#casual reader

The Avengers had faced world-ending threats. Aliens. Armies. Interdimensional rips in time.

But somehow, nothing had ever shut them up quite like Tony Stark saying the words:

“She’s my daughter.” It wasn’t a punchline.

He stood in the center of the common room, coffee in hand, jaw set just a little too tight.

“She was taken when she was nine. Hydra,” he said. “They used her to get to me. And I didn’t even know.”

The silence in the room was sharp. Uncomfortable.

“I found her six months ago. It took this long to… get her out. Fully. Legally. Safely. And now she’s coming here.”

“To live?” Steve asked gently.

“To stay,” Tony said. “If she wants to.”

Before anyone could process that, the elevator doors chimed.

And then— She stepped in.

Y/N Stark didn’t walk into the room like someone being reintroduced to a world that forgot her. She walked in like she already knew everyone was looking and didn’t mind one bit.

Faded jeans. Converse with ink scribbled on the rubber. A cropped navy hoodie with “Stark Industries” printed in lowercase across the chest. Her duffel was slung over one shoulder, a beat-up set of wireless headphones hanging from her neck.

The first thing she said?

“So this is what happens when you ghost your dad for eleven years. He gets famous, builds a robot army, and moves in with Captain America.”

Sam cracked a smile.

Tony exhaled. “You’re late.”

“I’m not late,” she said, stepping further into the room. “You just started early.”

Then she stopped in front of him, dropped her bag to the floor, and looked him in the eyes.

Tony looked back.

A moment passed.

Then he opened his arms.

“Come here, kid.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.

She walked right into him and let his arms close around her shoulders like they’d done this a hundred times before—even though they hadn’t. He held her like he wasn’t sure he’d ever get another chance. She didn’t cry. She didn’t freeze. She just leaned in and rested her chin against his shoulder and said, “You owe me like ten birthdays.”

“I owe you everything,” he muttered back.

When they pulled apart, Tony turned to the rest of the team like he was seeing them for the first time. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s funny, smarter than me, probably stronger than me, and knows how to pick a lock with a paperclip. Be nice.”

Thor was the first to approach, all broad shoulders and unshakeable friendliness. “You are much smaller than I expected.”

“And you’re taller,” she replied, “but only vertically.”

Thor blinked. Then let out a booming laugh. “I like her!”

“Same,” said Natasha, giving her an approving once-over. “You talk like him, but less annoying.”

“Give it time.”

Steve smiled, offering his hand. “Welcome to the Tower.”

Y/N took it. “Thanks. It’s a bit cleaner than Hydra’s decor.”

Silence.

She didn’t flinch. “Sorry. Was that too soon?”

“No,” Wanda said softly. “Not too soon. Just honest.”

Y/N gave her a real smile at that.

It wasn’t long before the group fell into easy conversation—Tony explaining her powers vaguely, Sam asking if she could fly (she couldn’t), and Bruce appearing from the lab just long enough to give her an awkward wave and say, “Glad you’re here.”

Only Bucky didn’t say anything.

He stood a little off to the side, arms crossed. Watching.

Y/N met his gaze once. Didn’t look away.

He didn’t either.

Later That Day – Floor 23

Y/N followed her dad through a private elevator with “Stark Access Only” engraved into the panel.

“I built this floor for you a while back,” Tony said, unlocking the door. “Before I even found you again. Just… in case.”

Y/N stepped inside. The suite was wide and open, warm wood floors and oversized windows spilling afternoon light across the couch and bookshelves. One hallway led to a bedroom. Another led to a second door.

“Who’s in there?” she asked.

Tony scratched the back of his neck. “Technically… your neighbor.”

“Technically?”

“You’re sharing the floor with Barnes.”

She turned to face him.

“You’re telling me that after eleven years in a Hydra lab, you’re putting me next door to the Winter Soldier?”

Tony held up both hands. “He’s different now.”

“So am I.”

“That’s why I think it might work.”

She stared at him.

“I’m not saying you have to like him,” Tony added. “But I trust you. And honestly? I think he could use someone who isn’t afraid of him.”

As if summoned by awkward timing, the other suite’s door opened.

Bucky Barnes stepped out. Hoodie. Sweats. Barefoot. He looked like someone who’d just woken up from a nightmare and found out he still had to be awake.

Y/N didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Tony gave them both a quick wave. “Alright. I’m gonna go back to the lab and pretend this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve ever set up. Play nice, you two.”

The door closed behind him.

Y/N shifted her weight, casual but alert. “So… we’re roommates. That’s hilarious.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Not roommates. Same floor. Two doors. Big difference.”

“Noted,” she said, stepping past him. “I call the good window.”

He said nothing. Just followed her with his eyes as she hauled her bag toward the bedroom.

When she opened the door and saw the soft lighting, the clean bed, the empty bookshelves—her chest ached in a way she didn’t show.

From behind her, Bucky said quietly, “You need help?”

She turned, eyebrow raised. “With what? Lifting emotional baggage?”

His lips twitched. Just barely.

“I’m good,” she added. “But thanks.”

And she meant it.

Y/N woke up to the muffled hum of the city far below, filtered through the massive windows of her new room. The sunlight spilled softly across the floor, illuminating the little mess she’d made unpacking. Her jeans were draped over a chair, the duffel bag left unzipped near the bed, and a half-empty bottle of water was perched on the nightstand next to an old Stark Industries baseball cap. She was still adjusting to how… normal it felt. That is, until the quiet ping from the intercom reminded her she wasn’t alone here. “Good morning, Miss Stark. JARVIS is online and awaiting instructions.” Y/N grinned, swinging her legs over the bed. “Hey, J. How long have you been waiting?” “Since you last disconnected at approximately 3:42 a.m.” She rolled her eyes. “Night owl, remember? Anyway, bring up my playlist and put on something chill. And maybe order some breakfast? You know, human things.” “As you wish.” For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she could breathe. She liked it. Not just the tech, the luxury, or even her dad’s presence. But the quiet acceptance of a place that didn’t feel like a cage. Later that morning, after a breakfast JARVIS insisted was “balanced and Instagram-worthy,” she headed out of her room to explore. She bumped right into Bucky Barnes in the hallway, arms full of random boxes—some labeled “Fragile,” others just scribbled “Y/N’s Stuff.” “You again,” she said, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged. “Thought you might want help.” “Please.” He smirked, setting the boxes down. “I’m kidding. Thought you’d say no.” “I’m good,” she insisted, but he could see through it. The truth was, she didn’t like asking for help. Hydra had taught her independence was survival. But here? She was learning to lower her walls. Together, they moved the boxes into her room, and he stayed long enough to assemble a chair and hook up her gaming console. “Don’t think I won’t destroy you at ‘Street Fighter,’” she warned. He laughed softly, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m counting on it.” That evening, the team gathered in the common room for their usual downtime. Steve was telling a story about the old days, and Thor was rummaging through the snack cabinet in search of Pop-Tarts. Y/N sat near the edge, quietly observing, when Sam nudged her. “You’re kinda quiet for a Stark.” She smirked. “I’m just… sizing you all up. You’re weird.” “Fair.” Natasha gave a knowing look. “You’ll fit right in.” “Only if I can steal your stuff in the fridge,” Y/N quipped, earning a small smile from Nat. Bucky caught her eye from across the room and raised an eyebrow. She shot back a teasing grin. The comfortable banter was a new feeling for her. Like this strange, found family was exactly where she belonged—even if she wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.

One afternoon, the Avengers were hanging out on the Tower’s rooftop garden, trying to enjoy a rare break. Steve and Bucky were reminiscing about missions past, Tony was tinkering with a gadget, and Wanda was quietly meditating near the flowers. Y/N leaned against the railing, scrolling on her phone. Suddenly, Steve threw out a challenge. “Alright. Who thinks they’re fast enough to beat me and Barnes in a race?” Bucky smirked. “You’re on, Cap.” Tony looked over from his workbench. “This is gonna be good.” The team quickly gathered at the starting line—a strip of rooftop lined with potted plants and benches. Y/N stood to the side, arms crossed, amused. “Don’t leave her out,” Sam said. “She looks fast.” Steve glanced at her. “You wanna try?” Y/N shrugged with a grin. “Why not? I’m already here.” The countdown started. “Ready?” “Set?” “Go!” Before anyone could blink, Y/N was gone. A blur of movement that left Steve and Bucky staring, mouths slightly open. She was halfway to the finish line before Steve and Bucky had even taken their first strides. “Is she—?” “Faster.” Y/N crossed the finish line, slowing to a casual walk as if she’d just taken a stroll. Tony whooped from the sidelines. “That’s my kid!” Steve and Bucky trailed behind, breathing hard, eyes wide. “I didn’t see that coming,” Steve admitted, shaking his head. Bucky wiped his brow. “Yeah… she’s faster than either of us.” Y/N grinned, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “You guys okay back there?” Sam laughed. “You just beat two supersoldiers like they were standing still.” Y/N shrugged. “Guess I’m not just a Stark.” Wanda approached, impressed. “That was incredible.” Y/N shrugged again, but the smile was soft. No one knew the full extent of her powers yet. But maybe, just maybe, they were starting to. Y/N was starting to realize that living in Avengers Tower wasn’t nearly as chaotic as she expected. Or maybe she was just getting used to the chaos.

Her mornings were still slow, with JARVIS gently nudging her awake by dimming the lights and playing her favorite soft tracks. The AI had developed a knack for reading her moods—if she was cranky, JARVIS lowered the volume; if she was restless, he’d suggest a walk on the roof.

“Hey, J,” she said one afternoon as she sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through mission reports on her tablet. “You ever get tired of being perfect?”

“I do not experience fatigue in the human sense,” JARVIS replied smoothly. “But I do enjoy your sarcasm. It keeps things interesting.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

Later that day, she found herself wandering into the common room just as Bucky was finishing up his morning workout. He looked up, hair damp and muscles still moving from exertion.

“Hey,” she greeted, dropping onto the couch a little too casually.

He gave a tired smile. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither said anything. Then Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out a half-eaten granola bar.

“Want half?” she offered.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t refuse. “Sure.”

They shared the bar in comfortable silence.

“You don’t talk much,” Y/N observed.

“Depends on the day.”

She nodded. “Me too. Hydra taught me a lot about silence.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps you alive.”

Bucky looked at her then, really looked. “You’re different than I thought.”

“Different good or different bad?”

He smiled, small and genuine. “Different good.”

That night, she joined the group in the kitchen. Wanda and Natasha were debating the merits of spicy food versus comfort food.

“Natasha can’t cook,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes.

“She burns water,” Natasha shot back.

Y/N laughed. “Sounds like you’re in good company.”

Wanda looked over at Y/N. “You’re fitting in fast.”

“Only because I’m sneaky,” Y/N teased. “And because you guys are actually decent.”

Tony popped his head in, holding a tray of cookies.

“Try these. I’m taking credit for all of them.”

Y/N took a bite. “Not bad, old man.”

The warmth of the kitchen, the laughter, the mess—it was the first time in a long time Y/N felt like she could be herself without armor.

Later, she caught Bucky in the hallway.

“Training again?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You wanna join?”

Y/N smirked. “You trying to show off?”

“Maybe.”

“Challenge accepted.”

As they moved to the training room, Y/N felt something shift. She wasn’t just Tony Stark’s daughter anymore. She was Y/N. Stronger. Ready.

Tony Stark throwing a party was a bit like a fireworks display — bright, loud, and impossible to ignore. And when the occasion was his daughter finally stepping back into the world he’d built, well, you knew the Tower would be overflowing with Avengers, allies, and anyone with a good excuse to sneak in. Y/N stepped out of her room on Floor 23, already wondering if she could survive a night surrounded by Tony’s “friends” — people she mostly knew by reputation or by what her father had described in rushed phone calls that were more apologies than explanations. The music was loud, the kind of pulsing, electric mix that made the floor vibrate under her boots. She felt a familiar zing of nerves but also a strange warmth, like maybe this was the kind of chaos she could get used to. Tony was in full dad mode, wearing sunglasses indoors, holding a drink, and running around making sure everyone had what they needed. “Y/N!” he called from the kitchen. “You made it. Come meet the important people who matter.” She smirked. “You mean the people who kept your tech from self-destructing?” He laughed, waving her over. The crowd was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. Steve was charming someone near the buffet, Thor was explaining something about Pop-Tarts to an increasingly confused Sam, and Natasha was… well, Natasha was leaning against the wall, looking unimpressed but secretly enjoying herself. Bucky stood near the edge of the room, arms crossed, eyes on Y/N like she was a flame he couldn’t quite look away from. Y/N caught his gaze and gave a small, playful raise of her eyebrow. Tony nudged her. “Go on. Say hi.” She stepped forward and bumped into Sam, who grinned. “Hey, Y/N. Heard about your superspeed.” Y/N shrugged. “It’s a good party trick.” Thor suddenly approached, holding a plate stacked high with Pop-Tarts. “You must try. They are delicious.” Y/N took one, bit it, and made a face. “Too sweet. I’m more of a black coffee and sarcasm kind of girl.” The night rolled on in a haze of laughter and storytelling. Y/N found herself drawn to the quieter corners, and somehow that always seemed to lead back to Bucky. Finally, the music shifted. A slow, steady beat filled the room. Tony clapped his hands. “Alright, everyone! Dance time. And yes, Y/N, you have to dance. No excuses.” Bucky’s eyes found Y/N again. He took a step forward. Y/N smirked but didn’t move away. “Dance with me?” he asked quietly. The room seemed to blur. She nodded. They moved to the center of the floor, the noise fading into the background. Bucky’s hand found hers — steady, sure. Y/N let herself relax against him. For the first time since she arrived, she wasn’t the daughter of a genius billionaire. She was just Y/N. And Bucky? He was more than the Winter Soldier. He was something soft and real. The music slowed, and so did their breathing. No words needed. Just the quiet certainty of a dance, a glance, and the start of something new. The party had settled into a hum of laughter and scattered conversations when Y/N found herself standing in front of Bucky’s door.

She hesitated for a heartbeat.

Then knocked.

Bucky opened it, his usual guarded expression softening the moment she stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, personal, with photos pinned to the wall and a guitar resting in the corner.

Y/N glanced around and then up at him.

“Nice place,” she said, kicking off her boots.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s home.”

They settled onto the couch, not quite touching but close enough that silence felt natural.

“I’m glad you asked me to dance,” Y/N said after a moment.

Bucky’s eyes met hers. “Me too.”

They talked—slow, easy conversation about things neither usually said out loud.

Her voice softened when she spoke about Hydra, about being gone for so long.

He shared quiet stories about his past, about finding purpose again.

No pressure. No grand declarations. Just two people finally letting their walls down.

When Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, Bucky didn’t pull away.

For once, the night was theirs. Then he kissed her like he’d been waiting — like every missed glance, every sparring match, every smirk had been building to this. She kissed back like she’d been searching for something and just found it. There was no hesitation anymore.

His hands slid slowly, reverently, around her waist, drawing her in until she could feel his heartbeat against her own. Her fingers found the edges of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he let her. Their mouths never left each other as the fabric disappeared piece by piece. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the heat of him, the scar tissue, the muscle — and he let out a quiet groan against her neck that made her heart stutter.

She whispered his name and he froze, forehead pressed to hers. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice strained.

“I won’t,” she breathed. “Don’t even think about it.”

And that was all it took. He kissed her again, harder this time, walking her back until she hit the mattress and fell into it with a soft thud. He followed, his body blanketing hers with warmth and tension and need. Every movement was deliberate, every touch a conversation. There was a tenderness in the way he peeled away her layers, kissing the skin he uncovered, trailing his lips along her collarbone, her shoulder, her chest — and when her shirt was gone, he just stared for a second, eyes soft and hungry all at once.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely a whisper.

She pulled him down by the necklace at his throat. “Then do something about it.”

They moved together like it had always been inevitable — months of tension unraveling all at once. He took his time, mapping her body with hands that had only known violence and now wanted to memorize softness. She arched into him, breath hitching, head thrown back, and the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pushed into her, slow and deep, she gasped his name. He kissed her temple, her jaw, her lips — every part of her he could reach — while they found a rhythm that felt like coming home. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy. It was honest, raw, and overwhelming in the best way. Her nails dragged across his back, his grip tightened on her thigh, and their bodies moved like they’d done this a hundred times in dreams.

And when she came undone beneath him, head buried in his shoulder, he wasn’t far behind, whispering her name like a prayer.

They lay tangled in the sheets afterward, chests heaving, slick with sweat and barely touching because it was too much and not enough.

He pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You okay?”

She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “More than okay. You?”

He smiled — a real one, rare and warm. “Yeah. You ruined me.”

She laughed softly, burying her face in his chest. “Good.”

The next morning, the training room buzzed with energy.

Y/N was already warming up when Bucky walked in, a determined look on his face.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he teased.

“Oh, you’re on,” Y/N replied with a grin.

What followed was an intense, breathless hour of drills, sparring, and sprinting.

Bucky was relentless, pushing her to her limits.

Y/N matched him move for move, her powers giving her an edge, but Bucky’s experience kept her honest.

They laughed through the exhaustion, exchanged sharp jabs of sarcasm, and shared those fleeting glances that meant more than words.

At one point, Y/N surprised him by pulling off a move he hadn’t seen coming.

He shook his head, impressed. “Okay, Stark. You’re full of surprises.”

She smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. “You have no idea.”

By the end, they were both dripping, breathless, but the atmosphere was electric.

They’d tested boundaries—not just physical, but emotional.

And neither wanted to stop.

In the days that followed, Y/N’s presence became a new constant.

She joined Natasha and Wanda for late-night strategy talks, offering sharp insights and a steady voice.

With Steve and Sam, she ran drills and shared stories from her years in hiding, slowly earning their respect.

Tony hovered in the background, proud but trying not to smother.

JARVIS was her unofficial partner in crime, managing everything from playlist curation to subtle tech pranks.

Bucky found himself often at her side, whether it was cooking disasters in the kitchen (courtesy of Natasha’s famous inability to cook) or quiet walks on the rooftop.

During one particular evening, Y/N and Bucky caught Thor debating the merits of Pop-Tarts versus pancakes in the dining hall.

“Pancakes are fluffier,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

“But Pop-Tarts are eternal,” Thor insisted, brandishing a tart like a weapon.

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll take the fluff, thanks.”

The team laughed together, sharing moments that weren’t about missions or powers but about being a family.

📖 Lights along the River by Pat Lamondin Skene with Sabrina Gendron (Illustrator)

⭐ Thankful Another wonderful story about a young child and their town, who were just about to get their first day with electricity in 1952. Patsy, the young child, shared how they lived before having electricity, how they spent their time together as a family, such as listening to battery-operated radios, using oil lamps to fill light in the living room, and her brother reading old comic books. She also expressed some worries about whether electricity would cause their family to become closer or more estranged. The book as a whole is such a touching story; it made me appreciate what we have now, both with and without having to use electricity. What I have learned here the most is to learn to balance it into our lives, not over-relying on any, and instead learn to spend time the most with your loved ones. There is nothing that fills our lives more than doing that.

✿ personal rating: 4.86/5

📖 I Am Not a Number by Jenny Kay Dupuis, Kathy Kacer with Gillian Newland (Illustrator)

⭐ Indignant Coming from someone who was raised outside of Canada, this one was especially weighty. I had never known about the residential school system until I read this book last month. This book is one of those books that proves picture books can be read at any age, and some will really be impactful, informative, and gut-wrenching. The story revolves around Irene and her brothers, who have been taken from their homes and sent to live at a residential school in Canada. Here, I learned about the harm that the system did to the Indigenous people, especially the children who were taken because people thought they were bad and needed to be "saved" from themselves. In this particular section of the book, I felt both enraged and sad for the people who had gone through that system -- ”𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚞𝚙, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝.” This kind of discrimination and abuse happened in those residential schools and was told in the book. The last residential school closed in 1996.

✿ personal rating: 4.43/5

📖 The Most Beautiful Thing I Have Ever Seen by Jenny Kay Dupuis, Kathy Kacer with Gillian Newland (Illustrator)

⭐ Hopeful The last book is about a little girl and her family who had to leave their home because of a war. They had to go to a different country where the girl thought they would be safe and not have to worry about anything. Only to display how war has affected their hope and freedom and how traumatizing it is, especially to young children, even if they’ve already fled from it. It showed how even a simple fireworks display at a celebratory event could trigger children from war, and it made me feel uneasy and sad, which is also the point of the book. Once more, it's a very relevant story, particularly in light of current events. I believe reading this will widen your empathy not only towards the families who have been suffering from these wars but specifically towards the children who only hoped to live and grow like us, without war, without fleeing from their home, beloved countries.

✿ personal rating: 3.86/5

🖋️I absolutely recommend these books to anyone who appreciates art -- especially vibrant illustrations -- combined with beautiful narrative, new information, and powerful messages. You can still pick up useful information in picture books such as the books I have mentioned above (most of them are not fiction). I have always loved reading picture books because that's how I started to love reading. Back then, picture books were essentially relevant to young children, not only to improve reading comprehension but also to learn empathy through the visuals being evoked in the books. They were locally affordable and supported not only independent local writers but also artists. Picture books helped me develop my love for drawing in addition to reading, and I hope that these two passions will continue to prevail into the future of newer generations.

The book started with an environment that is tranquil and nature-filled, accompanied by beautiful illustrations from John Burgoyne. However, the book seemed to keep talking about the same thing over and over: capitalism and the market economy are bad, while the gift economy is good. It’s like pushing you into moral dilemma while giving you wisdom in life on the side. Even though it would be great to live in a world with only a gift economy in some ways, I don't think it will be safe for everyone to make that our sole economy right now. Individuals who are unable to maintain social connections may be impacted by the risks associated with the gift economy. The book consistently emphasizes the importance of reciprocating the generosity of those who provide for you. It would lead to social pressure and burnout that I can't even begin to imagine; the dysfunction within it could even be more chaotic than a mixed economy. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚜— 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. Throughout the majority of human existence, voluntarism and gift economy were the main pillars of human society, so there is no doubt that they are effective on some level. The tricky thing is that such a system relies on trust, interpersonal relationships, and memories of events and interactions if it is not changed. This is where social pressure comes in, as well as what the author of the book refers to as "...someone breaking the rules of sharing." Some aspects of capitalism are undoubtedly major contributors to the serious issues facing our society and I cannot claim to know the solution to those issues... It is also said in the book that the gift economy can only really work in smaller groups, which already exist. Please remember that I only know the bare basics about the main topic of this book, so these are just my thoughts at the moment I'm writing them. I'm open to learning more about these from additional books. I'm not sure if I can suggest this book to anyone who wants to learn the fundamentals of the gift economy, but overall, it's a decent read for gaining some understanding of the subject in general, how it still exists today, and its positive effects especially in the West. I might recommend the shorter version of this book, which is an essay (legitimately) available for free on the internet.

✿ personal rating: 2.14/5

The Little Prince demonstrates that there is no reason to be ashamed of being oneself; rather, we should be embarrassed about the idea of becoming strictly uniform, as this would rob us of our uniqueness and individuality, which is what defines us a solid and special species. Also, being different doesn't mean you have to lose your modesty. Instead, it should make you think about people who are opposite to you in an appreciative way, unlike the people from other worlds the Little Prince met, whose pride kept them stuck in their own ego bubble. 𝙸 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ? Beyond the few things I've already mentioned, there is a lot more you can learn from this book because it is so well-written and can be absorbed introspectively, which will help you better understand not only yourself but also those around you.

I would highly recommend this to anyone, especially to those who feel as though they are stalled in their lives and require a complete reset while reflecting on their past selves. Also, If you like cute pictures like those in picture books, this book has some that were drawn by the author himself, which is a big plus! 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜.

✿ personal rating: 5/5

I read the paperback edition with Dave McKean's illustrations, which perfectly depicted a suburban gothic artstyle that fit the story well. I was a little confused when I discovered online that the house was named the "Pink Palace." In some editions, it was explicitly mentioned in Chapter 1, but in my paperback it appeared only in the foreword. The book's description of the large house reminded me of the mansion from the Over the Garden Wall episode "Mad Love," as if two different lives and two different mansions had somehow been combined into one. But we know that, in contrast to the book, it’s only one large house in physical form. I also noticed a shared concept between the Beast in Over the Garden Wall and the Other Mother, where both characters lure children and feed on their souls. Speaking of similarities, I think Little Nightmares 2 also shares similar elements with Coraline. Overall, the pacing was a pleasant read. I had only seen the first few scenes of the movie because I wanted to finish the book first, so now I’m even more excited to see how they brought this one-of-a-kind story to life on screen. Now that I’ve finished reading, I realize that I love stories like this. “Because,” she said, “when you’re scared but you still do it anyway, that’s brave.”

✿ personal rating: 4.14/5