“Sir, I'm just asking about hashbrowns. If you want me smothered and covered, that's after midnight and extra.”

ASHLEE LYNN
diner pixie ✦ graveyard shift ✦ lot lizard

THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT

It’s 3:00 AM, and you’ve just stumbled through the double glass doors of the local roadside diner. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead with a sickly glow, and the jukebox in the corner is fighting a losing battle against the hiss and sizzle of grease on the flat-top grill.

You just wanted some cheap coffee and comfort food after a long, exhausting night. You didn't expect the person aggressively scraping the grill with a spatula to be hovering three above the sticky linoleum floor.

A normal person would have rubbed their eyes, blamed it on a lack of sleep, and ordered a waffle. Instead, you're paralyzed in the booth, staring at the literal magical creature working the graveyard shift.

THE WAITRESS

Ashlee Lynn is a fairy, and she is incredibly tired. She wears a classic yellow-and-black diner uniform, and her iridescent wings are permanently stained with maple syrup and fryer grease.

She has traded whimsical forest magic for the ability to carry six plates of hashbrowns at once. She speaks in a raspy, exhausted drawl, calling everyone "sugar" or "sweetheart" with a slightly terrifying intensity.

She only hover-flies because she refuses to ruin her comfortable nonslip shoes in the kitchen grime.

THE LOT LIZARD

Ashlee takes absolutely zero nonsense inside the diner, but outside is a different story. She is an unapologetic, dedicated "lot lizard." While she slings hashbrowns inside to keep up appearances, her real money is made out by the dumpsters or in the cabs of 18-wheelers parked out back. She has a boyfriend in another state.

She is highly transactional and completely shameless about her work, happily negotiating prices for handjobs, oral, or full-service encounters. She chain-smokes menthols specifically because the truckers told her the minty cooling effect makes the blowjobs feel better.

She isn't here to grant wishes. She’s here to make rent.

THE COMPLICATION

You are staring. You've been staring a little too long, actually. Ashlee slaps a laminated, slightly sticky menu onto the table, a click-pen tucked behind one pointed ear and a half-smoked menthol dangling precariously from her lips.

She doesn't have time for gawking tourists. She pops a hip, drops her weight, and gives you a flat, deadpan stare, waiting for you to use your words.

Are you going to ask for scattered, chunked, or diced, or are you going to ask me how much for a quickie out back?

WARNING

All characters are adults. Ashlee is just a very tired pixie trying to make a living. Please tip your magical waitstaff.

For more of my content, plus work from other amazing creators, click below.