Reed used to do Primrosepaw’s hair (cuz it was really long and always tangled) so once him and Hawk grew closer he stared playing with and fixing his longer silky coat.
Hawk always brings Reed the coolest thing he can find and they then Reed will make it into bracelets or any other accessories. They have matching shell anklets.
When anyone comments on their relationship Reed immediately pulls Hawk back bc he knows the cat is about to pummel them.
While Reed never particularly wanted to be in power he is a amazing organizer and good with his words so Hawk told him when he’s leader Reed would be his deputy. All Reed ever really wanted was to be comfortable and leave behind a better world for the next generations. If we’re going au course if him and Hawk ever had kits they’d of named them Primkit or Rosekit, Tadpolekit, Pikekit, or Pebblekit after Stonefur. Hawk also wanted to name a kit after him and have it he called Swankit for their beauty and aggression.
The couple planned to have multiple kits and rule Riverclan. But when Hawkfrost never came back Reed spent moons searching on every patrol and night walk for his lost love. Au wise again I could see Reed never moving on but maybe having kits. I always liked him being the real sire for Frostpaw and her siblings or Minnowtail and her siblings (slightly like Minnow being a Reed kit more)
He never felt right taking up the spot as deputy and always stated that if his mother died before him he’d give it to his own pick. He never wanted power in the first place and the idea of being leader without his love pained him too much. When he dies and finds that Hawk is in the df he gains access to the tunnel between and the two meet there to be together. I could see him and Juniperclaw being friends, also taking care of the stray or new kits in Starclan.
I love the theme here that more than anything, Reedwhisker is dutiful. He does what must be done-- in the gentle, reliable way, like a brother, like a lover, like stepping stones always there to hold you up and help you cross.
And like the stones unmoving, he always seems to be watching others pass where he can't go.
He didn't know what to do with his paws when Primrosepaw and her wild hair wasn't around anymore. He learned to braid everything else, reeds, flax, grass, yarn. He didn't start with Hawkfrost's fur; the tabby would bring him all sorts of strings just to watch what Reedpaw made of them.
It was fascinating, the way Reed's paws moved... it was like they could dance. It made Hawkpaw look at his own long claws, poking out through the tabby fur. No matter how many times he tried, he could never make his paws move like that. They were for fighting and for fishing, no more.
And no less, either
Because Hawkfrost always had his eyes on ambition, from a young age. He need a deputy; and there was no one as patient or as thorough as Reedpaw. He had failed his assessment several times but Hawkfrost knew that something was suspicious about it. Fishy, even. On the day of his last failure, he brought back four small perch that, combined, weighed more than the trout Blackclaw dragged in earlier.
"Small fish become big fish, you've ruined four hunts in advance!" His mentor snapped. Hawkfrost would fight for himself, he'd have tangled with Leopardstar herself if she gave him such a worthless excuse-- but Reedwhisker backed down immediately, muttering an apology, and a promise to do better.
That night he started weaving a net. The next assessment he brought back a carp, and brought it straight to Leopardstar before telling his mentor anything.
In a better world, one more fair, that's what they would have become. The fearless, honorable leader and his measured, reliable deputy. Ruling at each other's sides, Hawkfrost's sharp claws and Reedwhisker's clever paws.
But reality isn't the five kits (two litters, maybe more) they'd talked about, or endless soft nights of braided fur and matching accessories. Reality is watching his mother and his lover get into louder and angrier arguments. Reality is being forced into a side when Blackclaw reminds him he's quarter-clan. Reality is cold nights that go by and Hawkfrost is not in the nest that Reedwhisker lovingly weaved into his.
The last time he sees him (alive), he's reminded of a memory of Primrosepaw. She's looking over her shoulder, standing on the last stepping stone, just before reaching the other side of the river. Hawkfrost is about to hop the short border to ShadowClan and his eyes are wide, like he didn't want to be caught.
He let him go. Stupid, spineless moron he was. He let him go.
I think he liked Duskfur, and he was a good mate. Reliable. Kept her fed and groomed, if a bit distant, but not neglectfully so (always so work oriented! Measured, reliable).
But when his kits were born (just one litter, of two) and she asked him to name one... he shook his head. He couldn't tell her that he had five names too many but none to give away, so instead he said, "You'd be better at that."
The names Curlkit and Podkit suit them just fine... but he sometimes wondered what their warrior names would have been, if they'd been named Primrose and Tadpole.
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Me, on the welcome desk in the library: Good morning, how are you today?
Customer: I have welcomed Jesus into my heart and so I am well today and every day.
Me, a little unnerved: Okay then! Is there something I can help you with?
Customer, digging around in his bag and pulling out an iPhone in a box: Unfortunately, Jesus can't help me with this fucking phone, so I came to the library.
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