Don't Do Anything I Wouldn't Do

Also “what if exactly this and he’s insecure about it” and “what if this lil belly is given some attention bc it’s very appealing” - a significant amount of chonky talk is just about noticing and appreciating the little extra curve that actually is there as opposed to adding more. This confused me initially because I interpreted the term “chonky” as indicating more in terms of weight than it really does - it’s more an indicator of focus on whatever amount of visible body fat is present?

I’ve notice the uptick in Chonky Thomas content as well. And while everything above is valid and of course I appreciate all body types getting their time to shine, the fact that it leads to over feeding the person/character in question in the interest of weight gain makes me vastly uncomfortable.

See, I’m very overweight. I have a plethora of physical and autoimmune issues that make it next to impossible to lose that weight, but in order to lessen the effects of those issues I need to lose weight, and so I’m just stuck in a cycle of suck, and I feel horrible all the time. And while I love seeing someone being recognized as beautiful outside the realm of standardized beauty, I can’t help but see dynamics of one chonky person/one person who keeps feeding them to keep them that way as a vastly unhealthy and almost abusive dynamic.

There’s a pattern in many of the fics that contains an enjoyable binge or two (the term may not exactly apply if it is enjoyable but I don’t know another one - eating to the point where one’s stomach is uncomfortable but one feels satisfied), plus a gradual loosening of “shouldn’t”s around extra portions and desserts. For some people this is gonna look like eating habits that would be genuinely terrible and unhealthy for them. But for me?

That sequence actually reflects really well my journey towards a healthier relationship with food. The idea that if I want to eat more it’s not necessarily my tastebuds tricking my stomach, that what many people consider too many sweets actually feels good in my body, that occasionally eating until I’m fully satisfied might strain my stomach and that’s okay (I have an issue where sometimes my stomach complains of fullness significantly before I’ve had enough calories to keep my body doing well, so choosing to “overeat” and observing how that affected my equilibrium enough times to be sure of the pattern was actually a really big important step for me) - and even that occasionally saying “hm I’m gonna keep eating this even though it’s not the healthiest choice because I’m just enjoying myself so much” isn’t the end of the world any more than other occasional trade off for the sake of enjoyment.

But that’s me, and my body, and my food journey, and I absolutely understand how the exact same sequence of food decisions, especially with another party encouraging and instigating it, could just as strongly reflect something extremely unhealthy that someone else has experienced. But, even in regards to that other party thing: my current partner, who is himself a really big eater, was really helpful in me actually figuring a lot of this out, because he encouraged me to eat whatever I wanted and forget what anyone else considered a reasonable portion was, encouraged it enough that I was able to actually see my experiments through and confirm that I wasn’t making it up, I really do do better health-wise when I try to take fewer signals from my stomach and more from my wants and cravings.

I’m not saying I read Thomas in (all) of the weight gain stories as being on something adjacent to my journey towards healthier-habits-that-sometimes-people-assume-are-unhealthy. Just sharing this as why I personally don’t feel even the fics that focus a lot on sweets and “over”indulgence are automatically showing a relationship - either between the characters or between Thomas and food  - that would be unhealthy in the real world. Though of course they could be unhealthy and it’s perfectly reasonable to feel uncomfortable with that! Possibly at some point writers and readers could even workshop a tag for fics that specifically focus on over or “over” indulgence, and see if that helps everyone look after their comfort levels, though I’m neither a writer myself nor someone looking to avoid this content, so I hesitate to take the lead on something like that.

I really, truly want to write a fully thought out and organized response to this, but I'm coming off an all-nighter of writing a paper and I'm really not at my best. Honestly I wasn't at my best when I responded last night either, and I feel like I didn't make myself very understandable, if the responses I'm seeing in other posts are any indication. Hopefully I'll be able to better explain where I'm coming from later, but for now I wanted to pop in and just add a little to my earlier post.

I'm fully familiar with the don't like, don't read credo, and as such I haven't read most of the Chonky!Thomas fics. I tried, with the first few I came across, mostly because it sounded sweet; Thomas is exactly the kind of person who would stress about gaining some love weight, and the idea of his friends or his partner loving and accepting him as he is, and teaching him how to do so, sounded so cute to me. As I said, I'm overweight myself, and so I truly love to see the boundaries of stereotypical beauty pushed. One of the fics I read is a perfect example of what you mentioned in your response above; Thomas's partner offering extra desserts and always having food to hand to him. I didn't super dislike that one, because like you said, there's nothing inherently wrong with it; it didn't reflect my life or worldview, so I really didn't think too much about it at all. It was the second (I think) fic that I read where I sort of formed an aversion to these fics. Honestly, it was almost the same premise, but the way it was handled was, to me, not a good reflection of the point of the trope. Thomas's partner, without any discussion or consideration of Thomas's feelings on the matter, would play into Thomas's sweet tooth and keep tempting him with sweets for the sole purpose of watching him gain weight, never mind that it was obviously stressing Thomas out and actually building up his insecurities before (I assume; I didn't finish it but it was tagged Hurt/Comfort) tearing them down.

I honestly don't even remember what the rest of the plot was, or who wrote it, so if you recognize the story I'm talking about and love it to bits, I'm sorry. But it's an important part of my reply to OP's question. In theory, I really like what this trope has to say. But reading that one fic actually reduced me to tears, and I couldn't finish it and have been unable to try reading fics that deal with it again. But that's my own problem. I'm not here to shame anyone's comfort trope or kink or whatever, but OP asked a question about something that has been deeply and viscerally bothering me for a long time, and perhaps foolishly I thought this thread would be a good place to introduce my reservations on the subject into the conversation. Again, I haven’t read any more of these, so my viewpoint isn’t at all meant to generalize the trope. I just think it's important, when writing or reading these fics, to recognize the difference between a supportive character and a manipulative one.

Also “what if exactly this and he’s insecure about it” and “what if this lil belly is given some attention bc it’s very appealing” - a significant amount of chonky talk is just about noticing and appreciating the little extra curve that actually is there as opposed to adding more. This confused me initially because I interpreted the term “chonky” as indicating more in terms of weight than it really does - it’s more an indicator of focus on whatever amount of visible body fat is present?

I’ve notice the uptick in Chonky Thomas content as well. And while everything above is valid and of course I appreciate all body types getting their time to shine, the fact that it leads to over feeding the person/character in question in the interest of weight gain makes me vastly uncomfortable.

See, I’m very overweight. I have a plethora of physical and autoimmune issues that make it next to impossible to lose that weight, but in order to lessen the effects of those issues I need to lose weight, and so I’m just stuck in a cycle of suck, and I feel horrible all the time. And while I love seeing someone being recognized as beautiful outside the realm of standardized beauty, I can’t help but see dynamics of one chonky person/one person who keeps feeding them to keep them that way as a vastly unhealthy and almost abusive dynamic.

 The Package.

A small reminder for Mr. Barrow (after the events of the movie “Downton Abbey” 2019). The original 1920s Rowntree’s YORK Chocolates packaging and the fictional chocolate coin design (but there certainly was a curly candy like this!).

So far, the novel is losing. On the other hand, I’ve been wanting to write Tully/Jessop stuff since @alex51324 introduced them, so I’m not going to complain that they finally obliged.

Again, I might clean this up for Ao3 consumption at some point. If nothing else, there’s not enough swearing. But for now, have a missing scene rough draft.

-

Something had woken him up. Holding perfectly still, eyes closed, Jessop tried to put his finger on it. Outside, there was the steady drip of sluggish rain, and the odd gust of wind that made the wall boards creak. That could have been what did it. Pulling a deep breath in through his nose, he let it out and rolled over, reaching one arm across the mattress.

The empty mattress.

Ah. So that was it.

Opening his eyes, he shifted, looking toward the door. It was cracked open and light was seeping through the edges. Not simply using the wc then. With a sigh, Jessop pushed the blankets back and levered himself out of bed. He slid his feet into his slippers and wrapped his dressing gown around him, making certain he had his cigarettes and lighter, and headed for the kitchen.

Tully was, as predicted, sitting at the kitchen table, bottle in hand, staring out the window at the rain. At first he didn’t seem to realize he was alone. Then, without turning, he said, “You should go back to bed. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“Bed’s a lot less warm without you in it,” Jessop pointed out, leaving his place in the door way and crossing to set a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “And I’ve already had one lonely night this week. Not really looking forward to another.” He pulled up a chair and fished out his cigarettes, lighting one for each of them. “What’s wrong?”

“Eh, nothing much,” the other man replied, taking his cigarette with a weak smile. “You want some of this?” He offered the bottle.

Jessop shook his head.

“Suite yourself.” Tully took another drink and sighed. “It’s just the fucking dreams again.”

“It’s been awhile.” Despite the observation, Jessop couldn’t say he was surprised. They’d both had trouble sleeping after the war, enough that when they’d arrived on the Island they’d been part of the first War Neurosis group. Tully had grumbled, but in the end even he had to admit that it helped.

“No’ fucking long enough.”

“No,” Jessop agreed, watching the other man alternate between cigarette and drink. “But it’s also been a fair while since we lost track of one of our lads, so I can’t say as I’m really surprised.”

Tully thought about it, then nodded his head in acknowledgement. “There is tha’, I suppose.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain. Finally Jessop asked, “Which one is it?”

“Same one you’d fucking expect,” Tully replied around his cigarette. “I’m looking for someone. No fucking idea who, but I can’t find ‘em. I can find everyone else in the B.F. fucking E. and their cousin, all of ‘em dead, but not the person I’m looking for.” He paused, staring out the window again, then shook his head. “Still hadn’t found whoever it was when the wind woke me up.”

It was one of Tully’s more common dreams, when they came. Jessop never needed to ask if the other man had found him in the pile of bodies. The answer was always no, but somehow the answer was always 'you’re not who I’m looking for’ too. That was dreams for you. “At least this time we didn’t lose anyone,” he pointed out, referring to the waking events that had clearly inspired the dream’s resurgence. “Was anyone even really injured?”

“Naw,” Tully sighed and shook his head, a small smile stealing across his face. “Fucking thorn put a good sized tear in Barrow’s good hand, but that was the worst of it. At the Front that’d have been cause for concern, but here,” he shrugged. “Easy clean, no lasting damage. No use frettin’ over battles already won, I know that.”

They both did, but it was easier said than done when there were so many battles they’d lost. “At least here there’s no real enemy,” Jessop pointed out, crushing out what was left of his cigarette. “Only allies.” Tully made a grunt of agreement, but didn’t actually say anything. Talk it out, then move away. Don’t wallow. That was the advice they got, and when he could keep his husband from getting too drunk, it worked.  He just needed the right angle. For a minute he listened to the rain, thinking through the events of the previous two days, looking for something related, but distracting. Not at the heart of things. “It’s probably a good thing Dr. L wasn’t there when we broke up the parties.”

“Mm?” Tully gave him a questioning look.

Jessop allowed himself a knowing grin. “I’m not sure he’d have approved of you going off with Barrow, even if Fitzroy was there to chaperone.”

It worked. Tully erupted with laughter and probably would have spilled whiskey all over the table if the bottle hadn’t been mostly empty. “Wouldn’t have needed to worry there. Half caked in mud, in the rain, with thorn bushes for privacy? Not the most fucking romantic of situations. Now, if Fitzroy hadn’t been there and it had been a wee bit drier,” he hummed. “Then maybe you could have convinced me.”

Other men might have been jealous at the person they married openly thinking about someone else. Jessop, on the other hand, had known Tully too long to object. There had been too many years where they’d been together, but anything could have gone wrong; too many years of taking whatever was on offer; too many years in that other world that wasn’t the island to just let it all go. Besides, Tully wouldn’t be Tully if he weren’t a dirty old man, and Barrow was too damn good looking for anyone’s good. “Who do you think he’ll settle down with?” he asked, still smirking. “Since you’re off the market.”

“Hard t’ say.” Frowning, Tully went to take a drink, only to find the bottle empty. He pulled a face and set it aside, crossing his arms over his ample stomach. “Won’t be someone our age, bet you that. Doesn’t seem like he’d go in for the theatrical set either, but I could be wrong.”

“Given the blow up at the concert, I think you’re right there.”

“Oh, right. I’d forgot that fucking mess.” Tully thought some more. “'E’s going to have plenty of experience with fucking Ruperts, so hopefully that’ll be enough to warn him off. Can’t see him with any of our other lads though, not really.” He paused, then amended, “Maybe Fitzroy. They’re chummy enough.”

“I can see that. Or maybe Mr. Ellis. Not one of ours, but they seem to spend enough time together. Might not be a bad match.”

The other man conceded that one with a nod of his head. “I just hope he knows he can do better than settling for Norridge. He might know newspapers, but that doesn’t mean 'e’s not going to be high handed if it goes further.”

There was a slight temptation to defend the absent Honourable, but it wouldn’t do much good. Tully’s dislike of the upper classes was well founded, so he took a different path. “I’m pretty certain Barrow can hold his own against 'high handed’. He can certainly deal with prima donnas.”

“True enough.” Tully thought a bit more, then shook his head, yawning. “Won’t know what tomorrow brings until the dawn anyway.” He looked out the window. “Although I, for one, would be happy if it brought some fucking decent weather.”

“No arguments here.” Jessop stood and stretched, then shivered. He extended his hand to the other man. “You up for going back to bed? Maybe see how fast we can get warmed up?”

The playground had two levels, with a hill in between them, and at one point part of the hill was covered in those rounded landscaping rocks, you know the ones?  Anyway, somebody discovered that if you stood at the top of the hill and threw one as hard as you could onto the blacktop of the lower level, it would shatter into a number of much more interesting pieces.  Some of them were shiny and/or had sharp edges!  We called this pastime “making arrowheads.”  

I don’t believe we knew that actually making arrowheads was a multi-step process; as far as I can recall, we thought that if we kept doing this long enough, eventually we’d get a proper arrowhead.  Sort of like the infinite number of monkeys at an infinite number of typewriters.

Finally got around to doodling this man, but damn was it a major PAIN in the ass.

Make sure you go with a partner! You don’t want to be alone and lost in the maze!

Take a map! You may want to try navigate on your own, but it’s best to keep a guide handy in case you lose your way!

Bring a water bottle with a sealed top! It will keep you hydrated, and the closed top will stop any water from spilling on the thirsty corn. Remember, thirsty corn is docile corn!

Wear long sleeves! Although dead leaves aren’t quite as sharp as green leaves, they can still cut you. And they will, if you give them the chance.

If a stalk does draw blood, spill some water from your bottle on the ground near its roots and move on. Hopefully, the water will quench its thirst long enough for you to escape.

Be careful what you eat before you go into the maze! Avoid cornstarch, corn syrup, and all corn products. The corn can smell itself in your blood.

Remember, scarecrows are there for YOUR protection. As long as the corn thinks you’re with others, it won’t make any sudden moves.

If you see a scarecrow wave, wave back. It gets lonely, and you will too if you’re not kind.

If you are alone in a cornfield, pretend you’re talking to a friend! The plants have ears, but no eyes, and they are easily fooled. Get out before they catch wise!

The breeze is lying to you; don’t listen to it. It cannot lead you home.

If you’re lost, look to the sun for directions, not the shadows. The shadows like to watch you struggle.

Never, ever walk off the provided paths! The paths are safe routes carefully created by the farmer. If you leave the path, you may never see it again.

Keep an eye on the time while wandering! You don’t want to be in a cornfield after dark. You really don’t.

In a pinch, many people try praying to the Harvest God for assistance. This is often a poor choice; you’re just as likely to be harvested as you are to be helped.

If you see a single green corn stalk among the brown, turn around. You don’t want to know how it keeps itself warm in the cold.