Useless fiction brain dreams

Useless fiction brain... yeah. I follow too many people who are setiously into their fandoms/fanfics on tumblr, so I ended up dreaming of some weird-assed blend of Supernatural, the Michael Keaton iteration Batman, and some sort of procedural drama, the only bit of which I remember clearly now (9 hours after waking up crisply at 0400 to take my weighted walk) was a character who was (or was-was) an angel hectoring/being hectored by a guy he called Feather (who might have been Mischa Collins in a lightly-styled version Hiddleston's Loki wig, or maybe just had the new Bruce Banner's hair) in a dark and decrepit belfry, at which point I had to turn to cassandrasimplx and ask her to explain who the fuck these characters were.

That's right. I dreamed of a show so complicated, that when I started watching halfway through, I couldn't figure out what the fuck was going on.

THAT bodes very fucking the-exact-opposite-of-well for my frustrated prodding at a reboot of the characters and setting for my sf/noir world lately.