The Fattest Leech

Brilliant!

You’re right. I totes made it all up.

I know people tend to crook themselves up in knots when I bring up GRRM's writing style in his other stories as (slight) comparisons for ASOIAF, but this "Oh" reaction as death is engulfing you isn't really new to him. Take it as you will ('you' meaning anyone), but this seems to be a normal theme for him to use in certain situations. I have included one such example below. From Nightflyers:

Perhaps you have not read Fire & Blood? There are a few paragraphs in there where it is clearly stated that the Targaryens practiced it even after Alysanne (Jaehaerys) ruled to end it. These Targs were breaking the King's peace by ignoring the law.

That is crystal clear

You sound like you have some sort of theory complex, sooo Oh jeebus When did I say they were "my" rules? Have you done any research on how GRRM is handling his "genetics"? You want people to take what you are saying seriously and yet you have insulted every person who has given you material that shows otherwise. I've been down this road before an. Enjoy the bog cuz' I have to watch paint dry.

Dude, you understand that you are reading fantasy where the author has made up his own rules, right? Real world be damned because if not, the Targs would look like walking Dali portraits. There is no Maury Povich here, and no sticks to pee on to where you get a little + if you are pregnant. This is how this author has decided to do "genetics" in a very simplified way to tell a story. The story is first.

I added the other quote to my first regarding Tywin's face and the smile. Here it is: A Feast for Crows - Jaime I "Is that why he looks so pleased with himself?" The vapors rising from the corpse were making Pycelle's eyes water. "The flesh . . . as the flesh dries, the muscles grow taut and pull his lips upward. That is no smile, only a . . . a drying, that is all." He blinked back tears. "You must excuse me. I am so very tired." Leaning heavily on his cane, Pycelle tottered slowly from the sept. That one is dying too, Jaime realized. Small wonder Cersei called him useless. To be sure, his sweet sister seemed to think half the court was either useless or treasonous; Pycelle, the Kingsguard, the Tyrells, Jaime himself . . . even Ser Ilyn Payne, the silent knight who served as headsman. As King's Justice, the dungeons were his responsibility. Since he lacked a tongue, Payne had largely left the running of those dungeons to his underlings, but Cersei held him to blame for Tyrion's escape all the same. It was my work, not his, Jaime almost told her. Instead he had promised to find what answers he could from the chief undergaoler, a bentback old man named Rennifer Longwaters.

Um, quite. It is from a Russian story and a few months ago some trollish Tywin apologist who did not believe me suddenly became quiet about it when they saw the information from GRRM himself. Yes, I am sure. That is almost correct. Cersei is paranoid and she assumes that, but it is explained that this is happening by some other cause. No one messed with Tywin's face. *ADDED the quote two posts below* Sometimes in death people have weird expressions, but there is no merit (or literary purpose) to have Quentyn still be alive and smiling through his fake death.

No, no one gave Tywin that expression. To go behind the story curtain, GRRM has said he used the corruption of a specific death in a another story to tell about Tywin's corruption starting in his life (he was a villain) and lasting into his death. But that is not the point of this thread. Nobody gave him any expression, it happened on its own. Yup. A Dance with Dragons - The Queen's Hand The Dornish prince was three days dying. He took his last shuddering breath in the bleak black dawn, as cold rain hissed from a dark sky to turn the brick streets of the old city into rivers. The rain had drowned the worst of the fires, but wisps of smoke still rose from the smoldering ruin that had been the pyramid of Hazkar, and the great black pyramid of Yherizan where Rhaegal had made his lair hulked in the gloom like a fat woman bedecked with glowing orange jewels. I think he uses when he needs to tell certain details about specific characters. Not everyone dies with a smile on their face.

Yeah, I don't see anything odd about Quentyn smiling at his death, even a burning death. We see Tywin was "smiling" as he decayed from death as well. I think Quentyn had been "three days dying", so it doesn't seem weird in this story for this to happen. There is another quote where Pycelle talks about how the corruption of Tywin was causing the face to move. A Feast for Crows - Cersei II The silent sisters had armored Lord Tywin as if to fight some final battle. He wore his finest plate, heavy steel enameled a deep, dark crimson, with gold inlay on his gauntlets, greaves, and breastplate. His rondels were golden sunbursts; a golden lioness crouched upon each shoulder; a maned lion crested the greathelm beside his head. Upon his chest lay a longsword in a gilded scabbard studded with rubies, his hands folded about its hilt in gloves of gilded mail. Even in death his face is noble, she thought, although the mouth . . . The corners of her father's lips curved upward ever so slightly, giving him a look of vague bemusement. That should not be. She blamed Pycelle; he should have told the silent sisters that Lord Tywin Lannister never smiled. The man is as useless as nipples on a breastplate. That half smile made Lord Tywin seem less fearful, somehow. That, and the fact that his eyes were closed. Her father's eyes had always been unsettling; pale green, almost luminous, flecked with gold. His eyes could see inside you, could see how weak and worthless and ugly you were down deep. When he looked at you, you knew. ADDING the other quote here about Tywin's face: A Feast for Crows - Jaime I "Is that why he looks so pleased with himself?" The vapors rising from the corpse were making Pycelle's eyes water. "The flesh . . . as the flesh dries, the muscles grow taut and pull his lips upward. That is no smile, only a . . . a drying, that is all." He blinked back tears. "You must excuse me. I am so very tired." Leaning heavily on his cane, Pycelle tottered slowly from the sept. That one is dying too, Jaime realized. Small wonder Cersei called him useless. To be sure, his sweet sister seemed to think half the court was either useless or treasonous; Pycelle, the Kingsguard, the Tyrells, Jaime himself . . . even Ser Ilyn Payne, the silent knight who served as headsman. As King's Justice, the dungeons were his responsibility. Since he lacked a tongue, Payne had largely left the running of those dungeons to his underlings, but Cersei held him to blame for Tyrion's escape all the same. It was my work, not his, Jaime almost told her. Instead he had promised to find what answers he could from the chief undergaoler, a bentback old man named Rennifer Longwaters.

There have been so darn many weird directors notes that have been released/made public/whatever over the last few months that are just so bizarre. No wonder actors were confused half the time. That link is not the only source. I am sure I can get more sources and quotes here soon (after I feed the farm ).

This is a more recent article that really demonstrates the issues with the directing... three day old c!ck cheese is supposed to be the inspiration for an actor when drinking something gross? Not only is this gross literally for the sake of being gross (Oh so edgy!), but it also pushes the prejudice idea that the free folk are gross, uncouth, heathens. GRRM is very careful to undo this "otherness" idea in his books, but the show pushes the agenda. Lame! Season 4 scripts are also when Weiss and Benioff’s infamously colloquial style first appears in the stage directions—such as when Jon Snow chokes down a drink that “tastes like day-old cock cheese.” Still, not all change is bad—and in editing Martin’s script, Weiss and Benioff showed sharp filmmaking instincts. Here is a rundown of the major changes from page to screen, and what they reveal about Game of Thrones at a major inflection point. https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2018/12/game-of-thrones-george-rr-martin-last-script-the-lion-and-the-rose

Welcome to Rant and Rave without Repercussions, the scripts version. Waiting Wading through the seasons... In the words of King o'the Board, The topic of the thread is discussing things you dislike about the show, and this thread specifically focuses on the scripts and directors notes in relation to how it effected the show plot past, present, and future (Season 8) . Discussion of why people disliked something is permitted, but remember the topic at hand: this is not a debate thread, it's a discussion thread specifically about episode details or events that posters disliked. Posts that ignore this will be considered off-topic. It is not a place to throw insults at one another or to act as if the normal rules of the forum do not apply. Likewise, per forum rules about flame wars, PLEASE IGNORE anyone trying to bring this thread down to a close. Remember, open spoilers for all are being discussed here.

And before I forget, earlier in this thread we/I/someone brought up the idea that Waymar was a test by the Others in order to find Jon. Jon and Waymar have a lot in common, and a few weeks ago I discovered another bit... but have to find it again and add it here with those other posts. It all goes back to the truth of history, one of the reasons why Westeros is in such a mess as it is now. Found it: A Game of Thrones - Prologue "Will, where are you?" Ser Waymar called up. "Can you see anything?" He was turning in a slow circle, suddenly wary, his sword in hand. He must have felt them, as Will felt them. There was nothing to see. "Answer me! Why is it so cold?" It was cold. Shivering, Will clung more tightly to his perch. His face pressed hard against the trunk of the sentinel. He could feel the sweet, sticky sap on his cheek. A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took.... The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor. Ser Waymar met him bravely. "Dance with me then." He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night's Watch. The Other halted. Will saw its eyes; blue, deeper and bluer than any human eyes, a blue that burned like ice. They fixed on the longsword trembling on high, watched the moonlight running cold along the metal. For a heartbeat he dared to hope. ... Again and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. His blade was white with frost; the Other's danced with pale blue light. Then Royce's parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. The young lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It steamed in the cold, and the droplets seemed red as fire where they touched the snow. Ser Waymar's fingers brushed his side. His moleskin glove came away soaked with red. The Other said something in a language that Will did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, and the words were mocking. A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII On and on the wildlings came. The day grew darker, just as Tormund said. Clouds covered the sky from horizon to horizon, and warmth fled. There was more shoving at the gate, as men and goats and bullocks jostled each other out of the way. It is more than impatience, Jon realized. They are afraid. Warriors, spearwives, raiders, they are frightened of those woods, of shadows moving through the trees. They want to put the Wall between them before the night descends. A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You'll dance with me anon. (anon, meaning very soon/shortly) On and on and on the wildlings came. Some were moving faster now, hastening across the battleground. Others—the old, the young, the feeble—could scarce move at all. This morning the field had been covered with a thick blanket of old snow, its white crust shining in the sun. Now the field was brown and black and slimy. The passage of the free folk had turned the ground to mud and muck: wooden wheels and horses' hooves, runners of bone and horn and iron, pig trotters, heavy boots, the cloven feet of cows and bullocks, the bare black feet of the Hornfoot folk, all had left their marks. The soft footing slowed the column even more. "You need a bigger gate," Tormund complained again. A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." [mocking] He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it. Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … (the Others have been summoned and are on their way right now!)