My selective writer's block has returned, allowing me to write new things but not old ones. Either way, here's a Fire Emblem: Awakening self-insert for you. Hope you like it!

I knew I shouldn't have gone out that night. I'd been peer pressured (the good kind, if there is such a thing) into going clubbing with my friends, and now I had a headache from the pounding music and a bad taste in my mouth from the alcohol they'd bought for me (I had one sip, spat it out and never touched it again).

This was usually a safer side of town, so there were no real worries about getting bashed to death by some random guy… Well, except for paranoia induced by the media. Either way, I was walking through an alley with my hands in my jacket pockets.

A shadow appeared in front of me, pointing something in my direction. A gun, I clarified in my mind. "Turn around and get on your knees!" he ordered, his voice sounding odd; it was heavy and deep, almost…inhuman.

I blinked and put my hands up.

"Turn around and get on your knees!" he demanded again.

I nodded, scared, and did as I was told. "Look, if this is something…" I have no idea what I was gonna say to him.

Not that it mattered.

Explosion. Bullet. Ground. Darkness.

I have no earthly idea how long I floated there. Long enough to wonder if this darkness had a name (and I'd never even watched Twin Peaks).

My head felt light and heavy at the same time. Light as if a weight was off it, but heavy because something had replaced it. My memory of what it was has vanished.

A single, miniscule light appeared before me. I sat up in the darkness and peered at it. No, it wasn't small, just far away. Struggling, I stood up and limped towards it. Why was I limping? I don't remember. But as I moved closer to the light, an odd feeling came over me. I was feeling better as I walked.

Eventually the light came into focus, and I saw beyond it. A figure was inside the light. Wait…I've seen this figure before… Long blonde hair, radiant face, flowing white robe… Was this…

An echoing voice spoke. Yes. I am indeed the Dragon Naga.

Well, that answers that question. "Am I dead?"

I fear so, and I fear it was necessary. Thy death was preordained, as none of the living may cross the borders between universes.

"I'm sorry, border between universes?"

Indeed. I hath need of thee. The accursed Fell Dragon seeks to circumvent events that must be by interfering with my designs.

"Interfere how?"

He seeks to place the one known as Robin directly into the grasp of Validar.

"Shit."

My sentiments exactly, albeit crudely put. In order to prevent this coming to pass, I must place another in the world to prevent this. Thou hast been chosen.

I felt a light similar to the one that surrounded Naga cover me and my street clothes changed. I even felt my body change. When it dispersed, I looked down at myself. I was wearing some sort of leather armour that covered my torso and shoulders, but kept my arms – which were now ripped rather than flabby – exposed. I was wearing somewhat baggy pants as well, and I had a single sword belted onto my side.

I heard a tingling noise on my shoulders and discovered that a familiar mark had appeared on my shoulder-plates. "That's the…"

It is my mark, that which those of Ylisse call the Brand of the Exalt. As thou art my agent, I felt that thou must be known as such.

"Um…thanks." I started to feel drowsy.

The time has come. Now must thou go unto the breach and save the world I covet so much.

I pass out and fall through the darkness, but not before thinking, Why does it always start with passing out?

When I wake up, I'm slumped over a wooden table, and when I sit up, I see a plate loaded with meat drowned in gravy and a drained tankard. But neither of them are mine.

"You got a problem, mate?" a voice grows at me.

I blink and look up. The man is gruff-looking, and despite the obviously British/Australian grammar, he speaks in an American accent. Yep, I'm in Fire Emblem.

"Well, do ya?" the man growls again.

"No. Sorry." Wait. I have an American accent as well. Wait again. Do I sound like Troy Baker?!

"So keep your eyes off my food, got it?!"

"Got it."

There's a thud as a man rushes through the door of the tavern, since that's obviously where I am. "Bandits! And they're burning everything!" His eyes widen suddenly as he looked down to see…a spear tip poking through his stomach. His eyes roll into the back of his head and he topples over dead as a dirty-looking Barbarian (side-note; since when could Barbarian classes use spears?) leers at all of us.

"Awright, who's next?" He laughs grossly.

Internally I start to panic. But then I remember the sword Naga gave me (how this sentence doesn't drive me insane is beyond me). Gritting my teeth, I stand up straight and face the bandit.

He chuckles darkly. "Lookie here, boys. Fresh meat."

"I doubt that," I mutter, grabbing my sword. Huh. Iron to start, rather than bronze. Good.

The Barbarian growls and throws away the spear, drawing his axe. "Come on, then!"

I don't respond verbally. Instead I smirk and use one hand to give him the universal (though maybe not this universe) sign that means, Bring it, bitch.

It works, since the bandit roars angrily and rushes at me. Rather than simply block the attack, I move my sword low and slash him across the belly. He gurgles and falls over, bleeding. If he's not dead already, he will be soon.

I've killed someone. Me. I ended someone's life. Excuse me while I evacuate this bile from my mouth.

Well, that's what I'm thinking, anyway. Outwardly, I turn to the bandit's buddies. "Anyone else?"

Wide-eyed, they run. Grinning a little despite myself, I chase after them.

It's then that a very distinctive sword lashes out at my head.

"Whoa!" I shout, dodging under the blade.

"I won't let you bandits hurt any more innocent Ylisseans!" Yep, that's Chrom alright.

"Bandit? Me? Pah!" Did I really just say that? Shoot me now.

Oh wait.

"Why else would you be with a pack of them, running out of a burning building?"

"Uh, because I was chasing them out? Look, buddy. I was already inside the tavern when the bandits hit. One of them tried to get me, so I got him instead." I gesture with my sword to emphasise my point. "I'm not trying to hurt any innocents. But bandits? Well, that's another story."

Chrom's face has softened up. "I believe you. Sorry for attacking you like that. I'd make introductions, but we need to focus on ridding this town of these bastards first." Huh. So 'dastard' must have been bad censorship after all.

"Couldn't agree more," I half-grin as we run after the bandits, who are a long way away now.

Until one of them gets blown back by a sudden bolt of electricity. Well, Robin's here at least.

Apparently the only one of the bandits left is the leader, who I think is named Garrick, if my memory of the game is any good. Wait, no, stop, it's not a game anymore!

Chrom and I move towards Garrick and he smirks, though his eyes are a little wild. "Here, sheepy sheepy! Come to the slaughter! Gyahaha!"

I roll my eyes and launch forwards, slashing at him with my sword. He's too slow to block it and the blade goes along his chest.

"My turn!" Chrom shouts behind me, rushing in and cutting Garrick again, but this time the bandit chief goes down with a gurgle.

"Well, that's the end of that," I hear a voice say behind us. I turn to see – yep – that's Robin, alright. Generic build, hair et cetera as well. Next to him is Lissa, looking bubbly as ever, and Frederick is just behind them, dismounting from his war horse.

"Lucky for the town we were so close!" Lissa agrees with Robin. "But holy wow, Robin! Swords, sorcery and strategy?! You're amazing!"

He blushes a little. I conceal a smile. Hello, OTP.

Rather than interrogate Robin like I'd expected him to, Frederick makes a beeline for me. "And who are you?"

"Peace, Frederick," Chrom warns him off. "He helped us against the bandits. As far as I'm concerned, he's a friend."

Frederick's eyes showed steel, but he made some show of bowing. "Of course, milord. I defer to you."

"Thanks, uh, sir," I say to the Shepherd Captain, almost forgetting that I'm not meant to know his name yet. "Your friend here looked ready to tear me in two with a look."

Chrom chuckled at that statement. "It's the least I can do. My name's Chrom. These three are Lissa, Frederick and Robin. What about you?"

"Magnus," I tell him, deciding that a pseudonym might be a good idea.

"Well, you're a good fighter, Magnus. Care to join us? Join the Shepherds?"

I blink. "You serious? Y'know, I've wanted to try and join for a while." A grin spreads on my face. "I'd be honoured."

So, what did you think? Let me know, OK?