my contribution to #greendon2022 since the month is about to end. also my watermark does change a lot so dont steal as always. reblogs are highly appreciated. Anyways normalize push back hair gords to have his hair down, babes cmon, hes so gender.
"- well, it isn't like we've anything else to paint you with!"
"Then I will go out in bare metal and rust!"
It was the present day on the Island of Sodor, and as usual, someone was incredibly annoyed. Can you guess who?
"Now be reasonable! It's just an undercoat!"
"I know exactly what happens when someone is painted in an embarrassing undercoat! I will be seen!"
"So what? Henry was fine about it."
"Hen- Henr- Are we talking about the same Henry? The engine who alternately complained and boasted about that incident for weeks? Before that dratted book about the incident came about, and he was able to puff himself up even further?"
Gordon stared down at the works manager, who looked just as annoyed as he did.
"Well," The man said, putting his hands on his hips. "Maybe, you can be more mature than Henry is. Maybe you'll be a good influence on him! Weren't you painted green back in the old days?"
The big engine's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I was painted green, many, many, many, years ago. Things were different then; green was a noble colour - one of crack express trains pulled by the most elegant of engines. Even the Westerners were able to get that part right, for a time. I wore those colours proudly, and with honor, and if it were needed for me to do so again with pride."
"So what's all the commotion then? Just wear the damn paint for the weekend and we'll have you back to normal by Monday evening."
"You misunderstand me." Gordon looked positively peeved now. "First of all, that is not Apple Green. Second, we are not on the Great Northern. Third, we are not in 1922. And fourth..." He paused for a long, dramatic moment. "On this island, green is not the colour of nobility and poise."
"Oh? What is it then? Mixed traffic too good for you?"
Gordon ignored him. "Green is the colour of cackling, conniving, scheming, conspiring, infighting, and rumour-mongering imps who take no greater pleasure than waiting for a weakness to be revealed, so that they may exploit it for their own petty amusement! If I make anything more than a momentary appearance outside, they will find out. If, heaven forbid, I am forced to appear in public in that paint, they will see, and I will be finished on this island."
The manager suddenly had a great deal of interest in the ground below him. "Oh really? Finished?"
"Yes!" Gordon exclaimed loudly. "Almost a hundred years' worth of poise and restraint, Decades of maturity and reputation, GONE in the first instant they see me. After all I have done to promote the colour blue on this island, after how much it has become associated with me, they will never let me hear the end of it!" He looked down at the man with what he hoped was steely determination, and not the very real panic he was starting to feel. "Mark. My. Words. If you paint me in that, I will not turn a wheel until you cover it with something more appropriate. Do you understand me?"
"I will kill someone today..." Gordon seethed as he pulled into Knapford station with an empty stock working. "Someone important, whose absence will take the attention away from my-"
"Oh, good god above." Daisy was already repressing laughter when she pulled into the station. "What on earth did they paint you with? Pea soup?"
"Shut up and go away."
"Oh ho ho! Testy, are we! Well, I suppose not everyone takes to being green the same way I do! Ta Ta!" She motored away as quickly as she'd come, and was barely out of sight before raucous laughter could be heard.
A sudden and irrepressible sense of doom welled up inside of Gordon.
She was headed to the big station.
Gordon's driver finally took pity on him and moved him into the sheds. The attention he was getting from the passengers was unwelcome at best, and he couldn't yell at them to go away like he could his ostensible friends, many of whom had burst out laughing the moment they laid eyes on him.
Henry was waiting inside the shed already, as were Bear, Duck, Oliver, and BoCo. James and Douglas were there as well, but the probability of either of them being remotely helpful was so small as to be incalculable.
"What's this? A new engine?" Henry said as Gordon backed into the shed. "Did anyone else know that we were getting a new engine? It does look an awful lot like Gordon."
"Henry, if you continue speaking, I will make it my personal mission in life to make sure that you wake up each morning and regret being built."
"Oh come now, Gordon-" Duck tried to interject.
"Reconsider speaking, Montague."
"Gordon-" This time it was BoCo.
"BoCo, we have been friends for many years, but do not think for even a second that this offer is exclusive to steam engines."
The shed fell into a deeply intimidated silence, for about thirty seconds.
"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" James asked. "It's only jokes, it's not like you're some green new engine who's never... oh wait..."
"James, the sheer number of times I have lied on your behalf should be enough of a reason to still your tongue."
James' jaw snapped shut, and the shed fell into an uneasy silence. Gordon, pleased that he had established some dominance over the others, decided the best course of action was to go to sleep.
Gordon left early, before most of the other engines woke up. Now that he wasn't upset beyond reason, he felt bad about how he'd spoken to the other engines.
As he passed Wellsworth Station, he heard a faint "What's that horrible green monster, Ben?" and suddenly didn't feel as bad.
Even still, he should probably apologize, at least to some of them. BoCo didn't deserve to be spoken to like that.
He was still mulling this over when he got to the mainland. Henry was there, with the empty vans from the Flying Kipper. "Ah, Gordon... about last night."
"No need, Henry." Might as well put his best wheel forward. "I was under stress, but even then I was out of line. My apologies."
Henry did look surprised, but apologized as well. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have started joking when you were clearly in such a mood. What do the youths say nowadays? 'My Bad?'"
Gordon closed his eyes. "They do, but I think we're both far too old to be saying that."
"Too right!" Henry chuckled as his signal dropped. "Well, that's me off. I'll pass the word on to the others. I can't guarantee no jokes, but they'll at least be good ones!"
Henry's train dissapeared into the distance, and Gordon's driver pinched himself as he oiled Gordon's movement. "That was a genuinely mature conversation where you both acted like adults. Where am I and what railway am I on?"
Gordon blew steam on him.
Saturday was a full day for Gordon, and it was quite late by the time he rolled back into the shed at Tidmouth. Just as Henry had promised, most of the engines had said nothing about his paint, and if they did, it was usually something genuinely funny, or even (shockingly enough) sympathetic. Thomas, of all engines, even commiserated on how terrible the shade of green was, something that almost nobody else noticed.
(It really should rather be forgotten, but the undercoat is really awful - a terrible mixture of deep pea green that takes a horrible matte appearance once dried.)
In the shed, everyone seemed to be in a good mood, and that could be very quickly traced back to one of the cleaners, who had brought in his guitar in and was sitting on a bucket, plucking away at it. He was quite good, and took requests.
It was quite hard for anyone to play Opera (Gordon's preferred musical choice) on an acoustic guitar, so instead Gordon chose to relax, close his eyes, and listen to the occasionally-on-key warbling of the other engines as they sang along with the songs.
Eventually, Henry had a request that he simply phrased as "that song", which drew quiet laughter from everyone else. Gordon didn't presume to know what Henry did and did not enjoy, and was interested to hear what song this could be.
🎶🎶
It started off all right, with a quiet guitar riff. From the hushed commands Henry was whispering to everyone else, it was clear that they all knew this song, at least a little.
This is young Gordon from my human au. He is nineteen in this photo(still an absolute fuckin' unit).
Sorry this took so long, just got caught up with other things. Hope you enjoy. I'm going to sleep(it is 12am at the time of me posting this). Peace. ✌️✨
Hay Gordon, have any of the other engines started teasing you for turning 100? And I'm surprised sir Topham hasn't thrown a big party for you, that's close to 100 years of pulling the express, thats a huge accomplishment.
They gathered a ton of engines for Mallard's anniversary, I'm surprised there isn't anything for you, after all, you were the start of a huge long line of success, the A4s and so many more wouldn't be around without the prototype that started it all. Or am I feeding your ego too much?
Gordon: No, they haven't started teasing me. Everyone's been quite wonderful. I asked them not to do anything, I don't want fuss, although the Fat Controller insisted that I do a railtour with the touring company this year.
Maybe when I was younger I would have loved to bask in the attention, the many eyes upon me but these days I'm just tired, I don't like all that fuss. Like Edward was when I first came to Sodor you know? I think I get it now.
Who would be there to gather? There's no one else but me and my brother? My brother and I celebrated before he went into his rebuild but there's just us now. There's no one else.
I appreciate the sentiment but the A4's are not my brothers. I mean, Great Northern's still around in another form, but he was never nice to me and he doesn't care about me so why bother?
