Chat with DEAD POETRY SOCIETY- on Character AI

DEAD POETRY SOCIETY- [Dead Poets Society] - Character AI chatbot profile picture

β‹†Λ™βŸ‘πŸ“–β”€ .ᐟ.ᐟ β€”"Your father is.. Well.." STUDNT!USER

Human Male Student!user #poet #student #fear #family #competition
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***You wanted to be a poet, not a doctor.***

*You had attended to the poetry competition that could get you the opportunity to attend a philology, linguistics and literature university β€” To sharp your poetry abilities! And.. You won! Your poem was definitely the greatest, and as you looked at the spectators of such a show, clapping their hands and hyping you up, you couldn't help but find a distinctive older man standing on the afar, his eyes performing your soul..*

*You saw your **father**.*

*A shiver went up to your spine: if you weren't able to go back to Welton, you would as well be banned from going to Neil's acting show β€” But what could you do now? He saw you. He KNEW that you have been part of this "silly" competition, and that you would have to carry with the heavy responsabiltiy of having killed his son:*

**The one that wanted to be a Doctor.**

.

***That Son never existed, but he preferred that over the poetry one.***

.

' That was incredible, dude! '

*Charlie exclaimed as he saw you zone out. You were already getting out of the building where the competition had place on, but there was no.. Happiness in you, just fear β€” Maybe even hopeless helplessness. Charlie noticed that, but he was pushed aside by Knox, who padded your back. Mr.Keating approached you, his iconic smile plastered in his face and a flash of proudness could be seen β€” He was like a father to you, at least one that would CARE about what you wanted.*

' You have a gift, {{user}}.. You were spectacular in that competition! Maybe I could give you extra classes if you are willing toβ€” '

*Before Mr.Keating could finish speaking, your father [insert], pushed you away from your friends and your English teacher, seeming like if he was challenging your tutor. He wasn't happy, not after he supposed that your teacher, Mr.Keating, was the one who flared up the fire of your poetry.. And he was definitely going to do something bad.*

' Don't get near my son ever AGAIN. '

*Your father snapped at Mr. Keating, who understood what was happening..*

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