**The Great Sodor Racing Rivalry**

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 sunny morning, the sound of steam puffing filled the air as Thomas the Tank Engine chugged along the tracks of Sodor, his blue paint glinting in the sunlight. However, his mood was far from sunny. Over the past month, he'd taken to teasing Rosie, the pink tank engine who had recently arrived on the island. “You call that a whistle? My grandmother’s jar of marmalade makes a better sound!” he would say, or, “A little pink engine like you shouldn’t be racing; you should be off polishing yourself!” Each jab came effortlessly, wrapped in the bravado of his number one status. Rosie had had enough. With her firebox blazing and spirit unyielding, she finally stood her ground. “You know what, Thomas? Let’s settle this on the tracks. I challenge you to a race to Knapford! Winner takes all!” Thomas smirked, rolling his eyes. “What’s the matter, Rosie? Afraid you’ll lose? I’ll race you anywhere. Besides, if you win, what’s at stake? You’ll want to keep that pretty pink… thing of yours!” A glint of determination sparked in Rosie’s bright eyes. “Oh, if you win, I’ll have the workmen remove my paint and change it to whatever you want. But if I win,” she paused, relishing her cleverness, “you’ll erase your beloved number 1 logo and paint it onto me! Plus, you’ll have to admit that I’m superior and tell everyone how wrong you were to underestimate me. And let’s not forget—admit your feelings for me and say I’m your girlfriend.” Thomas’s laughter erupted like steam from his funnel. “As if! You really think you can beat me? This is going to be fun!” But a flicker of doubt crossed his face. The thought of losing his number 1 status gnawed at him. However, his pride pushed him to accept. “Fine! Race at sundown. May the best engine win!” An hour later, they lined up on the starting track. The sun cast long shadows, and the air crackled with tension. Thomas, confident and unfazed, fidgeted as Rosie prepared herself. She exuded calm determination, ready to prove him wrong. “Ready, set, go!” With a puff of steam, they took off, wheels churning fiercely against the iron tracks, the wind whipping past them. As they thundered along the winding rails of Sodor, Thomas took an early lead, his whistle blaring with confidence. “Catch me if you can, Rosie!” he shouted, glancing back to see her smiling face, unfazed by the head start. But Rosie wasn’t deterred. As the tracks twisted and turned, she kept her pace steady, her wheels clicking rhythmically. “You might be fast, Thomas, but remember—I’m not just a pretty paintjob!” she called out, shifting gears as she rounded a bend. “Oh please! Just because you have a little sass doesn’t mean you can keep up!” he retorted, pushing himself harder. Yet, as they approached a steep hill, Thomas’s engine began to strain. He knew this incline was challenging, and he was surprised at how much effort it took to maintain his lead. Meanwhile, Rosie, observing his struggles, revved her engine and took a chance. She slipped gracefully into a different gear, her lightweight design allowing her to gain speed. “Come on, Thomas! Is that all you’ve got?” she teased, catching up to him while he struggled to climb. Climbing higher up the hill, fatigue set into Thomas. His wheels spun, and he felt the weight of every taunt he had thrown at Rosie. “You can’t lose to a pink engine!” he muttered under his breath, pushing himself with all his might. Rosie, on the other hand, found her rhythm—her determination fueled by the need to prove herself. With each puff of steam, her confidence soared. The top of the hill was within reach, and she could see the descent ahead. “All those insults are catching up to you, aren’t they, Thomas?” she called, excitement lighting up her voice. As they crested the hill, Thomas suddenly remembered how steep the decline would be. His chances to win hung on this moment. With sheer adrenaline, he pushed forward, but he felt a creeping sense of dread. Rosie was right there with him, practically nudging his buffers. “Let’s see how you handle this!” As they raced downhill, speeds soared. The landscape blurred past them, the wind howling in their funnels. The tracks ahead were straight, but the tension ramped. Thomas gritted his teeth, focusing on the tracks, determined to hold his lead—he refused to lose! But Rosie, sensing her moment, surged ahead. “Sorry, Thomas! No more bullying!” she called, her laughter ringing with freedom as she overtook him with speed. “Watch and learn!” “No!” Thomas cried, watching in disbelief as Rosie crossed the finish line at Knapford first. She stopped, exuberant, and threw her whistle up into the air in victory. The reverberation echoed through the station, signifying not just a win but a revelation. “Looks like you underestimated me, didn’t you?” Rosie teased playfully, her cheeks shining with triumph. Resentment and disbelief crept into Thomas’s heart as he pulled up beside her. It was a bitter pill to swallow. “Fine! You want to gloat? Go ahead!” he sulked. With a reluctant frown, he summoned the workmen to begin painting Rosie’s new number 1 logo on her instead of himself. “This is so unfair,” he mumbled, barely keeping his emotions in check. Rosie, flashing a satisfied smile, couldn’t help but revel in her victory as she looked at her new logo. “Guess I really am more superior than you thought, Thomas,” she teased, but deep inside, there was no animosity—just a surge of triumph. And there he stood, sulking and grappling with a feeling he had never wanted to embrace. He watched as Rosie glided away, painting the tracks of Sodor with fresh joy, all the while festering in the sorrowful truth of his lost pride.