Johnny Silverhand Concept Art Novels & Stories

“I haven’t been this certain of anything since...well, since forever. That night in the woods, you walked hand‑in‑hand with me deeper into shadows I’d lived with my whole life. That cabin...I built it before I even knew what I was building it for. Every plank, every nail was waiting for this. For you.” Trixie’s eyes glistened. “Ryker...you’re going to make me cry.” “It’s okay.” He gently tilted her chin up. “But I’m not done.” His fingers left her and he folded out of bed, moving with quiet intention to the foot. He pulled aside the stack of blankets and reached below the mattress. He returned, holding a small wooden box—dark cedar, carved with a full moon, marigold petals, and a wolf’s head

John sighed and reached into his pocket. The mother fucker pulls out a crisp white handkerchief with the initials JAH embroidered in blood red at the corner. “Seriously? How fucking old are you, man?” I couldn’t help but ask. John growled at me while his mate rolled her eyes and took the handkerchief using it to carefully take the necklace from Silvercloud. “There.” Sarael nodded, folding the handkerchief securely around the necklace so it couldn’t touch anyone. Silvercloud wiggled his nose then his jaw before doing a full-body shake. “Mother fucker. I didn't like that.” he shuddered.

"And so what if I've brought these ferals back to life? What are you going to do? Stop me?" "These Silverhounds that you have let go, aren't suitable in these areas. Take them to another place!" "Why?" he cackled. "They seem to be liking it here. Humans, and animals. They feed on them nonstop. It's a perfect ecosystem!" "You're much more of a scum than Chaol is, huh." He smirked at him, his grin extending from ear to ear. "We are both the scums." The Silver-man charged towards him, ready to impale his entire being with his huge, crystalline claws. Owl could see his reflection from the glass, as he avoided the attacks one after another.

“You know, I could have turned you like so many of the young boys I’ve played with in other packs. Made you want to have as much sex as you could handle but you had to yelp and scream and call attention to something that wasn’t hurting you. You got my tail busted something fierce when you were twelve. I can’t begin to tell you how many males, experimenting with homosexuality, I had taken without so much as a whimper. Yet you couldn’t even handle a long but small dildo without passing out. I begged dad for years to take you out of my room. He let you win that game. Relieved me of the torture that came from not being allowed to fondle you.To rape you.” He pauses a moment as if he’s thinking of

Thera rolled on her bed thinking about the guy that has been disturbing her mind all this while, she just could not phantom it, he is so handsome, his blond hair and green eyes, whenever she looked at him it is as if he is looking into her soul, Thera hit her head with her hand, talking self “Thera what is wrong with you, what is wrong with you, why can’t you forget him and he has been avoiding you, what do I do, what do I do” She jumped from her bed and sat down on the floor “I know what to do, tomorrow when I go to college my plan will begin, operation woo handsome guy with green eyes”. …………………………. Gold and silver were in their sitting room talking about the shadows “I need to go in” Silve

It wasn’t macho; it was math. Silver came later, in a windowless room with a table and a locked case, not as a thrill but as a lecture with props. With a gloved hand, Todd laid a handful of objects on a cloth—cutlery, jewelry, a small bar that looked like nothing—and told me the truth: how silver bites wolves, why it does, what it represents to them, and how it turns from defense to cruelty faster than you think if you wield it like a fantasy. He let me hold the bar with gloves, feel the wrong chill of it, then put it away. “Last resort,” he said. “The line that ruins a dinner table if you cross it for sport.” I nodded. I got it. Some power you respect by not touching.

“That’s rough.” “Hey, it’s not all bad,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Top secret missions, the powers of darkness at our fingertips… I could get used to it.” Extending a hand, he says, “I’m Tobias Silver.” “Nyx Arcturus,” I reply, shaking his hand. His grip is strong but gentle, and I take the opportunity to look at him closer; he looks like he’s about twenty. His hair is gold, a little past his jaw, and his eyes are a steely gray, and he’s as muscular and good looking as all wolves are.

It’s unnerving, honestly, because his tone doesn’t match his stern face and heavily tattooed hands and neck. I lick my lips and sink onto my usual stool, pulling Ian’s unfinished necklace toward me. “They called to me.” “I thought so.” I dip my fingers into a bowl of flaked silver shards, which turn to balls of liquid in the palm of my hand, which I’ll form into beads shortly, once it cools enough to take shape. Ryatt watches with interest, stepping closer to the table. “I’m plating the silver in iron with nickel alloy, like the Ghost gloves. Ian won’t feel the silver. It won’t hurt him at all, but the silver will prevent him from shifting into his wolf form. It should… snap him right out of

One small exhale, barely visible, and something in him went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with peace. The gold left his eyes. Not gradually. It pulled back all at once, like a tide that came in too fast and overcorrected. Silver replaced it, cool and certain, and the man looking at me then was not the man who had taken that one step forward. This one had already made up his mind. I looked down at my hands. My nails had broken the skin on both palms. I had not felt it happen. Four small marks on each hand, barely bleeding, the kind you make when you hold on too hard to something that was never yours to hold onto.