#university of georgia libraries

[garadinervi]

Testimony from Aurelia S. Browder et al. v. W. A. Gayle, et al., No 1147, District Court of the United States for the Middle District of Alabama, Northern Division, May 11, 1956 (pdf here) [Civil Case Files, 1938-1995, Records of the District Courts of the United States, Civil Rights Digital Library, Digital Library of Georgia, GALILEO, University of Georgia Libraries, Athens, GA]

[petsincollections]

Striking coal miners outside courthouse, Russell County, Virginia, November 19, 1989.

Newspaper assignment sheet attached to print verso identifies photographer Jonathan Newton: "Granville Blankenship (right) shows fellow striking miners the stuffed animal he bought his granddaughter for Christmas. The miners were gathered at the Russell County courthouse."

Atlanta Journal-Constitution Photographs

Georgia State University Library

[thebotanicalarcade]

n370_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: The natural history of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands :. London :Printed for B. White,1771.. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/38993718

[karalynlovescake]

I know there has been meta discussion about how Morpheus, in fanfic, would feel about cell phones. Obviously he could know how to use one with no problem but I think the clear evidence that he would not want to is that the Corinthian is so effortlessly used to them.

[madtomedgar]

5 states including kentucky (!!) voted to protect abortion access. 3 states did away with slavery (prison labor) as punishment for a crime. 3 states made massive commitments to affordable housing. illinois made collective bargaining a protected right. 2 more states legalized weed. connecticut is moving towards early voting. alabama removed racist language from the state constitution and is investing in statewide public broadband internet. california massively expanded funding for arts and music programs in public schools. colorado raised on the wealthiest in order to provide universal free school lunch to students. georgia may no longer pay cops who are suspended on a felony indictment. massachusetts massively expanded funding for public education and infrastructure, massively expanded dental insurance, and will allow residents to get a drivers license or state id regardless of immigration status. montana will now require a search warrant for access to electronic data. nebraska will increase its minimum wage to $15. new mexico will massively improve and expand senior facilities, public libraries, higher ed, special public schools, and tribal schools, residential utilities (water, internet, electricity). new york is putting 4.2 billion towards climate change mitigation. rhode island is increasing funding for public education and environmental protection. south dakota expanded medicaid.

[trashedinpluto-jpg]

listening to universe city in the library while ur besties have their enemies to lovers arc... it's all a part of the georgia warr aroace experience ✨️

happy arospec awareness week! 💚🤍🩶🖤

[hiringlibrarians]

Job Hunter’s Web Guide: Careers in Law Librarianship

Job Hunter’s Web Guide: Careers in Law Librarianship

I’m happy to be able to share today’s site with you. It is an excellent example of the services our professional associations can provide for job hunters and prospective librarians. Today we are featuring Careers in Law Librarianship, a site run by the American Association of Law Librarians (AALL). Wendy E. Moore, who is the Chair of the AALL Recruitment to Law Librarianship Committee as well as…

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Thomas Fountain Blue

Thomas Fountain Blue, the first African American to head a public library in the United States, was also a civic, educational, and religious leader. Blue was born in Farmville, Virginia, on March 6, 1866, to Noah Blue, a carpenter, and Henry Ann Crawley Blue. They were parents of two other children, Alice Blue and Charles Blue.

Blue enrolled in Hampton Institute in Hampton, Virginia, in 1885 and graduated in 1888. In 1894, he enrolled in Richmond Theological Seminary (now Virginia Union University) in Richmond, Virginia, finishing in 1898 with a Bachelor of Divinity degree. One week later, when the United States declared war on Spain after the sinking of the USS Maine off the coast of Cuba, touching off the Spanish-American War, Blue joined the Sixth Virginia Volunteers battalion comprising African American soldiers and was stationed first in Camp Poland in Tennessee and later at Camp Haskell in Georgia.

In 1905, Blue was selected to lead the Western Branch Library of the Louisville Free Public Library on South 10th and Chestnut Street, the first Carnegie Library in the nation to serve African American patrons with an exclusively African American staff. The facility cost $31,024.31 to build and when completed had over 4,000 books and 53 periodicals.

In 1914, Blue opened Louisville’s second Carnegie Library for African Americans, the Eastern Branch Library. During World War I, Blue was drafted, left the branch, and was appointed the Education Secretary at Camp Zachary Taylor in Louisville, one of sixteen national Army training camps created across the nation. Blue worked with Black troops who mostly had supporting and laboring roles in the United States.

After the war ended in 1918, Blue returned to Louisville, and a year later, in 1919, he was named head of the “Colored Department” for the city’s public library system and supervised eight African American assistants. The Colored Department was the first in the United States to have a staff which served multiple Black library branches.

In 1922, Blue was a presenter at the American Library Association Conference in Detroit, Michigan, where he gave a paper titled, “Training Class at the Western Colored Branch,” and led the subsequent discussion with the Negro Roundtable composed of other African American Library staffers from across the nation.

On June 18, 1925, Blue married Cornelia Phillips Johnson from Columbia, Tennessee, and they parented two children, Thomas Fountain Blue, Jr., and Charles Blue (named after his younger brother). Two years later, in 1927, Blue founded the Negro Library Conference and conducted its first meeting at Hampton Institute.

Later becoming a minister, Reverend Thomas Fountain Blue—who held membership in the American Library Association, the Special Committee of Colored Ministers of Louisville on Matters Interracial, and was a charter member of the Louisville Chapter of the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History—died on November 10, 1935, in Louisville, Kentucky. He was 69.

At the 2003 joint conference of the American Library Association with the Canadian Library Association Annual Conference at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre in Toronto, Ontario, Blue was posthumously honored when the organization passed a resolution recognizing his leadership in promoting professionalism among the staff of African American libraries across the United States. In 2022, a headstone honoring Blue and his wife, Cornelia Phillips Johnson, was placed at Eastern Cemetery in Louisville by the Frazier History Museum.

https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/people-african-american-history/thomas-fountain-blue-1866-1935/

[mybeingthere]

New York-based artist Vija Doks was born in a displaced persons camp in Germany of Latvian parents. She grew up in Kalamazoo, Michigan and received a BA from Western Michigan University. Relocating to New York City in 1976, she received a MS in Library Science from Columbia University and worked as a Law Librarian until her retirement in 2016. Doks pursued her art career starting in the 1990s, by taking courses at the School of Visual Arts where she studied under Nancy Chunn, Georgia Marsh and Judith Linhares.

Doks' paintings, usually on a field of black emerging in ghostly and luminous white, create a striking contrast between subject and background. Her works showcase the diversity and beauty of animal life, and emphasize their fragile position in our present man-made environment. Doks states, “Through these works, I hope to stir in the viewer a sense of joy and wonder and awaken them to the magic of animals. I am an environmentalist and animal lover and I hope to raise awareness of our interconnectivity through my art.”

www.vijadoks.com

[itscubetime]

Honestly, I fee like a lot of Osemanverse fans treat the books rather unequally. Let me explain.

I'm going to make a ranked list of all of Alice Oseman's books/series in order from most loved to least loved (based on my observations in social media and the availability of different books). I hold no biases in this list, since I have read/watched all of them. Only observations and some opinions.

Heartstopper. I'm pretty sure most people who have heard of the Osemanverse heard about Heartstopper first. You can find elements of this series everywhere, from all the webcomic platforms like Webtoon and Tapas, to the physical books in bookstores and libraries, to reposts of favourite moments, to the piles upon piles of fan-art and, of course, to the Netflix adaptation, which had immaculate casting and has already been green-lighted for two more seasons. I think this series deserves to be high up on the list - after all, the representation is casual and exemplified in the right places, nothing feels forced, the love story is healthy, but no so perfect that it's entirely unrealistic and the characters all have their spotlight moments. However, I feel like the series sometimes overshadows the other books, which I find interesting, considering this is the only book/series that is centred around a romantic love story.

Solitaire. This is probably the most well-known YA novel for a couple of reasons. One, it is the debut novel, the one that is praised in the front cover of every other Oseman novel, with the familiar phrase 'The Cather in the Rye for the digital age', so most Osemanverse fans have heard of it. Two, it's the novel that ties in with the Heartstopper story the most, by far, especially considering that the main character of Solitaire, Tori Spring, is the older sister of Charlie Spring, one of the main characters in Heartstopper. Three, its depiction of mental health issues, particularly Tori's implied depression, is healthy, realistic and educational. Overall, it deserves the love it gets, especially considering how dark it can get compared to Heartstopper.

Radio Silence. Honestly, I think that this could be tied with Solitaire in some cases - it was, after all, the book that first introduced me to the Osemanverse. It doesn't link with the Heartstopper universe as much as Solitaire, but it does focus more on Aled Last, one of the side characters in Heartstopper, and one of Charlie's friends, although it appears that the two drift off before the events of Radio Silence. I absolutely love this book for two reasons. One, the amazing relationship between Frances and Aled, the two main characters, never goes beyond anything platonic, showing that a boy and a girl don't have to be in a romantic relationship to thrive together. Two, it's the first book in the Osemanverse that shows explicit ace rep - better yet, demi rep - for Aled, which was so nice to read even before I began questioning if I was aspec. I love the cameos it gets in Heartstopper too, especially with Aled in the same shot lol.

Loveless. I'm so mad that this book is so far down the list, but I understand that's because it's the latest one. Firstly, PLEASE READ IT!!!! It follows the first-person perspective of Georgia Warr on her journey to discovering that she is aroace. This book has done wonders for the aspec community in giving them awesome representation and increased attention from the rest of the community, because yes! we exist and yes! us being aspec doesn't mean our lives are sad and lonely and YES! not all love has to come in romantic form!!!!! The fact that Oseman was alluding to their own uni experience in this story is just so amazing! Secondly, it deserves so much more attention in the Osemanverse fandom. Oseman put her whole heart and soul into this book and we are gonna love it like it deserves!!!

I Was Born for This. And now, we come across the book with the least amount of copies sold, available in the least amount of places and talked about the least in the fandom, despite it literally being about the fandom (eyyyy). This was the only novel I had to buy because it wasn't at my library (edit: it is now but it wasn't before) and none of my friends had it, but it is so good and criminally underrated. I understand every other story has something going for it. Heartstopper has impactful rep, Solitaire is the debut novel, Radio silence has Aled and the Universe City and Loveless has aroace rep. However, this book deserves love too!!! It focuses on the chaotic mess of fandoms and the impact it can have on the* artists behind the content, because gaining fame doesn't automatically make everything better, in fact it can make thing worse, like with Jimmy's anxiety. The story also having a muslim MC is also really awesome to see, especially since I haven't read many books with prominent muslim MCs (should probs change that soon lol). Anyway, this book is so so good and you need to read it somehow aaaaaaa!

Anyway, this has been sitting in my drafts for a year now and everything beyond the *asterix has been written today, but most ideas in this still stand. Most of the low-ranked books focus on queer people just existing without the plot being carried by a love story (no hate to the latter but i would like to see more of the former too). Anyway, it's time for the post to be brought into the world, especially considering Heartstopper season 2 coming up in August (yayyy!!!).

What did we learn today, kids?

Give all of a creator's work a chance, not just the most popular one! You will discover many gems!

[theteasetwrites]

Heart of the House

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 Interim (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing ❧ Word Count: 6.5k

❧ Summary: You're gone on a week long run, and Daryl is struggling to keep it together.

❧ A/N: Just sort of a slice of life piece from The Beginning series. This takes place between the last episode of season 9 and the first episode of season 10, so the Whisperers are still at large, and Lydia has taken refuge at the Dixons' house. I really wanted to write something that actually doesn't have a lot of the reader character in it, but is mostly Daryl's perspective and him being a dad and trying to take care of Robin and Lydia on his own, and of course I had to include just how much he misses his wife. I also wanted to put in another conversation between Daryl and Aaron, as I really hate how in the show they kind of forgot about their friendship (I have been told that the conversation reads slightly... gay. Do with that information what you will, but it is not intentional, and Daryl and Aaron do not want to sleep with each other in this universe, for the record). Anyway, enjoy this little snippet from The Beginning series!

It didn’t feel like home, about that much Daryl was certain.

He awoke as usual, around 5AM. Force of habit made him quiet as a mouse as he rose from his side of the bed, though there was really no reason to do so. You weren’t there, and he knew that, but God forbid he ever not pretend you were there. He needed it for his own sanity.

Routine, that was what kept Daryl going. At one point in his life, when he was drifting aimlessly alongside Merle, living like a nomad in whatever part of Georgia allowed him to be there, he didn’t care much about routine. Whatever Merle said was going to happen was going to happen. Nothing else really mattered.

It wasn’t until he met you and the others that he found himself needing constants, promises that the next day wouldn’t be too different from the last. The world around him might’ve ended then, but that was when his world began. That was when he met you, and everything before that didn’t really matter anymore. It ended with everything else. He didn’t know why he had survived, but he found meaning in you. If he had survived to keep you safe, then that was a good enough reason to keep staying alive.

He couldn’t keep you safe, though, when you were gone. 

As he rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes, crossing the bedroom to the chest of drawers, he wondered what you were doing right about now. Probably sleeping, or keeping watch as the others slept, or waking up to continue your journey into the city.

This expedition was an annual affair. Every year since he’d finished building the library, you organized a week-long run into Washington, D.C., making a stop at each and every library in the city to add to Alexandria’s growing collection. Citizens would make requests, and whatever they asked for, you’d be sure to find for them. 

He never went, as much as he wanted to. 

You wouldn’t let him, in fact. This is my thing, you’d say, and then usually go on and on about how you didn’t want everyone in Alexandria to think you were just a housewife, or that you did nothing important for the community. You always cared too much about what other people thought of you, and Daryl knew that, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you not to care. Caring was what you did best.

Afterall, he had his hunting expeditions he’d go on throughout the year, and almost every big run required his involvement, so who was he to tell you that you couldn’t go on your own run? It was hard to be away from you, and it was even harder to imagine anything happening to you, but he had to just hope you’d come back home in one piece, and that he wouldn’t set the house on fire while you were gone.

So far, he’d handled things well every time you left. He kept Robin, Lydia, and Dog alive, though they, too, felt an emptiness in the house when you were gone. 

Dog would roam the house for at least a day, sniffing everything and whining by the door. He curled up on your side of the bed during the day, his way of wondering where you were. 

Lydia still didn’t show her feelings much, but she did seem a little uneasy. She had already asked Daryl twice if you were going to be all right out there without him, and he’d of course say “yes,” but he would’ve felt better if he was out there, too, watching your back. 

And Robin… The poor thing was terrified. 

When the incident at the border happened six months ago, Robin began to understand the terrible threat that was the Whisperers. They’d beheaded Aunt Tara, Aunt Bev, Henry… She feared the same fate would meet her mother. She had night terrors a few days after you left, resulting in her screaming herself awake and nearly giving Daryl a heart attack. 

She had always had nightmares, and sleepwalked, but it was worse when you were gone, especially now. 

At least the week was halfway over, and soon you’d be home again, he hoped. He even prayed, despite not believing they would go anywhere. He had to try, in the sanctity of his own mind. 

As he opened the top drawer, pulling out a clean pair of underwear to replace the one he’d been sleeping in, Dog nuzzled the door open with his snout, panting excitedly to wrap around the bed and take his place curled up on your side of the bed. 

“Hey, buddy,” said Daryl quietly, mindful not to wake his daughter, and the teenage girl he was now beginning to see as his daughter, too. 

He crossed to the closet as he adjusted his belt, reaching in to pull out whichever dark colored button-up, quarter length sleeve shirt seemed to please him the most today. As usual, he noticed the stark contrast between his side of the closet and yours—one was dark and monotone, with very few garments and two pairs of shoes (his “nice” ones, and his “work” ones, both of which looked exactly the same to you), while the other took up most of the space in the closet, with a rainbow of dresses, blouses, and skirts, all organized by length and color. The librarian in you needed everything in the house to be categorized in some way, to have a “database,” as you would say, for easy retrieval. That included your clothes. 

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and fixed his hair, another force of habit, since he only cared what his hair looked like when you were around. After spitting out his toothpaste, he peered back into the bedroom to meet Dog’s big, glassy brown eyes. His nose was pitifully sandwiched between his outstretched legs. The canine let out a big, dramatic huff, then a low whine. 

“What?” Daryl asked the dog as he buttoned his shirt. “What’s wrong with you?”

He knew the answer, as it was the same answer to what plagued him, too. Sitting beside the dog, resting his hand upon his back to pet him, he sighed in solidarity. “You miss your mama, don’t you? Yeah, I miss ‘er, too… She’ll be back real soon.”

The dog followed him down the hall, part of their little routine. Next on the agenda was checking in on Robin, then Lydia. Robin’s room was across the second floor landing on the other side of the stairs, so he crossed over, Dog close behind, both moving quietly. 

Robin’s door was ajar, as usual, with the only light in her room coming from her nightlight. He could usually see her little sleeping face as she laid curled up, safe and warm in her bed, but he didn’t see anything, not even the familiar shape of her body tucked beneath the blankets.

His eyes widened as he approached. “Robin?” he whispered into the darkness. “You in here?”

Dog quickly jumped on the bed, himself noticing the missing child, who was always in her bed at this time. 

“Shit!” 

She wasn’t there. He flicked on the light on her bedside table, confirming the child was missing. “Robin!” he yelled out. 

Panic ensued then, as every horrible thought about what could’ve happened to his only child flooded every part of his anxious mind. 

She was only five years old, six in a few months… Too young to be anywhere on her own, as far as he was concerned. Too young to not be in her bed at this hour. Of course, she could’ve been anywhere else in the house, but he didn’t think of that. His mind went to the worst possible scenario. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she was snatched from her home by an intruder. It could’ve happened again.

He wasted no time, skipping several steps down the stairs as he ran to pick up his crossbow, completely out of instinct. “Robin!” he cried out again. 

Dog sensed his master’s incredible stress, and bounded towards the door leading to the basement, where Lydia lived.

He couldn’t be bothered to focus on the dog, who was now scratching at the door as Daryl quickly tied his boots. It wasn’t until he heard Lydia’s voice call out to him that he stopped, turning to look at the teenager as she held Robin’s hand in her own.

Daryl sighed in deep relief, dropping his bow and wiping the sweat off his brow. He should’ve known she’d be in Lydia’s room, as the two girls seemed to be developing a sisterly rapport, with Robin often hanging around Lydia’s feet.

“Robin,” he huffed. “Why aren’t ya in bed?” He spoke softly, despite the fatherly concern in his voice. 

Robin rubbed her tired eyes and shrugged. “You woke us up.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “No, why aren’t ya in your bed?” 

“She had a nightmare,” answered Lydia. “She was scared. I told her to see you but she wanted to sleep with me… Sorry.”

Lydia slumped her shoulders, feeling a little guilty, though she’d done nothing wrong. Still, she was used to adults scolding or hurting her for the most minor things. It was hard to get used to the absence of that after so long.

He approached slowly and took Robin’s little hand in his. She blinked sleepily at her father, prompting him to pick her up in his arms, as if just yesterday she was a little seven pound baby.

“Don’t be sorry,” he replied. “Just got worried s’all. You all right?” There was no reason to ask, other than the simple fact that Lydia was family now. You cared about her, Robin cared about her, and he cared about her. 

“Mhm,” she said with a nod. “I’m gonna go back to bed.” She reached over to kiss Robin’s cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he answered for the child. 

As he slowly carried Robin back to her room, she must’ve realized what was happening as she woke from her state of half-sleep.

“Daddy?”

He pulled back her covers with one hand and stroked her back with the other. It had soothed her ever since she was a baby. “Yeah?” he whispered back.

“I miss Mama.”

He sighed and laid her down on the soft mattress, always moving her with the care one might show a delicate porcelain doll. After all, to him, she was one of the two most precious things in the world. He wouldn’t dare imagine hurting her.

“Me too,” he said, tucking her back in as he usually did. “But she’ll be back, little bird. She’s just fine. Now you go right back to sleep.” He finished the final touches on his tuck, making sure her blankets were completely swaddling her body, just the way she liked. “There. Snug as a bug in a rug.”

She smiled softly at the familiar quote. He said it every night he tucked her in, without fail. Routine. 

“I don’t want another nightmare,” she said sadly. “I don’t ever have good dreams no more.”

He sighed, sitting himself on the edge of her bed as his hand reached over to gently brush back her bangs. “Since the Whisperers?”

She lowered her eyes sheepishly, then nodded as if ashamed of her admission. In truth, Daryl had been having more nightmares since that day, too, but he’d always had bad dreams. His best dreams were ones with you and Robin, but even those could be nightmares. 

“Heard people say they might bring the walkers here. Is that true?”

How was he supposed to answer that?

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. In truth, everything was up in the air right now. No one truly knew anything, and the Whisperers had a nuclear bomb in their arsenal that could set off at any minute. It was terror, but at least the community had been training to defend themselves in case of an attack. 

“But they could?”

He sighed. “Robin…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. He couldn’t say yes, even though that was the only option, considering he’d never lie to her. “You don’t need to worry about it. You just let me worry about it.”

She nodded solemnly, her eyelids becoming heavy and sleep threatening to overcome her. 

He smiled at her sleepy face, admiring how much she looked like you in this lighting, with that delicate softness. She was a beautiful little girl, gentle and kind. Sometimes he wondered if she’d make it in this world, beyond the walls, but then again, he wondered that when he first met you, too. Now you were leading your own expedition into the city.

He stood and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I love you, sweetheart,” he said. “You go and have a good dream.”

“About what?” she asked, blinking her sleepy eyes.

He smiled at her curiosity, so much like yours. “‘Bout the future,” he said. “‘Bout all the great things you’re gonna do, all the stories you’re gonna tell… Ain’t nothin’ Robin Elizabeth Dixon can’t do.”

She smiled softly, emitting a small giggle. “Okay, Daddy… I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl,” he said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be downstairs, munchkin.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Dog stayed at the foot of Robin’s bed as Daryl headed back downstairs, making his way to the garage. There wasn’t much else to do at this hour but work on his bike, and try to fix that pesky vacuum leak. 

He lifted the garage door, no reason other than to watch the sunrise coming from that direction. It was another part of his routine, waking up early to work on the bike or some other thing that needed work, and to watch the sunrise until the real responsibilities of the day showed themselves. 

With the birth of the new day came a slow rise of the neighborhood, which he also enjoyed watching. Those who were on garden maintenance that day stepped out of their homes and congregated at the crops to tend to the first spring harvest. Some went for aimless walks, and others made their way to the dining hall for communal breakfast. 

They all waved to Daryl, some of them stopping to chat, though he couldn’t quite get the hang of small talk, not even after all these years. 

“How are you?”

“What’re you working on?”

“How about this weather?”

“How’re the kids?”

“When’s (Y/N) coming home?”

All questions he somehow found hard to answer, for one reason or another.

He took a break from his work to make the kids breakfast, despite not at all knowing how to cook for them, since that was usually your department. He could cook, but only meat-based dishes, and sometimes waffles—eggs and potatoes were a mystery to him. 

“Ah, shit!” he exclaimed, noticing he’d burnt the bread in the toaster. He’d already used a great deal of the house’s daily allotment of electricity on the several other pieces of bread he’d burnt. 

“Swear jar,” said Robin, who sat at the bar making the final touches to her latest drawing. 

He huffed and dug into his back pocket to reach his stash of old coins that had no use in this world, but Robin took a shine to them anyway. It was one way she learned about the presidents, a concept which fascinated her. Needless to say, the swear jar method did not really work in breaking Daryl’s habit for using naughty words, but it did help Robin develop her coin collection. 

He reached across the counter and handed the silver quarter to her. “You’re robbin’ me blind,” he said. “Toast’s burnt again.”

Sitting next to Robin at the bar, Lydia shook her head as she closed her textbook in frustration. “Goddamnit!”

“Swear jar,” Robin and Daryl said, almost simultaneously. 

The teenager rolled her eyes in response, then held out her hand to Daryl, waiting for him to give her a coin. He tugged out a copper penny, dropped it in her hand for her to drop it in Robin’s. “What’s up?” he asked, shoveling a few helpings of eggs and potatoes onto each of their plates. 

“I hate reading,” she said. “It’s useless anyway… I can’t finish this stupid story.”

As he served them their plates, he leaned over Lydia’s shoulder. “Show me,” he said. “I can read it to ya.”

“No,” she huffed. “I need to do it myself… (Y/N) usually helps me read.”

Another thing that only you could do, another emptiness in this house that couldn’t be filled by anyone else but you. He missed you, more than usual, and even then, he always missed you a lot when you were gone, but this time, he realized that the heart of the house was truly missing. Even Lydia was affected by it. Still, he was trying his best to fill your shoes, and to take care of the girls half as well as you did would be an accomplishment.

“Well, uh…” He cleared his throat and pulled up a seat at the bar. “I can try. She’s probably a better teacher than me, but I’ll try.”

“Can I help too?” asked Robin. “I like reading.”

“That’s because you’re good at it,” replied Lydia. “I suck.”

“You don’t suck,” said Daryl. “You’re still learnin’. Ain’t no shame in that.”

The three of them took each sentence one step at a time, Robin chirping in every once in a while to help Lydia pronounce a big word, and Daryl helped her understand the meanings of the words she read. She finished the story just in time for school, and though usually you walked the kids to the classroom, he walked them both, with Robin’s hand in his and Lydia reluctantly trailing shortly behind. 

At noon he helped replace a panel in the wall with a new, more durable sheet of corrugated metal, and in the afternoon he walked Robin home from school, leaving Lydia to her assigned duties at the library, which was your “task” for her while you were gone. 

In the evening, after showing Robin how to skin a squirrel (much to her disgust), he retreated back to the garage, as he had nothing else to do. You weren’t here, and around this time of day he’d sit with you, either on the porch swing or the couch or at the dining room table, and just talk. He’d never liked talking much before he met you, but he changed when you came into his life, and though talking still wasn’t his strong suit when it came to other people, when it came to you, he sometimes found himself talking too much, to the point he didn’t know he had that many words in him. 

If he sat on the porch swing or the couch or at the dining room table, he was convinced he might tear up a little, missing you too much to sit in your special places without you. It just didn’t seem right. Nothing seemed right when you were away, not even for a week.

So he kept working on that bike, and a few more days passed with more or less the same routine, though all those days suffered from a painful lack of you. 

One evening, the night before you were supposed to come home, he worked on the bike as usual, stopping only when his brother-in-law walked by the open garage door, then came in to inspect the bike. He always bonded over that with Daryl, and sometimes you wondered if Aaron came over to spend time with you or to admire Daryl’s bike.

“Hey,” he said, a wide smile on his face. He was always so damn chipper, though the years had worn him down, leaving him a little less tirelessly optimistic than he was several years ago. “Still working on that vacuum leak?”

“Nah,” replied Daryl, wiping the oil from his hands with his black rag as he shook his hair out of his face. “Fixed that a few days ago. Just maintenance.”

Aaron nodded, bending over to, once again, admire Daryl’s craftsmanship. He’d built the bike from scratch seven years ago, back before Negan and the Saviors. Aaron had helped supply him with parts, but it was all Daryl, and that was the moment he really knew he was going to get along with his sister’s boyfriend. 

“Well, she looks good,” said Aaron. “You still gotta teach me how to make one.” 

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “Yeah, maybe when ya learn to ride a bike without crashing.”

Aaron folded his arms, laughing softly under his breath. “I’ll wear a helmet. Anyway, came by to ask you if you’re game to go hunting tomorrow? I still gotta beat your record.”

Last time, Daryl had caught fifteen squirrels, nine rabbits, and three deer. Daryl hadn’t bothered to count, as he didn’t find much point in doing so, but some of the other men, whose competitiveness Daryl found tiring, had a semi-official competition going on—whoever brought home the biggest overall hunt that day would get extra rations for his household. The reward primarily served as motivation for the hunters to bring home as much food as possible, but Daryl wouldn’t have even participated if it weren’t for Aaron keeping track of his numbers and entering him in the competitions without his knowledge. Daryl had won every time his name was entered, earning the family an extensive amount of meat that only Daryl, Lydia, and Dog could eat, on account of yours and Robin’s vegetarianism. 

The whole thing was a silly result of Aaron’s brotherly meddling, to say the least. At least Daryl’s proficiency in hunting motivated the other hunters to catch more game, but it was well known in Alexandria that Daryl Dixon was the best hunter, though his humility and reluctance to admit that fact was both refreshing and slightly irritating. 

His humility, however, turned to slightly mischievous teasing when Aaron was around. After all, he was, essentially, the younger brother Daryl never had. 

“You ain’t gonna beat that,” he said. “Suburban kid.”

Daryl couldn’t pass up an opportunity to lightheartedly joke about Aaron’s childhood being spent in a cozy suburb of Richmond, Virginia, while Daryl was foraging for mushrooms and berries when he was just a little older than Robin. 

“This suburban kid’s gonna catch up to you one of these days,” he replied, swinging his metal arm to nudge Daryl’s shoulder. “I’ve got a new tracking technique I wanna try out, it’ll knock your socks off.”

Daryl huffed and lowered his gaze, more seriously now. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere tomorrow. (Y/N)’s comin’ home, gotta be there for her when she gets here.”

Aaron smiled at Daryl’s devotion to his wife. “Man, you are obsessed with my sister, you know that?”

“She’s my wife.”

“And you’re obsessed with her,” he laughed. “It’s a good thing, just… slightly annoying at times. Every time she leaves you act like half a person.”

“Half a person?”

“Yeah, like you’re… missing something. I guess you are.”

That was an understatement—he was missing everything without you. 

“Ain’t the same when she’s gone,” Daryl explained, trying to avoid Aaron’s eye contact as he put his tools away. “Home ain’t home. I mean, I can do things myself, but… it’s different. Robin’s nightmares get worse, and I dunno what to do for ‘er. Lydia needs help with ‘er school stuff, and I ain’t smart enough for that. (Y/N) always knows what to do. She runs this place, I just do what I can for ‘er and the girls, and Dog. Hell, Dog is runnin’ around the house lookin’ for ‘er, more than usual.”

Aaron could’ve sworn that was the most amount of words Daryl had spoken to him at once since they met seven years ago. “Wow, well, uh… House is still standing. Robin and Lydia are alive. You got them to school on time. I’d say you do just fine on your own.”

Daryl raised his head with wide eyes, suddenly realizing that Aaron was, in fact, a single dad. Not just for a week once out of the year, but for as long as he’d had Gracie. “Man,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron was taken aback. “Why are you sorry?”

Now Daryl felt like a fool once again. He’d made so many blunders with Aaron, once even drunkenly asking how sex works between two men, followed by a deep blush blooming on his cheeks. “Damnit, I… It ain’t that hard for me. I’m complaining. (Y/N)’s comin’ home tomorrow, and I’m actin’ like I do this all on my own, all the time.”

Aaron sighed and shook his head with a smile. How could that man be smiling, after everything he’d been through? 

“I think you’re just stressed,” he said. “She’ll be home tomorrow, and everything will feel normal again. You do this every year when she leaves, Daryl.”

“Yeah, I know. Just don’t get any easier.”

“It won’t.” 

Aaron had more or less convinced Daryl to go on a short hunt not too far outside the walls early that morning, and though it didn’t help take his mind off how worried he was about you, it certainly relieved a little bit of the stress of taking care of the house and its inhabitants.

When he returned home, Lydia was at the dining room table with Robin as they both did their homework together, a surprising turn of events, as Lydia was usually off practicing with her fighting stick.

For a while, Daryl watched in amusement as he prepared dinner, relishing in the sight of the girls getting along. 

Dog’s ears perked up when he heard the south gate opening, and there was only one group outside the walls—yours. 

The canine darted out the doggy door, leaping across the porch stairs and lunging towards the gate. 

“Dog!” bellowed Daryl, dropping an ear of corn he was about to show Robin how to shuck. “Get back here!”

“Daddy!” Robin cried after her father, who bolted out the front door to retrieve his wild animal. The child followed suit, not knowing what else to do. 

“Robin!” cried Lydia, and soon she was running after the child, who was running after her father, who was running after the family dog. 

You were helping Emily lift a crate of books from the back of the makeshift wagon, which had once been a truck bed, when you heard the echo of the familiar bark, getting closer and closer.

Shielding your eyes from the setting sun with your hand, you squinted to see past the late afternoon glow. “Dog?” you laughed. “That’s my dog!”

You carried the crate to its place on the dolly, ready for safe passage to The Library of Alexandria. “What are you doing, boy?” you asked him. He bounded with every step you took, tongue out as he panted excitedly and stood on his hind legs. When your hands were free, you grabbed his front paws and danced with him for a moment. “Since when do you like me so much, huh? Where’s Daddy?”

You knew wherever Dog was, Daryl wouldn’t be too far behind.

“Dog!” you heard him bellow, though you couldn’t see him. 

He came sprinting out from behind the corner of one of the townhouses, one of his mismatched shoelaces untied and his face red with embarrassment at his dog’s disobedience. When he set his sights on Dog, he trailed his eyes up to notice you, and gradually his sprint turned to a jellylike waltz, punctuated by a series of out of breath grunts.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “I, uh… I dunno what got into him.”

You smiled wide and shook your head as you scratched underneath Dog’s ears. “Oh, it’s fine. He didn’t—”

“Robin!” you heard Lydia’s voice in the distance, from the same direction Daryl came. “Stop!”

Your eyes widened with worry, until you saw a very familiar little girl running barefoot towards you, her short, clumsy legs dangerously close to stumbling over the other. Her wide, crystal clear blue eyes soon focused on you. “Mama!” she cried out, with a sweet laugh in her voice. “You’re back!”

She moved much faster now, and Lydia came running behind her, out of breath and also barefoot. Neither of the girls had time to put on shoes in their panic. 

“Hi, sweet pea,” you said, leaning down and accepting her hug. You squeezed her so tight that she let out a giggly whimper. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she replied.

“(Y/N)...” huffed Lydia breathlessly. “Hi.”

For Lydia, that was a very friendly reception. “Hi,” you replied, straightening up to hold Robin’s shoulders. “Good to see you… Oh!” A lightbulb went off in your head as you remembered the books you’d brought back specifically for everyone in your family. You held up your finger and turned to rummage through the bed of the truck, while Emily, Gabriel, Eugene, and the others helped unload the other crates. “I got you something… Let’s see… Aha! Lots of books.”

You let out a strained, but somehow sweet, grunt as you tried to pick up the cardboard box of books by yourself, but Daryl quickly intervened, gently shooing you aside and lifting the heavy box with ease. “Thanks, honey.”

“Ain't nothin'',” he grunted. He looked between the teenage girl and the box of books, wondering how she could read these all on her own. “These all for Lydia?”

“Well, some are for Lydia, some are for you, some are for Robin.” You bent down on one knee to look rummage through the box, and Robin was quick to follow suit.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed, holding up a children’s illustrated encyclopedia of plants and animals. Daryl smiled when he saw her eyes light up and her teeth, of which there were a few missing and a few growing back, fully visible from her wide smile. “Thanks, Mommy… Wait, this is for me, right?”

You laughed with a characteristic snort and brushed back her hair. “Of course it’s for you, baby. And look at this one.” You dug through several books to find the one you were looking for: The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Dog Breeds. “Now you can find out what Dog is.” 

“Dog’s a dog,” added Daryl, who was of the belief that Dog was simply a mangy mutt. 

“He’s a special dog,” retorted Robin. 

“Yes, he is,” you agreed. Standing to your feet, you sighed and dusted off your knees. “I’ve got to help them put these books in the library.”

“Nah,” said Daryl. “I’ll do it. You go home.”

You scoffed. “I can do it.”

“Nah,” he said again, turning to lift more crates from the truck. “Go on.”

You folded your arms and rolled your eyes, sharing a small laugh with Robin, who was also quite amused at Daryl’s insistence. “We’ll both do it. You girls go home, and wash your feet, please.” You pointed to their bare feet, which had become dirtied from running across town. 

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Robin, echoing her father’s usual response to your orders. 

Night had fallen when you, Daryl, and the others brought the last several boxes of books into the library. You stayed behind when everyone else had left, and that meant Daryl stayed behind, too, since he wasn’t about to go anywhere without you. In fact, he barely moved from your side, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you lifted the heavy boxes. 

You had made your way to your desk, looking through the handwritten catalogs to check Lydia’s progress. She’d done well, despite not understanding why the library existed in the first place. She followed your instructions as best as she could, and that was all you could hope for.

“Look, Daryl,” you said, holding out the papers for him to look at. “She did so good. I mean, there are some errors with the metadata, but I can go back and fix that. For a handwritten entry, that’s not so bad.”

He took the papers and squinted at them, not quite understanding anything he was looking at. The more he learned about librarian work, the more he thought you were a genius, though it really wasn’t so hard, just a very complex system of cataloging and data entry that could occasionally render a minor headache.

Despite his lack of understanding, he couldn’t help but smile back at you, admiring how excited you got when you talked about your library, the one he built just for you, with his own two hands (well, and lots of tools). 

“That’s great, hon,” he said, handing you back the papers to reassemble in your binder. “Ain’t you tired?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “But I had to make sure everything was okay here… How were the girls?”

He chewed the inside of his bottom lip as he leaned against the wall alongside your desk. “Fine,” he said. “Robin’s nightmares got worse. Think it’s ‘cause you were gone. She was worried ‘bout ya. And Lydia, she did good. Kept up on her schoolwork, much as she could without ya pokin’ ‘er about it.”

“And Dog?” you laughed. “He sure was acting weird.”

The corner of his lip quirked in amusement at the sight of Dog greeting you so excitedly. “Yeah, think he might’ve missed you the most.”

You rolled your shoulders playfully, with a slightly mischievous smirk. “Did you miss me?”

Like crazy, he thought, but he wasn’t going to admit that just yet. He had to tease you first, as he always did. 

“Pfft. Me? Nah.”

“Ugh!” you scoffed dramatically, though with a very obvious grin on your face. You knew he was joking—his eyes betrayed him. “Daryl.” You pushed your desk chair back and stood up to step towards him. “You really didn’t miss me? At all? Maybe just a little bit?”

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he caught a subtle whiff of your perfume, still lingering on your blouse from when you last sprayed it a week ago. He could never figure out how you stayed so clean and fresh as a daisy even after several days of being outside the walls. Maybe you were just perfect. Really, it was just copious amounts of baby wipes.

He cleared his throat, smirk fading as he got lost in your eyes, the ones he’d been missing so badly. “Well, uh… Maybe just a ‘lil bit, yeah.”

You raised an eyebrow and giggled girlishly, the kind of giggle that sent a pleasant tickle down his spine. “Oh? Only a little? Maybe you missed me a little more than that?”

He rolled his eyes and threw back his head, serendipitously allowing you access to his neck, where your lips were drawn to like a magnet. “Crazy woman,” he sighed, closing his eyes to relish in the feeling of your soft kisses along the curve of his jawline. “I missed ya so damn much, you know that.”

“Mhm,” you hummed next to his ear, like a honeybee. “I missed you, too. Missed home…”

Your lips grew tired, so you settled your head in the crook of his neck, blanketed by the warmth and softness of his hair. His arms wrapped tight around your back, and his lips left long kisses against your head. All the while, he swayed you in his arms, back and forth, almost lulling you to sleep.

“Me too,” he said after a while. “I missed home.”

You hummed a giggle against his neck. “What do you mean? You were home.”

“Nah,” he said, preparing himself to say perhaps the cheesiest line he could, but it was the truth—it was how he really felt. If there was one thing about you, it was that you could get him to articulate every feeling he had, even the ones he didn’t know about himself. It was a blessing and a curse, as sometimes he didn’t want to know too much about his feelings, but it made him a better man, he knew that. “You’re my home. Now you’re here, I’m home.”

“Oh, honey,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “That’s beautiful… You’re my home, too.”

He scoffed, trying to brush off the sappy moment, as he often did. “I burnt so much damn toast,” he laughed, though his eyes looked a little glassy. Just a little. “Scared myself half to death when I woke up to check on Robin and she wasn’t there. Turns out she was in Lydia’s room. I got my bow and everything. I was ready to shoot someone.”

You snorted and shook your head, then pressed a few kisses to his cheek. “You did good, cutie pie. Everything’s just fine.”

“Now that you’re here,” he said. “Nothin’s right when you’re gone.”

“Well, that’s sweet, but… someday I might not be here, Daryl. I might not be able to come back.”

You let out a surprised gasp when he held you tighter, his hand raising to the back of your head to tangle in your hair. “Don’t ya ever say that,” he said. “That ain’t gonna happen. Won’t let it. You ain’t dyin’ ‘fore me. No damn way.”

You laughed at his insistence, how sure of himself he was. “Okay, okay. No dying for me. I’m going to live forever.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “You and me, we’re gonna live forever. It’s me and you till the end.”

He didn’t speak literally, of course. He knew someday he would die, and that you would, too, no matter how much he tried to prolong it. It wasn’t your bodies or even your souls that would live forever, it was what you left behind that would. That was immortal, so was your love.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled. “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a week… Eugene snores like a chainsaw.” Not that you weren’t used to snoring, but Daryl’s soft, rather cute, snores were nothing compared to Eugene’s. 

Daryl huffed and peered out the window across the way, looking out into the central courtyard of Alexandria. The sun had just set, and everyone had more or less retreated to their homes for the evening. Thus, no chance of anyone seeing him carry his exhausted wife to the house. 

“Come on,” he grunted, manually tightening your arms around his neck, then tucking his hands underneath your knees to lift you up. “Let’s get you home. Hope Dog’s not on your side of the bed.”

You laughed hazily once you realized that he was carrying you. “Daryl,” you murmured. “You don’t have to carry me… Though I can’t say I don’t like it.”

After setting you down briefly to kick Dog out of your bed, he tugged off most of your clothes and tucked you under the covers, kissing your head and whispering “g’night, angel.” 

At last, everything in the world was right again, as right as it could be, anyway. He headed downstairs to lock the house up, checked on the girls, then followed Dog back up the stairs to settle alongside you in bed, wrapping his arms around you, as usual.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

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[garadinervi]

Claudette Colvin – Testimony from Aurelia S. Browder et al. v. W. A. Gayle, et al., No 1147, District Court of the United States for the Middle District of Alabama, Northern Division, May 11, 1956, pp. 17-22 (pdf here) [Civil Case Files, 1938-1995, Records of the District Courts of the United States, Civil Rights Digital Library, Digital Library of Georgia, GALILEO, University of Georgia Libraries, Athens, GA]

[baberoe-archive]

there is a version of masters of the air that traces the tuskegee airmen and the 100th bomber through the war in parallel stories that merge in the prison camp that actually seriously analyzes racism at the time and as it exists today in our historicization and mythmaking around wwii. perhaps even a version that does justice to civilian resistance movements. and instead we have.

i appreciate you saying this bc i think it needs to be talked about more, but if you could link the other version you talk about? i would leant to watch it, thank you!

hi! what i actually meant in this post was that there could have been a version of this masters of the air show that did what i was talking about in that post, not that a show like that existed. i apologize for that -- i am now realizing my original post was worded very poorly 😭

from a quick google search there are two movies made about the tuskegee airmen: the tuskegee airmen (1995) and red tails (2012), though i haven't seen either. im sure books also exist, but i am not the one to ask about this. if anyone out there has more resources please share!

i will also take this opportunity to direct attention to tuskegee university's online photography collections, which has work from prominent early black photographers. i took a class on african-american photography last semester, and the tuskegee institute came up specifically when we were discussing w. e. b. dubois's display on african american life at the 1900 paris exhibition. the goal here was to directly confront the racist and dehumanizing exhibition of black and indigenous people in colonial exhibits by showing african-american life georgia, which included a number of universities including tuskegee. all the materials (i think?) are at the library of congress and available for browsing here. if you are interested in learning more about this (or black photography in general), deborah willis and shawn michelle smith have written on this exhibition and black photography more widely (deb willis is The scholar for most things black photography, and she is an incredible photographer in her own right.)

also while i'm at it. through a lens darkly (2014) is a documentary on black american photography directed by the practicing photographer, filmmaker, and scholar thomas allen harris. we also watched this for my class, and it looks at the history of black photography and incorporates contemporary artists frequently. great introduction to the field!

[thebotanicalarcade]

n384_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: Histoire des arbres forestiers de l'Amérique septentrionale,. Paris,L. Haussmann,1812-13.. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/27130333

[thistlecatfics]

I kept trying to find a soulmate fic I liked enough to rec, and I just couldn't manage. BUT since Remus and Sirius are soulmates in every universe and my forever OTP, here's a wolfstar rec list featuring one canon-compliant fic, one canon-divergent fic, and a variety of AUs.

Map of the Problematique (D.M.L.E. Evidentiary File 142-3b.) by SullenSiren (lorax) (15k, E)

"He's going to make it a RULE." Before they went their separate ways, Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail shared a flat. The flat had rules. This is how it went.

Buy the Stars by wilteddaisy (taotu) (23k, E)

Sirius Black, respectable pureblood patriarch and heir to the Black family fortune, has a wife and three children at Hogwarts. Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin wrestles with the aging wolf inside of him. When Black offers him a hand, Remus reluctantly takes it.

Recto Verso by zambla (8k, M)

Love in the time of the 1984-5 coal miners' strike. Remus is a geologist working for an independent assessment of a disputed coal mine in his hometown in south Yorkshire during the strike. He meets a communist agitator.

under the blood moon by iamsiriuslyriddikulus @fvckyouimaprophet (40k, E)

A Wizarding War has been raging for several years with no end in sight. When Lily learns how to infuse Dark Magic into her music, Remus and Lily work together to take justice into their own hands.

White Sheets, in the Closet (or: the earth from a great distance is perfect and whole) by tahtahfornow (12k, M)

Remus says: You ever seen the inside of a loony bin. (South Georgia, 1961-1962. Hurried kisses in hostile climates.)

57th Street On Fire by Suchsmallhands (30k, M)

It's the 90's and springtime in New York. Remus is dealing cocaine, Sirius is looking to get high. He felt a twinge of paranoia. He thought, This is a junkie. One way or another. You don’t take walks with people you sell cocaine to. And he might be rich. Do not say yes. He’d never seen grey eyes quite like that before.

The Barking of Dogs by houseofhebrideanblacks (14k, E)

Sirius Black leaves the hospital with a leaflet for NarcAnon. Remus Lupin isn't an alcoholic. They meet at a methodist church in South London, Thursday, 9 pm.

A Dark and Silent Overture by eyra (10k, M)

He was smiling to himself, eyes still closed, and Sirius hadn't known at the time - but by Fifth Year would realise well enough - where this Remus had come from. He was always a little wild, somehow both impossibly distant and blindingly, achingly present, all at once, and in the beginning Sirius had ascribed it entirely to Remus's own innate nature or some sort of slight chemical neurodivergence that made him just a little bit more than the rest of them; a little bit magic, a little bit mad. Freer than the others. A tempest in an otherwise still ocean. The boys at boarding school, told in libraries and cloisters and too much alcohol and the way Remus thinks none of it matters, anyway.

No Bright Line by lady_grey (106k, E)

In which Sirius is a famous actor who has stopped believing in authenticity, Remus is a historian with a complex relationship to memory, and Lily is the brilliant filmmaker who brings them together. James and Harry are there too, although they mostly just want to enjoy the beach.

My other recs for @hprecfest here

(For the lovely folks at @hprecfest, no pressure to reblog this one because I know I'm cheating!)

[kemetic-dreams]

Laura Adorkor Kofi (died 8 March 1928), commonly known as Mother Kofi, was a Ghanaian minister and activist associated with the Universal Negro Improvement Association. She was assassinated while preaching in Miami, Florida.

Laura Adorkor Kofi (surname variously spelled as Kofy, Koffey or Kofey) was born near Accra, Ghana, possibly into a royal family. A plaque at her gravesite gives the title "Princess", and 1893 as a birthdate; other sources put her birthdate much earlier. Some versions of her early life also say that she experienced visions and voices which encouraged her to go abroad and teach Africans in America. Her detractors in her last years spread rumors that she was born "Laura Champion" in Athens, Georgia; but religious history scholar Richard S. Newman compiled evidence to confirm that she was, in fact, Ghanaian by birth

Kofi moved to North America around 1918, and lived in Detroit for several years. She worked as national field director for Marcus Garvey's Universal Negro Improvement Association, touring the deep South and attracting large crowdsas a "prophet" (in her own estimation), with her base in Jacksonville, Florida. In 1927 she founded the African Universal Church, with herself as its head ("Warrior Mother of Africa's Warriors of the Most High God" was her self-chosen title). Garvey soon decided that she was building too much of a following independent of his cause, and announced, "This woman is a fake and has no authority from me to speak." He also encouraged his followers to have her arrested for fraud.

In March 1928, Laura Adorkor Kofi was shot while speaking from the pulpit at a church in Miami. She died from the gunshot wound to her head; a Jamaican follower of Marcus Garvey, Maxwell Cook, presumed to be her assailant, was immediately beaten to death by the congregation who witnessed the attack. Ten thousand people are said to have attended her funerals in several cities; her remains were dressed in robes of black, green and red, placed in a bronze casket, and entombed in a mausoleum in Jacksonville's Old City Cemetery.

Her congregation called a new pastor from South Africa, Eli Nyombolo. They continued her work as the Missionary African Universal Church. In the 1940s, on the outskirts of Jacksonville, they built a small settlement they called "Adorkaville" after Mother Kofi. (Most of Adorkaville was demolished by the city in the 1970s, after Nyombolo died and the church experienced infighting and schism.)

There is a small collection of research materials related to Laura Adorkor Kofi at the New York Public Library