I can see you’re sad, even when you smile, even when you laugh. I can see it in your eyes, deep inside you want to cry.
—  Eminem; Mockingbird

Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years.


I saw someone else have this idea, but I just wanted to add to add on.

Humans being the birds of the universe.

Our vocals are no joke, so imagine that whenever any of us begin singing, or even just humming, every alien nearby has to stop to listen. Like, they know we get really shy around others so we never sing despite them begging us, but sometimes we slip up.

Sometimes we subconciously begin humming or lightly singing and aliens just need to stop. Cause this is rare !

A human is singing!!!

What if our song is something every species deeply admires and even something that they would consider ethereal?

Imagine if we were considered the mockingbirds of the universe? Like, we’re eventually considered sacred and something that no matter what happens, you just do not kill us??? All aliens just collectively agree that we deserve protecting???

dont touch me omg im soft pls ignore mt ramblings :( idk i just had “How to kill a mockingbird” in my mind rn

Not a columbid, but one of this year’s mocking squeaks paid my porch a visit.

Fussy (it’s mother) and I have an understanding.

I am allowed approach and check on her little squeaks without being swooped or screamed at, but if I touch them or make them cry, all bets are off!

Several summers ago, it was about 120f, and I noticed a nest of dehydrated mocking squeaks at about the hottest part of the day, necks flopped over the nest rim like wilted plants.
I brought a bottle of water and gave it to them by eyedropper until they perked back up and started squalling to be fed.

Fussy was watching.

After that, she’d scold her mate if he dove on me while I checked on the babies.

They’ve nested in my holly every year since, and checking on their peeps unmolested has been my exclusive privlage.

The squeak let me take a picture, and I went in to finish feeding my flock.

I figured that if something was wrong, it would still be there when I got back.

It was gone by the time I went back to check on it again.

A cute visitor, in no need of emergency care. ^v^

If I ever have a daughter, she won’t grow up with stories about princesses being saved by princes. No, she’ll grow up with tales of queens who saved themselves and the world at the same time.

I’ll tell her about Natasha Romanoff, who didn’t let her past define her.
I’ll tell her about Bobbi Morse, who took no bullshit from anyone.
I’ll tell her about Wanda Maximoff, who was powerful in every way possible.
I’ll tell her about Peggy Carter, who decided her own worth.
I’ll tell her about Hermione Granger, who knew the power of knowledge.
I’ll tell her about Ginny Weasley, who didn’t let anyone tell her what she couldn’t do.
I’ll tell her about Luna Lovegood, who knew that being a bit crazy isn’t always a bad thing.

You can say what you like about the young people of today, but you have to admit

We’re going to be damn good storytellers