Arkrow
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Ryusei Shidou, at any given time, was experiencing one of two given moods. He was either A, feeling the thrill of an explosion and being his loud, vulgar, and violent self or B, chasing the thrill of an explosion and being his loud, vulgar, and violent self.
Which is to say, Ryusei Shidou never turned off. No matter where he was, no matter who was with, and no matter the social appropriateness, he was turned on, max volume, max brightness, max explosion.
Except when he wasn't.
Sae Itoshi, at any given time was experiencing precisely one given mood, cold aloofness that never wavered or faltered or dared to reveal anything different, anything deeper. Never smiled, never laughed, never cried, never let anyone in.
Which is to say, Sae Itoshi was never human.
Except when he was.
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Two weeks had passed since the accidental murder of Max Jagerman and, surprisingly enough, things were looking up. It was the night of the big game and spirits were high, people were cheering in anticipation, Richie was included in the huddle, and he was feeling good for once!
But that all comes crashing down and, when a certain dead man comes back to make good on his promise, he flees to the Waylon place for answers, meeting his fate before he could find anything. With the help of a monstrous tentacled creature, he too is returned to life, with a goal of his own: make sure the nerdy prudes survive.
Or
A ghost!Richie au
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Bruised Knuckles and a Bruised-er Ego by Arkrow
Fandoms: Hatchetfield Series - Team StarKid
16 Jul 2025
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Richie hated his soulmate. He hadn't met them, but good lord did he hate them. Out of all of the universes he could have been placed into, he drew perhaps the shortest stick possible. Instead of words on his arm or a piece of string tied around his finger, he had a jet black handprint, well fist-print, right on his jaw. Completely unable to be hidden or covered up, just a constant visual cue that the first time his soulmate touched him was with a punch. I mean, what else could have happened for his mark to be there?
Or
A Michie soulmate au with side Lautski
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Logan stood, solitary, in the empty and still unkempt apartment. He watched helplessly as Thomas shut on the door on his way out. Sure, Logan could have gone with him, but he didn't want to. No, he wanted to stew in his anger and be miserable and hold a grudge for a moment.
He hated the other sides. And Thomas. And especially Remus. And he hated the pigsty of an apartment he was forced to live in. And he hated the way Remus was right.
(ON HIATUS)
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Parties were not Logan's or Virgil's usual scene. And yet, when they're dragged by their respective roommates, they both find a reason to want to stick around.
Recent bookmarks
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After being left in charge of taking care of his former school bully after an accident out on the field, Richie undergoes a major battle between his brain… and his heart.
Or!
Kyle convinces a very concussed Max that him and Richie are together, which stirs up even more conflict than necessary.
Thanks, Kyle.
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"Get on your damn knees, Blue Lock"
A fic taking place before the events of Blue Lock (Neo Egoists League) following Michael Kaiser and Alexis Ness and their dynamic together
(PERMANENT HIATUS)Bookmarked by Arkrow
06 Jul 2025
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
I love bl
Heh
What's blue lock?
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Richie bolted down the corridor to get to the music room. Ruth followed him down, repeatedly insisting that there must be some kind of mistake. Ruth slammed into the music room door, stumbling forward and tripping over herself when it opened quicker than she expected. She didn't bother pulling herself back up and just laid there instead. Miss Mulberry looked unfazed. She was sitting on her desk with a coffee in hand. Richie stepped over Ruth and Miss Mulberry shushed him before he even spoke.
“No, there are no mistakes on the cast list.” She droned, taking a sip of her coffee. She looked utterly fed up. “I am just as annoyed as you are.”
“Why.” Was all Richie could muster. Ruth groaned from the floor.
“As a detention alternative, apparently. Principal Blim thinks making our lives hell will cure Max of his anger issues.”
“I don't think you're allowed to say that, Miss Mulberry.” Ruth mumbled, her voice muffled by the floor her head was still pressed against.
“Ruth, you know I'm not paid nearly enough to care.”
“...okay.”
or:
As an alternative to detention, Max is forced to be a stagehand for the school musical. Richmax ensues.
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I’m a literal fucking monster. by xXCherriBombXx
Fandoms: Hatchetfield Series - Team StarKid
27 May 2025
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When max died, he wasn’t given the power or desire to kill. Just to be inconvenient. More specifically towards Richie.
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We're Nighthawks! (And we don't leave anyone behind) by Burythehatchetfield (Amvic60)
Fandoms: Hatchetfield Series - Team StarKid
08 Jun 2025
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“I feel that.” A voice piped up. Max opened his eyes and swung his head in the direction it’d come from. Sitting on the swing bench on the other side of the porch was Zeke the fucking Nighthawk, and he was staring at him in that damn mask.
“The fuck you looking at?” Max threatened, uncapping the beer and taking a swig. It was bitter and tasted foul and cheap; somehow, the punch was better. Zeke swung his head around to look at him and froze. This freaky bird costume stared at him for a few moments, then turned around, muttering something under his breath, staring back into the yard. Nah, Max wasn’t having that.
“I asked you a question, bitch” He said, now walking over to the mascot. “Looking at something? Anything you want to share, Zeke?”
When Max Jagerman talks to the school's mascot at a party, he realises there's more to him than meets the eye. He's determined to solve Hatchetfield's best-kept secret: the identity of Zeke the Fightin' Nighthawk. Richie Lipschitz, the man under the mask, is determined to leave highschool without any jocks finding out that he's their beloved mascot. But now that Max has taken an interest in his feathery persona, it's hard to keep his true identity from slipping through.