CHALLENGERS (2024) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

CHALLENGERS (2024) dir. luca guadagnino

josh o'connor and mike faist behind the scenes of challengers (2024) dir. luca guadagnino

everything you love will lead you back to you

art come home the kids miss you 😾😾

I’m not an art donaldson apologist bc he has nothing to apologize for

KOOK!ART HEADCANONS

pairing: kook!art donaldson x pouge!reader

𓇼 ·⠀· art is the kind of kook who seems like he has it all—generational wealth, beach houses on both sides of the island, and the kind of charm that makes moms want to feed him and dads want to mentor him. 

𓇼 ·⠀· beneath the polished image, art is quietly at war with himself. he plays the role well: parties, surfside bonfires, midsummers. but he often feels like a visitor in his own life. especially among the other kooks, who are mostly about image, money, and dominance.

𓇼 ·⠀· you met unintentionally. it was just another night on the beach where he ditched a charity dinner early and took a walk to escape the noise. you were sitting in the sand alone, hair wild from the sea air, completely unbothered by the world around you. he didn’t say anything at first, just watched. something about you didn’t belong and he liked that.

𓇼 ·⠀· you aren’t a kook, not really. maybe you’re a pogue, maybe somewhere in between, but you live without pretense—and that shakes him. you say what you mean, don’t bow to money, and don’t care if your clothes match or your car stalls. you’re all instinct and gut, and he loves it.

𓇼 ·⠀· he starts finding excuses to be where you are, claiming he wants to "experience the real outer banks." you roll your eyes the first time he says that, and he laughs, but he still shows up. 

𓇼 ·⠀· he’ll offer to help you fix your bike, even though he’s never held a wrench. when you invite him to a bonfire with your friends, he’s awkward at first but earns their trust faster than he expected. turns out, under the country club polish, he’s just a boy craving realness.

𓇼 ·⠀· he’s not proud of it, but he keeps your relationship quiet in the beginning. kooks don’t date “down,” and he knows the kind of backlash he’d face if he was seen with you. not just from his friends, but from his parents, who still measure success by marriage prospects and family names. you find out when you spot him at a club event, smiling beside a kook girl his mom has been pushing onto him since they were thirteen.

𓇼 ·⠀· when you you call him out? he doesn’t deflect. he listens. that’s the night he shows up at your place barefoot, hair a mess, eyes soft. no driver, no excuses. he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone before. and from that point on, he doesn’t hide you again.

𓇼 ·⠀· he’s not the type to fight someone at a party or key someone’s car. he's a little too timid for that. art protects you with his presence—an unspoken signal that you're off limits. he won’t start drama, but he’ll stand in front of you when someone sneers, and he’ll shut down his kook friends with quiet, lethal words when they make offhand comments about pogues or “people like you.”

𓇼 ·⠀· he listens to your stories, your opinions, your anger. when you rant about the class divide or how kooks ruin the natural beauty of the island, he doesn’t try to fix it or argue. he just takes it in. 

𓇼 ·⠀· sometimes he looks shaken, like he remembers you go against everything he was ever taught. other times, he looks like he finally understands why he’s always felt like something was missing.

𓇼 ·⠀· the first time he invites you to a party, you're hesitant. kooks and pouges don't mix, it's basic logic. but he promises he'll be by your side the entire night—a promise he keeps. he holds your hand and introduces you as someone important. the kooks don’t know how to handle you, and you don’t care. you notice the way art watches you the whole night—protective, proud, maybe a little in awe. you fit into his world like a storm rolling into a sunny day—unpredictable, powerful, and impossible to ignore.

𓇼 ·⠀· art starts talking about leaving outer banks. not because he wants to abandon his life, but because for the first time, he sees another way to live. you challenge him. you make him think. he confesses he doesn’t want to take over the family business. he wants to start something of his own. maybe a surf shop or a nonprofit for underprivileged kids on the island. something that means something.

𓇼 ·⠀· one night, you’re lying on his family’s yacht. the stars gleam above, his arm rests under your neck, and he whispers that if you asked him to run away with you tomorrow, he would. you believe him.

𓇼 ·⠀· art is composed in public—shy, poised, a master of masks. but behind closed doors, he’s something else entirely. he leaves notes in your bag with maps to secret beach spots. the notes are always something along the lines of "MEET ME HERE AT MIDNIGHT AND WEAR THE SUNDRESS I BOUGHT YOU. PLEASE. -A." when you fall asleep on him during a movie night, he doesn’t move—even if his arm goes numb. he brushes hair from your face gently, like you're some beautiful sacred being and he's worried he'll break you. you call him out when he’s too guarded, and he lets himself crumble with you, because you’re the one person he doesn’t need to impress.

𓇼 ·⠀· by the end of summer, the kooks don’t really know what to make of him anymore. he still dresses like one of them, still shows up at parties and fundraisers—but he’s different. he speaks up more. he pushes back. he spends more time in the cut than in figure eight.

𓇼 ·⠀· people whisper. some say he’s throwing his future away. some say he’ll realize far too late. but when he looks at you—sun kissed, salt laced, free—he knows he’s never been more certain of anything in his life.

taglist: @fwaist @pittsick @cowboyfaists @manipulatemedonaldson @nozhdyved

she really went ‘what’s the quickest way to get him off before practice’ and then started talking about art… i’m just saying…

THIS SCENEEEEEEEEEEE

YOURE SO TALENTED OML

why do you think you're jesus? - a.d.

contains: wc just under 1k, sad lonely art donaldson, emotional apathy, mentions of religion/shitty religious imagery, nana donaldson mention 🔥🔥, LILY DONALDSON MENTION 🔥🔥🔥, 2019!art donaldson

notes: im so scared to post this but i really had fun writing it so. Dont flop? or if it flops i wont be mad.. i just hope it doesnt suck :(

“Who am I? Jesus?”

It’s the way she laughs when she says it, like it’s impossible for Art to worship her so. Like she doesn’t see how he’d be poised to kill himself if she wanted him to. It’s humorous to her, how Art craves her validation like the sun on his skin, he needs her more than the air he breathes. But to Art, it’s not a joke. This is just his life.

“Yeah.”

He answers truthfully, looking her dead in the eyes. He’s serious, too. To him, Tashi is everything, and he’s paying her back- he’s becoming everything she never got the chance to be. That’s love, right?

“You know you can beat him.”

She says it in that assured manner, as if she’s looked into a crystal ball and seen his future, maybe even manipulated the fabric of the universe to throw the game his way. It’s ridiculous to him, how she already expects these things from him, knowing damn well he’s never beaten Patrick fucking Zweig before. Not before, and definitely not now.

“What if I don’t? How are you gonna look at me if I still can’t beat Patrick Zweig?”

“Just like this.”

Tashi’s gaze is cold and calculating. It always is, but Art can read her well enough to sense the undertones, to see when she’s proud and when she’s upset. But right now, this whole poker-face act is working too well. It’s like staring into the eyes of a statue of Christ. Unnerving, all knowing.

Art’s only been to church once in his life. His nana had asked him along one Sunday morning when his parents were away on a business trip, and gladly, he said yes. But the whole experience felt.. suffocating for him. Like he was being forced into a too-tight, too-itchy sweater that just barely fit him. But the second they had left the church, Art had visibly relaxed, even as Nana asked him how he liked it.

“It.. It was good. Was fine,” he shrugged it off, before changing the subject and pivoting to the latest gossip in Nana’s book club. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t ever step foot in a church again, to feel so restricted under the watchful eye of Him.

It was sort of like that now, except Jesus was a She, and she was looking right through Art, wrapping him tight and warm in the itchy sweater. The love of his life, the woman he married, was snuffing him out like an unwanted flame. And what scares Art the most, is that the thought relieves him.

Art heard when she left. He heard the quiet pings on her phone and the rustling of a jacket. The sounds of the hotel door closing and her steps echoing down the hallway keep repeating in Art’s head as he feigns sleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. 

The bed is cold beside him, chilly where he needed Tashi’s lap to be, to keep him warm and keep him alive. He’s not stupid, he knows she’s off to see Patrick. Hell, he’s considered going off and meeting up with the bastard, just to have a chat, but Art has a feeling Tashi wants more than just a chat.

He curls up in the bed, not wanting to get up. Like if he kept his eyes closed, Tashi would come back, run her hands through his hair, feeling the smooth metal of the wedding band on his skin as she whispered quiet assurances, promises of love and devotion that the game didn’t matter.

Art opens his eyes.

The room is dark and empty, the sheets beside him rumpled. Tashi’s shoes are gone from where they were by Art’s slippers. There used to be a time when Tashi would make fun of Art for wearing slippers, but now she seemed to have accepted the fact that she settled for a man who wore slippers. He gets out of bed, sighing to himself in the quiet of the night. 

The stillness feels good, like cool air on sweat-soaked skin. It’s easier for him to think to himself, to really hear himself. Of course, none of the thoughts are great. He leaves the master bedroom, following Tashi’s steps. He could see the pauses that she made in his head, a hesitant step after a floorboard creaks and a pause to get her jacket. He can envision her sending a text to Patrick, leaving the hotel room without a second thought. Or maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was doing the stupid jealous husband thing, not even realizing. Maybe it was just insecurity, and a quick talk could fix it. But he knew that wasn’t the truth.

He heads past the kitchen and living room to Lily’s bedroom, opening the door quietly and peeking in. His daughter is asleep, curled up under the covers while a quiet lullaby plays on the portable radio that Tashi brought along. The second Art takes the slightest step inside, Lily stirs, looking up to meet her father’s eyes.

“Sorry, Lilypad…do you have any space for me?”

There’s a pause before she nods, shifting over in the bed to let Art settle in with a groan, laying atop the covers as he wraps an arm around her, kissing her forehead and murmuring a quiet “Thanks, honey,” as he settles in for the night.

His eyes flutter, and he catches a glimpse of the framed photo on her nightstand, one that she liked to carry everywhere. It was a picture of her and Tashi, taken at her fourth birthday party. Lily was wearing a cowboy hat, and next to her, Tashi wore a bejeweled princess crown, smiling widely at the camera. 

Art reaches across to the nightstand, gently placing the photo face down, before settling into bed, snuggling into Lily.

He hopes Tashi will see it. And he hopes that whatever she does that night, she feels guilty.

also lily’s bracelet and her scar on her left and art is on her left…

challengers (2024) dir. luca guadagnino

i'll stop defending cmbyn when people stop defending lolita

hmm.. real quiet...