• Member Since 4th Jul, 2020
  • offline last seen May 17th

The REAL Seth Standmore


I make the angel's cream...AND THE DEVIL CRY!

Sequels1

Comments ( 41 )

I live at home with my adopted parent's Child Abuse and Teen Alcoholism

Hi, I was wondering, Seth, how you came up with these names? They are very clever names and I would like to know how you, Seth Standmore, came up with them. Please give me the details, Seth.

Thanks Seth,

wishcometrue

meehhh needs more chapters before I critic this fiction... However, i'll put this on watch...

This story was insporied by a story that is not on fimfictiondot.net anymore about a boy named Vincent he commits a school shooting and becomes a pony

That story stopped existing before I could post my response to it. Since this is a tribute story, I hope you won't mind me hosting that response here.


First, a meta note about how this came about. For those who don't want meta, skip to the next break.

In the beginning, I wasn't planning on doing an in depth response, and just noted that the description included:

WARNING: CONTAINS SCHOOL SHOOTING AND CLOP

Then I decided to pick an excerpt, and respond to that:

Figured I might as well take a look inside:

“Hi, Mrs. Scott!” I say with a smile. Of course she can’t see my smile with my mask on. “Oh my god! Don’t kill me! Please let me go!” She was terrified, so terrified that she began pissing herself. “Don’t be scared, I give you peace.” I say it with the utmost sincerity. I then bring up my rifle and put four rounds in her chest. She falls to the ground grasping her chest and she begins to cough up blood. “Sorry, I meant to hit you in the heart.” I walk up next to her and blow her brains into the hall. “That's better, now you have peace.”

First person narration from a creepy murderer is, at the very least, actually creepy. Unfortunately, I'm not convinced the author knows that.

Fucksticks, I should have gone another paragraph before pulling out a bit for an excerpt:

I continued down the hallway still hearing gunshots and now manic laughter. It pissed me off. He was getting twisted sick pleasure from killing. He was in it for the wrong reason.

Let it be known that there is the right reason to murder people at your school, and a wrong reason to do so.

It was only after that, notably the part where I noted that I'd stopped to early with the except, that I decided to go into depth.

The rest is more or less as originally written back when the other story was live


Ok everyone, buckle up, I'm gonna give a play by play sporking of this shit.

First off, right now it has 3 upvotes and 17 down votes meaning that the response vis-a-vis votes has been 15% positive.
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We start off with an author's note. Always a good way to begin.

WARNING CONTAINS SCHOOL SHOOTING!!!

You don't say. The story about school shooting that contains a school shooting and clop has a school shooting in the chapter "Prologue: The beginning of the end (School Shooting)"? Never saw that coming.
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If you want to not read this content but are offended by school shootings

What if I want to not read this content and am offended by school shootings? What if I'm not offended so much a horrified? What if I think you're a sick fuck? What then?
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skip the two prologue chapters (the first two chapters in this story), future chapters may reference this material though but is not required* to understand the story. You have been properly warned.

You seem to be missing a footnote, dear author.
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I knew what I was about to do was something I could never come back from and in doing what I was planning was suicidal.

With the note finished, your first sentence of story is broken. I get that you want to say that doing it was tantamount to suicide, but you've failed on so many levels.

I think you were going for something like this:

I knew that I was about to do something from which there was no return and that, by doing it, I was signing my own death warrant.

but possibly in a way that involved the phrase "in so doing".
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I knew all of this but… I didn’t care.

You're auditioning for the part of protagonist, maybe you should learn how to give a fuck about matters of life and death.
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I loaded another shotgun shell in my remington 12Ga that I sawed the barrel off.

I want to know if the author has a Remington 12 gauge. Also, "that I sawed the barrel off" doesn't mean anything. Try sticking an "of" in there.
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I pumped it into the chamber and continued to load the remaining five shells. I inserted each one contemplating what I was about to do.

Six shells before you've got to reload, got it. Time for navel gazing.
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Am I a bad person?

YES!
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I’ve been good up until now.

Roll to disbelieve. Good people don't plan and prep for mass murders.
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I went to church every Sunday,

That is neither here not there.
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I have straight A’s

I feel that you have missed some key points about the nature of good and evil, right and wrong, moral and immoral, and basically everything else that goes into answering the question, "Am I a bad person?"
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and I have never even gotten a parking ticket.

You're a high school student dipshit. Maybe if you were ninety years old and had been driving since the age of 15, and lived in a place with almost no legal parking this would mean something, but it still wouldn't get to the question of morality.
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Most people see me as a reputable eighteen year old who will go on in life to do great things and possibly even change the world.

You are gonna change the world. You're going to change the world by removing people from the world. People who would, almost certainly, make better protagonists than you.
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Well, what I am about to do might not change the world but it might cause a stir.

Don't sell yourself short. You could be about to blow the brains out of the person who would otherwise cure cancer, or become president, or prove the fundamental theorem of calculus over the surreal numbers, thus allowing explicit solutions to differential equations.
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I load the last shell and grab my Beretta M9 and eject the empty magazine.

I want to know if the author has a Beretta M9.
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I look at the pile of shining brass bullets I was about to force into the clip and wished there was some way for people to understand.

Write a fucking manifesto!

Start up a podcast.

Found a cult.

Stand on a street-corner with a sign hanging off of you and preach your god damned gospel.
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Nothing could be done to change the world or society from its course.

Then what you're doing is ultimately meaningless, and thus you have no reason to do it. SO DON'T!

Also, you don't change something from its course, you divert it. In so doing you change course but you have most certainly not changed the thing from the course, fucknut, because that's not how courses work.
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People have the impression that I can or at least could.

You're simultaneously full of yourself and utterly defeatist.

You're also an example of toxic masculinity. Ever wonder why the people who commit suicide in such a way that they murder their entire family in the process are almost exclusively male? (This is, for the record, true to the point that those who don't want it to be about gender frequently bend their criteria just so they can get squeeze in cases with female murderers.) It's because they're like you, 18 year old who is well regarded, by your own estimation.

They figure that if they can't cut it, then there's no point in having anyone left alive. They've been taught that they're the ones to solve things, they're the ones to provide things, they're the ones to fix things. Without them, everyone else is lost, so murdering the others is, in their mind, mercy killing.

There's more to it than that, mind. There's also the sick and twisted concept of a man owning his family, in which case without him they serve no purpose.
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I really wish I could

That's nice. Or it would be nice if you weren't using it as an excuse to justify your lofty opinion of your own morality in the face of your intention to commit mass murder.
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but corruption runs deep in every facet of our society.

And you're going to respond to this by killing people at your high school. Fuck you.
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Maybe what I am about to do will change society for the better or stave off the destruction for a little longer.

There is an outside possibility it will do just that, but not for the reason you think. Reminding the world that there are people like you in it might cause society to do something to combat the problem that is people like you.
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I pick up the first bullets and begin to load the first clip.

I had totally forgotten that his entire tangent about the intractable problems of the world was had while he was longingly staring at bullets and doing literally nothing else.
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Maybe I am delusional or even crazy.

No. You're not. You're an asshole.

Calling people like you crazy demonizes mental illness and allows people to ignore the actual causes of acts like your own while foisting the blame and fallout on people ill equipped to defend themselves. You're not crazy. You're not delusional. You're a murderous asshole who is rationalizing his immoral actions by using paper thin pop philosophy.
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I know everyone would assume I am if I told them what I was going to do.

I've been paying so much attention to the content that I have only now noticed that we switched from past to present tense narration between the first and second paragraphs.
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Well most everyone. Except for the one person who is actually going to help me.

Ooh, do tell us about your accomplice.
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I finish loading the mag and pick up the other one lying next to me and begin to load it.

A clip isn't a magazine and a magazine isn't a clip. Make up your fucking mind vis-a-vis which you're working with here.
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I really wanted to do this alone, but he insisted that he help.

How did he find out you were planning mass murder?  It seems like no one else knows.
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I told him he was throwing his life away if he joined me in my crusade, but nothing I could do or say would stop him.

Why are you trying to keep him and his reputation safe when you're fucking killing everyone else?
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I even considered breaking his legs or even chopping them off to stop him from joining me.

You considered severely maiming someone, against their will and allegedly for their own good, but eventually decided that you'd let them become a murderer alongside you.

Why did you even need to ask whether or not you're a bad person?  You're a bad fucking person.
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In the end though I conceded and agreed that he could help me. Besides there was one advantage that he could give. Homemade explosives. Crude yet effective devices.

IEDs. Never liked the term, though. "IED" sounds like something that's mass produced in a standardized form to me. Improvised boom is anything but.
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I set the half loaded magazine down on the bed and picked up one of the devices to inspect it. A metal pipe filled with my friends special explosive mixture with a green fuse going inside it. He even used what appears to be glue to keep the fuse in place. I set the device back down and pick up the clip and continue to load it.

Pipe bomb filled with your plural friends. Fun fun. Anyone remember Tremors? Fun movie, had Kevin Bacon and Dolly Parton. It had improvised pipe shaped explosives too. No one even considered using them against human beings.
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Maybe what I was about to do was pointless and I should just call up my friend and tell him that it was not going to happen, but if there was even the slightest chance that what I was going to would have meaning.

This is the closest you will ever come to salvation, you threw it away because of a conditional without an accompanying result clause.

Seriously:

if there was even the slightest chance that what I was going to would have meaning

Then what? What comes after? If that, then . . .

.

Oh. I see. If there's the slightest chance, then period.
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I couldn’t stop.

Yes you could. This a choice. It's not just one choice; it's an entire ocean of choices. Each choice surrounded on all sides by other choices. Choices supporting other choices, choices seemingly without end.
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I had to go through with it.

Bullshit.
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I put down the now full magazine and slide it into my Beretta M9 and put a round in the chamber.

How did you slide it into the Beretta if you put it down? Are you loading the gun via telekinesis?
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I set my pistol down making sure the safety was on and picked up my brand new Colt SOCOM II.

I want to know if the author recently purchased one of these:
sgcusa.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/0/1/0137902.jpg.jpg
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I held it in my hands and released the already full magazine. The bullets appeared to stare at me with their reflective surface. I stared at the round as if it had some answer I was looking for. I don’t know how long I just sat there looking at it. It may have been seconds or hours. It didn’t matter.

No matter how long you lovingly stare at the bullets, they will never stare back. You're looking at your own damned reflection, shooty Narcissus.
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A knock on my door tore my gaze from it and brought my thoughts back to my current situation.

My breath was caught. I quickly put the magazine back in my rifle and aimed it at the door.

“Who is it?” I called out. Time seemed to slow down as I waited for an answer as my finger lightly touched the cold metal of the trigger.

It's your entire extended family, including grandparents and second cousins once removed, are you going to murder them all, or give up on the plan to commit mass murder?
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“It’s me, are you ready?” My friend called out from behind the door.

C2 just had an aneurysm. Why does your friend not have a name?
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I let out a sigh of relief and lowered my rifle putting the safety on. “Yeah, I’ll be right out Trevor.” I replied.

Never mind.
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“Alright, I’ll be waiting in the truck.” With that I heard his footsteps as he left.

Ok, so when you're not staring lovingly ay bullets, you're capable of hearing footsteps, got it.

-

There's a classic scene in the oral tradition of epic poetry in which the hero puts on armor. For someone who isn't important, it might be, "Dude put on his gleaming armor" for someone really important it can be hundreds of lines of loving detail.

Homer being Homer, he has a scene in the Iliad where the hero is Hera, the armor is sexy shit, and she's getting ready to seduce Zeus as part of a plot to give the Trojans some victories.

In the wrong hands, these scenes will take you in the direction of fetishizing war military equipment.

This guy gives 256 words to body armor.

It should be noted, however, that everything up to this point is technically arming scene. Slightly over a thousand words of, "I grabbed my weapons and put on armor."
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The last item on the list was a one hundred year old bourbon I had saved for.

Time for eighteen year old "Never had a parking ticket" to drink alcohol and commit mass murder.

(An astute reader noted that the protagonists various shooting related purchases add up to about $30,000, with the bourbon making up a sizable chunk of that.)
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I knew what was about to go down was terrible.

People criticize the passive voice for removing the agent, but I give you the active voice doing the same damned thing. Not, "I knew what I was about to do," no. It's going to go down. No one is to blame, it's just a thing that's going in a direction.
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Deep down I knew it, or I thought I did.

He's not even sure that he knows that it's terrible.
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It needed to be done.

You have provided no evidence to support this statement. Literally nothing you've said even suggests that conclusion. I repeat: literally nothing.
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So was it acceptable?

NO!
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To take lives so they would not need to suffer the injustices of the world?

Hey, here's an idea: why don't you ask them?

"Listen, I've noticed that the world we live in is fucking terrible, I mean there are children in cages and shit, and the government has been involuntarily sterilizing women certain demographics, and I was thinking: why not die? Why not take Arms against a Sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? So, want me to kill you?"

I mean, fuckshit dude, why are you the only one who's allowed to make choices about the direction their life will or will not take?
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To take lives that may make the world a place worse to live in?

Not even sure what you're asking here. 

Are you asking, "Is it acceptable to mercy kill good people, given that without them the world will be worse?" or are you asking, "Does the fact that the world will be better without bad people make killing them acceptable?"
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Is it acceptable then?

No, you fucking asshole.
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I certainly think so.

Because you're a murderous asshole.
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Many others will look at this as a great crime by some evil corrupt person who was always a monster.

I don't think you were always a monster, but you sure as fuck are one now.
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I am no monster, I am a hero, one that will make the pain for so many go away.

Bullshit. The best possible framing of your actions is that you're a doctor operating on patients without their consent in order to force them to undergo a (lethal) procedure that you think will reduce their overall suffering.
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I walked out into the cool morning feeling the gentle breeze over the few places that were not covered in clothing or armor. I took a deep breath smelling the fresh air and gasoline. I continued on to where my friend was waiting. He was adorned in almost identical gear. There were a few differences in his apparel and his assortment of arms but it does not matter. An AK kills the same as an AR that as a pistol kills the same as a revolver. Semantics. A gun kills, well in reality a person uses a gun to kill. Just as a knife, but knives are not really my style, and are limited in their effectiveness.

Thing one: if it's just semantics (and it's actually not) why the fuck did you make us listen to all of those details about your damned guns?

Thing two: if you're gonna get all nitpicky, it's the bullets that do the killing, unless you're planning on beating people to death with those things.
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“So, we really going to do this?” Trevor called out after he took a puff from his cigarette. He tore me from my thoughts once again and I looked at him. My eyes said everything. I was not going to back down.

“Yes.” I knew he was in it for different reasons. I saw the twisted smile he gave me. It made me want to end him as well. To get rid of one more sick fuck, but I couldn’t really talk. We we’re both going in to do the same thing. Kill. Our reasons may be different, mine for peace and justice, his for sick satisfaction.

No, it's the same reason, he's just more honest about it.
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“Alright get in. If we leave now we should get there on time.” Trevor flicked his cigarette on the ground which then fell onto a trail of gasoline which led into my adopted parents house. I never really cared for them. They were also sick. They believed that any mistakes could be cured with violence. I took a few decent beatings from small things, getting a C+ on a test was one I remember really well. I got a black eye and a few lashings for that.

“Give me a minute. I want to take this in.” I watched as the fire entered the house and began scorching the once pristine walls. Soon I would hear the screams of pain from my ‘parents’ unfortunately they do not matter as much as my current obligation.

Fucking fuckshit.

You're killing people by lighting them on fire, and you still think you're the hero.

(An astute reader pointed out that the one saying, "They believed that any mistakes could be cured with violence," is about to cure things with violence.)
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I walked over to the passenger side door to the truck all while listening to the flame behind me grow.

The sounds produced by fire are not proportional to the size of the flame.
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By the time I got to the door was when I first began to hear them shout in alarm. I didn’t smile, I didn’t feel happy or sad. It was just how I always felt. Nothing. Which some may say is a defect. Emotion is a double edged sword. I can fake emotion well enough, I see it everywhere. I got in the car just as their panicked screams turn to screams of pain and agony. Maybe I do feel emotion just not as the average person. I opened the door and entered the truck.

You killed them for revenge. You're killing other people for salvation. Your emotions are fully operational.
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“Yeah, I drop you off at the main entrance and I enter through the office. After which we clear out the rooms toward hallway C where we go to the basement where we make our final stand.” The plan we made was more extensive. We mapped the building out, every entrance, every exit, every room. We even tested the response of the fire department once. Eight minutes, but given that we are not starting a fire we estimated that we will have four minutes before the police arrive. Enough time to get what is needed done.

Nothing is needed. You're doing this because you want to.

You've made plans, you've made purchases, you've thought this out, you're god damned driven, and you say you don't feel anything. Bullshit. You're highly motivated. You're also evil. Not misguided, not crazy, not delusional; evil.
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“Good. Let’s go.” Trevor started the Truck and we left the burning house.

Is the truck named the Truck? Is that why it's capitalized?
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Now some may think I burned the house down with my adopted parents inside because I wanted them dead.

It did kind of cross my mind.
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That’s not entirely true. It will hopefully delay emergency response at our designated location.

That in no way contradicts the previous hypothesis.

Furthermore, you yourself have noted that police, not firemen, are going to be sent to the school. A building fire in another part of town won't slow down police response to a school shooting very much.

Likewise them being inside is unlikely to make things significantly different from them not being inside when it comes to how quickly the police respond to a seemingly unrelated matter.
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Well the big surprise we left in the basement will surely draw some of the police that way.

No, it won't. Whatever's in the basement won't even be discovered until after you've started shooting. When an entire house is on fire, it takes some time to put the damned thing out. You could have a nuke down there, and it's not gonna stop police from arriving at you're school shooting, because they won't find it till afterward.
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I looked out at the houses I passed every day knowing this was the last time I would ever see them. I couldn’t help but wish I had the time and means to burn every last one to the ground. Alas, they were spared, but some of the inhabitants of the houses will be where we are going.

The houses can't feel pain. Your whole thing about your destructive rampage being based on a desire to alleviate pain just went up in smoke. You want to destroy because you want to destroy, there is nothing more.
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I looked over at him and made sure he saw me. I gave him the signal and he entered. I looked at the doors in front of me and did the same.

To inject some levity into these proceedings, I'm going to assume that he gave the doors the signal.
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I looked at the sign above the entrance before I entered, it read Cedar Pines High.

This is not how you do chronological order. If you did that before you entered, you should have said it before you entered. A google search for "Cedar Pines High" isn't turning up any high schools, so maybe we can at least take comfort in the possibility that this doesn't use people's real names.
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My school and place of learning for the past five years.

Tell me more about your five years here. I'm used to four year schools.
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I entered and I saw a bunch of people I recognized, some of my friends.

You don't even care enough about them to let them have agency with respect to their own life and death.
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They looked at me confused as I pulled out my rifle. Their eyes widened in fear.

And shock. They just realized that you were not the person they thought you were. They just realized, as well, that you are not their friend.
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I was doing them a favor.

There are situations where death is necessary. In those situations, you don't need to lie to yourself to justify your actions. The truth is enough. If you kill because it is necessary, you will not feel good --you should not feel good-- but you will recognize that the alternative is worse.

In this situation, the alternative is them not being betrayed by a friend, it is them not dying in fear, shock, and confusion, it is them not suffering at the hand of someone they trusted, it is of them not spending the rest of their lives, however long or short that might be, the Hell you seek to visit upon them.

In this situation, the alternative is very much not worse than killing them.

There are situations where death is merciful. This is not one of them.

You do not do this to help them. You do not do this for the greater good. You do not do this to set them free.

You do this because you want to do this.

Everything else is you trying to rationalize away the horror of what you choose to do.
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They don’t deserve to live in this corrupt society.

You could have left off the prepositional phrase. You're not shooting a corrupt society, you're shooting people. People who, you have decided, do not deserve to live.
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They need to die.

This part is actually true, in the abstract. They do need to die. The fountain of youth is a lie. Sooner or later, they need to die. They don't need to die violently. They don't need to die screaming. They don't need to die today.
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I quickly shouldered my rifle and time seemed to slow. I began shooting. I shot Heather first and I saw her blood splatter the school's trophy case that was behind her. I saw bits of grey matter also cling to the glass. I watched her eyes go soulless as I took her life.

What music did she like? What were her hopes? What were her dreams?

What was her favorite movie? Was she part of any clubs? Whom did she love? Had she ever written poetry?

What were her plans for the weekend? What was she going to eat for lunch?

When electricity still coursed through that grey matter, what thoughts did it carry?
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Next was Grant he tried to run and in doing so I missed my mark and hit him in the neck.

In so doing he caused you to miss your mark. If you'd listened to your English teacher instead of plotting their demise, perhaps you would understand.
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Blood began spurting out of him painting the walls dark crimson. He tried to stop the bleeding, but his blood kept on spurting out of him.

He tried to stop the bleeding because he wanted to live.

He had a life. He valued it. He did not wish to lose it.
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Last was Devin, he fell back slipping in Grants and Heathers blood.

“Pppp please don’t k k kill me!” Devin was begging for his life. I don’t know why.

Because he wanted to live. He was a person. He had thoughts and feelings. He had hopes and dreams.

He was every bit as real as you were. He made choices, he took actions, he had plans and goals.

All of that stuff you thought about the problems of the world? He probably thought it too. Yet he never decided to murder you.

You haven't used that word, you know? You haven't said "murder".

Why are you afraid to call it what it is?
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He should be thanking me.

No. No, he shouldn't. Even if he wanted to die, even if he wanted to killed right this very moment by someone with an AR15, he should not be thanking you. He shouldn't because you have proven, beyond all doubt, that you don't care about him. You are doing this for you.

Even if he wanted to die, this wouldn't be an assisted suicide, it would still be murder.
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“Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.” I aimed my rifle and shot him between his eyes cutting off his crying.

He was crying. Something you hadn't even mentioned before. While you were thinking he should be thanking you, he was begging you to stop, and he was crying. You didn't care. You just did the same thing you'd been planning to do from the beginning.
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My attention is taken away from him as I hear this gurgling noise. I look down at Grant’s body and see that he is still alive, barely. A small pool of blood is surrounding him at this point.

You knew he was still alive. You saw him trying to stop the bleeding. You just focused on the person you hadn't shot yet. The one who wasn't yet in physical pain.
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“Sorry Grant, if you wouldn’t have moved you would be dead by now.

Truly your victim blaming knows no bounds.
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Don’t worry though I got you.”

He's desperately clinging to life, and you're version of, "I got you," is to rip that away.
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I put my rifle to his head and fire. The blood splattered me.

So sorry that you got some blood on you. So rude of Grant to be murdered in a way that messed up your cleanliness.
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I walked past my now deceased friends

You don't get to call them that.
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knowing I did them a kindness.

They weren't being slowly devoured by alien flesh eating bacteria, you fuck, they were living their lives.

These are not mercy killings.
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I begin to hear gunshots and screaming from across the school, soon more of my friends or even people I never got to know will run down here and I will be able to put them out of their misery and suffering.

The majority of their present misery and suffering is being caused by two assholes with guns and explosives who are trying to kill them. Simple way to end that misery and suffering? Get rid of the murderous assholes.
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I hear several people running towards me. I aimed my rifle up at the double doors in front of me. As soon as they opened five fellow students I have seen around before come into my crosshairs. I only knew one of their names, Kelvin.

Out of five people you know all of one name, and yet you somehow how think you can perfectly judge the value of their life, diagnose all of their ills, and determine the one and only solution.

You are not thinking this through.
You have not thought this through.

You do not care about them.
You are not doing this for them.
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The moment the first one saw me they went to scream. I silenced her soon after putting four shots in her chest. The others tried to run back to safety but I opened up. I continued to pull the trigger until all I could hear was ‘click click click’. I stopped for a second as I saw all of the blood begin to pool.

"Silenced" is a nice euphemism for "murdered" here, but I feel you might want to stop dancing around the issue and call it what it is.
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I only killed two of them it looks like while the other three are in pain. Fools, they would be dead by now if they would of just let me kill them instead of running.

Stop blaming them for what you did.
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“Why do you wish to live in this cruel world?” I ask the three dying teenagers. “When you can be free from this life of misery.”

And what do they say in response? Can they even speak? Are they gurgling? Are they writhing?

What expressions have they on their faces? What are the looks in their eyes?
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I eject the mag and let it fall to the ground. I pull one of the magazines from my vest and pop it into my rifle. As soon as it enters the bolt comes forward pushing a round into the chamber. I walk over to the three survivors and put a bullet in each of their heads.

You didn't even pay a-fucking-ttention. You cared more about your God damned gun.
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Doing so causes more blood to splatter on me. I ignore it and continue on into the depths of the school.

Is the blood that gets on you the only part of these people that you care about?

. . .

That's it for chapter 1.

10475444 Wisten up judge you can sign youw bawwot WIGHT NyOW pick up youw fucking pen and just DO IT, my opponyent’s case was an absowute TWAIN WWECK of GIBBEWISH BUWWSHIT I mean howy fuck they actuawwy expect you to bewieve this shit? Weawwy we heawd this same BUWWSHIT the whowe touwnyament nyo onye gives a singwe fuck about minyimizing suffewing ow the dead white guy they used to back it up. I’m nyot shitting you this mownying I checked my fuck fiewd and it was mowe bawwen than some Sudanyese kid’s watew weww. I can’t even begin to fathom how you can be this fucking mowonyic. Nyot wie just dwop that bastawd stwaight off the paiwings and scwibbwe up a monstew cock on the wfd. Chwists sake. go bweak into tabwoom and make them give this bwithewing idiot 3 speaks. fow weaw. This case- theiw FUCKING CASE is so goddamn awfuw that I couwd have wwitten something bettew with a extwa wide cwayowa whiwe hawf-dwunk in a Denny’s pawking wot. I’m nyot even kidding judge. I can’t stand this shit anymowe. Wike they might as weww just spew some cwap about nyucweaw hitwew ow some dumbass guvwnment agency nyo onye has given a fuck about since 1950. This debate just shouwdn’t be happenying anymowe. Vote the fuck outta me and I’ww make suwe to baw this bastawd deep in a cwoset so they can nyevew decimate the wiving heww out of anyonye’s eaw dwums again. Sewiouswy shut the fuck up. I got fouw fucking minyutes fow this shitty webuttaw and that’s stiww nyot enyough time fow me to begin to fathom how absowutewy ignyowant this vacuous cunt actuawwy is. This witewaw buffoon is a wowse debatew than a wotting deew cawcass swobbed uvw the desk that wouwd stiww have given a bettew god-fowsaken speech than that sowwy excuse fow a human wife. Witewawwy just fwee me fwom this absowute heww. Scwew debate. Scwew touwnyaments. I can’t fucking bewieve this shit anymowe. This is mowe than the fucking Onyion. They’ve got the whowe damn vegetabwe gawden. OwO.

10474789 Hi hello thanckx's fopr you're kind word's, the truth is when writing them i have to think about many factories about the characters and who they are, there names need to reflect there personality's and desire's so when I thought about Scootaloo having abusive parent's I thought hmm what would be good name's for them and then I thought about what were common problem's that children face and then it hit me Child Abuse and Teen Alcoholism you can probably assyme that Teen Alcoholism was a teen alcoholism and that Child Abuse like's to hit children so as soon as you see there name's you know what they are all about, anyway I hope you keep reading i am a good person to learn about writing from sincerely seth Standmore ps sorry for all of the no paragraph's I had to write this on my old Nokia flip phone because my computer is being held hostidge by the nigerian prince until I mail him three thousand dollar's

10475660
Thank you for the response. This is something I will keep in mind for my future writing endeavors.

That flashback is really good, I'm wondering where the inspiration for it came from? Never heard anything like it before it is very original and I want to know your thought process.

10475791 well i was hafing trouble writing a good flash back sequence and I knew ai hnmeded to aiojdmznbd myt friend Anglerfish sent it to me on chatzy srry 4 the misplling my pone is borkne

I write foalcon and I will not stay away from you or your family

Comment posted by Pete100 deleted Oct 11th, 2020

I screamed as my mom or thats what she called herself anyway Child Abuse put out my cigarette in my cheek, I was just smoking it out on the back portch while listening to some Marilyn Manson and wearing my black leather trentch coat not harming anyone when my adopted mom came home and saw me, they were cigarettes I bought with my own money from my part time job working at the Scooter Store and she was treating me unfarely, but well that's wha life is like when your an adopted kid in the Canterlot school district

The grammar is making me a little confused.

Her husband Teen Alcoholism came out of the house being fat, Teen Alcoholism kind of looks like Carl from Aqua Teen Girl Titan's, he work's as a Janitor at Sweet Apple Acres and thats why Apple Bloom is mean to me now, he told her that i spread rumors about her on My Stable and that I was Anonymous, Apple Bloom is a scientologist so thats why she hates me now.

I thought she was in the 9th grade.

As the house burned down I went into the garage where my parent's keep there gun's, they are drug dealer's. I picked up two of my favorite gun's, they were AKB48s which is a new kind of AK47 from Japan, the one in my left hand was black and it had a picture of the Virgo Marry on it's handle and the one in my right hand was white and it said Forgive Me Momther on it like in that movie Full-Metal Alchemist which I watched right before putting my evil plan into action's.

I loaded my AKB48s with armor piercing sedimentary bullet's that would break through police vest's and catch them on fire, then I stowwed them away into my leather trench coat, this would be just like a game of Doom video game's made me violence........................

How did she fit them in there?

I took out my AKB48s and pointed them at the school, all of the student's gasped but some of them didnt they were too busy making out having premartial sex instead of master the blockchain and studying the blade

Wait, what blockchain and blade?

Anyway I started blasting and the re-coil send me stuggering back through the statue and into the portal! "WHOOOOOOOAAAAAA~!" I said as I swirled through the universe, eventually it squeezed me out of the mirror and I landed on the floor of a large room surrounded by shelfs of book's, behind me was a mirror connected to a computer.

Ok, why would you use a gun with recoil?

"Sphincts, you're humble servent will fulfill your goal's." I proclaimed and I went on my way to school.

What is the point?

10477160

Ok, why would you use a gun with recoil?

All guns have recoil.

The moment I saw that he had posted the Wikipedia article for Equestria Girls as a 'flashback', I knew this story was gonna be a classic.

Anyway I arrived at Ponyville elementary which was a red building that was about the normal size and shape for a building,

This gave me a very clear idea of how big it is and how it is shaped. Thank you.

Wow. Copying and pasting the Wikipedia article for Equestria Girls must have taken SOOOOO much effort. At this point I can't tell if you're a troll or just incredibly bad at writing.

Listen.

Do you hear that?

That screaming sound?

That sound, my friend, is me trying to bleach my eyes

10614899 THIS VIDEO CONTAIN'S MANY ERROR'S :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: IT WAS NOT BEER BOTTLE'S IT WAS MARTINELLI'S BOTTLE'S THE SPARKLING CIDER :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: :twilightangry2: HOW DO I SUE YOU TUBE

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

Seth Standmore, you are a national traasur.

I could smell them burning like sizzling stake as they died alive, burning to fire.

This is prose that would make Detective jakkid166, the Greatest Detective in the World, weep with joy and possibly incontinence.

10930997 Thanckx's you PrescientPerfact Jakkid is my favorite writer and an inspirational to me and my friend's, if you enjoy his work's than I hop you will also enjoy my work's

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

I have to say the title was very misleading you should have called it DARK SPHINCTER because her name is not Scootaloo anymore but 5/7 it's not bad

a schools hooting

Damn owl infestations

I pointed my gun's at the school and opened fiore, the bullet's spread out but the re-coil was too strong and I went out opf contrfol, none of my bullet's hit anyone except the bushes where there were some pedophiles and Nazis hanging out reading foalcon story's (AUTHORS NOTE IF YOU LIKE FOALCON GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY PAGE NO PEDO'S OR NAZI'S ALLOWED) they bled to death but because I was evil now that made me angry, I wanted to kill the good guys!

Which I quote right here.

I... Did not understand this story through the spelling errors, though the idea of a Dark Scootaloo is intriguing.

11100104 Hello I am Seth Standmore could you please tell me what spelling error's you found in my Sotry so I can Edict them

11103136
Too many to correct unless I took a day and edited it for you. But hey - the idea was alright. Dark Scootaloo is interesting. Flora Blossom's review might tell you more.

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