vavoom

taken from his own words, he was “this artist, sissy boy in west texas that didn’t want to play football.” that’s a heavy awareness to carry from a young age. even if you have supportive people around you, you still understand that there are aspects of yourself that exist in tension with the broader environment. that kind of social isolation leaves an impression on anyone, especially a child.

so you learn to observe. you learn to adapt. you learn to hold yourself a certain way depending on who’s in the room.

if you’ve read my other asks, i’ve talked a bit about gender performativity—the idea that we learn what masculinity and femininity are supposed to look like by observing, interacting with, and responding to the direct people around us. then we reproduce, negotiate, resist, or reinterpret those expectations throughout our lives

i think the same process applies here. c is perceptive because he has spent a lifetime observing. he watches people. he interacts with them. he understands the roles they’re playing and the pressures shaping them. he has done the difficult work of understanding himself both inside and outside of those roles early in life, which affords him a sui generis capacity to adapt, reinterpret, and inhabit different ways of being without losing sight of who he is

maybe that's part of why his acting—his job—feels so convincing, even when it's just his face. he understands people. he seems capable of recognizing the patterns that sit beneath the surface almost instinctively, because intuition is built on years of observation and once he recognizes those patterns, he can reproduce them in a way that feels authentic and human. he's embodying the logic of their inner world, that's what makes it feel like he's not just imitating a person. how saucy!

alright, back to the point: so when people say he’s highly intuitive, i don’t necessarily think they’re describing some magical sixth sense? i think they’re noticing the result of decades spent paying attention. his mind has become incredibly fast at reading patterns, filling in gaps, and identifying the underlying mechanics that drive people. by the time that process reaches consciousness, it no longer feels like analysis—it feels like intuition

then you meet a man who cannot seem to keep himself hidden. no matter how hard he tries, his interior world is constantly leaking into the exterior one, his thoughts and feelings surfacing before he can contain them.

after spending a lifetime learning to read people, connor encounters someone who is almost startlingly transparent—a person whose emotions announce themselves before they're ever spoken aloud. and all of it circles back to identity in a way that feels almost inverse to his own experience.

connor learned to turn inward in order to survive the external world; hudson seems to turn outward in order to survive his internal one

where connor's instinct is observation, hudson's is vulnerability. not because vulnerability comes easily to him, but because he seems to continually choose it despite the risks. connor learned discernment through repression; hudson learned that connection was worth pursuing in spite of it

he wants to be understood. he wants to collaborate. he wants to create with people rather than compete against them. even his ambitions often seem rooted less in recognition than in participation—in being part of something meaningful alongside others; good or bad, his sense of self appears to be fundamentally relational. he understands himself through others, through exchange, through conversation, through creation, through belonging: where some people seek validation by distinguishing themselves from others, hudson seems to seek it by finding ways to connect with them

and those values don't begin with connor. they precede him. they're part of the person hudson already was long before they met

for someone who grew up feeling isolated, who spent years aware of his own difference, who learned to navigate environments that didn't always embrace him, how could that not feel transformative? after years of learning distance, caution, and self-monitoring, you suddenly meet someone whose first instinct is openness. someone who extends trust where you learned vigilance, who seeks connection where you learned discernment, who moves toward people instead of bracing for them.

it's not just that he understands you. it's that he offers a way of being in the world that you've spent your whole life searching for without realizing it. he embodies the ease, acceptance, and belonging that always felt slightly out of reach

how could that feel like anything other than meeting your soulmate? not because he's perfect, and not because you're the same, but because he answers a loneliness you've been carrying for so long that it has become part of the architecture of who you are

so: how does he match connor's magic with his own?

by letting connor be connor—the real connor, the "artist, sissy boy in west texas that didn't want to play football"—and proving to him that that kid can be loved without qualification. not loved because he learned how to perform, not loved because he became perceptive enough, or successful enough, now, or careful enough before, or useful enough all along. just loved.

for all of connor's insight into other people, i imagine the harder task was always extending that same grace to himself. after all, discernment is often born from self-surveillance. there's something suffocating about spending every day with a mind that is constantly monitoring, correcting, and negotiating with itself: do this, don't do that, don't say that, don't feel that, and everything will be fine.

and yet you feel it anyway, because for all the logic in the world, there are parts of yourself that cannot be reasoned away even with time. if you grew up constantly reading a room, anticipating reactions, and adjusting yourself accordingly, it becomes difficult to separate who you are from who you've learned to be. and i imagine that's especially true growing up and entering an industry built on perception: you're expected to please. you're expected to become someone else. you're expected to look a certain way, speak a certain way, carry yourself a certain way if you want to succeed. even authenticity becomes something that can be curated and sold

and then here comes someone whose instinct is not to scrutinize or reshape him, but simply to embrace him exactly as he is

in that sense, hudson's magic is permission. maybe he doesn't possess the same level of discernment, but he doesn't seem any less willing to welcome whatever is placed before him. he isn't searching for an idealized version of connor; he sees the beautiful parts, the wounded parts, the parts that don't fit neatly into any category, and none of them appear to diminish his affection

he sees connor regardless. more importantly, he sees him and loves him. loudly, openly, and without embarrassment. there's nothing tentative about it; he seems to approach loving connor with the same force a bulldozer approaches a fence

hudson doesn't ask for a version of him softened for consumption; made more masculine or more feminine, less strange, less emotional, less himself. he treats the very qualities that once marked connor as different as things worthy of affection, not obstacles to overcome, but parts of the person he loves

that's the inverse of an act. an act is something you perform in response to the 'other'—an attempt to manage perception. it's a negotiation between who you are and what the world is willing to receive.

love, at its best, is what happens when that negotiation becomes unnecessary. when the performance can finally end, and you discover that the person standing in front of you isn't asking for a role at all. they're just asking for you

connor's gift is understanding people; hudson's is making people feel safe enough to be understood.

new thought—if i were being annoyingly tarot-brained about it, i can see that manifesting as pentacles to connor's swords and cups. maybe that's why they fit together so well spirituality as well. understanding alone doesn't always create safety, and safety alone doesn't always create understanding, but when the two exist together, people tend to flourish

how cool if true!

Like I said, Absolute language — “They can never be together again.” “He secretly hates her.” “This relationship will 100% happen.” Anyone presenting Tarot as undeniable fact instead of interpretation is already misrepresenting the practice.

Scarily frequent readings — Daily readings are normal, at least for people you personally know. If you choose to engage in that kind of content for celebrities, that’s your decision, but it is important to stay aware of how easily emotional reassurance can turn into emotional dependency, especially for more sensitive people. And if a reader is posting constantly throughout the day, repeatedly pulling cards on the same situation or person, that is usually a red flag.

So: Building dependency — “The energy shifted again.” “I need to check what he’s thinking right now.” Tarot should not make people feel emotionally dependent on constant updates to regulate themselves

Constant catastrophizing or blissfulness — Every reading cannot be a Tower moment and not every day will come with a Two of Cups. Watch for people who seem more invested in steering fandom opinion than actually interpreting the cards, especially readers who do not disclose their full sessions. That is not a crime, of course, but it is still something to stay mindful of: showing the thought process matters if you want people to engage with it critically. Otherwise it just turns into gossip with a weird air of superiority.

Treating cards like surveillance footage — Tarot is symbolic. It is not CCTV, which is why I tell people to wait after tense moments. Nobody can pull three cards as something is evolving and suddenly know the exact contents of a private situation of people they have never met. Be careful of readers who imply they are uniquely “chosen,” (unlike me, famously a half-angel.)

Punishing disagreement — If a reader reacts aggressively every time someone questions a reading, that is a problem. Interpretation is subjective. Readers who act spiritually superior or personally offended by skepticism usually want authority, not discussion

Moralizing every card pull — Not every awkward interaction is abuse. Not every distance card means hatred. Not every third-party card means cheating. Readers who constantly turn normal human complexity into moral drama are usually feeding audience emotions more than interpreting symbolism.

Pretending Tarot overrides reality — If observable reality consistently contradicts the reading, and the reader just keeps inventing increasingly convoluted explanations to preserve their narrative, that should tell you something.

Encouraging parasocial entitlement — Any reader who makes audiences feel entitled to invasive access (bodily health like injuries, trauma and family dynamics) has probably lost perspective on boundaries

At the end of the day, Tarot is a reflective tool. Some people will claim higher intuition or prophetic dreams, but those things cannot really be measured, so it is ultimately up to you to decide what you believe

Not everyone can be a psychic like me, user Bompous, famously a half-angel. But then again, not everyone can flop as hard as me, user Bompous, famously only half-angel, either.