Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Masters of the Wicket
Masters of the Wicket
Prologue
Hi.
I'm Lorna Ni Ionnrachtaigh, and you may remember me from such fan fictions as First of the Gang to Die, Full of Holes and Karma Police.
(That, in case you didn't know, was a reference to Troy Mclure from The Simpsons.)
FUCKSHITCUNTKILL
Right, now that I've got your attention nice and close, gather around boys and girls and I'll tell you about my new fan fiction.
*inhales cigar smoke deeply, leans back in chair and massages temples*
This new thing I've got going here is entitled Masters of the Wicket, after the quote Gerard says in the making of the I'm Not Okay (I Promise) video. (Yanno, where he's being all nerdy and shit, and he hits the croquet ball and then proudly stands with the bat over his shoulder and proclaims, "I am the master of the wicket." Honestly, I think that's the best thing to ever come out of his mouth, fucking geniusuva man.) I thought it was quite clever and since I have played cricket since I was like six I thought it would be rather amusing to combine MCR and cricket.
It sounds hella boring, I know, but it's set in my hometown of Belfast *throws confetti* in Northern Ireland. If your geography is pretty shit, then Northern Ireland is, indeed, surprisingly, north of Ireland. No, it's not Dublin. It's like six counties that everyone kinda argues over because it's kinda hard to tell whether it belongs to Britain or Ireland. I am from County Antrim up the top of the country. I will be setting the story in the place I'm from because I'm a totally selfish bitch, which is called The Falls, mainly because so much shit went down there in the sixties, seventies and eighties.
Like I did in Holiday in Cambodia, I feel like I gotta give a brief intro on NI before you read the story. BASICALLY-
A SHIT SIMPLE HISTORY OF NORTHERN IRELAND AND WHY PEOPLE ARE VERY PMS-Y OVER IT
Like eight hundred years ago these dudes from Scotland (where they wear kilts and say 'aye') and these other dudes from England (the ones who drink tea and say 'quite') basically just kinda came over to Ireland and were like, "yeah...we want this." They were Protestant (Anglican) and the Irish were Catholic and the Irish were like "HELL NO BRO. THAT SHIT AIN'T HAPPENIN."
Well, it did.
After like eight hundred years of beating the shit outta one another and stuff, in the year 1916 the English were at war with Germany in WWII and Ireland kinda figured they'd go in for the kill here, which is admittedly very cowardly. Irish rebels kinda tore Dublin (the capital) to shit and England were like "DUDES, WHAT THE FUCK. WE HAVE OTHER PRIORITIES. THANKS FOR FUCKING SHIT UP, IRELAND."
Then four years later, in 1920, Ireland was torn between the Loyalists (people who like the Brits) and the Republicans (people who DO NOT like the Brits; I am neither, I don't like you based on your nationality because I'm not an idiot.) There are thirty two counties in the geographical country of Ireland, so Irish politicians did the nasty and basically said "hey dudes! You can totally keep these six counties, we totally don't need them."
So six counties from the island of Ireland (Fermanagh, Armagh, Tyrone, Derry, Antrim and Down) were deemed part of the United Kingdom. Serious shit went down between these two groups of idiots, the IRA and the UVF, who ripped the country to shreds between the fifties to the nineties. Thankfully, everything is peachy king now and there's only a shooting every few years.
But this fic is taking place in 1968, when the so called "Troubles" began. That was when Protestants and Catholics were attacking each other purely based on your religion, fucking insane shit. Gerard, Mikey, Bob and Ray will be Catholic and Bert and Frank are Protestant. As we saw in First of the Gang to Die, my characters will be quite different from their real selves because....I dunno, I'm a cunt like that.
Ray, having read the first few chapters myself, is my favourite. He's like really bitchy and sarcastic (maybe because you are also a sarcastic bitch, Lornaigh?) Mikey, like in most of my fics, is a complete tool. There's no other way to put it, guys. He's just a dolt.
Bob is just awesome and Frank is innocent but a huge-ass nerd because I always feel like I make him too dumb in my stories. He's gonna be a good little boy with a nerd haircut and I'm gonna make him have glasses and a pen protector and wear sweater vests and HE WILL BE PERFECT.
Gerard, however...well, I had some fun with Gerard in this story. I kinda fucked with his personality and his looks...I made him have a mohawk and chains on checkered pants and go to anarchy rallies and YES, I MADE GERARD WAY A PUNK.
Yeah, I'm making Gerard a bit of a little bitch here. I mean, unless in real life he has a mohwak now, that man does his hair more often than I do...
In regards to talking, well...here we have a problem. Ya see, the Northern Irish accent is like the Scottish one...but even thicker. Someone once asked me on the train to "speak English, please." And I was just like oh sweet Lord...
If anyone has read "Trainspotting" by Irvine Welsh, that's what I talk like. I pronounce "I" like "Ah" and I don't say the "g" at the end of sentences and "down" like "doon." I also say "mate", "eight" and "late" liek there's about 28645098 a's in there. Therefore, I'm not sure I'll do the accent. I do want to make it realistic, but...
The rest of the story goes like so: Protestant and Catholic relations are at an all time low and schools encourage each other to play sports with each other to improve the morals. This happened, my dad did it like. Bert and Frank will be together at first but then the mighty Frerard steps in (fuck yeah) and so yeah. The story will have funny bits (well, weird Lornaigh humour) but will have a serious theme working throughout. Over three thousand people died in the Troubles and my family have been seriously affected by them.
Lastly, I would like to say I completely disassociate myself from either side of the pyscho scale in NI; hating the Brits or hating the Irish. I would never, ever hate on someone or hurt them because they were of a different race, religion or sexual orientation to me. I have no interest in the colour of your skin, the type of church you attend or the gender you find attractive, I'll only hate you if you're a cunt to me. If you're a lovely person I will shower you with my weirdness, no matter yer background.
So yep. I hope you enjoy this.
Oh, and to the person who asked "if English isn't your first language, what is?" It's Irish. Not Gaelic, Irish. I write all my stories in Irish first and then remove the vowels so no one can steal my writings (like they'd want to.) There y'are.
I don't think it would pain a lot of ye to shove down yer thoughts on the reviews page. Oreo's to the first five, honest. *Lornaigh grins mischievously and mutters "ha ha suckers"*
Viva la Frerard set in Northern Ireland in the sixties in community-torn Belfast!!!!
xo lornaigh ni ionnrachtaigh, weird ass motherfucker
Prologue
Hi.
I'm Lorna Ni Ionnrachtaigh, and you may remember me from such fan fictions as First of the Gang to Die, Full of Holes and Karma Police.
(That, in case you didn't know, was a reference to Troy Mclure from The Simpsons.)
FUCKSHITCUNTKILL
Right, now that I've got your attention nice and close, gather around boys and girls and I'll tell you about my new fan fiction.
*inhales cigar smoke deeply, leans back in chair and massages temples*
This new thing I've got going here is entitled Masters of the Wicket, after the quote Gerard says in the making of the I'm Not Okay (I Promise) video. (Yanno, where he's being all nerdy and shit, and he hits the croquet ball and then proudly stands with the bat over his shoulder and proclaims, "I am the master of the wicket." Honestly, I think that's the best thing to ever come out of his mouth, fucking geniusuva man.) I thought it was quite clever and since I have played cricket since I was like six I thought it would be rather amusing to combine MCR and cricket.
It sounds hella boring, I know, but it's set in my hometown of Belfast *throws confetti* in Northern Ireland. If your geography is pretty shit, then Northern Ireland is, indeed, surprisingly, north of Ireland. No, it's not Dublin. It's like six counties that everyone kinda argues over because it's kinda hard to tell whether it belongs to Britain or Ireland. I am from County Antrim up the top of the country. I will be setting the story in the place I'm from because I'm a totally selfish bitch, which is called The Falls, mainly because so much shit went down there in the sixties, seventies and eighties.
Like I did in Holiday in Cambodia, I feel like I gotta give a brief intro on NI before you read the story. BASICALLY-
A SHIT SIMPLE HISTORY OF NORTHERN IRELAND AND WHY PEOPLE ARE VERY PMS-Y OVER IT
Like eight hundred years ago these dudes from Scotland (where they wear kilts and say 'aye') and these other dudes from England (the ones who drink tea and say 'quite') basically just kinda came over to Ireland and were like, "yeah...we want this." They were Protestant (Anglican) and the Irish were Catholic and the Irish were like "HELL NO BRO. THAT SHIT AIN'T HAPPENIN."
Well, it did.
After like eight hundred years of beating the shit outta one another and stuff, in the year 1916 the English were at war with Germany in WWII and Ireland kinda figured they'd go in for the kill here, which is admittedly very cowardly. Irish rebels kinda tore Dublin (the capital) to shit and England were like "DUDES, WHAT THE FUCK. WE HAVE OTHER PRIORITIES. THANKS FOR FUCKING SHIT UP, IRELAND."
Then four years later, in 1920, Ireland was torn between the Loyalists (people who like the Brits) and the Republicans (people who DO NOT like the Brits; I am neither, I don't like you based on your nationality because I'm not an idiot.) There are thirty two counties in the geographical country of Ireland, so Irish politicians did the nasty and basically said "hey dudes! You can totally keep these six counties, we totally don't need them."
So six counties from the island of Ireland (Fermanagh, Armagh, Tyrone, Derry, Antrim and Down) were deemed part of the United Kingdom. Serious shit went down between these two groups of idiots, the IRA and the UVF, who ripped the country to shreds between the fifties to the nineties. Thankfully, everything is peachy king now and there's only a shooting every few years.
But this fic is taking place in 1968, when the so called "Troubles" began. That was when Protestants and Catholics were attacking each other purely based on your religion, fucking insane shit. Gerard, Mikey, Bob and Ray will be Catholic and Bert and Frank are Protestant. As we saw in First of the Gang to Die, my characters will be quite different from their real selves because....I dunno, I'm a cunt like that.
Ray, having read the first few chapters myself, is my favourite. He's like really bitchy and sarcastic (maybe because you are also a sarcastic bitch, Lornaigh?) Mikey, like in most of my fics, is a complete tool. There's no other way to put it, guys. He's just a dolt.
Bob is just awesome and Frank is innocent but a huge-ass nerd because I always feel like I make him too dumb in my stories. He's gonna be a good little boy with a nerd haircut and I'm gonna make him have glasses and a pen protector and wear sweater vests and HE WILL BE PERFECT.
Gerard, however...well, I had some fun with Gerard in this story. I kinda fucked with his personality and his looks...I made him have a mohawk and chains on checkered pants and go to anarchy rallies and YES, I MADE GERARD WAY A PUNK.
Yeah, I'm making Gerard a bit of a little bitch here. I mean, unless in real life he has a mohwak now, that man does his hair more often than I do...
In regards to talking, well...here we have a problem. Ya see, the Northern Irish accent is like the Scottish one...but even thicker. Someone once asked me on the train to "speak English, please." And I was just like oh sweet Lord...
If anyone has read "Trainspotting" by Irvine Welsh, that's what I talk like. I pronounce "I" like "Ah" and I don't say the "g" at the end of sentences and "down" like "doon." I also say "mate", "eight" and "late" liek there's about 28645098 a's in there. Therefore, I'm not sure I'll do the accent. I do want to make it realistic, but...
The rest of the story goes like so: Protestant and Catholic relations are at an all time low and schools encourage each other to play sports with each other to improve the morals. This happened, my dad did it like. Bert and Frank will be together at first but then the mighty Frerard steps in (fuck yeah) and so yeah. The story will have funny bits (well, weird Lornaigh humour) but will have a serious theme working throughout. Over three thousand people died in the Troubles and my family have been seriously affected by them.
Lastly, I would like to say I completely disassociate myself from either side of the pyscho scale in NI; hating the Brits or hating the Irish. I would never, ever hate on someone or hurt them because they were of a different race, religion or sexual orientation to me. I have no interest in the colour of your skin, the type of church you attend or the gender you find attractive, I'll only hate you if you're a cunt to me. If you're a lovely person I will shower you with my weirdness, no matter yer background.
So yep. I hope you enjoy this.
Oh, and to the person who asked "if English isn't your first language, what is?" It's Irish. Not Gaelic, Irish. I write all my stories in Irish first and then remove the vowels so no one can steal my writings (like they'd want to.) There y'are.
I don't think it would pain a lot of ye to shove down yer thoughts on the reviews page. Oreo's to the first five, honest. *Lornaigh grins mischievously and mutters "ha ha suckers"*
Viva la Frerard set in Northern Ireland in the sixties in community-torn Belfast!!!!
xo lornaigh ni ionnrachtaigh, weird ass motherfucker
Sign up to rate and review this story