**The Great Sodor Showdown**

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 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 and painted onto her instead and admit she's superior and that he was wrong to underestimate her every day, whether he likes it or not. 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 the Island of Sodor, where bright colors danced in the sun and the sounds of chugging engines filled the air, a fierce rivalry was brewing. Thomas the Tank Engine, the number one blue engine with a smile that could light up the gloomiest of days, had spent the last month teasing Rosie, the pink tank engine. "You call that a whistle?" he'd scoff. "I thought I was hearing a fizzle from a broken funnel!" Rosie, who had proven her worth time and again, felt her frustration building. She was fed up with Thomas's incessant undermining of her abilities simply because she wasn’t painted blue. It was time to settle the score once and for all. One sunny afternoon, Rosie challenged Thomas to a race from Tidmouth Sheds to Knapford Station. "Let’s see who really is the fastest engine on the island,” she declared, her paint gleaming in the sunlight. Thomas chuckled, dismissing the challenge as if Rosie’s skills were mere shadows of his existence. “Sure, Rosie! And what happens if you lose? Maybe I’ll make you change your silly pink color to something truly disgraceful,” he taunted, puffing up in arrogance. “No, no,” Rosie replied with a smirk. “If you win, I’ll get rid of my pink paint and change to any color you want. But if I win...you’ll admit I’m better and have your number 1 erased. That’s right! You’ll have it painted on me instead. How do you like that?” Thomas was taken aback by her boldness. Underestimating her had been his biggest mistake, and her proposition was a bold move. “You really think you can outrun me, Rosie? You must be nuts!” he laughed, but Rosie could see the challenge sparked a fire in his boiler. “An hour from now, at the station! Winner takes all!” she declared, puffing out her steam to emphasize her point. With a final flick of her buffer and a glare that could cut through metal, she left him to ponder her challenge. As the clock ticked away, the atmosphere grew electric with anticipation. Thomas paced back and forth, unable to shake the feeling of Rosie’s growing confidence. He was determined to crush her spirit once and for all, and he was confident that he would do it. Meanwhile, Rosie readied herself, reflecting on the challenges she had overcome. The thought of wearing Thomas’s number on her side if she won gave her just the push she needed. When the hour finally struck, both engines lined up at the starting point. A peep of a whistle and they were off, roaring down the tracks with determination. Thomas barreled ahead with all the speed he could muster, his pride fueling him. “Catch me if you can, Rosie!” he called back, laughter in his voice. But Rosie was undeterred. She pumped her pistons vigorously and closed the gap between them, taking notes of every curve and incline. As they raced through the stunning landscape of Sodor, the rolling hills and shimmering lakes raced past them like a blur. Thomas tried to distract her with his taunts. “You’ll have to try harder than that! My good looks and speed are unmatched!” But Rosie stayed focused, her heart racing with every chug. She navigated the bends with grace, recalling all the times she had been unfairly dismissed. Each time Thomas belittled her skills, her resolve only strengthened. With each passing mile, Rosie found herself gaining ground. The thrill of the chase consumed her; she breathed the cool breeze of determination and adrenaline. Then, in a particularly sharp turn near the old stone bridge, she saw her opportunity. “Time for a little trick!” With a deft maneuver, she took a tight corner and surged ahead, leaving Thomas in her wake. For the first time, she felt the wind of victory brushing against her paint. “No! Wait!” came Thomas’s voice from behind, panic mixing with disbelief. He pushed himself further, chugging with all his might, but Rosie's bright pink paint sparkled like a beacon ahead. As they thundered toward Knapford, the finish line was less than a mile away. In a final effort, Thomas summoned every ounce of steam, but it was too late. Rosie crossed the line first, her whistle ringing triumphantly through the air. “I… I won!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the station walls. A mixture of disbelief and triumph washed over her, warming her engine from funnel to footplate. From behind, Thomas ground to a halt, disbelief etched on his face. He couldn’t believe he had lost to Rosie—the engine he had spent so long belittling. “This can’t be happening!” he exclaimed, the confidence in his voice now barely hiding a quiver of defeat. “You’ll have to keep your end of the bargain now, Thomas!” Rosie called out, her voice playful yet firm. A triumphant smile danced across her face as she parked next to him, revelling in the victory he had resisted acknowledging. With a heavy sigh, Thomas approached Rosie. “Alright, alright,” he muttered begrudgingly. “I’ll have to admit you’re… superior.” His words felt thick in his mouth, and he could barely bring himself to pull the number 1 off his side. With a sulky flick of his buffers, he felt the brush against his steel frame as the paint began to blur. As the new number made its way onto Rosie, he sulked away, an inconspicuous cloud of steam trailing behind him. He had lost, and in doing so, had learned just how wrong he had been about Rosie all along. The vibrant pink train celebrated her victory quietly, knowing she was now the true number one in spirit, if not in title. But for Thomas, the race had shown him that there was more than one way to be a winner, and now he would have to spend his days in the shadows of humility, sulking in a world that had just shifted an inch farther away from his once unchallenged reign.