RAM-V’s robots being terrifying during gameplay but when the arcade’s closed they’re complete dorks. Every single one of them.
Mikira impressing Sergeant Calhoun and the Hero’s Duty troops with her gun shooting skills.
RAM-V shutting himself up in his lab to work on an experiment and having to be dragged out by Mikira or Ralph for dinner or socializing or both.
Mikira charging across Game Central Station to glomp-attack RAM-V when he comes out of Pac-Man after a Bad Anon meeting.
RAM-V’s robots having crazy dance parties on the final boss battle platform after the arcade closes.
RAM-V getting hit on by the most unlikely people like even the Surge Protector and that turtle in the sweater try to flirt with him.
upperstories asked: Omg now I'm imagining the pair much further along the road and they've reached the point they're more comfortable with being cutesy (not in public like Felix and Calhoun can), but okay hear me out thisisdumbbutIdon'tcare: Ralph starts calling RAM-V "his Ray of sunshine" ironically you know because haha his color scheme is so dark it's meant to be funny. But soon it turns into a completely genuine term of endearment, and whenever they're alone/intimate Ralph will hum "You are my Sunshine" to Ray.
upperstories asked: ....What if Ralph gave RAM-V a "nickname". And by nickname, I mean just an regular name that wasn't an in-joke abbreviation, because I dunno about you but I Ralph would think a guy as nice as RAM-V deserves a non-jokey name. That could sort of spark RAM-V's crush into genuine extra-level-attraction because it'd show him that wow-this-Ralph-guy-is-really-thoughtful-and-smart-and-he-has-really-deep-eyes-and-um-oh-dear. Haha I dunno.
"So, uh, I was thinking maybe I could call you Ray or something."
"I dunno, I thought…maybe you’d like to be called something that’s not some programmer inside joke?"
"S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just—!"
"I like Ray."
Ralph’s chest itched. The nearly-trimmed lawn beneath him smelled fresh, homey, and clean, much like the rest of Niceland. Normally being so close to the ground was enough to put him at lease. Elevation was part of the job, that he was on the clock, and that soon he’d be cordially re-acquainted with gravity and a puddle at the foot of a fifty-plus-story building. Solid, soft, flat ground was a relief at the end of a fall. But the normally soft grass felt prickly on the backs of his arms and neck, the warm, yellow streetlamps a little too bright, and the distant chiptune background music too loud. He wished he could blame it on having a rotten time giving the newbie baddie a grand tour of his game, or even just a rough day at work, but lying to himself wasn’t going to make his chest stop itching.
“So?” mimicked the quiet, honest voice.
“Soooo.” Ralph’s hand twitched. He tried to ignore it. “Uhh, hope you liked the tour? Sorry that we had to cut it short.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright,” RAM-V turned his head to Ralph, smiling winningly. “This right now? This laying about? I could do with more of this. It’s quite hard to find rest areas like this in GearPunch—everything’s always so… fast. Motion-sick-ish. I am sorry that we couldn’t have seen more of the apartment though. The detail in a game as old as this is quite impressive.”
“Kinda foofy if you ask me, all the wall paper and fine china and stuff,” Ralph shrugged. He seemed rather distracted, or maybe he just pretending to seem distracted. Most people wouldn’t have given the behemoth man that much credit, but RAM-V knew a thing or two about subtlety. He might not have known the other man for more than a week, but in such a short amount of time RAM-V had learned quite a great deal about Ralph, from the wrecker’s least favorite type of candy [chocolate] to his favorite types of players [when kids get sucked into the game, all lip-bity and cross-eyed and goofily glaring in concentration]. He’d even started picking up on smaller things. Mannerisms.
One of the most obvious, and often dangerous, things about Ralph was that he liked to gesture when he talked, mostly with wide sweeps and exaggerated pointing. He’d almost clocked RAM-V right upside the head—shoulders, knees and toes too— once or twice with this huge meat mitts of his.
But now he wasn’t gesturing, telling jokes about Felix and ducks, or generally sparking any interesting conversations. He clammed up completely as the both of them relaxed on the open lawn facing the mock-sun that was the cabinet window to the outside world. It was disconcerting, seeing the strangely animated man so reserved.
“Something troubling you, my friend?” said the becoming antagonist.
Ralph pointedly looked at anything that was not RAM-V’s face. The younger man almost laughed. Either his code was missing a few digits, or Ralph was acting… positively shy.
“Troubled? Who’s troubled, I’m not—” Ralph scratched his chest. “M’not troubled.”
Uppers, I adore you.
Ralph/RAM-V is becoming my OTP and this gave it another shove in that direction.
Grownup Sherman is about to become a father and he asks Mr. Peabody if his child and their future siblings can call him Grandpa instead of Mr. Peabody. Mr. Peabody says, “They can call me Grandpa Peabody.”
The first time RAM-V took his beak mask off in the middle of the Game Central Station a slow motion hair flip with sparkles illuminating his face happened.
Anonymous asked: Right so I'm super grossed out by whoever the fucks in charge of that Time thing, but at the very least, at the very least some of the regular people on the internet are totally aware that Laverne is Queen of Everything Always.
We need to get smarter people on the Times staff, that’s for sure.