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1x08 | 3x11

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AMBER MIDTHUNDER GIF PACK

— ✰ in the download linked here, you will find ( THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE ) hq gifs of AMBER MIDTHUNDER sourced from role her as JULIE DILLION in ONLY MINE (2019). there has been some discrepancies regarding amber’s age. some sources state that she is in her early 20s while others say that she is in her late 20s. please be mindful of this for future references. midthunder is of hunkpapa lakota sioux, hudeshabina nakoda sioux, sisseton-wahpeton oyate dakota sioux, english, chinese, (and possibly norwegian) descent, so please remember to take this into consideration when using her as a faceclaim. she is also an enrolled member of the fort peck sioux tribe. all gifs were cropped at 245x145 and were made from scratch by feifer for roleplaying purposes only. therefore, i am taking full credit for these. the program winrar is needed to access these gifs. it’d be much appreciated if these gifs were not: added to any other gif hunts, edited, redistributed, or claimed as your own. a like or reblog would be rad if you found these useful or have any intention on using these.

Gifs feature: Brett Zimmerman, Claudia Ferri, and Lorenzo James Henrie.

Warnings/triggers: Food, alcohol (beer), kissing, the indication of trespassing (one gif), trespassing (one gif), stalking, harassment (verbal and non-verbal), emotional abuse, physical assault (grabbing, unwanted/forceful touching, and manhandling), weapons (rakes and guns), car accident/car crash, being handle at gun point (one gif), kidnapping, and blood.

sidenote: in the film, amber’s character, julie, verbally states that she is navajo.

disclaimer: though most of this movie was fabricated, only mine is (‘loosely’) based on a true story. with that being said, if anyone chooses to use gifs from here, do consider the actions portrayed by amber’s character, as well as the real story the movie was based off.

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Falling snow seemed to mute the world outside, frost softened the edges of windows and everything was quiet and still. The world living in one endless moment in time. It was cold, but not fiercely so. Canvases leaned against the walls in neat stacks. Some painted, some waiting. A simple, straight-backed chair stood in front of an easel, a half-finished portrait stood upon it. A face was just starting to peek out of the light sketches drawn onto it. A fine layer of dust sat on its surface, and over the small table next to it. A pallet and brushes of various sizes, two cups, their contents long dried up lay on the top, also untouched.

Pale, bitter blue tinged light cast a melancholy glow over the room, over the figure of a girl asleep in the window seat of the small room. Her face was rounded, plush lips just parted in sleep, quiet breaths passing through them slowly. A curtain of dark hair fell around her shoulders, a little falling over a round cheek. Her skin was a warm color despite the effort of the outside light.

Thin cardigan-clad arms wrapped around her middle in her unconscious effort to keep warm next to the creeping cold of the window. Her knees leaned against the window, thick woolen tights battling the cold there. She looked peaceful, but an air of sadness pulled at the corners of her mouth, the slope of her shoulders. Nothing so obvious as tears on her cheeks, but subtle clues the right person could see marred the girl’s features.

When a pale, long-fingered hand reached toward her, brushing some hair from her cheek, she didn’t stir and the hair didn’t move. The fingers passed through her skin and flinched back.

A figure stood back as if burnt.

A boy stood watching her, absolutely still, hand remaining slightly outstretched. His edges looked blurred, insubstantial. He fit with everything in the room. Black slacks, perfectly pressed; a dark grey sweater, his black hair immaculately cut. His skin soft, just a little too pale, the frigid light drained him of any color. The expression in his grey eyes was a mixture of hurt and longing, regret. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the subtle movements of her eyelashes on her cheeks transfixed him, he didn’t blink.

His hand slowly returned to his side and when he spoke her name, her eyes fluttered open but the boy was gone. Only the cold room and the smell of dust and oil paints remained as her warm red-brown eyes searched the small space.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Bennett.”

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Plant Night Lights by MardeFe 

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sensate oo2) harvey bennett

cork, ireland heir, artist, introvert extremely observant, filthy rich

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SPOTLIGHT: Incredible Graphite Illustrations by Monica Lee

Malaysian artist Monica Lee draws amazingly photo-realistic images with graphite pencils.

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you shouldn’t have let yourself fall so deep