district 6 headcanons! 🚂
yeah, i'm a d6 fan too!!! sue me! here are my top hcs that i use for worldbuilding. if you've read my fic, "o children", then you'll recognize a lot of these things.
industry things
district 6 has many industries involving transportation. oil rigging companies, vehicle manufacturing factories (that they call 'manu-factories' for short), exporters and importers, etc..
exporters and importers get to travel outside of the district for a few weeks at a time, but their activity is monitored by peacekeepers quite heavily.
exporters and importers have the most access to morphling, and consume it more too. of course, there's rings that trade it and such, but people (and those in different districts) usually get their fixes through them.
i can imagine d6 being a work accident prone district. falling off trains, spilling oil, falling manufactured parts, etc..
as part of my fic, there's also an underground boxing ring ran by the peacekeepers to keep themselves entertained, but also to put money in the pockets of those who might not wanna end up in prison and need an... alternative to jail time. i hc that other districts have it too! maybe in d2?
^ OOH! speaking of which, what if career districts developed it into academies while others had it die down/kept more on the down low?
places
VERY polluted district. like, they have to have air purifiers in their homes and wear "outdoor masks" made out of cloth around their faces type of polluted. i also think districts that manufacture things -- like 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 12 -- also have a smilar problem.
i think the problem is concentrated more on the urban areas or people who live next to the factories/train stations.
apparently their population is larger than the average district, according to the fandom wiki, so i imagine that the poorer section of the district live near the factories in large apartment buildings. a neighborhood that i've created is called "farren heights".
meanwhile, the richer folks lived in townhouses/rowhouses. they have more of their own space, but the houses are still very, very squished together. another neighborhood i've created is called "peregrine court".
between the two is their marketplace/commercial area called "traveler's square". of course, they'll have their own shops in their respective neighborhoods, but it's not as plentiful as traveler's square. they need those spaces to create new apartment units or housing developments for the growing population. TS brings them together as it has all the fun pubs, shops, etc..
i think they travel within the district via a smaller metro/train system!
i also believe that due to their growing population, and because not everyone can afford the rent, they have a group of people they call "vagabonds". they build their own homes, but because of the expenses, they don't have their own purifiers. they are the most affected by the pollution.
cultural influences?!
DISCLAIMER: i don't claim being part of the cultures mentioned, so if anyone wants to drop some info, feel free to comment or send an ask so that i can incorporate it into my d6 lore! <3
german and indigenous algonquin are their dominant cultures. (hugest shout out to @pottershawkinswp and @wxstfulthoughts for helping me with the german stuff TM).
this is b/c there was a big migration of german people in this region some time ago. and the indigenous tribes that occupy these lands are algonquin!
the more minor cultures are black and latino! this is because of the fact that they have a very, very small portion of illinois/chicago according to the fandom wiki 😜
potatoes are their main source of carbs. and they have a lot of german-style foods like cheese soup, cold breakfast, etc..
along with travel/manufacture themed names, i also think some people have german influences in their names or surnames.
as for indigenous influence, i can see the youngsters referring to the older people as "elders". they also definitely pass down cultures through story-telling or word of mouth.
i also think they have a cryptid called the W. nothing else to the name, just the W. it's known today as the w*ndigo, but b/c i'm scared TM of the taboo that saying its name will bring it closer to you, i will not say it 😇 over time, the name was forgotten and just became known as the singular letter!
those of indigenous descent would keep their hair long in braids. i believe beading is implemented into their clothes too :)
these folks definitely line dance, a bit of jazz, bit of freestyling. very lively and very rowdy, free, etc.. they're there for a good time, not a long one!
HEAR ME OUT: district 6 greasers. i'm talking the outsiders, random fights, overly gelled hair, cigarette in mouth, and greaser v. socs battles in very sketchy alleyways.
yeah! that's all i have off the top of my head. this was longer than i thought 😭 feel free to incorporate these into your own d6 lore, but yeah! i 💜 district 6
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AU Tag Game 🥂
i was tagged by @creepkinginc, @metalheadmickey, @energievie, and @deathclassic to participate in this fun writing exercise/tag game! here we goooooo!
rules: use this au generator to assign you an au, this fan fiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.
then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.
au generator gave me: Prohibition Era AU
fic trope generator gave me: Make one cradle the other’s face.
title: The Great Gallagher
let’s plot:
Chicago, 1929.
Mickey Milkovich is a bootlegger from the South Side. Working under his father, a terrifying man with a fearsome reputation, Mickey provides liquor to the North Side’s fanciest speakeasies and wealthiest clientele.
Ian Gallagher is a rich Northsider, self-made through a myriad of illegal, alcohol-adjacent ventures. The Chicago police are beginning to bear down on him but it doesn’t really matter – his money and connections keep him safe.
When his normal distributor is killed in a car crash and his business dissolved, Ian must find another provider to stock his cabinets for his many wild, raucous parties.
Enter Mickey.
Their first meeting is at a cafe. Completely innocuous, the two men share lunch and discuss their arrangements. I ain’t gettin’ caught doin’ some stupid shit just ‘cause you like to party / Don’t worry Mr. Milkovich, I assure you that won’t happen. They leave the cafe with a deal in hand: Mickey will provide Ian with all the alcohol his heart desires and in exchange, Ian will provide Mickey with the best connections in the business – manufacturers, chemists, speakeasy owners, and the like. The deal is good. Infallible, even.
Until it’s not.
After a few months of doing business together, mostly through Ian’s many lackeys, Mickey’s father’s house is raided and the entire family is taken in. Fortunately for him, Mickey was down at the South Shore docks, smoking and having one of his classic existential crises, when the cops came crashing through his doors.
Arriving back home to an empty house, broken windows, and obvious signs of a raid, Mickey is lost. Never before has he been without his family and, despite the relief of his abusive father’s absence, he’s terrified of what the raid means for his siblings and his future. With no friends outside of their team, all of whom are in jail, Mickey doesn’t know who to turn to.
And somehow, he ends up at Ian’s.
The guy’s got money and connections, he tells himself. He can help me figure this out. Help spring Mandy, Iggy, and Colin from the joint. The four of them can revamp the business, make it safer, quieter, more efficient than it was under his father’s rule. Ian can help with that. Of course he can.
It’s late when he arrives. Ian opens the door to a rain-soaked Mickey and invites him inside, offering him a towel, a change of clothes, and a place to sleep. Once Mickey’s dried off and fitted with one of Ian’s giant sleep shirts and too-large pajama pants, the two men sit in Ian’s study with glasses of whiskey and a strange, growing tension between the two of them. After all, Mickey had just run to Ian in the rain, turning to him in his time of need.
That has to mean something, right?
They talk. Mickey tells him everything. About the business, his father, his siblings, the raid, all of it. Ian sits, and he listens, and he takes it all in without offering up any opinions or thoughts. Just listening. Just letting Mickey speak.
When Mickey stops talking, he hates himself. Why did he share all of that with someone that’s basically a stranger? They’re business associates, not friends. He doesn’t have any friends, and that’s for good reason. The less invested you are, the easier it is to move through the world with your own best interests in mind.
I’m sorry, Ian offers, sympathetic look plastered on his face. And for some reason, that makes something inside of Mickey break. Nobody’s ever apologized to him before. Not for his circumstances, not for hurting him, not for anything. His hardened persona, egged on by his father’s abuse, has made him impervious to emotion. So why did his brain and body choose now to break down?
Mickey cries. He covers his face in his hands and he cries, exhausted from life, exhausted from running, exhausted from the stress of worrying about his siblings being locked up in a cold, damp, terrifying place. Ian sets down his drink and gets up, walking over to Mickey and kneeling before him.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promises. “I’m going to help you. We’ll get them out.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just know. I’ve done this before. Sprung people. You’d be shocked how many dirty cops there are in Chicago. Hell, half the police force are regulars at my parties. I’ve seen the Captain down at Jerry’s Speakeasy on more than one occasion. It won’t be hard to convince them to let your family go.”
Mickey sighs deeply. Wipes his eyes. Looks down at Ian, who reaches up, cradling his face. He wipes a single tear away with his thumb, stroking Mickey’s cheek so softly, so gently, Mickey doesn’t know what to do.
Time ticks. The tension of the moment builds. Then suddenly, Ian surges forward in a leap of faith and kisses Mickey, hard and frantic, desperate and aching. Mickey kisses him back, lips and fingertips sparking, his body lit up by the contact.
They kiss and they touch and the next thing you know, Mickey’s shirt is being pulled over his head and Ian is shrugging out of his slacks and the two men fall together, naked, in a tangled heap on the rug.
The sex is electric. The release is explosive, like fireworks on New Year’s Eve. A new beginning, full of promise and potential.
They lie there afterwards, catching their breath, in disbelief of what just happened. But not regretful. No, not regretful.
“Wow,” Ian breathes.
“Yeah,” Mickey replies. Then it’s silent, save for their soft breathing.
Ian turns to look at Mickey, returning his own euphoric grin.
“Wanna go again?” he asks, unable to mask the hope in his voice.
Mickey’s grin turns into a smirk.
“Absolutely.”
**
not tagging anyone because i’m suuuuuuuper late to the game on this one but if you want to participate, consider yourself tagged! 💛
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