#pegakitty

Anxiety Kitty. So this was made with my tinyfrin brush, but the wall...looks...hm might tweak it later with another brush. PegaKitty is self soothing with her plushie, dubbed anxiety kitty, during an anxiety attack. this helps ground her, because the plushie is weighted and smells of lavender.

gradient map alts below!

I roll up coke ter do dollar bills

When I was born, I was a…less than normal cat. For me, normalness was always out of reach, while the other kids my age just laughed at me and made fun of me. I was always… not right. I never learned right, played with the others right, or how to do multiplication tables when I'd be timed. Even today, I can still see my papers being covered with red marks.

Communicating. Vocalizing my needs. Reading body language. All these things had to be learned manually, over multiple years. I always detested being abnormal. I wished, and wished, and wished that one day, things would just click. And I wouldn't be shunned anymore.

But one day, my 16th birthday to be exact, my life began changing. It started with the best birthday present ever! A box of five sparkling, magical feathers. My mom and dad said they just found this box one day while shopping at the craft store. It was love at first sight, but…

When I touched them, they vanished!

All of us searched high and low for them, but with no luck. I was bummed out, and itchy. So, so itchy. Like a hundred bugs were feasting on my back. My mama lifted up the back of my shirt to see what causing it, and gasped out loud!

We found the feathers! But they multiplied, changed color, and attached to my back. My mama stepped back in shock.

Suddenly, POOF! Purple, feathery wings emerged. Damp like a freshly hatched chick escaping from it's shell.

"It's a good thing we got you new shirts today," My papa quipped.

Brandishing a pair of kitchen scissors, my mama cut slits in the back of my new shirts. Now my wings would fit through.

But were these beautiful wings mine forever, or temporary like a fleeting dream? I've always dreamed of taking to the skies. To escape. To be free from mocking laughter and judging eyes of the public.

The wings I had were roughly the size of a small bird, like a blue bird or a robin. But they were big enough to support my weight. Could I fly like I've always dreamed of now?

I flexed my shoulders, and my wings fluttered. Rushing out into our big, open yard, I looked up to the sky. A few birds were flying by, chirping and chattering. I jumped up, yearning to join them.

But it didn't work.

I jumped a few more times, flailing my arms. My eyes were still on the prize. I flexed my shoulders mid-jump, and my wings flapped.

"Are these just for decoration?" I sighed.

My heart sank, and tears pooled in my eyes. I had wings, shouldn't I be able to fly? Or was this a prank by the universe, giving me equipment I couldn't even use?

Mama put a hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, baby. You'll get it eventually. Just keep trying."

Papa stepped out into the yard as well. "First, let's study the wings. We'll be able to see what bird wings these mimic."

Longingly, I caressed a wing between my fingers. The feathers, still damp, were so soft. Goose down came to mind. Geese, flamingos, ducks, they all could fly, couldn't they? They secrete an oil from somewhere and smear it on their wings to make them waterproof. But the dampness did not feel oily. If I were to jump into a body of water, the wings would just get heavy, like my fur.