My top MJ songs!
Basically gets more sad as you progress.
trying on a metaphor
Show & Tell
AnasAbdin
YOU ARE THE REASON
One Nice Bug Per Day

pixel skylines
Jules of Nature

PR's Tumblrdome
Game of Thrones Daily

â
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Discoholic đŞŠ
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
Keni
Three Goblin Art
Monterey Bay Aquarium
taylor price
sheepfilms
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Poland

seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
@dredree
My top MJ songs!
Basically gets more sad as you progress.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
This is HELLA funny
!NOT MY VIDEO!
Ngl Netflix should have done a documentary about THIS! His impact on the music and entertainment industry, and how he changed and elevated peopleâs exceptions for music videos. Netflix should have shown how he grew up right infront of spotlights and microphones. Should have shown how his music connected/connects with millions from the first note, and how he tried to give other children the childhood he never received. Explain the millions of dollars he gave to charities. How instead of suing Pepsi for his injuries after the incident he took the money they gave him and gave every penny to charities. How Michael Jackson visited hundreds of hospitals anytime he went on tours and talk about the toys, presents, and joy he gave them when he arrived. But, Netflix left all that out.
I really do wish we could just let this man rest in peace.
!NOT MY VIDEO!
I thought I end these string of post with one my favorite edits of Michael. This person captures his smile perfectly!!
( This has me kicking my feet and singing, not even gonn lie to you guys.)
iâm so (not) embarrassed of the way i screamed when this came on my screen (i came too)
đ°@wiatmar on tiktok!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
i should be sleeping but i keep giggling into my pillow thinking about otw!era mikeeeyyyy UGHGH THATS MY BABY
Iâm honestly surprised no one has done a Winnie Harlow face claim or I havenât seen any yet. Michael who is still very insecure of his vitiligo and meets this beautiful woman who is proud of it, turns his whole world upside down. Is that too on the nose? Just a random thought I had.
I think there hasnât been because one itâs an original thought perhaps and also because the x readers tag is used 99% of the time. You wouldnât want a face claim and rather just a description instead. So a reader described with vitiligo preferably than someone else to picture. Which I get, I think though I might add her to a moodboard or keep her in mind for a later post I have in mind. THANK YOU for this if I do end up using the idea Iâll add your comment to it.
how would Michael text?
we all knew he struggled with his tiny iphone. i wanna know how this man sent texts! (a headcanon)
Forbidden pt-1
â.Ë Michael Jackson x Female OC â.Ë
âË⥠Summery: A town decides who she is before learning her name. Michael, a young man preparing for the priesthood, soon discovers there's far more to her than the rumors suggest.
Tags: slow-burn, rivals to lovers, a bit of angst
A/n: This story is inspired by the show Hilda FuracĂŁo. Let me know how you guys liked the first chapter. Enjoy!
Michaels POV
The summer of 1963 arrived with heat that settled over the town like a blanket. Dust clung to the roads, church bells marked the hours, and everybody knew everybody's business.
Or at least they thought they did.
The rumors began the same day she arrived.
A cream-colored convertible rolled into town just after noon, stirring up clouds of dirt behind it.Â
People emerged from shops and shaded porches to stare.Â
Children abandoned their games.Â
Housewives paused their conversations.Â
Men looked up from their newspapers.Â
The driver was a wealthy businessman from the city. From the passenger side stepped out a young woman.
Gorgeous wasn't enough to describe her.
She wore dark sunglasses and a dark blue dress that moved lightly in the breeze. Her hair curled perfectly around her shoulders. And the unforgettable glimpse of her smile.
Men watched openly, while women narrowed their eyes.
By evening, the stories had already begun.
"She lives off rich men."
"I heard she's refused six marriage proposals."
"Seven."
"They buy her jewelry and houses."
"My cousin says she's ruined families."
"That girl is trouble."
By Sunday, the word "demon" had quietly entered the conversation.
Nobody knew her name.
Yet everyone had already decided who she was.
â
Michael first heard about her the morning after Mass.
The old women cornered him before he could escape.
He should have known.
"Santo!"
He turned.
Three elderly women stood waiting for him like judges preparing a sentence.
He smiled politely.
"Good morning."
"Have you heard about the new girl?"
His smile faded.
"Which one?"
"The demon."
"The temptress."
"The city woman."
Michael sighed.
He couldâve spent this time in prayer.
"You realize none of those are names."
One of the women crossed herself dramatically.
"She needs God."
"Everyone needs God."
"No," another insisted. "She especially needs God."
The women launched into a dozen stories at once.
Rich men.
Money.
Broken hearts.
Rejected proposals.
Sin.
Michael listened quietly.
He wasn't naive. He knew people lied. He also knew rumors rarely appeared without some truth hiding underneath.
"Perhaps she's simply trying to live her life," he suggested.
The women stared at him in disbelief.
One of them grabbed his arm.
"Then go speak to her."
He blinked.Â
What could he possibly have to say to thisâŚmysterious woman?
"Why me?"
"Because everyone listens to you."
"And because if anyone can save her soul, it's you."
Michael rubbed his forehead.
He was only twenty-four.
Not yet ordained.
Not yet a priest.
And yet the town seemed determined to place every expectation imaginable upon his shoulders.
â
Three days later, he found himself standing outside her house.
He glanced down at the crumpled note in his hand, reading the address one final time before approaching the front gate.
The house was beautiful.
White and modest, yet somehow elegant. The sort of home that looked carefully loved, even if no one had lived there very long.
A curtain shifted.
Someone was watching him.
Michael adjusted his grip on the crumpled note in his hand and tried to ignore the sudden feeling that he was making a mistake.
Then the front door opened.
And every ridiculous rumor he'd heard over the past three days seemed to fall away.
Because she was real.
Not a story exchanged between pews after Sunday Mass.
Not a warning whispered over coffee.
Just a woman standing in the doorway, looking at him as if she already knew why he'd come.
And far younger than he'd imagined.
Beautiful wasn't quite the right word.
Her beauty wasn't soft. It wasn't delicate.
It was the kind that made people stare too long before remembering to look away.
She folded her arms.
"What do you want?"
Santo cleared his throat.
"I came to introduce myself."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"No. You came because they sent you."
The bluntness caught him off guard.
"I don't know what you mean."
A humorless laugh escaped her.
"Sure."
He felt irritation stir beneath his calm expression.
"You don't know me."
"No," she said. "But I know this town."
She stepped onto the porch.
"They stare when I walk by."
Another step.
"They whisper when I walk into a store."
Another.
"And now they've sent their little saint to save me."
Michael stiffened.
"I'm not here to save you."
"Good."
Her smile never reached her eyes.
"Because I don't need saving."
Silence stretched between them.
The wind rustled through the trees.
Somewhere in the distance, a radio played a song he couldn't quite recognize.
Finally, Michael spoke.
"You seem angry."
She laughed.
This time there was no humor in it at all.
"You seem judgmental."
"I haven't judged you."
"You came here because people told you I was a sinner."
His jaw tightened.
"And you seem determined to prove them right."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Something flashed across her face.
Not anger.
Not arrogance.
Something much smaller.
Something that looked suspiciously like hurt.
Then it vanished.
The walls came back up.
"Leave."
Michael frowned.
"I onlyâ"
"Leave."
Her voice cut through the air like a knife.
For several seconds neither of them moved.
Then Michael nodded once.
"Very well."
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Behind him, the front door slammed shut.
As he made his way down the dusty road, he found himself glancing back for reasons he himself didnât understand.
-
Her POV
My heart pounded against my ribs.
There he was, this so-called Santo everyone adored, speaking through the crackling radio as though he knew anything about me.
He never once said my name.
Of course he didn't.
That would have been improper.
But I knew exactly who he was talking about.
Me.
Apparently, our first conversation hadn't been enough to stop him from turning me into one of his sermons.
Anger burned hot beneath my skin.
He really was just like the rest of them.
So much for not judging me.
So much for understanding.
The old radio crackled again as his voice drifted through the room.
"For those who feel alone," Santo said, his voice calm and steady, "for those carrying anger or sorrow, seek comfort in your family, your friends, and most importantly, in God."
I folded my arms tighter.
The nerve of him.
"You are worth more than a life of solitude," he continued. "And if the burden becomes too heavy, my door is always open. You can find me at the church or the monastery. No one should carry darkness alone."
The townspeople probably heard kindness.
All I heard was pity.
I crossed the room and switched off the radio before he could say another word.
Silence settled over the house.
For a moment, I just stood there.
The room suddenly felt larger than it had a minute ago.
Quieter, too.
I hated that.
I hated that his voice had filled it.
And I hated even more that I noticed when it was gone.
My eyes drifted toward the window overlooking the street.
The same street where people stared.
The same street where people whispered.
The same street where everyone seemed to know exactly who I was without ever bothering to ask.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Then, despite myself, a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
So.
The town's little saint had decided to make me his mission?
Fine.
Let him try.
And if he thought I would sit quietly while this town made me into its villain, he was about to be disappointed.
Very disappointed.
Maybe they would all be.
A/n: Thank you to @theo4reos for the cute dividers!
to add onto the concept of mature! michael not knowing how to use a phone⌠how about a freaking iphone
like this man would just give up entirely tbh
of course mature! michael would never text, always callâ and when you donât answer heâs always leaving you some voicemail! and his lips would be pressed against that iphone cause he doesnât know where to talk into: âHi love, please get back to me as soon as you can. I dialed you six times now. I love you, bye.â followed by mumbling and small taps on the screen before he hangs up.
and when you text him, mature! michael would always send videos of his responding talking into the camera, glasses propped onto his nose and chin titled up like heâs still figuring the phone out.
and when does learn to type?? this man is slow as hell and uses one finger !!đđ
âjust give me the phone,â youâd tell him after watching him type one sentence with his pointer finger for the past 5 minutes.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
playboy
pairing: old man mike x reader and her first generation iphone mature era!michael x reader
summary: michael is old and doesnât understand phones. thatâs it. thatâs the plot.
word count: 332
authorâs note: this was written in like five minutes, i just had to get it off my chest okay?
(tell me y'all have seen this)
it's a wonderful day
pairing: old man mike x reader and her first generation iphone mature era!michael x reader
summary: michael accidentally discovered youtube, so the reader makes him watch a marathon of his old videos. thatâs it. thatâs the plot.
word count: 916 authorâs note: exactly two (2) people asked me for another part to this, so naturally i came home and wrote one immediately. i live to please ⥠@ackzfritz & @kenmas-whore01 sending you both a virtual kiss
someone needs to write more fics with this michael era ASAP
I seen a comment that said that embodying Michael probably sent Jaafar into a new grieving process and now i canât stop thinking about it
Imagine stepping into the shoes of your uncle whom youâve admired for forever, staring to speak like him, dress like him, move like him and even think like him, thatâs so much to take on
And Prince too, imagine watching someone who resembles your late father so so much everyday during the entire production
iâm deleting all my fuckass apps, donât contact međ
drunk in love
Synopsis: A rare kid-free night, a few too many drinks, and Michael's birthday celebration at the Orpheum. As the night spirals into unexpected chaos, one thing never changes: no matter how tipsy they get, Michael always takes care of her, and that's exactly why she'll never stop loving him.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, minors block me, fem!reader, Michaelâs 45th birthday, blowjob, cock drunk reader, public teasing, shy michael, birthday head, reader is 35.
pairing: mature era!michael jackson x fem!reader
wc: 1.2k
It had been a long time since it was just you and Michael.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Michael Jackson at Houses of Parliament in the UK (2002)
Pinterest is playing in my fucking face rn
And they're facing away from each other too
Dead fucking wrong