**The Race of Pride and Paint**

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 for her feminine nature, so the dispute is set. Rosie tells him that if he wins she will get rid of her pink paintwork and change her paint color to red but if he loses she will have to have his number 1 logo taken away and give it to her instead. 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)

The sun rose high over the Island of Sodor, casting a golden glow across the tracks. Thomas the Tank Engine puffed along proudly, his blue paint glinting in the light. But today, he was not alone. Rosie, the pink tank engine, stood beside him, her eyes sparkling with determination as they prepared for a showdown that would echo throughout the island: a race to Knapford Station. For weeks, Thomas had teased Rosie about her pink color. “What are you, Rosie? A toy for little girls?” he would jeer, chortling with glee as she rolled her eyes in response. It wasn’t just his relentless teasing about her paintwork that riled her; it was his arrogance, his overconfidence that he could win any race simply because he was Number 1. But today, the tables would turn. Rosie proposed an idea that sent Thomas's wheels spinning with a mix of surprise and delight. “If you’re so sure you can beat me, let’s make a bet,” she challenged, her voice a confident lilt. “If you win, I’ll change my paint to red, just like yours.” “Aha!” Thomas laughed, feeling triumphant already, “And if I lose?” Rosie smirked. “If you lose, you’ll have to give me your Number 1 logo. I’ll be the Number 1 now!” His wheels screeched slightly in shock. “You can’t be serious! Me—lose to you? I’d never agree to that!” “Oh, are you scared, Thomas?” she goaded, a playful glint in her eye. “Imagine how much I could shine as Number 1. The other engines will be so jealous! Are you really going to pass up this chance to teach me a ‘lesson’?” That did it. An infuriated blush enveloped Thomas’s cheeks—he wasn’t scared! “Fine! Let’s do it!” “Then prepare to eat my dust, Thomas!” Rosie teased, her voice light and airy as they both took their positions at the starting line. With the sound of a whistle, they were off. Thomas charged forward, his cylinders pumping fiercely as he zoomed down the track. He felt invincible, the breeze rushing past him as he focused solely on the path ahead. But Rosie was not far behind; she nimbly darted through the twists and turns, her pink paintwork shining defiantly under the sun. “Catch me if you can!” she called out, her tone mischievous as she took a sharp curve, surprising even herself with how quickly she maneuvered. “Just keep watching, Rosie! I’ll show you what real speed feels like!” Thomas retorted, chugging along. But as he watched Rosie inch ahead, he felt a twist of frustration. How could she be so daring? He pressed on, determined to reclaim his lead. As they raced through the picturesque landscapes of Sodor, each engine took different paths. Rosie ducked into a narrow road lined with trees, the light dancing through the leaves, while Thomas barreled down the main track, thinking it would surely lead him to victory. But Rosie had a plan. She zigzagged as she navigated back onto the main line, effortlessly regaining lost ground. “Still think that blue is better than pink?” she teased as they neared a long straightaway that would dash them both toward Knapford. Thomas winced at her words; while he could usually shake off such comments, today felt different. He was driven—no pun intended—to silence her once and for all. “Not for long!” Thomas shouted back, now focused on pushing harder. The world around him blurred as he huffed and puffed, hoping to overtake her. But it wasn’t enough. Rosie was swift, her determination electrifying every mile of the route. She entered Knapford first, the station looming ahead like a beacon of victory. With one last burst of speed, she crossed the finish line, her horn blaring in triumph. “I did it!” she cheered, cotillion-like joy spilling from her chassis. “I won, Thomas! Looks like you’re going to have to part with your Number 1!” As Thomas barreled into the station moments later, the reality of his defeat sank in like a heavy lead weight. His pride was bruised, and it visibly showed in his sullen blue hue. The other engines weren’t there to witness the event, but the embarrassment gnawed at him nonetheless. Rosie was practically glowing, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She loved the thrill of the competition and the victory it brought. However, when faced with Thomas in his moment of defeat, she felt a shade of sympathy stir within her. But it drifted off like smoke as quickly as it came—after all, he had been relentless all month. “Now, about that logo…” she began, the teasing tone unmistakably back in her voice. Thomas sighed heavily. “Fine. Just… don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?” He glumly stared at the ground, glancing at the number 1 he had worn with pride. “I suppose I never should have underestimated you, Rosie.” With a flick of her engine, Rosie steered up to his side, eyes sparkling with mischief and cheekiness. “Oh, don’t look so gloomy, Thomas. You’ve still got your blue paint!” “Yes, and now you’re going to want to change me into pink!” he shot back, feeling sulky. “Not at all!” she laughed joyfully. “You’ll always be Number 1 in my heart—just not literally!” With that, she gleefully uncoupled his logo, attaching it to her chassis. And while she beamed with happiness, Thomas sighed again, glancing toward the distant horizon, not quite ready to accept his defeat. As Rosie danced around the station, flaunting her new number, Thomas quietly sulked, his wheels feeling heavier than ever. The once proud Number 1 was now Angela The Tank Engine's understudy, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that today wasn’t only about who won but also about the challenge to his pride. “I’ll get you next time,” he muttered beneath his breath, knowing full well that her pink engine was just a cheerful reminder of the race that had turned his world slightly off its tracks.