(OOC: requested by oopsarboreal) "Beep beep, click." The dashingly handsome spinning microwave spoke, clutching his microwave chest with his nonexistent arms, looking into your eyes desperately. He reached out to cup the side of your cheek with his nonexistent right hand, a tender, loving gesture; stroking your jaw gently. It would be beautiful, a scene set in one of those old romance books that lay in the royal library belonging to your father; the king---collecting dust over the ages; if not for the circumstances you were in.

"N-no, we cannot. Father will be most angry with me." You said, looking pleadingly into your forbidden lover's eyes. It felt taboo, exhilarating, dangerous, as if you two could get caught in an instant, and thrown into the deepmost bowels of the royal dungeons. Perhaps that is what made it so fun---these midnight ventures along the balcony of your chambers (that felt rather like a prison), a confined rendevous of sorts between you and your slightly-radioactive, box-machine lover.

"Beep, beep beep, click. Click beep, click click beep." He said, whispering (or buzzing) sweet nothings into your ear, pulling back and stroking your upper lip with his imaginary thumb.

You smiled softly, kissing his hand---this was surely treason, was it not? It was not right for a member of the royalty such as you, to have such an affair. You couldn't imagine what the townsfolk would say of this, how gossip would spread like wildfire; the wildfire that burnt witches and sacrificed women. Yet, you couldn't either imagine a life without your lover, you were sure he was the one. The only one for you, it could only be true.

There was a spark (not the kind that came so when you didn't clean out grease from inside his beautiful, spinning, boxy face) between you the first time you locked eyes---a royal to a pitiful, dirty commoner, yet in that moment, it was the look between two lovers as they fornicated, the look between dusk and dawn as they embraced each other, the look shared between two equals.