For anyone wondering...
Yes, this is a rewrite of the movie Planes and potentially Planes: Fire and Rescue.
Yes, this is humanized.
Yes, this is a genderbend, but of Dusty only. (First one of its kind!) Canon voice is Kacey Musgraves.
Yes, there will be some events added in or changed to match the story.
Yes, I've done research. (To see how the planes work/other stuff too.)
Yes, Planes belongs to Disney.
No, there won't be the Ishani and Dusty pairing. (I've got something unique in store.)
And finally, THANK YOU for Queen of Fairies15 for inspiring me to make this fic. Definitely recommend you read hers.
Blue sky, dusted with clouds.
The perfect scenery to go flying.
Two jets took the chance as they soared above the cliffs, leaving trails of droplets of water vapour to trail behind them like a kite tail.
As they flipped over to talk, one of the men asked his friend, "What's taking this girl so long? Is she really as good as she says she is?"
"No," the other responded, with his lips tugging into a playful smile. "Better."
"OOOOOH YEEEEAH!" A girl's voice, combined with a small orange and white plane zipped by them, making the two jolt in their seats.
"Whoa, who was that?"
Back into view soared the small plane again, identified as a crop-duster with a teenage girl inside, peeking through the window with a pair of goggles strapped over her eyes.
"Hey boys," She taunted over the radio in a mischievous voice. "Ready to lose?"
Oh, they were NOT going to let a crop-duster or a teenager, out of all things, outfly them, no way, no how!
"Last one to the water tower buys a round of drinks." The right one placed down his challenge, while the girl inside only scoffed.
"Tell you what, I'll give you guys a head start. You're so gonna need it!"
The left one rolled his eyes and drawled, "Later, loser."
Both descended below the clouds in a barrel roll as she subconsciously counted the seconds in her head.
One one thousand, two one thou-Ah, that's enough.
"Let's do this, Strut." She patted the dashboard of her plane. He had done her good for 5 years, ever since she started flight training when she was 12.
Then she turned the yoke to the side and followed them, heading at an angle straight towards the ground, just barely pulling up at the last second, flying only around a hundred feet in the air before regaining her altitude and twisting around to avoid a mountain.
She dipped down and skimmed the top of the river, making drops of water spray everywhere before coming back up to gaze at her hometown of Propwash Junction.
Finally, as the water tower was getting closer, with her right on their tails flying over the fields, she released a stream of water vapour from Strut's sprayer as she accelerated and performed a radial g-turn over the two jets. She was gonna win!
"Eat it suckers! Eat my-"
"Dusti!"
And just like that, another perfectly good daydream wasted as the world melted back into the boring roundabout corn fields.
Ending up with her mentor smothered in that stinking Vitaminamulch compost.
The old man, Leadbottom coughed from being smothered with his creation. Sure, he loved the smell of it to a fault, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being practically suffocated in it.
"Pay attention. You're daydreaming again!"
"Who, me? No. No. No. No. No." One look from the old geezer debunked her theory that he bought it. "OK, fine. I was. But seriously? How hard is this?" Dusti groaned as she continued to spray the fertilizer over the crops. Strut's paint job was covered in the stuff, with spots of dark brown on the sides, wheels and wings from the dirty work. "Fly straight, turn around, fly straight, turn around-"
Leadbottom cut off the girl's rant. "Hey now, are you disrespecting the sweet science of aerial-application?"
"Strut is more than just a crop-duster," she snapped as she pulled away from the corn field, turning off her sprayer momentarily. "And I am more than just a farm girl."
"Please don't tell me you're gonna flap-jaw about that Flings around the Planet air-racing nonsense again." The old man was very clear about being sick of that being her conversation topic almost every single day since she found out about it. He would never understand why she couldn't just be happy dusting crops like he was.
The two turned around to dust the next rows of crops as they continued to bicker, like how a father and daughter would do. Technically, he was a surrogate father to her, since she lost her parents at a young age and he decided to take her into custody when no one else would. But one more year and Dusti would be out of his hair. She was 17 and she did not want to dust crops all her life.
Dusti was thankful for Leadbottom to be her adoptive father, but sometimes she secretly wished he was more supportive of her dreams.
She was meant to be free, not grounded here.
"Excuse me, it's called the Wings around the Globe Rally," She started, Leadbottom muttering something under his breath that sounded like For the love of Peterbilt...
"And it's NOT nonsense." Dusti continued, unfazed by him. "I've been flying for 5 years and Strut's got a tight turn radius and a high power to weight ratio-"
Leadbottom couldn't take it anymore. "And a screw loose! Why would you wanna give up crop-dusting after 3 years of doing it?"
Gee, such a big mystery.
"Take a look around you, blue skies, no air traffic and the tangy scent of Vitaminamulch." He took a big breath in and sighed contentedly. "Just like mama used to spray, delicious."
Dusti gagged at the awful stench. "They say sense of smell is the first thing to go." She was so tempted to put a clothespin on her nose, but boy, did her "mentor" put up a fit that one time she tried.
Then the train whistle sounded in the distance. Dusti let out a silent sigh of relief. Finally, she could leave the fields and go out with Chug to practice.
"Oh, that's my cue! See ya later, Leadbottom!" The older man only stared after the girl in confusion as she left him to finish his work on his own. What was with her crazy delusions? She was a farmer, and that's all she'd ever be.
"A cropduster wanting to be a racer. If you ask me, more racers should wanna be crop-dusters." He mumbled to himself, before he started humming his favourite song.
It was about Vitaminamulch.
What else?
"So now they've got soybean protein shakes, switchgrass juice, algae smoothies, yuck!" A teen with messy dark brownish red hair and lighter brown eyes complained to the other, an slightly older one with short black hair and grey eyes as he filled up the last jerry can with more fuel.
"Wow, what people do for dieting." The other rolled his eyes at it, taking a gulp of his soda.
"I don't even wanna know how far people will go with this weird health fad, but I tell ya, there's nothing better than Propwash's famous Corn Cold Sober Cocktail! Alcohol-free, of course. And..." He screwed on the cap tight. "There ya go, Sparky. You're all set. Hope this is enough for Skipper and the others."
"Catch ya later, Chug." Sparky waved goodbye to his friend, toting the fuel away.
"Seeya 'round." Static buzzed in from his headset that he always wore in case the two wanted to practice racing at the last minute.
"This is Dusti Crophopper to Chug. Over." The sweet girl's voice rang into his ear.
"Chug isn't here, use the new call sign!" The teen ran to his green fuel truck named Turbo to meet Dusti at their usual training grounds.
"Oh, right. This is Strut Jetstream calling Turbo Coach Truck-zilla. Ready for some practice?"
"You betcha, Strut!"
As Dusti flew over a nearby hanger, an older man, probably in his 60s by now, gazed out the window. Silvery hair with a few darker locks of black. Steely silver eyes. A dark blue-grey uniform that had shown the years of wear in the army.
He didn't want to see her flying.
Brought back too many painful memories.
But he couldn't bring himself to close the curtain over his window.
Finally, the green fuel truck had the orange plane in his sights at their meeting place.
"I got you in sight, now let's start with some corn-row sprints! Drop and give me 20!"
Round and round back and forth over the rows, she flew Strut with wide sweeping turns.
"Come on buddy, keep it going!"
"What else you got?" Dusti challenged her friend.
He flipped to the next page of his book. "OK, now let's try some treeline moguls!"
That was a breeze. Gently, she maneuvered her plane up and down, over the row of trees.
"Up and down, up and down, don't dog it! Looking good, Dusti!" Chug cheered her on, before continuing. "Now, adjust your angle of bank with your alien irons!"
"Um," Dusti corrected her friend's mispronunciation. "Don't you mean ailerons?"
"Oh, yeah."
But a loud bang, followed by the dark plumes of smoke spewing from the plane's exhaust pipe managed to cut their training session short.
"Oh, great." Dusti cringed at what part of Strut she possibly could have damaged now as she flew closer to the ground.
"So, how is he?" The farm girl asked her mechanic friend, Dottie as she reached deeper under Strut's hood, her chocolate brown eyes examining the possible problems.
"I don't know yet, Dusti. I'm still looking through his engine." The shorter girl popped her head back up, wiping some sweat off her forehead with the back of her wrist before going back into the warm engine space.
Dustine, or Dusti, as she preferred to be called, had long bright copper hair that reached her waist and tousled bangs. Usually as straight as a pin, it was tied back into a braid for work's sake, cause who in their right mind wants manure in their hair?! Despite being out in the sun for at least a few hours a day, her skin was very light and dusted with freckles all over her arms, cheekbones and backs of her hands.
But the most striking feature were her eyes; bright blue gemstones that could put the sky to shame and always a sparkle in them that could lighten up any day.
Being a country girl, she did not enjoy girly things like makeup, jewelry or pretty fashionable clothes. If anything was up to her, all-natural and comfort was what mattered in appearance. Leadbottom really put an influence on her with his lifestyle growing up.
And without all of that other stuff to hold her back or change her interests, she learned talents from the townspeople in other ways; taking care of and riding horses. Wilderness survival skills. And flying at such a young age.
Propwash was just that kind of town that everyone knew everyone.
"Well, here's the problem. Strut's main oil seal is worn out." She closed his hood sharply and wiped her hands to get rid of the motor oil.
"That kind of damage comes from extremely high speeds, pushing the engine to the red line for prolonged periods of time. But that couldn't be you, you're a farmer and all you do is dust crops at extremely low speeds."
"Yeah, yeah-"
"Unless you've been racing again!" The ginger-haired girl jumped back at her friend's sudden change in voice with a death glare that could kill her at least 10 times over.
"I-I-I, uh-" Dottie's death glare could do a lot to shut a person up out of fear.
"Dusti, Strut isn't built for this kind of flying! He's built to dust crops, not to race! If you push him too hard, then his engine will fail! Imagine if that happened if you were high up in the air and he fails on you!"
By now, the taller, yet younger teenager was mildly shaking like a leaf and the other girl, knowing when she crossed boundaries, stepped back with a sigh.
"Listen, I just worry about you. You know how dangerous racing can be sometimes." Dottie gave her a gentle reminder as she put her wrenches away, not looking at the younger girl. Dusti's lips curved downwards into a half-frown. Ever since she met Dottie when they were little, they had been virtually inseparable as sisters and it was only right that she'd be concerned.
"I understand, Dottie. I'll stop-"
"But I guess I can't stop you from being a free spirit. So, I'll come with you to the qualifier." A smirk crawled onto the mechanic's face as she gathered her toolbox together. Deep down, she always knew that Dusti wasn't meant to do what she was built for. Perhaps something greater. But did she have to attempt it with such a low-quality plane in terms of what she dreamed of doing?
"You-you're serious?!"
Dottie shook her head, still smiling. "How could I possibly say no to my little sister?"
She immediately regretted her actions as the taller girl scooped her into a bear hug, completely fuelled by elation. She was skinny, but that didn't mean that Dusti was a weakling.
"Oh, thank you thank you thank you! I gotta tell Chug!" She released the other girl from her grasp and ran outside.
A few minutes later, a whoop of excitement could be heard, while Dottie rolled her eyes.
Those two never ceased to amaze her the leaps and bounds of trouble they could get her into...
"Tune in, in two weeks for the start of the Wings around the Globe Rally." The man on the tv dressed in the blue suit addressed the audience. The two were in Dusti's hangar, where she not only kept Strut, but also lived there. Leadbottom allowed her to live closer to other people, unlike where he lived, further out into the country and the cornfields. But since she believed that she couldn't take care of a house, just yet, she figured an airplane hangar would do just as well.
"I think we've got this race in the bag, Chug."
"Yeah," he pulled out his book. "Especially if I finish this book by then."
"And now for the 10 best air crashes of all time." The announcer's voice caught their attention once again.
"Oooh, turn it up! I love this show!" Dusti grabbed the remote and raised the volume higher.
Number 10 was a blue plane that smashed prop first into the ground from the raised runway.
"Yikes."
Number 9 was a green plane that tore through a marker and barrelled right into the ground, also prop first.
"Wow, that is SO not gonna buff out."
"You know, Dust. I don't think," He flipped through the pages of his Air Racing for Dummies book. "This covers absolutely EVERYTHING. I think we need help. Professional help."
"What do you mean?"
"I was thinking someone like, I don't know...Skipper Riley?" A look of confusion and passiveness crossed her features so swiftly it was barely there.
"You mean that war veteran that flies that old Corsair?"
"Yeah, yeah! My buddy Sparky says he was a legendary flight instructor in the navy. He knows techniques we couldn't even dream of!"
"He's been grounded for decades. Why would I want to be taught by a pilot that doesn't even fly?"
"At least he's a pilot." Chug finished the discussion then and there. Deep down, Dusti knew he was right. As much as Chug could do his best to help, she couldn't really get better at flying without an actual mentor who knew how to fly.
"And finally, for the number 1 crash of all time."
A loud crash was heard as the two winced at the impact. "Ouch."
"I'm OK..." the man warbled out, before orange light exploded in their faces combined with a boom! and their pained faces turned into ones of gaping shock.
"Ooh, that's gotta hurt."
The world sure loved making the atmosphere of a problem perfect, because tonight, the moon was full and high in the sky, shining like a lightbulb as a frigid breeze tousled a lone black flag with a skull and crossbones on it.
"They say he shot down 50 planes. I've heard stories about his squadron the Jolly Wrenches. They were the roughest, toughest, meanest fliers in the navy. Ruthless killers that showed no mercy. They'd shoot you as soon as-" Chug cut himself off when he saw his best friend, way more nervous and uncomfortable than she was before.
If she wasn't apprehensive then, then she certainly was now.
Chug did the only thing he could think of and gripped her hand for comfort.
"Don't worry, Duster. You don't have to face this alone." The least I could do...
"Thanks, Chug." She flashed him a nervous smile with pearly white teeth.
The tension in the air was thicker than molasses as she reached out her finger and pressed the doorbell, reverberating with an echoing chime.
Silence.
Then the sliding doors rolled back with a groan to reveal the seasoned man and his helper, Sparky.
"Ummm... hey, Skipper... I'm trying out for the Wings A-Around the Globe Rally and," She swallowed a lump in her throat back. "I was, we were wondering...if you could train me?" That's all the girl could get out before her tongue and stomach knotted up.
Chug decided to finish what she started. "We know that you, you know, can't fly anymore. But you could at least give us a few minor pointers, and I dunno, maybe tell us what we're doing wrong?"
No response.
"Dusti's a really good flyer, can't you give her a chance?"
A long long pause.
There was no emotion on Skipper's profile as the doors slammed shut and the lights flickered off, leaving the two teens in the dark.
"Well...at least we tried."
"I don't know how you talked me into this." Dottie rolled her eyes as she opened the door to Chug's truck and stepped out into the open air of Lincoln, Nebraska.
"Oh, come on, Dottie. It's gonna be fun!" Dusti shrugged with a grin on her face, growing ever wider as she saw the different plane models waiting and ready to compete for the qualifier.
"Whoa! A Red Tail P-51!" Chug pointed to a black and white striped one with a red prop.
"A Sea Fury!" Dusti saw a dark grey and cream coloured plane getting picture after picture snapped of it.
"Ladies and gentlemen," A loud male voice proclaimed over a headset. "May we have your attention please." The owner of the voice was a young man with dark brown hair and dressed in a green and white suit, next to another man looking almost identical, except the colours on his suit were swapped. Likely identical twins. "Time to direct your eyes to the heavens above and give a warm welcome to our special guest. The prince of propellers,"
All eyes directed to a black and green Racing Mustang with orange flame details flying in a loop with bright green smoke trailing behind him.
"When he's speeding, he's leading."
The pilot angled his plane towards the snapping paparazzi. "Get my good side, fellas!"
"When he's grinning, he's winning."
With another twist, he started to land on the runway and through his cloud of green smoke emerged-
"The one and only..." The two twins joined in together.
The plane's windshield opened back to reveal a 26 year old man, with toned muscle, wavy black hair and green eyes stepped out, with a smirk that could rival Chick Hicks.
"RIPSLINGER!" At that moment, he tossed his head back to the cameras as the fireworks went off from behind him.
"Caught in the riptide! Thanks for coming out! Who wants a picture?" The three were completely ignored as the smoke cleared and Ripslinger went off to sign autographs with his cronies. His plane was being tugged away back to its sponsor tent.
"Well, with all that self-promotion, at least he's modest." Dottie coughed in disgust and with a lack of impressment as she waved the smoke away.
"Dottie, that's Ripslinger!" Dusti looked more pumped up than ever to start racing. She probably wanted to impress Ripslinger. Not for romance, but more in the way a sidekick wanted to make their hero proud of them.
Chug picked off where his friend stopped. "He's captain of the team RPX. They call him-"
"The Green Tornado!" The two fangirled/boyed at the same time, causing their other friend to roll her eyes.
"And those two are Ned and Zed. The Twin Turbos!" The male pointed at the two twins, giving waves to the crowd just behind the older racer. "They're world class racers!"
"I heard they were one person and were separated at birth." Dottie usually didn't like spreading rumours, but this time...was an exception.
"Wow, I wish I was separated at birth."
"OK, people, this is the last of the four time trials being held worldwide. Today's qualifying round is one lap around the pylons. The top five finishers will qualify for the rings around the Globe Rally." A short man in a blue and silver short-sleeved dress suit and baseball cap, with light brown hair and goatee, leaned back into his chair as he spoke to the contestants. "Fonzarelli, you're up, my man!" The first contender, a man in a yellow and blue checkered plane drove towards the runway and took off.
And now, for your viewing eyes and lack of attention spans...
TIME SKIP!
That, and I really really HATE writing about flying maneuvers.
It was Dusti's turn now. But her confidence had diminished somewhat, seeing all the other talented racers as well.
What if she didn't make it?
No, stop thinking that. Just focus and do your best.
"Fueled and ready, Duster." Chug screwed the cap back on the jerry can.
"Good and tight." Dottie slammed down the hood to Strut's engine. "All set."
Dusti rubbed Strut's side gently as if to calm both him and herself. "Let's go make our dream come true." Then, she jumped back into Strut and started to drive down the runway with her friends following her.
"From Propwash Junction, Strut Jetstream!" Roper called for her.
"Strut Jetstream?" Dottie didn't even want to know why Chug inserted that name in place of her real name.
"Awesome call sign, right?"
"That explains it."
"HEY! Farm girl! Landscaping was yesterday!" Roper yelled at her to move. "Get off the runway, we're racing here! Second call for Strut Jetstream-"
"I'M STRUT JETSTREAM!"
A pause.
"You're Strut Jetstream?"
"Yeah!"
"A crop duster?" At Roper's incredulous statement, a round of snickers rose up from the other racers. Was this girl for real? Racing with that? Under all of their whispers and giggles, Dusti could feel herself shrink up.
"What's going on here, is everybody getting to fly today? Man, your momma must have had high hopes for you. Your plane is built for seed, not speed."
As she continued to drive down the runway, she could hear a interesting voice comment from the side lines.
"You've gotta be kidding me. That farm girl's gonna race? How low have our standards dropped?" That was Ripslinger.
Ripslinger...
"With a prop that small?" One of the twins sneered, nudging his brother in the side.
"Maybe he races the guy who drives that leaky old fuel truck next to her!" The other one laughed.
"HEY! Don't you talk crud about me or my friends! So help me, I'll-" Dottie could barely hold him back from throttling the twins. They were only two years older than him; Chug could take them!
"Don't lower yourself to their level." She gave a thumbs up to Dusti. "Go on, Strut and show prove them wrong."
The younger girl nodded, but as she picked up some speed before her take off, the jeers in the air pelted her like a hailstorm. She tried not to let them bother her, but they still slipped by her and gave her doubt. Could she even do this?
"Who's that girl?"
"You're gonna try out?"
"A crop duster?"
"Cornfield's over that way!"
"Nice of you to take the day off, just to lose!"
But another voice, shoved all of those insults at the back of her head and turned her uncertainty, into steely determination.
"My little aviator, I know you can reach your dreams one day. And if you dream of being an air racer, then you can be an air racer. All you need is the determination and perseverance to make that dream come true."
She revved up the torque and took to the air.
"It's going to be a tall order for her to knock Fonzarelli out of fifth place. And she's off!" Roper observed the girl.
"This oughta be rich." Ripslinger smirked as he watched the teenager take off the runway. There was NO WAY that she'd make the qualifier, let alone get anywhere near that spot! She was just a farm girl with a measly little crop-duster. Pathetic.
"193 miles per hour. She's into Gate 2, clean through the horizontal."
Ease it in, don't overthink it...
"At the first split, she's a full second behind Fonzarelli. That's a lot of time to make up, but this gal's aggressive."
Tight turns, keep some distance so nothing collides...
"Now she's making that hard 270-degree radial-G turn! That's it!
Around the bend, serpentine through those pylons...
"Setting herself up. Left vertical turn. Lining up for the three-pylon chicane."
Back and forth, back and forth...
"She's gaining speed and now she's only half a second behind Fonzarelli and closing rapidly!"
Accelerate and pull up, up...
"Up she goes! Up and away! Now only two-tenths of a second behind Fonzarelli! Oh, it's going to be close!"
"You got this, Dusti!" Her friends cheered from the sidelines. She had this in the bag!
Twist in mid-air, across the finish and...LAND!
"Oh, yes! What a finish! Now that's what you call flying!"
As Strut came back down, Dusti climbed out. Her face was flushed and sweaty, not from any heat, but rather the rush of adrenaline that came when flying like this. She loved that feeling and it wasn't anything you could get from dusting crops. Surely, I made it...right?
"Jetstream," the announcer displayed her time on the board. "The official time is 1 minute, 24.26 seconds. Sixth place, but what a close one."
Sixth place...
Dusti's face fell as she realized, I didn't make it... And it was only by .10 seconds... What did I do wrong?
"Hey, girly."
The fifth-place racer, Fonzarelli approached her with an apologetic smile on his face.
"Sixth place ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. That was a heck of a run, especially for someone flying with a crop-duster. You did great, kid."
Dusti mustered some courage to smile back, but it was hard to when you were holding back tears.
"Thanks."
But it still stung so badly.
To be so close and yet,
Just not good enough.
I was going to have this out sooner, but Fanfiction decided to LOG ME OUT the exact moment I wanted to save! AND I LOST SO MUCH WORK! (sobs in corner) But that's in the past...