Robyn lives here apparently

I am a writer. Not a content-producing machine. I am a writer. Not a content-producing machine. I am a writer. Not a content-producing machine.

It’s okay if I don’t have time to write. It’s okay if a chapter is delayed. It’s okay if my words come out messy. It’s okay if I need to take a break. It’s okay if I don’t update every week, every month, or even every year.

My value as a writer is not measured by how fast I post. My worth is not defined by kudos, bookmarks, or comments.

I am allowed to be slow. I am allowed to rest. I am allowed to write for joy, not for an algorithm.

I am a writer. Not a content-producing machine.

2026 will be the final year of Funguary! A mushroom drawing challenge🍄 I wasn’t going to do one this year, but dang, just feels sad to have February roll around and NOT draw mushrooms. So if I host one this time, it’d be a bit different. It’s going to be a weekly prompt instead of a daily, so only 4 prompts! This will give us time to draw more fleshed out characters, and save us from burnout >:)

Themes would be Decay, Cosmic, Fairytale and Life. These are the traits I feel describe fungi best - so instead of drawing mushroom species we’d make images that capture the fungi essence of these themes. I’ll of course be posting species suggestions that I feel vibe well with these themes :)

For the ones who make you want to wrap them in a blanket and also scream “JUST TALK TO SOMEONE.”

Always looks like they didn’t sleep (because they didn’t)

Talks like they’re about to say something else, but never does

Constantly touches their sleeves/jewelry/lip, like if they’re not holding something, they’ll fall apart

Laughs too easily, but it never quite reaches their eyes

Over-apologizes for things no one noticed

Craves affection but flinches when they get it

Body language = trying to take up as little space as possible

Flashes of unexpected rage, like pressure finally cracking glass

Always says “I’m fine” in a tone that screams “Please ask again”

Cries alone, then wipes their face like it’s a secret

Feels safest in chaos because stillness feels like waiting for pain

Thinks being loved means being a burden

Cannot remember the last time they were truly, fully relaxed

Keeps people at arm’s length, but is the first to drop everything if someone else needs help