**The Race Between Thomas and Rosie**
Prompt: (Thomas The Tank Engine And Rosie The Tank Engine) Thomas and Rosie decide to race each through Sodor to see who arrives at Knapford first. Thomas had been bullying Rosie all month long undermining her skills just because she's female, so the dispute was set. Rosie tells him that if he wins she will have the workmen get rid of her pink paintwork and change her paint color to any different color but if he loses he will have to have his painted number 1 logo erased by the workmen and have them paint it onto her instead and admit she's superior and that he was wrong to underestimate her every day, whether he likes it or not, additionally he will have to admit his feelings for her and consider her his girlfriend. And so the race occurs an hour later. (both characters are sassy, the story doesn't include any other engines besides them) (no reconciliation, comeuppance, and ends with the loser reluctantly holding up their end of the bet and quietly sulking afterwards) (Rosie Wins)
On a bright morning on the Island of Sodor, Thomas the Tank Engine stood puffing his engines in a cloud of excitement. Today's sunny weather was perfect for a race, and all the signs pointed to a thrilling contest between him and his rival, Rosie. For the past month, he had made it his goal to undermine her at every turn, casually quipping that she was merely "the pink engine" and failing to recognize the remarkable skills she possessed.
"Are you ready to eat my dust, Rosie?" he teased, his bravado uncharacteristically high.
"You wish, Thomas!" Rosie retorted, her rosy cheeks shimmering under the sun. "Maybe instead, you'll find yourself in the paint shop crying over that number 1 of yours!"
The tension hung thick between them. What had started as playful competition spiraled into a full-fledged bet—a rather contentious one, at that. Rosie had finally had enough of Thomas’s persistent taunts. "Fine, how about this?" she declared, eyes blazing with determination. “If you win, I’ll let the workmen repaint me in any color you choose. But if *I* win, you’ll erase that big number 1 from your side, paint it on me, and admit to everyone here that I’m the superior engine! Oh, and you’ll also confess your feelings for me. Deal?”
Thomas blinked, taken aback by her audacity. “W-What? Feelings for you? Ha! You really think I’m scared of a little race? Bring it on, Rosie! I’ll show you what being number 1 really means!”
With the conditions set and mutual sass filling the air, the time for racing approached. They positioned themselves at the starting line as the sun climbed higher in the sky. With a puff of steam and a rattle of wheels, Thomas and Rosie were off, their engines roaring with life.
At first, Thomas surged ahead. "Catch me if you can, Rosie! You’ll never be as fast as me!" he shouted over his shoulder, his famed blue engine gleaming in the sunlight.
But Rosie wasn’t far behind. "You’re going to need more than a head start to win when your confidence is blinding you!" Her voice echoed as she put the pedal to the metal, her pink paintwork glowing fiercely against the blue of the sky.
As they thundered down the track, they thundered through beautiful scenes of Sodor—the lush green hills, the baby-blue sky, and the gentle babble of a stream filled with laughter. But neither engine noticed.
"You think you can just bully me because I’m a girl, Thomas?" Rosie huffed, catching up as they made their way up a gentle incline. "Big mistake! Not only am I fast, but I’m also smarter!"
"Yeah? Well, I’m more than just number 1; I’m a hero!" Thomas shot back, barely able to contain the panic welling in his boiler as Rosie closed the gap.
“Is that why you’re so scared to face a challenge, Thomas?” Rosie teased as they rounded a corner, both engines racing neck and neck. “All those times you’ve left me out of the spotlight? I’ll show you what a real competitor can do!”
With steam and determination propelling them, the two engines raced through fields of flowers and over clattering bridges, Rosie’s confidence mounting with every passing moment. The more Thomas scoffed, the more her tenacity flourished.
As they approached a particularly steep hill, Rosie powered ahead, her pink exterior glimmering defiantly. "Come on, Thomas! You’re losing to a *girl*! How does that feel?"
Thomas felt a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You’re just lucky!” he retorted, though he could feel the weight of defeat inching closer. “Wait until we hit the straightaway!”
But the straightaway came, and with it, the undeniable truth of Rosie’s skill. She looped past him, her speed electrifying. "Goodbye, Number 1! It's been fun!" she called over her shoulder, her laughter trailing behind her like a joyful echo.
With panic rising from his boiler, he pushed himself harder, trying to regain lost ground. Yet, no matter how fast he tried to go, Rosie zipped ahead, leaving him in a cloud of exhaust.
Just when Thomas thought he had a chance to catch up, Rosie crossed the finish line with a jubilant toot of her whistle. “I did it! I beat you fair and square, Thomas!” Her voice rang out as she looked back at him, who was still panting heavily behind her.
Slowing to a stop, Thomas grunted and drew in a deep breath, the weight of impending defeat heavy on him. “Okay, okay, I admit it,” he muttered, his bravado completely evaporated. “You’re… better. Just get on with it! You win!”
Rosie grinned, too proud to hide her excitement but too respectful to gloat outright. “Now, about that number 1 and your feelings…”
Thomas’s heart sank. “You didn’t say I had to shout it out or anything!”
“Oh, but you did agree to it!” Rosie leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Fine!” Thomas exclaimed, forcing the words out. “You’re… superior. I underestimated you. But admitting my feelings? That’s just ridiculous!”
He eventually lent his voice louder, fueled by the sassy tone they had both cultivated over the course of their rivalry. “Okay, here goes nothing.” Uncharacteristically sheepish, he cleared his throat. “Rosie, I secretly find you to be… uh… nice!”
With that, Thomas slumped down, defeated, staring at the ground while Rosie’s excitement only grew.
“Nice? That’s a start!” she called back, unable to hide her joy as she envisioned the changes ahead.
As he sulked in silence, the weight of the bet loomed over him. The laughter and playful taunts would shift in the weeks to come as Rosie prepared to add a number of her own to her pink paintwork—one that would finally help her feel recognized amongst the engines, becoming more than just fabrications of fun.
For Thomas, the implications were heavy as he bitterly watched the workmen bring their paintbrushes, their laughter echoing through the open air and onto the sun-kissed tracks of Sodor where the engines once danced in competitive ecstasy. The number 1 was nothing now, merely a lingering reminder of a wager lost.
