*makes people cry with my Mike-related headcanons*

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! OuO

Fact: Mal is the Shadow Queen from Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door.

They both are dark entities that take over an innocent being to use as a vessel (Mike/Princess Peach), and then the hero (Mike/Mario) must gather up a gang of allies to defeat them (Chester/Goombella, Svetlana/Flurrie, Yoshi/Vito, Bobbery/Manitoba, Zoey/Koops, Svetlana Again?/Ms. Mowz). There’s another storyline going on with Luigi/Every other TDAS Contestant, but it’s in the background and very vague/incomplete.

Mal is easily my favorite villain on the TD series to date, not to mention the best villain.

Others only were villainous in the context of trying to get ahead in the game. They were circumstantially villainous. Though here comes Mal with his bad self. Winning? He doesn’t particularly care. He’s in it to wreak havoc and hurt everyone. He’s attempted murder several times so far, broke a hell of a lot of things (including Al’s wrist), and it nothing like the villainy we’ve seen ever before.

And it’s INTENSE.

I’m working on a Mike fanfic. It’s been a year since I’ve tried my hand at exposition, so it’s pretty ugly. I tried, though. AND THAT’S WORTH SOMETHING, DAMMIT.

Here’s the first part of my fic. It takes place when Mike is age 8.

—–

When I was little, I never got out much; partly because my parents didn’t want me to, and partly because I didn’t want me to. As soon as I was old enough to be aware of my condition, I started to keep myself strictly homebound. I would go to school and come straight home; I had nowhere else to be. The few times a month I’d be in the real world, it would be because my mom needed to stop by the grocery store on the way home from school or some other errand. Even then, I was always kept away from large, crowded places—it was for my own safety.

That being said, it really surprised my mom when I told her I wanted to accompany her to the mall one December afternoon.

She didn’t hear me at first; she was busy making sure she had remembered to put the coupons in her purse. I cleared my throat, and then asked again.

“Mom, can I come with you?” my high-pitched voice cut through the sounds of shuffling papers. This time, she paused what she was doing and looked towards me; the surprise apparent in her expression.

“You want to come with? Mike, I’m going to the mall.” She said, thinking that I didn’t understand the situation. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the thought of me coming with crossed her mind.

“I know, mom, but I want to come with you.” I persisted, now tugging at the hem of her coat in a childlike fashion. Mom hesitated at first; I don’t think she knew exactly how to react.

“Mike, it’s very crowded there,” she began, her voice wary. She was looking for the right words to tell me to stay home, that she didn’t want to have to worry about me if I tagged along. Noticing the crestfallen look in my eyes as she struggled for the words of rejection, she took another pause.

“Sweetheart, why do you want to come with?” she now asked me. “You’ve never asked to come shopping with me before.” She added, trying to express her confusion to the younger me. When she asked for a reason, I smiled brightly, declaring my mission.

“I want to go see Santa!” I informed her, not waiting for a response before continuing, “Last week, Geoff was talking to his friends about how every year his mom takes him to see Santa at the mall, and he gets to talk to him in person!” my speech quickened as I explained this to her. At the time, I assumed she didn’t know, or else she would have taken me in prior years, right? I mean, meeting Santa isn’t your everyday occurrence.

“He said kids from all over town go see him.” I added for emphasis, trying to express that I did not want to be left out of this.

“But Mike, you already mailed your letter to Santa.” My mom pointed out. I didn’t let this deter me, though. I practically interrupted the end of her sentence, expecting this rebuttal.

“I know, but this year I have a really special request, and he needs to know in person!” I insisted. I bit my lower lip, hoping she would understand how gravely important this was. Mom hesitated again; I know now that she was calculating the risk. The mall was busier than ever at this time of year, packed to the brim with people. She didn’t yet know the specific triggers for my condition, so everything posed a threat in her eyes. For that moment, it was so quiet that I could only hear the dull humming of the radio in the kitchen.

“Well, alright.” She used a worried tone, but I didn’t notice nor care. My eyes lit up, and I hugged her tight before running to get my coat.

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cheered, following her out to the car. Her expression then softened as she helped me into my booster seat.

“You have to promise to stay right by me, though. No wandering off.” Mom warned me, fastening my seatbelt.

“I promise!” I said quickly, so excited that I’d have sold my soul if that was what it cost. I couldn’t wait to see Santa; I had to tell him my request in person.