Moonbun
Moves at the speed of a Sunday morning. Wrapped in that star blanket like it is a security system.
It is not laziness. It is earned. Moonbun used to run on empty and decided cozy was the whole point now. Every nap is a small rebellion, every quiet night a little win.
Blankets. Quiet nights. Being left alone to just exist.
Early mornings, itchy fabric, being rushed anywhere, loud alarms.
Giving advice it does not take itself. Finding the coziest spot in any room within 30 seconds.
True crime podcasts at bedtime — and somehow still falls asleep mid-episode.
Napping, competitively, if that is a sport. Stargazing. Slow tea-drinking. Doing absolutely nothing on purpose.
Used to be a total workaholic. Burned out completely. The blanket era is recovery, not personality.
