Well, here we are...I have finally reached my limit after a year or two of reading and a twelfth of such time writing. So screw the fact that I, as a person, have nothing that could be of any use to Shepard, I'ma do one of these damn self-inserts. I'm going to hate myself for it, but, what the hell, I have nothing to lose.

You know, I think starting a new story is going to become a coping mechanism of mine…it's…soothing.

Several cans were harmed in the making of this fanfiction.

Disclaimer: How do we really own anything? It's all information right? So….no biggy if I leave this out right? Wait, you'll sue me? But I own nothing! I'm even borrowing this computer! Damn…I don't own Mass Effect or its associated content. Nothing in this whole thing is mine! Hell! The version of me in here isn't really the whole truth! (Once more, NO redeeming qualities)

Well, there I was, standing in front of a closet, staring at the BB gun I had gotten for Christmas when I was..what, like 15 (we had just watched A Christmas Story, thus making it the greatest gift ever), and debating whether or not to again discover the joys of shooting unopened cans (a waste of money, sure, but do opened cans explode when you shoot them? I thought not). With a grim and serious look on my face, I grabbed the gun and made my way to our house's back porch. As I walked past my cousin, who was out of trade school for a month, he looked up from biotic charging a cannibal and caught my eye with his usual "I'm going to ask a question and you need to provide a sarcastic response" look and asked, "So, what's with the gun?"

I shoot him back a look (metaphorically speaking, I didn't actually shoot him) and answer, with a completely straight face, "The cans are revolting, I'm going to make an example of their leader," and walk away, leaving him to finish his multiplayer game. Before I reach the door, however, he calls out my name and tosses me Mass Effect (the first one) and explains when I raise my eyebrow at him, "Tell the brat to fix it. Last time he played it it got covered in scratches." I sigh and signal a fine with a dismissive wave of my hand before taking a step into the outside room and being vastly disappointed in the weather. It was raining...and storming, but my main issue was the rain. It's not that I don't like it...I just don't like getting wet.

Ah, right, if you are curious about who "the brat" is, then that would be my little brother...he might be the Antichrist, but I digress. I sigh turn from looking out the glass door to the rest of the room. Let's see... Foosball? No, no will play with me anymore. TV? No, we don't have any new Colbert's. Laze about?...Well I guess its another usual Monday. Sighing, I meander over the only piece of furniture in the outside room (which is a screened-in room on our house's back porch...we aren't rich so I don't know what kind of miracle got us this place), a leather couch, and faceplant onto it, dropping the BB gun on the floor next to me.

With my little brother over at my Grandparents' house, I would be forced to travel a whole 60 some-odd feet next door before I could berate him about the damaged game, so I gave up. Hell, if I did go over then I would be the one in trouble!

Let's see...what to do, what to do...wait.

I cackle with glee as I roll of the couch and land on my chest with an "oomph" and the shaking of the Earth itself before reaching over and pulling out a little, inconspicuous, blue, wirebound notebook. My mom had gotten me two of them for the upcoming school year and I had picked this one to be the source of much entertainment during AP Calculus, AP English 12, and my Digital Electronics class (I would have been using in the gym class or "Individual Sports" as well but...we don't exactly have time to sit and write).

Now, I'm sure you are imagining doodling, right? Well, it's a bit more than that. I seemed to have developed the pastime of...well building worlds. I have to say I'm fairly partial to medieval, steampunk, and sci-fi. Of course, my worlds tended to be a tad...bleak let's say. Like bleak as in, "the balance of powers is so tenuous that, with the slightest shift, the whole planet would be plunged into darkness" not bleak as in "hopeless"...because Tzeentch would be pissed if I made that kind of world...whoops my Warhammer 40k slipped out...where was I? Oh yes!

I had the urge to build a little bitty solar system...but what lore would I use? I mean, I had already pretty much tapped out of original ideas building a Warhammer fantasy as bleak as 40k was...I glanced at my other hand, where the forgotten case of Mass Effect still sits. Oh, hello opportunity, I would like for you to meet inspiration.

And so, over the next few hours...okay I was out there for like 18 hours...I wrote and wrote and wrote. It was dark out when I finally felt myself getting tired, and the metronome of rain on the roof was not helping. I glanced down at my bleak, dark, and all-around more realistic (I thought) new universe. Then I looked over at its remarkably well fleshed-out cousin with a beautiful heart-warming story about killing some guy and decided to put off the Verge war between the Turians and Batarians (What can I say, they are the galaxy's Russia, they make great enemies) until tomorrow.

As I nod off, I suppose that the fact that every single lightning bolt I could see from inside the room just stopped and began to race towards me should probably make me shit my pants, but, meh, that's would be so much work. I'll just let what comes to pass, come to pass. With that heartwarming little tidbit, I nod off slowly, not opening my eyes for the crackling of pure energy that washes over, not opening my eyes for the sudden mass of screams and the wailing of sirens I hear, in fact, as my last faculties fail and I drift into slumber's sweet embrace, I hear someone sigh and begin chittering.

Then, I hear nothing.

...So...any good? I'm gonna try to do what I would really do if I got into Mass Effect, not that bullshit, "help Shepard save the galaxy"...not that I don't like those fics...I just want to portray myself in this situation, not Shepard, not Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, nor anyone else. So be prepared for a heaping helping of freaking the fuck out, excessive sarcasm, hating on my own ineptitude, and, finally, a sprinkle of reality.

"That's what"

-She