**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 afterwards admit that she's superior and that he was wrong to underestimate her, and most especially he will have to admit she is the true number 1 tank engine, and do so in front of every other engine on Sodor in existence whether he likes it or not. And so the race occurs an hour later. (both characters are cocky, 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) (Rosie wins the race entirely unfazed while Thomas slowly catches up to her completely worn out and embarrassed)

The sun rose over the Island of Sodor, casting warm light on the shimmering tracks, as the engines began a new day. On the schedule was a series of routes, deliveries, and meetings for the entire rail system, but among them brewed a different kind of excitement—the anticipation of a race. The contenders? None other than Thomas the Tank Engine and Rosie the Tank Engine. For weeks, Thomas had boasted about his speed and ability, deriding Rosie at every turn. “You’re just a pink engine with a pretty paint job! You’ll never be as fast as me!” he would taunt, laughing as she rolled her eyes in frustration. It had grown tiresome for Rosie, who was tired of Thomas undermining her skills simply because she was a female engine. One sunny afternoon, fed up with Thomas's bullying, Rosie finally snapped. “You know what, Thomas? Let’s settle this once and for all! I challenge you to a race—let’s see who gets to Knapford first!” Thomas smirked, trembling with confidence. “A race? You really think you can beat me? How cute! You must be joking! You do realize that if I win, you get rid of that pink paintwork of yours, right? You can change it to whatever color you want!” Rosie grinned, fully fueled by determination. “And when I win, Thomas, you’ll have to let the workmen erase your fancy number 1! They’ll paint it on me instead, and you’ll have to admit in front of every other engine that I’m superior and the true number 1 tank engine!” Thomas laughed at the idea, his laughter ringing mockingly across the yard. “Fine! You’re on! Race to Knapford it is. May the best engine win!” As the clock struck ten, the engines took their places. With the sun shining brightly overhead, Rosie and Thomas were poised at the starting line, engines revving in anticipation. “Ready, set… GO!” shouted Rosie, and in a flash, both engines charged forward, their wheels clacking against the rails. The air crackled with energy as they sped along the picturesque countryside of Sodor. Rosie led the race right from the start, her cheerful whistle piercing the air. She swerved effortlessly around twists and turns, confidence radiating from her as she navigated the landscape with ease. Behind her, Thomas was panting, striving to draw closer to Rosie. “You can’t get away that easily!” he shouted, pushing himself faster. But with every passing minute, his cheeks became redder, and his weariness became more apparent. The laughter that once echoed from his boiler began to fade into heavy breaths. “I hope you’re not getting tired, Thomas!” Rosie chirped, glancing back at him with a cheeky grin. “You’re going to need all your speed to catch up!” Their race continued through emerald hills and flowing streams. Rosie zoomed past the beautiful patchwork fields of sunflowers, their golden heads bobbing to the rhythm of her swift whir. Thomas struggled to keep up, the gap widening as his wheels strained to match her pace. As they approached the rolling hills of Knapford, Thomas’s determination began to dwindle. The pride that had once filled him was persisting against the sets of fatigue; every inch he gained on Rosie was one step set back—she remained effortlessly ahead. “C’mon, Thomas! It’s all in good fun! Keep up!” Rosie called back over her shoulder, her laughter echoing sweetly. Beyond her trails, she could see rose bushes blooming vibrantly as she passed. How fitting! They thrived beside the tracks, just like her spirit. Though Thomas could feel the weight of embarrassment suffocating him, he gritted his wheels and pushed onward. “Just you wait, Rosie! I’m coming for you!” he shouted, but the words rang hollow. He huffed and sputtered, his energy reserves dwindling with every turn. Rosie's bright colors glimmered in the sunlight as she sailed confidently down the last stretch, approaching the iconic station platform of Knapford, where the cheerful buzz of activity was alive. She was almost there, a magnificent vision of pink and determination. Without hesitation, Rosie crossed the finish line, whistling triumphantly. She let out a joyful noise that echoed throughout the station, drawing curious eyes from every corner. Thomas, on the other hand, crossed after her, red-faced and thoroughly dejected, still trying to catch his breath. Rosie turned to him with that bright grin, full of victory. “Looks like I win, Thomas!” Thomas stared at her, silence blanketing the air. The weight of his defeat hung heavily on his shoulders. Feeling utterly humiliated, he realized that he now had to fulfill his end of the wager. He grumbled as he approached the workmen, who would inevitably strip his beloved number 1 logo from his boiler and paint it on Rosie instead. “Come on, Thomas,” Rosie urged playfully, though there was a hint of pride in her voice. “Admit it. You underestimated me because I’m a girl, and now you have to confess that I’m the true number 1!” With resentment swirling in his boiler, Thomas finally conceded, albeit begrudgingly. “Fine! You’re superior. I was wrong!” he mumbled, not quite meeting her gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. The workmen began to gather around, but soreness clung to his words, making it hard for them to ring true. Rosie smiled, savoring her victory, while Thomas silently sulked. As she strutted off, she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—she had proven herself in their fiery contest. Behind her, Thomas lingered, feeling small in both stature and spirit, left grappling with the aftermath of his own arrogance.