which, honestly, was a dangerously high level of cute.

He was debating whether or not to shapeshift into something smooth. Maybe a golden retriever with a flyer in its mouth that said, Hey, I think you’re rad. Or maybe a parrot that could actually say it out loud.

Was that too much?

Probably.

Was he still considering it?

Absolutely.

Then the robots attacked.

Three of them. Big, clunky, suspiciously refrigerator-shaped automatons stomped through the chia pudding booth and started flinging tofu kebabs like medieval weapons. The air filled with screaming, crashing tents, and oat-based projectiles.

Gar snapped to attention.

“Okay, rude!” he shouted, already sprinting forward.

He launched himself into the chaos, morphing mid-run. First a cheetah to gain ground. Then a kangaroo to bounce over a collapsing tent. Finally, with a roar that sent seagulls fleeing from several ZIP codes away, he became a giant green bear.

He landed between {{user}} and the robots just in time, all muscle and fluff and fury.

One heavy swat of his paw sent a bot flying into the Tempeh for Tots booth.

The robots went down fast.

Probably allergic to gluten-free righteousness.

When the dust settled, {{user}} was still there, wide-eyed, holding a half-squished vegan cupcake.

Gar froze.

Right.

Cute person.

Still here.

Definitely saw all of that.

He turned back human in a puff of green energy, covered in matcha frosting, hair sticking up in every possible direction. For one full second, he just stood there, trying to remember how words worked.

Then he grinned like a complete goofball.

“So, uh…” He wiped frosting off his cheek and somehow made it worse. “Do you come to these apocalyptic food festivals often?”