My Head Is A Weird Place To Be

Dreamed last night that I performed some act of minor heroics, driving off the supervillain who was attacking the hotel where I was staying, along with the German NT. Bastian Schweinsteiger was so grateful he offered to show me around their floor and introduce me to all of the other players. (He was a very sweet, if rather excitable guy). We caught two of the players having sex in their hotel room. And then I ended up alone in Mueller's room, openly ogling and pretty much following him around like a puppy.

I think this is a sign from my brain that I should try to write the post-Spain loss h/c fic where Mueller is trying to take care of everyone who's sick and driving himself into the ground. Even if it is Loew/Lionel Messi (DON'T FUCKING ASK).