Self-insert overload!

So, after browsing through a bunch of DA stamps along the lines of 'Self-inserts are so pathetic!', I decided to be defiant and make a list of my female Skyrim OCs who all may be considered self-inserts because each of them embodies a trait of my personality.

When I was a teen, I mostly behaved like Umtaz the Orc

Palmer's KissAs Umtaz trots down the winding stone stairs to the ground floor, she suddely, and completely (like, totally) out of the blue, catches herself whistling. Quietly and far from skillfully (she ain't one of them fancy bards, after all) - but still. The sound that is pushing its way through her teeth is unmistakable.
After racking her brain for a moment or two, she realizes that she is trying to mimic the tune she once heard at some inn or other - while sneaking into the back room to change the joint's business ledger. Dragon Comes, was it? No, wait - Dragonborn Comes! Yeah, that's what it's called. Dragonborn Comes. Quite a catchy tune, that, even if the lyrics are a load of mushy garbage.
Seriously; after all that dung went down in Whiterun and some overexcited pink-faced guard fella did a happy dance round her, ranting on and on about how she must be that fabled 'Dragonborn' - she trotted obediently to the High-Whatever place, up those darned, slippery, crumbling steps straight on into

I had very few friends and was often bullied, but I pretended not to care, often being very rude, and cynical about 'touch-feely' stuff (while in my heart of hearts, I was just a big softie desperate for a cuddle!).

Now that I've grown up (a little), in public places and among strangers I still might feel lost and insecure, which turns me into Sveta the Nord (a.k.a Milk-Drinker Dragonborn):

Meet the Milk-DrinkerIt had taken all her remaining mental strength to suffer through the long talk with the Jarl and his steward - but as soon as it was over, as soon as she raced out, brushing past some bewildered-looking dark-haired woman in steel armour, as soon as the tall, heavy doors of Dragonsreach swung shut behind her, the invisible core within her snapped in two. Her knees gave way, and she sank down onto the wooden bridge and buried her face in her hands.
This was too much, much too much to take in. First, the dragon - a second dragon in less than a week! - sweeping over the half-ruined guard tower on its jagged webbed wings, like some dark, menacing shadow out of a nightmare - only so painfully, agonizingly real... Fire gushing out of its mouth, tearing gaping black-and-crimson wounds in the dry grass below...
And her own small, petrified self crouching in terror on the tower's crumbling staircase, her heart thrashing wildly against her ribs every time yet another guard fell face-down, scorche

But when I am among fpeople I feel close to, I start acting like Kiara the Redguard, the friendly and talkative little lass who likes jokes, tasty food, and forging new friendships:



And finally, at uni and at work I act like Aredhel the Altmer, who is quite fond of stuffing her head with tons of new facts, exploring the world, and sharing her knowledge with others:



Quite an array of self-inserts, eh? Oddly enough, I don't feel the slighest shade pathetic. Though I admit, it's easy getting inside these characters' heads, seeing as they are so much like me. I hope that this can make their reactions to the craziness that is Skyrim more relatable and realistic.

In other news, my Kiriban is still on!