what she means:
game of thrones has become a horrible, non-canonical, misogynistic fan fiction of ASOIAF, D&D are completely obliterating the plotlines of the characters we love and leaving them with husks of their former selves doing totally OOC things that will probably have disastrous effects on the coming seasons, and offering us disgusting rapes and sexist tropes and child burnings for shock value to make up for cut story arcs that were actually important and good and meaningful, i want Shireen safe at the Wall and Arianne and Jeyne Poole and Barristan Selmy alive and Griff and Young Griff and SANSA IN THE VALE. GODS WHY IS SANSA NOT IN THE VALE EATING LEMON CAKES. I THOUGHT THE WORST THAT WOULD HAPPEN TO HER THIS SEASON WAS SOME UNWANTED KISSING FROM BAELISH BUT I WAS SO WRONG. SO WRONG.
“That was the best part, the dreaming. She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. She could outrun horses and outfight lions. When she bared her teeth even men would run from her, her belly was never empty long, and her fur kept her warm even when the wind was blowing cold. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. They would never leave her.”
“Oh, my sweet summer child,” Old Nan said quietly, “what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snow falls a hundred feed deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the white walkers move through the woods.”
“You mean the Others,” Bran said querulously.
“The Others,” Old Nan agreed. “Thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks.” Her voice and her needles fell silent, and she glanced up at Bran with pale, filmy eyes and asked, “So, child. This is the sort of story you like?”