examples

1	in a hunger games oc gpsl here as runaround
2	in a hunger games oc gpsl here as stochastical
3	in a firefly-inspired gpsl here as zcrewe
4	Seated uncomfortably on a hard plastic bench - common of large fast food chains such as the one he was in - a dark haired man in his mid to late twenties glowered out a window for a moment or two before switching his furrowed brow and sharp eyes to the burger in front of him. At least, what appeared to be a burger. The slime made of too-warm cheese, juice from the pickles, and watery ketchup it was oozing made it look more like a space alien from a low budget horror movie, but he’d take the word of the “restaurant” he was in. Unless after he ate it the burger terribly mutated his insides and he started being able to shoot radioactive lasers out of his fingernails. Then he’d just have to investigate. For now, he lifted the limp food item to his lips, the pain from his broken pinkie finger stabbing at him as it attempted to curl around the burger in question, and started to take a bite. Just as his teeth bit down, he caught the eyes of a five year old sitting a booth down. The little boy gave him a solemn look, pointed towards the burger still in his hands, and then made a slow, over exaggerated cutting motion across his throat. The twenty-something stared in disbelief at the preschooler for a bit before taking a large bite of his sandwich and chewing in large motions. Which would probably be incredibly disgusting to watch, if you were anyone other than a five year old. Finished chewing, the man swallowed and then stuck his tongue out at the little boy, who merely shrugged it off. Belatedly, he noticed the boy’s mother had turned around and seen this last part and had jumped to some odd conclusions, having missed the beginning of their cross-room pantomime. She glared at him as she hurriedly gathered her things and child and then rushed out of the place. He pouted a bit at the realization that he had just run off yet another available woman - or at least one who had forgotten to wear her wedding ring. At the rate he was going, there would be no woman left in all of Vegas to date, which really would be a shame. Ah, the burden of being an attractive single bartender in the city that never slept. Finally finished with the potentially radioactive burger, he stood and dumped his trash in the trash can as he waded his way towards the door through the typical lunch hour rush, setting his tray on top. He nodded at the cashiers, possibly the closest to friends he had in the city besides his dear sweet co-workers. Which was really, really sad, seeing as he had lived in Vegas for over eight years. He ate in the same place every day before work and then after work, and sometimes in between like now, so everyone who worked there knew him by name. The early morning shift knew more about him than even his parents since he tended to come in drunk after work. They say you’re not supposed to sample the wares, but he had never really paid attention to that golden rule. Plus, he was sure the bosses would prefer he just took sips from the bottles with his sleight of hand tricks instead of turning them loose on the casino floor. Or so he told himself, along with the reminder that Vegas was no longer a Mafia town. Reassuring, that. He strolled through the large extended parking lot that the fast food place shared with a strip mall, dodging the SUVs that everyone and their brother’s sister seemed to have, and finally reached his junky Chevy Nothing at the far end of the lot. Why he had parked all the way out in the boondocks, no one (least of all himself) would ever know, but he always had, ever since he had moved to Las Vegas and found himself somewhere to pick up a quick meal. Habits could be fun, depending on what kind of habit it was. Like gambling, that was a bad – and he was distracting himself again. He managed to cram himself into the driver’s seat and slammed the old rusted door shut, wincing at the creaking noise it made. Key in the ignition, and the equally old engine coughed into gear after a long minute. He shifted it into gear with a bit of effort and slowly pulled into traffic and made his way back to his apartment to catch some Z’s before his shift started.
5	as the trickster/gabriel from supernatural in a panfandom high school game: Gabriel had gone into battle with the expectation that he was going to die. There was, after all, a reason Luci was called the Adversary, and it wasn't because he fought like a little girl with polio, and Gabe hadn't been created as a warrior anyway (his model had traded in the extra firepower for one special ability, and that was to not need a vessel - benefits of being the messenger. Technically everything else he could do, the other archangels could do as well, they just didn't bother because they had no sense of adventure). Still, he probably could have given a better showing than his variation on "Look over there!" Good thing he had popped out to make that video - now that his brother had killed him, he really didn't want Lucifer to win. Even if the alternative was the Winchester brothers, because at least those two losers were amusing. As he was stabbed with his own sword - hoist on his own petard, you might say, if you were kind of a dick - Gabriel prepared himself for the nothingness he'd always assumed followed death by an archangel's blade. He was looking forward to it, a bit. He was tired, tired of all of this. His eyes closed, and he let go. And then he opened his eyes to stare at a plain white ceiling. What the hell? He tried to reach out, since despite going into witness protection he still had access to the station 99.1 Angel (how else was he going to keep up with his family? It was the angel version of Facebook, and he was pretty much the only one who knew how to hack the privacy settings), but there was nothing. Less than nothing. It wasn't even silence or static, it just didn't exist. He jumped off the bed and snapped his fingers as he tried to shift himself to his refuge that existed outside of time and space and was impossible to access if you weren't him. Instead of anything normal happening, Gabriel blacked out and collapsed like a folding chair. Not something that had pretty much ever happened to him before. "Not a good sign," he muttered to himself as his vision cleared and he used the edge of the bed to stand back up. Is this what humans felt like all the time? Maybe he should've cut them some slack... Something felt off. Other than the whole 'locked in' thing going on. He gave the mirror in the corner a suspicious look, but shakily made his way over to it anyway. And stared. Usually, when picking aliases and disguises, Gabriel went for adults. They had more freedom, after all, and could legally drink alcohol, which was definitely a plus. Every now and then, he'd take the form of a child - hey, some of those new play-places were awesome, and playing in one in his usual form was a quick way to get arrested (not that he couldn't handle cops, but it was more of a hassle than he cared for). The one age group he generally avoided like the plague, if he could catch the plague? Teenagers. And yet, staring back at the mirror was a teenager. Apparently he wasn't the only one with a sense of irony. Only one thing for it: he tried to morph back into his usual self, and glanced at the mirror. Okay, he looked normal, but a quick body-search informed that it was just a weak illusion. "Oh, that's just awesome!" he half-shouted, turning away from the mirror (dropping the illusion in the meantime) and noticing the uniform and schedule on his bed for the first time. He ignored the clothes and snatched up the piece of paper, and then stared at it uncomprehendingly. Okay, this was rapidly approaching unfunny territory. He folded up the paper that dared to have his real name - or a reasonable approximation thereof, anyway - and shoved it in a pocket. Time to see if the door was locked, and if it was, to see if he could still get through doors at least. It was open, so another test of his skills would have to wait. It was a big, empty living room, with a little kitchen, what looked to be a bathroom, and two more closed doors. Great. "Anansi, is this you? This is really disproportionate revenge for that week in Cabo with the moose!" he said loudly, glancing around and looking for the little "off" parts that would show it was another trickster god's illusion (although if one of them could block his powers like this, he was in a hell of a lot more trouble than he'd thought).