While other spirits clean, meditate, fight or blast lo-fi beats, Capybun just simmers — literally. In broth. With a butter hat. No thoughts, just stewing like it’s a spa day. He chills. He sits. He naps. He sometimes meditates. Absolute legend.
You might ask:
"Is he okay?"
No. He’s perfect.
The world’s on fire, and Capybun’s like:
"Yeah, and I’m seasoning the broth."
Honestly? Mood.
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