#Zachariah Branch

[tiltingground]

Podcast: Untitled Notre Dame USC Football Podcast - Episode 10.7 Minnesota and a Bye

Welcome back, everyone! It was another wild week in the NCAA, and this time we’re diving into the rollercoaster ride that was the USC Trojans and Notre Dame Fighting Irish. Buckle up, because it’s a tale of two very different teams this week! Oh, Trojans fans! What a week it’s been in Los Angeles. After an unexpected loss to unranked Minnesota, the Trojan faithful are in full meltdown mode. The…

[lafbnetwork]

What Is The Ceiling For USC Trojans WR Zachariah Branch? Strength And Conditioning Program The Best?

It’s no secret, there have been massive gains inside the USC Trojans football program. Coach Bennie Wylie has done a phenomenal job creating a workout regimen, and the players have all met their goals. Our thoughts on these gains and are they all good? Plus, Zachariah Branch and Emmanuel Pregnon have been named to Bruce Feldman’s “Freak List.” How high is Branch’s ceiling? All of this and more…

[silverseaming]

Away from the roads, where buggies and carts stir up dust in their hasty journeys, the lanes and pathways of the Brindleton countryside remain wild. Quenched by recent rain, the hawthorns and witch-alders are once again green, with little red rosehips swelling on the dogrose bushes. Branches hang low overhead, brushing Kit’s head as Chestnut picks her way through the undergrowth.

He makes a habit of riding this way when he’s by himself. In the seclusion of the paths there’s little chance of meeting others — he knows they mean to be neighbourly with their greetings, but he prefers the quiet of the paths, where the only noise comes from the rustling of leaves. Chestnut requires no more conversation than the odd gentle encouragement or pat on the neck.

All too soon his route emerges from the trees, into the sun of an early Autumn afternoon. The way back home passes by Bridgebend Farm, so Kit isn’t entirely surprised to see Zachariah Miller leaning against the yard fence.

“Hello, Kit.” A warm smile crinkles the corners of Zachariah’s eyes as he recognises horse and rider. “I haven’t seen you around here too much lately, though I’ve seen enough of your Meg and little Daisy. You been avoiding me, son?”

“Not at all, Zach. Just been busy, that’s all.” says Kit as he reins in Chestnut.

“Well, I can’t begrudge a man any hard work. How’s things up at Maple Farm?” Zachariah’s weatherbeaten brow and craggy face put Kit in mind of his father, but they’re where the comparison starts and ends. The crow’s feet at the corners of Zachariah’s eyes come from laughter, and there’s a kindly aspect to his face that means he could never be mistaken for John Calloway. Depsite that, memories surface unbidden of the cold, hardened man for whom nothing was ever good enough.

Do you think you’ll ever mean anything to me, boy? The words ring in his ears as fresh as the day they were said.

“Good enough, thank you. The wheat’s done well, and our potatoes were better than last year’s.” says Kit brightly, conscious of how long he’s been silent. No need to mention how much of the profits went into the decoration of the farmhouse. It was worth it, to see Meg smile.

“I’m glad to hear it. And while you’re here, I’ll let you know something that might make next year even better — there’s a Mr Allen out in Rockland who’s just started a tidy little crop export business, and I reckon if you went down to see him he’d be willing to make a deal for some of your next year’s harvest if it’s a good one. It may seem like a hassle, but selling abroad will earn you much more than only selling locally.” says Zachariah.

“If that all’s true then it’ll certainly suit us well. I can spare the time now, so I’ll be sure to head over. Much obliged, Zach.”

“You’re welcome, son. You’re doing a fine job with Maple Farm, and I don’t see why you shouldn’t profit from it.”

“I guess not.” Kit smiles ruefully. He’s pleased by Zachariah’s approval, but it’s tempered by the knowledge that if Zachariah knew what was really behind his success at Maple Farm, he may not be so liberal with his praise; the thought makes his stomach lurch. “I better be getting on now, Meg will be wondering where I’ve got to.”

“In that case, you better had be on your way.” Zachariah chuckles.

Zachariah’s suggestion plays over and over in Kit’s mind as he turns Chestnut down the lane to Maple Farm. It’s a good offer, a great one, even. Father Blackett might call it divine deliverance, but church has never been anything more to Kit than somewhere you go on a Sunday. But it is some sort of deliverance, a chance to do right by his family. To provide, like all good husbands and fathers should.There’s no guarantee that it will work out — but hell, what’s another risk on top of the ones he’s already taken?

The part of him where harsh voices of bygone arguments echo begins to quiet, replaced by the steady beats of Chestnut’s hooves. The yard is hardly quiet, filled with the squawks of chickens and the occasional low from Bluebell in the cow-pen, but it bring the warm feeling of coming home. A home that even closer to being fully theirs.

In the barn, Chestnut nickers affectionately as he rubs her down. She at least demands nothing but oats in the morning and hay in the evening, her loyalty unwavering as long as her stomach is full.

“You’ll always love me, won’t you girl?” He whispers somewhere into her nose.

[furashuban]

Coast

Somfthearted 'father figure getting along with his sort-of-daughter' story for the soul <3

Words: 1.6k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60730333

Summary: During a warm, sunny day out in the coast, Frankie goes fishing with Zachariah by her side.

The coast was one of Frances Schwinn’s favorite places to be in. It did not matter if you were on that side of the county or the other side—you were still at the same coast for as long as there was water and a shore to relax on. It was quiet, with only the rustling of tall trees and shrubs to break the silence; such a sound made her feel free, like running around and twirling in the air so much that her hair became frizzy, which she certainly did with a smile on her face the moment she arrived at the coast. The sun was bright and warm with little clouds in the way of it, and the water was bluer than any other blue the girl had ever seen. Even the shore was perfect; not made of pebbles or sand like most other shores in the county, but it was grassy and fenced by habitual patches of Purple needlegrass further inland.

She did not come to the coast alone, for it was Zachariah’s idea to spend the day out. He did not have to work at his step-father Jeb’s ranch on Saturdays nor did any kids have to go to school. His partner, Svetlana, and her two sons had plans beforehand to see relatives from abroad who were visiting a few counties away from theirs. That left the former cavalryman to have a go at looking after his…daughter-but-not-really? Practically everyone in the whole county including himself took turns taking care of her, however long they could until the next person offered, and Zachariah did not always know how to perceive her as or who she saw him as. He just knew the girl did not have a father to call her own, and he promised Carole Paxson that he would do everything to make her feel comfortable enough to see him as one.

“Frankie?! Where ya at, kiddo?!” Zachariah called aloud, having lost sight of her moments ago.

“I’m right here!” the little girl answered immediately. Zachariah followed her voice towards the shore, trekking through the needlegrass grazing his boots and denim jacket. He found Frankie sitting by the sea wearing a straw sunhat and sitting with her legs crossed as she held a branch over the water.

“Wat’cha doin’ there now?” Zachariah asked, taking a seat beside her. He noticed that Frankie had taken off the laces from her shoes, having tied them to the end of the branch she was holding and dangled it into the water.

“Fishing,” Frankie told sprightly, tugging on her makeshift rod and causing the water to ripple. “I haven’t caught anything yet though.”

“Well, you can’t catch nothin’ without any bait tied to your rod,” Zachariah explained.

“Oh,” Frankie pulled the fishing rod string back to her hand, showing that she indeed never tied any bait at the end of it.

“Tell ya what, we gotta go find you some.” Zachariah proposed, “I can dig up some dirt and pick a fistful of worms for you to use.”

“Eww, no thanks!” Frankie squirmed and recoiled, she and Zachariah sharing a quick laugh. “I wanna use not-alive bait, I know those are a thing.” She looked around to see if there was anything she could forage to make good fish bait out of. “Hmmm…Oh yeah!” the 10-year-old shoved her hands inside the pockets of her jeans before pulling out a pinecone. “I picked it up a while ago, this is perfect bait,” she remarked as she began tying it to her string. Then, she heaved her rod back and flung her arms forward, the pinecone causing a splash on the water.

“There ya go,” Zachariah applauded, “now you’ll have fish in no time,” he glanced to see the girl beaming enthusiastically.

“Where’s Maddie and aunt Sophie by the way?” Frankie asked, “I don’t want them to miss when I catch my fish.” Zachariah knew just how close she was to the Hewitt family, who took her in more than any other family in the county with the exception of Carole, and because Sophie and Zachariah himself go way back and that the latter was Maddie’s godfather, it only seemed fair that they too would be invited to spend a day at the coast with Frankie.

“Oh yeah, Sopes gave me a call before ya ran off,” Zachariah said, “they’re just buying some snacks but they’ll be here pretty soon,” the bearded man looked around for a spare branch, which to his luck had found one lying at the edge of the water and caught it before it could be swept away by the little waves. “In the meantime,” he freed the laces of his boots to tie around the tip of his newfound branch. “I’ll fish with ya, kiddo.”

Soon, Frankie let out a little gasp, as if an imaginary lightbulb suddenly flicked on above her head. “Let’s have a fish-off,” she smirked at the bearded man.

“Hm?”

“I mean, whoever catches a fish first wins, and whoever loses needs to do a cannonball from up that tree,” she pointed towards a tall oak nearby, overlooking the sea.

Zachariah chuckled, “Alright, it’s on, Frances Schwinn,” he accepted the challenge—he knew neither one would catch fish with the kinds of rods they had anyway. To see the girl happy and indulging in play, however, gave the cheeriest feeling in his heart that he could never find the strength to express openly other than through his grin.

“Wait—” Frankie raised her hand up, “you don’t have any bait yet,” she reached for her pocket and pulled out yet another pinecone. “Here you go,” she extended it to the bearded man, who along with his enduring grin was looking at her curiously.

“Just how many pinecones are ya keeping in those pockets, kiddo?” Zachariah asked.

“Only those two,” Frankie shrugged. “I really like collecting pinecones when I’m out. I don’t know what they’re for exactly, but they look really pretty, and I have a collection in every house I live in. The one I have in Carole’s house is the biggest one I have.”

And so, the bearded man and the little girl sat side-by-side in mutual calmness as they let the wind be their only sound. When it seemed like they were waiting too long for a fish to catch their bait, Frankie started humming the tune of a random Fats Waller song to liven the mood.

“You know, this is the kind of thing I’ve seen dads do with their kids, I think.” Frankie expressed out of nowhere. She then turned to Zachariah, who looked subtly taken aback though Frankie did not seem to notice, choosing to carry on with what else was on her mind. “Zachariah, I kind of wanna start calling you ‘paps’ from now on,”

“Paps…?”

“Yeah, you know, like what you call Jeb,” Frankie continued, “I don’t think I will call you paps all the time though, maybe not yet. Just when I’m doing dad-stuff with you, because it feels right to call you my paps sometimes.” She lowered her rod, suddenly and slowly feeling awkward. “You’d be okay with that, right, Zachariah?”

There was a soft sting in the former cavalryman’s heart. For a moment, he turned ahead to face the water, not wanting to let a little girl see a grown man cry if he ever failed to hold a single tear back. She could not have known how Zachariah would take being called anything close to the word “father”, to be acknowledged as one. It had been so long; she could not have known that either. That warm and sunny day at the coast had now felt like the warmest, sunniest day in the history of planet Earth for Zachariah. Frankie was a whole village’s girl, that was how he usually saw things, but she was his girl, too.

“That’s quite alright, kiddo,” Zachariah nodded, letting himself sniffle before bringing back the wide grin under his beard. “In fact, you’re very lucky, ‘cause you have the best paps this county’s ever seen,” he tussled Frankie’s sunhat which frizzled her hair within, and the 10-year-old could not help but affectionately burst in laughter.

Before long, another child’s voice was heard shouting in the distance. “Yoo-hoo! Frankie!? Zachariah!?” Frankie recognized that voice from anywhere, and as she and Zachariah stood up to answer the call over the yonder, they saw a girl Frankie’s age with long blonde hair carrying a box of donuts while a woman in a sundress, also blonde with shorter and wavier hair, trekked behind her as she carried a woven picnic basket on one hand and tried to pull a cooler with the other.

“I see them, Maddie, over there!” the woman told aloud.

The Hewitts had finally arrived, and Frankie waved her hands in the air as she walked towards her best friend and gave her an embrace around her shoulders. She told Maddie about the fish-off she was having with Zachariah, and the blonde became so enthralled at the idea that Zachariah happily gave up his rod to his goddaughter so both girls could fish together this time. The bearded man helped Sophie set up a picnic at the fishing spot by the coast, and from there, Frankie was enjoying the day more than she already had, with Maddie by her side equally anticipating a fish to catch and Sophie helping brush and braid her frizzled hair, and then there was her paps, making her a sandwich with the food the Hewitts had brought.

“Heya Frankie,” he raised up a sandwich he put together, “I think this would make better bait, don’t you think, kiddo?”

[frumious-bandersnatch-ao3]

Prompt: apocalypse, murder-suicide

The Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End; the King of Kings, the Light, Lord of Lords, Abba, YHWH, Elohim … Charles Shurley sat down behind His typewriter, and began to draft a set of notes. On the coiling branches of Everything, a universe split off and began to take form. 

His first sketches of first drafts are always messy: bullet-point plot and jumping off points.

Sam’s ‘yes’ assured; as normal

Dean’s ‘yes’: Golden Room, last resort, desperate, Zachariah alive, Castiel dead. Permanent.

Stull Cemetery, both sets of brothers made whole; flesh and grace and soul. Lucifer in white, Michael in something fitted and regal, muted tones, tailored to Dean in the way clothes have never been tailored to him before. 

They love eachother.

Chuck took a pause there, and stared at the words on the page for a few minutes; brow creased and eyes narrowed behind His reading glasses. Of course they loved each other. They were created that way, both pairs; grace calling to grace and soul calling to soul. And of course, if it went how originally designed, like it should have gone in the first place outlined after the Fall, one would kill the other. But He was doing something different here, and… He could see it taking form now.

Lucifer in Sam, dressed in white, and even though it had rained a few days previous, the graveyard mud refused to cling to his brogues. Though it wouldn’t be visible to any man, were any man to actually be blessed with the sight of the final event of the End of Days, his wings (though they would be so intertwined, by this point, Lucifer and Sam, so really-) their wings would be outspread behind them. 

White and glistening like fire opals, the beauty inherent in their design almost masking the fact that they were stained with blood and bent in a million wrong angles and still smoking from the Fall. They would arrive first, waiting, staring down at the grace-formed blade in their hands. It would have been eons since Lucifer last touched his own blade… Chuck imagined that touching it, for him, would have set a pit in his stomach. Knowing that things were final, that he had the full chance and ability to kill his brother laid out before him. Sam would comfort him. Remember, he would murmur, in the shared space of their mind, we can all just walk off. He’s going to listen to you. I know he will. Because Sam would be thinking of his own brother, and Lucifer would know… of course, he would know that Dean Winchester and Saint Michael the Archangel, Viceroy of Heaven, for all their designed similarities, were two different beasts entirely. 

Michael in Dean would arrive with a sound like thunder; eyes shining a brilliant icy blue. Their shoes– pointed oxfords in a deep chocolate brown, with a slight heel– would sink into the mud. Dressed in earth tones; brown, orangey-reds, deep purple, formal wear (the both of them, all four of them, dressed like they were going to a wedding. Chuck wondered for a moment what it meant about him, that he could never imagine Lucifer in anything but pristine, virginal white). They would be holding Michael’s lance in one hand, his blade in another, and their wings like so many swords and spears and daggers fluorescing with the colors of dusk and twilight would flare in a sign of dominance. Dean would fret, of course. Michael, please, they’re our brothers, we don’t have to do this, you know we don’t.

But Michael would know… of course, he would know that he’s a good son. And good sons follow their orders, no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much they love what they’re told to spurn. You know that we do. Is all that he would tell Dean in the frantic silence of their shared mind.

The two, the four would approach, slowly bridging the small gap between them. Not aggressive, not hurried… they would have all the time in the world, after all. Their actions would decide when that hourglass would run out of sand. The fate of everything in the universe decided in a small cemetery in Kansas, on a particularly sunny day after a strong rain a few days before. The air would smell like mud and growing things and the wilted flowers left beside so many graves. 

“Michael,” Lucifer would murmur, voice soft and lilting; silver tongue and Sam’s perfect throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Michael would dip his head in a mockery of deference. “Lucifer,” he would reply, Dean’s voice cracking around the second syllable. “It’s been too long.” And he would mean it, desperately. It has been too long since I last saw you, it has been so long since I’ve seen your grace, since it has been so close to mine, do you remember what you threw away?

“Can you believe it’s finally here?” Lucifer would say it as if it were almost amusing, wishing that it were heaven again and they were standing together in Eden, when everything was beautiful and they would twine grace in grace and glory, glory, glory.

“Yeah,” a scoff, “not really. …You ready?” Chuck had written this conversation a hundred million times over. The silence in the graveyard, nothing but the wind whistling. Two brothers who loved eachother bound to duty by the chains of fate; echoes of God and Darkness and Cain and Abel on and on and on forever, glory, glory, glory, Lord God of Hosts, a perfect story… 

“-and why make us fight? I just can’t figure out the point.” Sam’s face wouldn’t be stoic, here. Brow slightly wrinkled, eyes watering just slightly, even Chuck wouldn’t be able to piece out whether it was Sam or Lucifer making the expression, the distress so visceral and needing and painful.

“What’s your point?” 

Chuck closed his eyes. Needed to finalize, before he really put it to words. They love eachother.

They would end up in each other’s arms. Michael’s lance dropped abandoned to the grass, to the mud. Michael in Dean’s face buried in the crook between Lucifer in Sam’s neck and shoulder. Dean would be crying. Lucifer, would, too, resting his hand between his brother’s shoulder blades and hearing the hitch of his breath. “I love you,” both of them, all of them, would say it like a prayer.

“I’m sorry,” both of them, all of them, desperation and horror and finality.

Twin blades into twin backs, twin explosions, supernovas of grace; twin sets of wingprints burned black into the ground.

[allaroundthenflandncaa]

Monday, August 28th Blog

Hello everyone, my name is Austin Taylor and this is my blog! In my blog I will be talking about the NFL and college football and updating you on all the latest news. Today we will be talking about week 0 of the college football season which just occurred this weekend. There were 7 games this past Saturday and I was very excited to watch what I could. I watched Notre Dame face off against Navy in Dublin, Ireland and transfer QB Sam Hartman for Notre Dame showed out. He had 251 passing yards along with 4 TDs leading Notre Dame to a 42-3 victory. The next game I watched was USC (SoCal) vs. San Jose St. This game included the reigning Heisman winner in Caleb Williams and he picked up right where he left off. He had 278 yards passing with 4 TDs leading USC to a 56-28 victory. I enjoyed finally having football on and I can't wait for this upcoming weekend when all the teams finally start their season!

[news4usonline]

Trojans will fly with top wide receivers

With Caleb Williams off to the NFL, Miller Moss is the next quarterback in line to run Lincoln Riley's high-powered offense. He follows a long list of signal callers, including Williams, Baker Mayfield, Kyler Murray, and Jalen Hurts, who all found great success in Riley's system. Following in the footsteps of this impressive group of quarterbacks can be a daunting task, but Moss will have some help. The list of pass catchers attached to those now NFL starters is equally as star-studded. Marquise Brown, Mark Andrews, CeeDee Lamb, and Jordan Addison, to name a few, are all making a name for themself at the next level, and that is where a new wave of playmakers will step in for USC.

USC wide receiver Zachariah Branch (1) walks into the endzomne in the second quarter of a Pac-12 Conference football game played at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum on Oct. 21, 2023. Photo by Dennis J. Freeman/News4usonline The Trojans will roll out four sophomore wide receivers on Sept. 1 against LSU, who will all be looking to take their game up a notch. Although the group is young and unproven, it has its sights on being one of the best units in college football this upcoming season. "This receiver unit and the whole offense is definitely one to look out for. I know we are one of the best (in the nation), and people are going to realize that this year," said Makai Lemon. "We know what we are, and I just can't wait to show it to everybody else." Lemon is just one of Moss's security blankets and will be joined by Duce Robinson, Ja'Kobi Lane, and Zachariah Branch. Robinson and Lane are massive targets that will man the outside, while the speedsters Lemon and Branch dominate in the slot. https://twitter.com/uscfb/status/1824993776756212090 All four made their way onto the field last year as freshmen, but mostly in a limited fashion. Robinson led the group with 351 yards, and none of them scored more than two receiving touchdowns, making the group relatively unknown. "We have a lot of nice tools in this room. You got speed, a combination of a variety of sizes, and some strength," said wide receivers coach Dennis Simmons. "I'm very excited about where we are and the direction we are going." Branch enters the season as the most high-profile player of the bunch. He was the number one wide receiver recruit in his class, earned First Team All-American honors last year as a punt returner, and was named to the preseason Walter Camp Player of the Year watch list. Trojan fans quickly became familiar with his speed when he took a 96-yard kickoff return to the house in USC's 2023 season opener. Branch was electric as a true freshman and has a chance to become one of the most feared playmakers in all of college football in year two. https://twitter.com/uscfb/status/1820597752948252855 "It is the same preparation; just keep my head down. I don't try to change anything I have been doing since I was a kid. I always grew up with the same mindset, same drive, and same work ethic. I feel like I am pretty confident going into year two, the same as year one," said Branch. Robinson (6'6") and Lane (6'4") will create problems based on their size alone. The duo gives Moss two massive targets downfield that he can rely on to pull down 50/50 balls consistently. Robinson is extremely physical and can bully smaller corners, while Lane is a very clean route runner for his size. They have great hands and high-point the ball. When receivers fail to create separation, and the quarterback has nowhere else to go with the ball, it has to be a great feeling knowing one of these guys is down there somewhere. https://twitter.com/uscfb/status/1822059236484071869 Both have already proven to have some chemistry with their new starting quarterback, as they each scored two touchdowns last year with Moss under center. "I think it's just a matter of when we all get our opportunities when we all get to capitalize. That is when we will really show everybody. It is not about how good we think we can be. We are a group that likes to lead by actions rather than trying to talk a whole bunch," said Lane. "It is more about realizing what the intergroup is capable of and trusting your brothers and realizing if I am not running a route or I am on the bench that the next guy is doing what he needs to be doing, and we have built that in this room. I think we excel the most in that," Lane continued. https://twitter.com/uscfb/status/1825260651817890299 Lemon is the wildcard in the room. With only six receptions as a freshman, he enters the year as the biggest question mark but could be the alpha by season's end. He has all the tools to be a phenomenal college player and possibly even at the next level. He was one of the top two-way recruits coming out of high school, thanks to his overall speed, quick twitch ability, and football instincts. The buzz around Lemon is starting to pick up, and people close to the team would not be surprised if he ended up being Moss's favorite target. Expect a breakout year from these sophomore wide receivers. By midway through the season, we could be talking about them as the most dynamic group of playmakers in the country. Read the full article

[sweetlikeriah]

prompt: tie a ribbon with a wish

               𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬, zachariah really wasn't sure what he would wish for. he thought of different things, but he felt like he had everything he wanted. his family were alive an healthy, he had some great friends, some amazing relationships, he had his bees. if there was one thing that was missing, perhaps it was a thing he never really thought about til now. he was getting older, and love really wasn't some he prioritize in life. perhaps this wish could be a little selfish, since he always thought of others first.

as he walked up to the majestic tree, he gazed upon it's beauty. it looked so magical. he wondered how long the tree had stood. " i wish to find a companion who ends up understanding me, who will be loyal and kind, who will pick me up when i fall, " he whispered. " an epic love. " he said as he tied the ribbon on one of the branches. he looked around at the many other ribbons, different colors that only made the tree look more alive. perhaps the wishes will come true one day for all of them.

[uselessdevice]

ZACHARIAH KOSMINSKI

FACECLAIM: Reece Shearsmith (adult). AGE: 35-40. GENDER: Male. OCCUPATION: Mortician. Body broker. Killer. SPECIES: Human. SEXUALITY: Heterosexual. NATIONALITY: American. EYE COLOUR: Blue. HAIR: Short, black. HEIGHT: 5"7. SCARS: None. LANGUAGES: English / Polish. ZODIAC: TBA SKILLS & HOBBIES: Violin / Medical Knowledge / Embalming / Collects Rare Bird Eggs & Taxidermy. MEDICAL: Bee allergy. CONNECTIONS: Sigrid Kosminski (wife) / Leander Kosminski (son) / Selina Kosminski (daughter)

BIOGRAPHY

TW DEATH, ORGAN HARVESTING

Raised in Chicago as an only child who preferred to spend time alone, Zachariah never fit in at school. From a young age he was offputting to other children, interested in death and decay. As he grew older, he realised the importance of fitting in- blending in- and that it would benefit him to do so. He'd spent plenty of time studying his classmates from afar, other children playing in the street. With everything he learned, Zachariah gained friends, became a social chameleon. He understood the importance of charm and confidence. If he lied, others would believe it, and he lied exceptionally well. His obsession with death never leaving, he became a mortician, but knew it made people uncomfortable. So he went out of his way to appear as an ideal and upstanding member of the community.

He chose a wife that perfectly suited the image he was building, having two children with her. A perfect little nuclear family, a polished image, and a good business. But his business practices soon changed when he began working for Illinois Donor Services. He went from arranging the dead for burial to harvesting organs and body parts for profit, earning far more money than before. And he had a taste for the finer things. Zachariah's ability to charm others was always useful, but especially as a representative of the body brokers. Poor families who couldn't afford a funeral service were targeted in their most vulnerable moment. With the promise that a portion of their loved one would be cremated for free and other parts donated to science or education purposes, Zachariah made good use of the cadavers for profit. But he knew he could go further. In time he turned a blind eye to the potential uses for parts- all he cared about was the price tag.

He gained many unsavory clients, all dealt with in secret, and business was booming. It wasn't long at all before he considered branching out even further- providing bodies himself, starting with easy targets that wouldn't be missed.

VERSES

Main Zachariah is open to new clients with a need for human parts, whatever the reason. No questions asked.

Hunger Games / A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes The Capitol elite has always had appetites unknown to the greater populace of Panem. Dark appetites. When tributes die in the arena, Zachariah prepares them for their trip back home. But not before he takes choice parts and sells them on, whether that be to the Capitol University lab or socialites chasing terrible ingredients for the latest youth and beauty treatment.

[tiltingground]

Podcast: Untitled Notre Dame USC Football Podcast - Episode 10.6 Louisville and Wisconsin Recap

In this exciting episode, we celebrate a successful weekend for both the Notre Dame Fighting Irish and the USC Trojans! Notre Dame triumphed over the Louisville Cardinals, while USC delivered a strong performance against the Wisconsin Badgers. But the real highlight? Greg’s trip to South Bend and experiencing this game in person! Greg shares his thrilling tales from the road, including a…

[lafbnetwork]

Two USC Trojans Land On Bruce Feldman's Infamous "Freaks List"

It’s become an annual tradition, the release of Bruce Feldman’s “Freaks List” and last year USC Trojans WR Brenden Rice made the list. Every year, dating back to 2005, Feldman releases a list of college football players that he considers (as do others) to be “athletic freaks.” In this year’s iteration, two USC Trojans made the infamous list. USC Trojans Wide Receiver Zachariah Branch Darren…

[nflespn]

Zachariah Branch named one of College Wire’s top Pac-12 performers of 2023 https://nflespn.net/ncaaf/zachariah-branch-named-one-of-college-wires-top-pac-12-performers-of-2023/?utm_source=ReviveOldPost&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=ReviveOldPost

[nbalovers]

Zachariah Branch a coin flip for Notre Dame game amid mysterious injury USC football's offense has been on fir... #usa #uk

[a-writable-paradox]

Foggy Memories

Narrator is Xiantio fist --

I tossed and turned, and then lay down on my back. I could see the stars, and I could see their eternal beauty. The constellations of Zeus, Urion, and Avathorn took up skyward vision. Over to my right lay Lavender, and to my left Zachariah.

I got up from the hard forest floor - we weren't in Fimbletrex anymore, but in Greenstone - and walked over to the edge of the cliff, and sat down. Far down the edge of the mountain, past Fimbletrex Forest, I could see a ruined building. The building in which I grew up and learnt our history - or rather, the history the Capital wanted us to believe. The building the resistance - or a branch of it - started in, lead by Excellynia Croft. And the building the some terrorist Imperealis-sympathisers bombed in the 9th year of the War. I could still see the sycamore in the gardens where me and Xiantio used to lie together, telling each other stories of our lives. But we can't do that now. That's why I can't sleep today. She's gone now, they took her.

---------

Three days prior, me and Abraytha were sleeping together under the trees of Retrex, next to the Red Mountains and Fimbletrex Forest, when a capital guard fell down from the sky, his black and purple armour glistening in the starlight of a myriad never-worlds. The guard moved swiftly and silently along the forest floor, burning every finely crafted leaf into a thousand pieces of ash and ember. This angel of death, this Apollyn, stood over us, and they knelt. Then they touched Abraytha on the head, and both of them were gone. I immediately felt it, the cold brought on by the sudden removal of his warmth, and I stood up. Shaking all over, I looked around, but could not see him anywhere. I called out to Zachariah, who was camping with me, and he helped look. When we started the sky was black, but by the time we had finished, the orange chariot of dawn had already risen over the hilltops. I lay down and cried, bawling my eyes out for I had lost my last connection to my life before the War, and my lover.

------

They could be doing anything with him, even bending and twisting his timestream. Oh, Ouroboros! I forgot about that! They could change his life so that he never met me, and then-

-----

I walked back to camp to see my best friend Zachariah, and new comrade Lavender, lying on the floor. I joined them. Closing my eyes, I expected to call asleep quickly. But there was a thought nagging in the back of my head that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and it kept me tossing and turning all night until the sun rose and we began our walk towards the Red Plains. But I couldn't drop the feeling I was forgetting something, not when Zachariah talked to me about someone he loved he was meeting by the shores of Rostrand, beyond the Red Plains and the Tashrun Marshes, in fact I found myself shedding tears of sadness, but I could not understand why. I could not drop the thought when Lavender told me of all the wild things she had got up to previously to meeting us in the Betweenlands. Not even when I sat down to make us all lunch, boiling rock-potatoes over the fire, and serving with sweet leaves. After a while longer, when I had my head leaning on Zachariah's shoulder whilst we walked, Zachariah asked me what was wrong. I didn't know how to explain it, because even I did not know, so I just said I was tired.

--Switch to Abraytha's perspective-

I awoke in a cold sweat, lights glaring. I was in a room... No. I was in a white bed, in a black void, which had white light shining in from distant points. There was nothing around me, as far as I could see. As the lights faded I remembered my life. I was with a boy... A resistance... I loved....

A purple mist permeates the void in which Abraytha slept, covering everything

I awoke in a cold sweat, lights glaring. I was in a room... No. I was in a white bed, in a black void, which had white light shining in from distant points. There was nothing around me, as far as I could see. As the lights faded I remembered my life. I was with a boy... A resistance... I loved....

A purple mist permeates the void in which Abraytha slept, covering everything

I awoke in a cold sweat, and sat upright. There was a strange feeling of déjà vu, as if this had happened before, but I quickly dismissed it. I was a capital guard, and I must begin my journey.

walk out of the black room I was in, and into a seemingly endless corridor. I know my way around, but can't recall learning. Actually, when I think about it for about 20 seconds, I do remember a coach teaching me all the ways around this complex. What was I doing? Oh yeah. I need to get to Convergence Room to do... A thing. Yes. A thing. Seeing an elevator ten metres away, I walked towards it and get in, pressing the button labeled "0". I arrived in a hallway resembling an ordinary business hallway in all ways except one. It was white, all over. Every single inch of the walls, floor, and roof were totally devoid of any individualism that defined life. If you'd ask me if there were windows, I'd say yes, although I could not describe them or what was through them. Just like the windows, I feel like there were people but have no idea who or how many or how they looked. No one questioned me.. why would they, I'm following capital orders, am I not? I'm confused...

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

That night I slept alone. I have all my life, since I stopped sleeping with my mother when I was a small child, but for some reason I feel like there was a body missing from my side. He smelt of nature, adventure, and of familiarity. I would rest my nose into his shoulder every night and take in his scent with one big sniff before resting down for the night against him - No he didn't. Because he doesn't exist?? What am I on. Sleep, that's what I need. So I slept. Or at least tried to, because that nagging feeling of loss would just not disappear. Early in the morning a while before the sun had begun to rise, I woke up and decided to get up and take a small walk, to see if that would help. So I picked up my torch and wrote a small note on some paper and placed it next to the fire for Lavender and Zachariah, and made my way toward the cliff edge. The leaves crunched underneath my bare feet; I heard a krodeav* twit-tweroo'ing. I sat down, legs dangling over the gorge. A solitary tear trickled down my cheek, made its way down my body, and fell off, falling down and hitting a cliff-bound twig; it sagged and let the tear drop down through the gorge until it collided with the still lake at the bottom, and made a wave explode across the entire surface, turning over a leaf that had been stood still for over a month.

*a native flying bird of Gieakron which roughly resembled the earth bird "crow", although also sometimes twit-tweroo'ed like an owl, and flocked around gieakronians about to suffer a temporary "fatality", particularly when they reached 100 and were considered "adult"

I had been fixated on the pool so hard, that when a hand touched my shoulder I almost jumped off the cliff, but he managed to catch me, and got all flustered. Then when I was back to safety, I was confused as to why that was, as I'd never met this person before in my life. Or had I...? He smiled at me, and we sat down together on the cliff. I asked him who he was, and he just smiled, patting my hand (which peculiarly I rather enjoyed). We spent a long time, until the sun rose, talking to each other, and I started to remember who he was. His name was Abby, or Jasmine, or something like that. But then the sun rose, and he said he needed to leave, so I left also and went back to sleep for a couple more hours.

When I awoke, I felt slightly more tired then usual, which was weird because I did not remember getting up during the night or anything.

-- Switch to Abraytha's perspective --

I found the door, and I opened it, white light enveloping me as I looked into infinite alternity. Stepping forward, the door behind me closed, and I glided closer to the Convergence. I reached one hand out and spread my fingers, touching the light...

Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

In the next day, we made it to the Red Plains and set up camp in the edge of a clearing with a sycamore tree. As soon was my head hit the makeshift pillow I felt myself fall into a dreamscape of wild memories, before resurfacing after what felt like no time. But it must have been hours, because the sky no longer resembled an artist's brush of orange paints, but rather the ink of a spilled fountain pen. I made my way towards the sycamore, with a feeling of expectation that I couldn't quite pin down. After sitting with my back up against the tree for a couple of minutes, I saw him walk towards me.

"Help me, Xiantio" he said, his voice raspy and hardly audible.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, but even as I did I felt that I knew why. He knew me, and perhaps even I knew him.

"Please.", his voice sounded scared, and he sat down next to me. I welcomed him into an embrace, and he warmly excepted. I felt myself sinking my head into his rough shirt, and taking in his scent. This felt totally normal, almost a natural reflex, but I had never touched him before now. We stayed lying together, telling each other stories of our lives: me of my travels with Lavender and Zachariah, and him of his life working for the Capital. This facet of his life shocked me, but I felt no repulsion. Sometimes, though, we'd find ourselves telling the same story about both of us together as children. As this continued I felt even more strongly that I knew who he was, and in fact had almost solidified his name: Abraytha. It was around this time that I remembered the affairs of last night. Along with this continuation of memory came a wave of sadness and joy; emotions I could not figure out in this moment.

In the following days we met every night, with me always forgetting during the day but remembering more and more by night.

-- Switch to Abraytha's perspective --

And I stepped into the light...

And I saw him. Next to the cliff, by the sycamore tree, as children in the schoolyard. And I saw him, not the one I learnt had been my boyfriend in another life, but that other life itself. An alternate version of myself, locked away within the confines of the Metaphysic. I was not that boy, but that boy was greater than I could ever be. I tried to reach out to him, pull him toward me, but I couldn't reach. No matter how far I went, or how outstretched I hung my arm, he was always just out of reach. So I looked down and saw the one he - I, whatever- loved so dearly. So I delved into those spaces and I met with the boy - Xiantio - and I felt the other me surface more and more. It was scary, because I was loosing who I had known to be me my whole life, but it felt good because this boy found so much happiness in this other me. But every morning when the sun rose I felt myself disappearing back into the ether of that Convergence Room, so I excused myself.

Eventually I saw on the other side of that room not the boyfriend of Xiantio, but the capital guard. For I know was the boyfriend, and I was never taken by the capital. And as I wasn't taken - but kind of was, it's complicated - I could return through the floor of the convergence even in daylight. And that I did, and me and Xiantio lay in the grass until the sun set.

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

That night I didn't sleep at all. But it wasn't because I felt like something was missing, but rather because I had found that very thing once more.

[hexenwrites]

Some of these could probably do with having pronunciations added. Seeing as it's already active I'm adding them now!

Silas - (sigh - liss) Meaning: forest

Nicolai / Nikolai- (ni - co - lai) Meaning: victory of the people, people of victory

Zephyros / Zephyr - (zeff - er - oss (some dialects may change from -oss to -uh) / zeff - er ) Meaning: west wind

Zachariah - (z - ack - er - ay - uh) Meaning: yawweh rembers

Enzo (which can be seen as a branched off for or nickname for lorenzo) - (ehn - zoh) Meaning: the ruler of the estate

Maël - (ma - ehl) Meaning: chieftain, prince

Noé - (noh - ay) Meaning: Rest

Théo - (Tay - oh) Meaning: gift of god

Yves - (eev) Meaning: yew

Rémi - (ray - mee) Meaning: oarsman

August / Augustus - (uh - g - UH - s - t / uh - g - UH - s - t - uh - s) Meaning: great, to increase / great, magnificent

Ezra - (EH - z - r - ah) Meaning: helper, salvation

If I've messed something up between my research and hand writing let me know.

Thank you to all who've voted I can not wait to see the results myself. The temptation to vote myself is strong, not going to lie. But I don't have a clue which I'd actually vote for cause som many are pulling strong as I plot more. But so indecisive on them.

I'll probably have a couple of these type polls for a bit cause I am so indecisive. Please to anyone who wants to vote I appreciate you, and to all who random click I thank you greatly for the help as well.

P.s. if anyone has some most excellent names prior to the 20th century particularly in Europe at the moment please comment them.

P.s.s even if they aren't European and or start appearing in the early 1900's I'd still love them.

[brandonraykirk]

Patton Thompson Survey (1853)

Patton Thompson Survey (1853)

Patton Thompson, Jr. Survey (30 acres), Surveyors Record Book B, Logan County Clerk’s Office, Logan, WV. Note: Patton Thompson is my great-great-great-grandfather. Note also: Dick Elkins Branch is now called Thompson Branch and it is located in present-day Lincoln County.