This one wastes his entire life pointlessly trolling. His tumblr blog names tend toward the literary or pseudo-scientific. He likely runs PR blogs pretending they are authored by a fan. The overall tenor of his conversations is condescending. Among many other faults, he consistently insults the intelligence of others by thinking they’ll believe what he’s shoveling.
When ‘anonymously’ posting, he tends to pretend to erudition. He utilizes literary quotes and references, he constructs fallacious arguments based upon faulty premises. When people disagree with him he sneers that they are incapable of independent thought or are lacking critical thinking skills.
Some of his efforts have involved writing deliberately incorrect astrology posts and constructing tarot reads that tell the story he wishes people to believe. He uses the language of the esoteric, discussing 'energies’, while not having any respect for it.
When anybody gets too close to the truth he tries sowing disinformation. He pretends to be an expert, provides faulty testimony, and gets angry and evasive when anybody tries to pin him down on the incorrect details. One of his favorite tactics is the ad hominem attack, where he calls his target names.
When he gets caught out one of his tactics is to shift blame to a scapegoat.
His overall strategy is to stir up dissent between the fans. Ultimately, this is going to be his downfall. Many of the fans have already caught on.
This individual very much enjoys his masquerade.
Sour Grapes Troll
This troll thinks that everybody is jealous of Sophie. The most common sort of remark issuing from this source is, “How dare you call Sophie Weirdo, you fat ugly bitch!”, said apparently with no irony intended. This character generally seems to be responding from a place of deep anger and tends to make overt threats.
Sour Grapes doesn’t understand that the skeptics are identifying with Benedict, that they feel sympathy toward him and wish him out of his pickle. She thinks they all want to be Sophie, not comprehending that their view of Sophie is so uncomplimentary that nobody would wish to be like her nor to be stuck in the untenable position of being a laughingstock.
Despite this, this troll contrives hypothetical scenarios that paint Benedict as a bad person and poor Sophie as a victim. It usually has the opposite effect to that which is intended.
Both of these trolls are willing to threaten and doxx the people they don’t like. One thinks he’s subtle and the other just flat out says it.
There is a subset of Anti-Skeptics who use the term “Hater” to describe the Skeptics. This is a form of fallacious argument called the ad hominem or Personal Attack. This method of argument is fallacious because it does not address the argument, instead it attacks the individual personally. Ad hominem is Latin for 'to the person’. This tactic is being combined with the Straw Man fallacy, which is an argument based upon a distortion of another person’s ideas or beliefs.
The language used when calling people “Haters” tends to be very hateful. They seem unaware that they’re labeling themselves more than they are describing a Skeptic.
The Skeptics think that the relationship is a showmance. They generally like and support Benedict. Not so much Sophie. It’s difficult to respect somebody who appears to have stuffed a pillow on a red carpet to get attention and money.
Nobody has adequately explained the vanishing baby bump.
My response to being trolled, harassed, or annoyed in any way will be to post an array of baby bump compares.
Daughter of Eddard Stark, daughter of Winterfell. The last known living heir – at least so far as most individuals were concerned or aware of. With the disappearance of Sansa Stark following the tragic death of His Grace the King, Joffrey Baratheon, Arya Stark was the only feasible choice left. Ramsay Bolton – legitimized bastard fiend of Roose Bolton – needed a wife. Needed a claimant to their sacked Northern keep.
Petyr Baelish was a purveyor of many things; finding women to suit the needs of men was, it could be well-argued, one of his specialties. When a bird had quietly informed him of the Bolton’s lack of requisite birthright, a plan had formulated at once. Petyr would provide to Ramsay a surrogate Stark, to substantiate his claim to the Northern capital, all the while knowing he himself had a stronger, legitimate claim tucked away in his Eyrie keep – in the form of Alayne Stone. The man left for King’s Landing at once.
* * * * *
“But she said her name was Jeyne, my lord,” spoke the whore, glancing over to the young, dark-haired girl standing timidly at the other side of the room. “How can Arya Stark be married if she is dead?”
Petyr, not looking up from a missive his fingers were set to quickly scrawling, replied: “Tell me Tethar, if you read a royal marriage edict announcing that Bran Stark was back in Winterfell, sieged the Dreadfort and ordered an end of hostilities against the Lannisters while marrying, say, Myrcella – would that make more sense to you?”
There was a pause, the man flicked grey-green eyes towards the slender brunette, dressed naught in more than the pale blue of iridescent silks. Tethar remained silent.
“Because the Lannisters will do anything in their power to end hostilities in the North, including marriage alliances with any Stark yet assumed living; including Arya Stark, though she was rumored to be dead. They’re always rumored dead before it’s revealed they were only missing.”
Petyr looked back to his parchment, signing his name before grabbing a small canister and layering a soft coat of dust over the wet ink.
“The Boltons sieged Winterfell and killed everyone occupying it, Stark and Greyjoy men alike. The truth is no one knows who is among the survivors of that sacking.” Petyr rose from his desk, lifting the missive and gingerly tapping the dust from the page, before blowing over it lightly, a tiny cloud of specks taking flight from the pulp and glittering in the light. “But the point, my dear, is that all persons of value who are assumed dead are yet alive for marriage purposes until their corpse has been paraded before the court. These things are about power, and perception, not realities. Who is alive to deny the claim that my Arya Stark is not the Arya Stark?”
Here the man looked with a smile towards his Arya: Jeyne Poole, a poor girl who had been entrusted to the Lord Petyr Baelish following the massacre of the Stark household after Eddard Starks’s execution for treason. Petyr had not found a purpose for her, yet. Now, however? The girl was a perfect replacement, a perfect substitute for Arya Stark – of proper age and of similar physical characteristics. The girl was prettier than he’d remembered Arya being, but that was hardly something Ramsay would find reason to raise complaint over. The man wanted a Stark girl, it mattered not if she was fat, tall, maimed or pristine – it mattered not even if she was an actual Stark, only that she could convincingly parade as one. Petyr folded his missive and stamped a waxed seal over it, before he rounded his desk, handing it over to Tethar.
“Thank you my dear; you’ve been helpful.” The whore had assisted Petyr in many deals over the past few years, and had earned from him a place of tenuous trust. Though she worked in his brothels still under the guise of a whore, she was valued to him as much more than that. Tapered fingers curled over the missive, and with a smile she left to deliver it, leaving Petyr and his little Arya alone.
“Now, sweetling, let me take a look at you.” Petyr stepped towards Jeyne, adjusting her carefully by loose grip at her shoulders until she was straight and faced him. She could see his mouth working subtly as his eyes scanned over her. “Yes. You’ll do. You’ll do nicely. You do look a great deal the part. Tell me, girl: what is your name?” Petyr smiled kindly. The man clearly already knew her name. Her real name. That he had allowed her to be privy to the conversation she’d just heard insinuated it was not her real name he desired from her in reply.
The board set, Petyr gave Jeyne the rare opportunity to decide where her first move landed.
At this time in your life you feel like ‘giving up’. For every time you have tried to build up your hopes and dreams something has come along to burst the balloon. You may feel that, at this particular moment in your life, there seems to be no chance of fulfilling these dreams but you are so wrong. You are the sort of person that can influence any situation, that is - If you don’t give up. So consciously make the effort… You have that inherent power to succeed.
You are very self-sufficient and methodical. You presume to know where you are going but need to find a person who will recognise the way you are, not be too demanding and who is, as they say in Italy, 'Simpatico’.
It is hard for you to accept that your needs and desires are misunderstood by almost everyone within your sphere of influence and there is no one to rely on. Your pent-up emotions and inherent egocentricity make you quick to take offence, but as matters stand you realise that you’ll have to make the best of things as they are.
You are being unduly influenced by the situation that is all around you. You do not like the feeling of loneliness and whatever it is that seems to separate you from others. You know that life can be wonderful and you are anxious to experience life in all its aspects, to live it to the full. You therefore resent any restriction or limitations that are being imposed on you and you insist on going it alone.
You need to be needed and would like a situation where you will no longer be subjected to pressures and demands from those about you. There is no harm in 'dreaming’ but it is you - and only you - that can be able to realise those dreams and to turn them into reality.
We’re lucky to be in the city. They say the war was terrible, that the rest of the world was destroyed. Our founders built the wall to keep us safe, and they divided us into five groups, factions, to keep the peace. The smart ones, the ones who value knowledge and logic, are in Erudite. They know everything. Amity farm the land. They’re all about kindness and harmony, always happy. Candor value honesty and order. They tell the truth, even when you wish they wouldn’t. And then there’s Dauntless. They’re our protectors, our soldiers, our police. I always thought they were amazing. Brave, fearless and free. Some people think Dauntless are crazy, when they kind of are.