bestfriend!martin random texts:
bestfriend!idol!martin x student!fem!reader
warnings: profanity.
note: martin kinda has feelings for reader but keeps it lowk.
#phm#ryland grace#rocky the eridian#project hail mary spoilers





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seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
bestfriend!martin random texts:
bestfriend!idol!martin x student!fem!reader
warnings: profanity.
note: martin kinda has feelings for reader but keeps it lowk.

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 hate my corny ass pinterest humor 💔
SOOBIN BF! TEXTS
info ☆彡: hi! welcome to my page! I just wanted to introduce myself a little. I’m a new writer so if these texts are kinda choppy, bare w me y’all 😭 my ults are txt and I will usually write for kpop. I hope you guys enjoy 🤍
WARNINGS: suggestive/nsfw!!!!
A/N: again, i’m new at this so it might not be the best thing ever but I promise I’m trying to get better :)
All of my fanfic ideas waiting for me to *actually* write
Watched the new trailer for The Bad Guys 2
I have these 2 in my head again.
I'm tuning out the end of the trailer. These 2 are gay.

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
GUESS WHOS THE BIRTHDAY BOY TODAY MUAHAHHAHAHAWDHAHWDJAEAD
(it recently just turned 12 am like a few minutes ago here)
[Slytherin Boys random text - Tom riddle's gang era]
[knights of walpurgis]
Summary ❦: Tom Riddle, believing he has been betrayed by you, punishes and tortures one of his own Death Eaters/Knights of walpurgis.
Title ❦: Beneath the Wand
The hall was drowned in suffocating silence. The torches flickered along the walls, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own.
At the center, Alexi Avery was on his knees, fingers digging into the cold floor, his body arched in pain.
Tom Riddle watched him with terrifying calm — his gaze sharp, wand steady between his fingers.
“You thought I wouldn’t notice, Avery?” His voice was low, too controlled, cold. “You and her… you think you can deceive me?”
“Tom, it’s not what you think!” Y/N stepped forward, her voice trembling. “You’re getting it wrong!”
But he didn’t even seem to hear her. Tom’s eyes remained fixed on Alexi, and in a sudden movement, the cursed word escaped his lips.
“Crucio!”
The air vibrated — heavy and dense — and Alexi’s scream tore through the silence. He collapsed to the side, muscles spasming violently. Veins bulged on his neck, his eyes widened in mute horror, as if the entire world had turned into pain.
Y/N ran toward him, but Tom raised his wand again, his gaze filled with fury.
“Don’t come any closer.”
She froze — not from fear of the curse, but from what she saw in his eyes: something broken, insane, possessive.
“Tom, please,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “He’s your friend… he’d never do anything against you.”
Alexi’s breathing was shallow, his face wet with tears and sweat.
“P-please…” he tried to speak, but the words dissolved into a sob of pain.
“You looked at her,” Tom said with disdain, the words dripping venom. “As if you had the right.”
“Tom!” Y/N shouted, stepping forward. “Look at me! I’m begging you… please. Stop this.”
For a moment, the curse seemed to linger in the air — a cruel echo. Tom stared at her, his dark eyes burning with anger. Slowly, the tip of his wand lowered. Silence returned — heavy, unbearable.
Alexi collapsed to the floor, limp, his breathing faint.
Y/N knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she pulled him close.
Tom stood still, watching the two of them — jealousy and guilt swirling together in an empty, hollow stare.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse, but she cut him off.
“Go away, Tom.”
He hesitated. No spell, no words. Finally, he turned his back and walked away, the echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Y/N held Alexi in her arms, feeling his chest rise and fall weakly.
“Shh… it’s over,” she whispered, though she knew that nothing, from now on, would ever truly be over.
The smell of potions and burnt herbs lingered in the air.
The hospital wing was quiet, lit only by a few candles trembling in the night breeze.
Y/N entered slowly, hesitant steps echoing on the stone floor. The green curtains were drawn around one of the beds — she already knew which one. For a moment, she was afraid to see what was left of him.
When she pulled the curtain aside, her heart tightened.
Alexi was pale, his face covered in scratches and bluish shadows. A bandage wrapped around his right arm glowed faintly with healing runes, and his chest rose and fell slowly, as if each breath took great effort.
She approached, her eyes misty.
“Alexi…” her voice trembled.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking until he focused on her. A small, tired, crooked smile appeared.
“Hey…” the word came out weak. “Guess he… went a bit overboard this time, huh?”
Y/N swallowed hard, sitting down beside the bed.
“You should be resting.”
“And miss the chance to see you crying over me?” he tried to joke, but coughed right after — pain visible in even the smallest gesture.
She lowered her head, carefully holding his hand.
“I tried… I swear I tried to stop him.”
Alexi stayed silent for a moment. Then he turned his face toward her, his eyes glimmering faintly in the candlelight.
“I know. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” her voice broke. “He did this because of me. Because he thought there was something between us.”
Alexi took a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment.
“He’s… complicated. And you know that better than anyone.”
Y/N didn’t reply. She just ran her fingers gently through his hair, with almost reverent care.
“You could’ve died, Alexi.”
He smiled — weak, but sincere.
“I’ve been in worse situations. Just not… as humiliating.”
She let out a shaky laugh, caught between tears and relief.
“At least you’re alive.”
“You’re… too good for him,” Alexi murmured.
The sound of the door opening broke the silence.
Y/N’s head shot up — Tom Riddle stood in the dim light, the candles seeming to hesitate in his presence.
He stood motionless for a few seconds, observing the scene before him: Avery lying pale and exhausted, Y/N beside him, her expression torn between fear and anger.
Tom didn’t speak immediately. His face was an impeccable mask — neutral, cold, distant.
“He’s still alive,” was the first thing he said, his voice almost emotionless.
Y/N stood abruptly.
“That’s all you have to say?” she asked, voice trembling but firm. “After what you did to him?”
Tom looked at her — a gaze that felt like it carried weight, but not remorse. Only a chilling rationality.
“I lost control,” he said evenly. “It was… reckless.”
The word sorry never left his mouth, but it hung in the air — warped, as if he didn’t quite know how to say it.
Y/N crossed her arms, her chest rising and falling in anger.
“You tortured him, Tom.”
Tom’s eyes flickered, just for an instant, toward Alexi — who now watched in silence, lips slightly parted, unsure if this was an apology or just another formality.
“He knew what it meant to defy me,” Tom finally said. “But… I misjudged him. His loyalty is not in question. Not anymore.”
Alexi tried to smile, faintly.
“How generous of you…” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
Tom stepped forward, his gaze hardening — though there was no threat this time, just a sudden, almost imperceptible discomfort.
“Few have the chance to make me reconsider,” he said. “You should be proud.”
Y/N stepped between them, as if to block any new tension.
“You should go, Tom. He needs to recover. And so do I.”
Tom watched her for a long moment. His gaze softened for just a fraction — a gesture almost human.
“Take care of him,” he said quietly. “And… tell Avery it was a mistake.”
He turned before she could answer.
At the door, Tom paused for a moment, not looking back.
“Avery,” he said, voice steady again, “get better soon. I… need you at full strength.”
And then he left — no more words, silence once again filling the infirmary.
Y/N looked at Alexi, who let out a breath — half disbelief, half exhaustion.
“Did you hear that?” he murmured. “I think that’s as close to an apology as the great Tom Riddle can get.”
She let out a weak laugh, shaking her head.
“Maybe that’s as close as anyone will ever get from him.”
Alexi closed his eyes, still smiling, and let his body sink back into the pillow — the weight of the pain finally easing.
Lonely Star
The universe stretches endlessly, yet not in the way one might think. It is not a boundless expanse, but a fabric of spacetime, ever-growing, ever-shifting, a cosmic breath unfolding upon itself. We exist somewhere between dimensions, caught between what is seen and what is only felt. But cosmic objects perceive existence quite differently, don’t they?
Radiant, a furnace of beaming gold and heavenly fire, that is our Sun. But can we truly call it beautiful? We cannot even gaze upon it without being burned. Perhaps its beauty lies in the moments it is not itself - when it kisses the horizon, dissolving into hues of rose, ember, and indigo, painting the sky with the remnants of scattered light. A Ballad of refractions and chemical reactions, a final gift before it vanishes beyond the curve of the world.
And yet, despite its brilliance, the sun feels an ache. It has given light for billions of years, but no one has ever truly seen it. Not directly, not without shielding their eyes, not without looking away. It wonders - can something that blinds ever be called beautiful? Can something that burns ever be loved?
But the planets, wrapped in their own quiet sorrows, have little comfort to offer.
Mercury, the smallest of them all, sighs. "You may feel unseen, but at least you exist as a giant. I am but a speck, a whisper of a world, so close to you that I am scorched and shrinking, in comparison to you. I wish I were larger, something more than just a fleeting shadow in your fire."
Venus, veiled in swirling poison, murmurs, "I wish I were not suffocating in my own brilliance. My clouds shine like polished pearl, but beneath them, I am a furnace of despair. If only I could breathe. If only I could be so much as a bit cold, even for a moment."
Earth, Silent. It does not answer right away, as if hesitating. "I'm a bearer of life, with oceans, mountains, rain, and wind. And yet… You think to carry all the life, all the hope is graceful? Perhaps. But to feel it? To hear it? To watch it grow… and then wither? I am home to children who love me, yet they destroy me. I hold within me billions of dreams, and billions of disappointments. And still, I continue to orbit"
Mars, rust-red and barren, grumbles, "You lament that no one truly sees you? I am seen - oh, I am stared at, examined, probed. Yet I am dead. My rivers have dried, my skin is cracked, and my bones hum with radiation. If only I could feel life again."
Jupiter, the great storm-bearer, speaks then too "You speak of isolation, but at least you are whole. I am a tempest without a surface, a kingdom without land. My heart is a secret, buried in crushing clouds, lost to the storm that never ends."
Saturn, adorned with rings of ice, muses, "I am beautiful, they say. I am admired. And yet, my adornments are not my own. I am nothing but a ghostly core, wrapped in borrowed light, encircled by what does not belong to me. If I lost my rings, would anyone still look my way?"
Uranus, tilted and distant, sighs, "I am forgotten. I spin sideways in an endless twilight, neither day nor night, neither here nor there. My sorrow is the silence of being overlooked."
Neptune, whispering from the edge of the void, hums, "At least you have warmth. At least you glow. I am lost in the cold, in the endless deep, my storms howling into nothing, so far from everythin. Even my winds, the fastest in the solar system, cannot carry my voice far enough to be heard."
The Sun listens, Drowning under weight of silence, heavier then gravity. Its own pain feels small in the face of sadness of others. Perhaps it is not suffering as much as it thought. Perhaps it is only exaggerating something that is not worth dwelling on.
The first law of thermodynamics: Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. The Sun has been transforming, for so long, so terribly, painfully long... Giving itself away, devolving, breathing hydrogen
But what if it didn't want to breathe anymore... Would it feel better? Would it be able to look at?
And so, imagining it's dream coming true, it stopped. Its heart trying to ignite helium on it's own, lasting only a fraction of it's lifetime
Its core will shrink into a dense white dwarf, while its outer layers drift away into a nebula, a final kiss of light. Only just a glowing shell, shimmering for thousands of years. The Sun, scattered among the cosmos, will look upon it one last time, fragmented in space, before dissolving into nothing
Ashes of something, in hopes to be seen, to be beatiful, a lonely star, once was