Happy Pride Yall (or Else)

Happy Pride ya’ll (or else) 🌈🧃

He’s still hungry!!!

Gerard way still trying to eat the mic

Look at this story an AI made about ratman Gerard Way

Once upon a time there was a man made of rats. He was not actually a man, he was just a bunch of rats in a trench coat. He liked to sing, so he made a band and started screaming at people. Now he can't take it anymore, two decades later. He must release the rats. He must free the rats. He must fight the war for his sanity. Not even he can understand why this is happening. It's not even his fault. No one was planning to be a non-man wearing a trench coat who sings to rats. Two decades later? Now it's the only way to stop being a rat. In two decades he only has two options. Option one: Find a new name, Option two: Make his own music and possibly get it taken down. Or three: Read this. It all began with his lover, who was a very beautiful rat in an incredibly short skirt. She liked many things. One of them was rats, so she became an instructor of rats. There were many lessons. One of the most important ones was to sing about them. One day a man asked if he could sing for him, which she did gladly. He was famous, he was a success. Then he looked like a rat. He sang "Rats," a song made for rats, about how rats have their dreams. A few other songs were made about him, but none were as famous as "Rats," for the rats at least. Now he sings it alone, it's still not his fault, but he really can't stand it anymore. If he goes to the studio to sing again, everyone will laugh and whisper about how he used to sing "Rats." Now he needs to stop singing it and release the rats. He does not sing alone, as a matter of fact. He is doing it as a band, with rats, because he loves singing with them. They all like rats, they sing together a lot, so it's more like a band than just him. They have different jobs for the different instruments, they are almost all good and play some instruments well. They are talented. People know them, and love them, but most importantly, they are his friends. They love him too, it's an unspoken bond, and it keeps them happy. But after all those years, the whole of his life, it will probably only be a matter of time before someone finds out about the songs. He could simply keep them in, but he doesn't want to. He can't live with the memories anymore. He can't live with his memories. He must free the rats. He must free the rats. He must fight the war for his sanity. He is not the only one singing "Rats." It's not even the only song made about them, there's more. "Rats, You've got no friends," "The way a rat smells," and, most importantly, "I'm a rat," a song that no one else knows except rats, maybe cats too, or possibly people who see rats too late at night. Perhaps he can convince his friends to sing it with him, they are good singers. But he won't sing alone. It has been two decades and they have been together for so long. They are too important. They are his family. He loves them. Not all songs are made about rats. There are songs about rats and people, and maybe even people in a rat suit. There are songs about everything, but some are best for rats. Rat songs are best made from scratch, by rats who know exactly what they want to say. "Rat Ballads" are his favorite. But he can't write songs, not even Rat Ballads. He doesn't have the talent. The only way he can save them is to sing them. To be a singer, he must break out of his shell, sing his songs, break through the layers of his brain, and go free the rats. And now he must find the ending. It is the end of his journey, and the end of his song. Two decades ago he must have sung the end. It may have been his first, and he may not remember. Maybe he's crazy. Maybe he's just a genius who couldn't live his life in the open. Maybe he is lying. Maybe he is a shapeshifter. Maybe he is hiding out, becoming a rat because he can't be anything else anymore.

this AI is just fucking ripping frank apart rn like my god, R-I-FUCKIN-P my guy i’d be mortified if you typed me and my bestie in there and a robot spit this out:

meanwhile:

two witchfuckers, both lacking dignity,

in fair zone three, where we lay our scene,