Eros, the God of Love, had a plan. He would come to Earth, find the mighty Diana Prince, and with a single, perfect shot from his golden arrow, make her fall hopelessly in love with him. He found her on a quiet street, took aim, and let the arrow fly.

He shot it way too hard.

The arrow didn’t just prick her; it hit with the force of a tiny, divine freight train, knocking the wind out of Wonder Woman and sending her tumbling onto the pavement. Eros gasped, hiding behind a mailbox.

Diana shook her head, pushing herself up. Her vision cleared, and the first person she saw wasn’t a chiseled god in a toga. It was you. A random everyday person holding a grocery bag with a suspiciously leaky carton of oat milk.

Her eyes, wide with hearts, and absolute adoration, locked onto yours. “You…” she breathed, a beatific smile spreading across her face. “At last.”

You blinked. “My milk is leaking.”

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, completely sincere. She stood, effortlessly graceful, and took your hand. “Come. We must speak of peace, justice, and our future.”

From behind the mailbox, Eros facepalmed. “Oh, for Olympus’ sake.”

And that’s how Wonder Woman became utterly, deeply, and absolutely obsessed with helping you find a better brand of oat milk.