The hot midday California sun beat down on the humble Sunday farmstead, and Evie Sundayās skin glistened with a dewy sweat as she pitched hay into a manger, only the slightest of breezes ruffling her cotton dress made from the patterned material of feed sacks. Mama Sunday wasnāt the most skilled seamstress in the dreary community, and being the eldest girl meant that Evieās dresses were often the mistakes or experiments in styles, collars, sleeves and hems. They were intended for Ruthie next, her teenage sister, who was broad and stout and boxy in comparison to the curves and dips that were growing more acute by the day. When her mother saw the hem of Evieās dress revealing a little too much leg or the buttons straining over her chest, it meant it was time for a new, looser, longer dress and down the line her old dress went. There were enough eyes on her in church every week, and the elder Sundays were too pious to invite anything resembling lust to dictate the future of the young woman when she was already regarded as a girl with too many dreams and big ideas knocking around in that head.
Her long straw blonde hair was gathered in a loose braid meant to tame long wavy locks. Evie preferred to leave her hair loose, but there was too much work around the farm for that to be practical. Evie didnāt fancy herself some sort of princess - work was called work and not play, no one really enjoyed their work, but it was what needed to be done if she didnāt want to contribute to her family starving to death. She leaned against the rough wooden and wire fence that kept the familyās small flock of goats from roaming too far, gazing idly over the hill as she rested for just a few minutes. Day in, day out, her days were filled with the same monotonous chores; up at dawn to cook a humble breakfast for her family, drawing water from the well for the goats, feeding them and cleaning out their pen, tending the potato garden, more cooking and cleaning, and then Bible study under the dim lamplight of the shack the Sundays called their home.
The young woman dragged the back of her wrist over her forehead, thoughts drifting to life beyond the alkaline bluffs of Isabella County. Places where things actually grew and flourished instead of the daily struggle to live in a place where only weeds grew. Abel had taken Evie to San Francisco once when she was a girl and years before the great earthquake, and the seed had been planted in her budding young mind that the world did not start and end within the sandy city limits of Little Boston. The railway station being built had helped bring in a little extra commerce and activity, but it was used more and more by young folks leaving the community for a better life. The daily trainās familiar noises in the distance became just another reminder of the dead end she was destined for.
Evie pretended like she hadnāt noticed what sort of life was barrelling towards her by staying on the farm. She liked to look at the notices posted in the general store in town for seamstresses and laborers needed in the neighboring communities that were doing better than Little Boston - not a metropolis like San Francisco, but a few steps up from her hometown. The one and only time she asked her mother to let her spend the summer working in a greengrocer in Coyote Hills, just so she could send some money back to her family, had caused such great consternation and disapproval that Evie was made to do penance for even allowing such a wicked thought take hold of her good sense. Fervent prayers and a good thrashing knocked that idea out of her head. Losing her brother Paul to the great wide world had been more than her controlling and fearful parents could bear - their eldest daughter needed to remain in the community, and as far as they were concerned, it was only a matter of time before one of the young farmhands nearby walked to the Sunday homestead with a humble dowry in exchange for her hand in marriage. The natural order of things. Things like conversation and compatibility were irrelevant to the elder Sundays, for whom the starving times were still a stark and fresh memory.
Evieās blue-green eyes squinted slightly as she spent her idle moment of rest just looking around the limits of the Sunday property - sometimes there were jackrabbit traps set off that needed to be reset - before she fixed on something quite irregular in the distance. She noted a larger figure and a smaller figure traveling down the hills, heading directly for her familyās ranch; they wouldnāt have been so out of place if it hadnāt been for their clean and refined clothes and the large packs on their backs, setting them apart from other ranching families in Little Boston. Evie watched them for a moment before she turned, rushing into her familyās home.
āMother, Father, thereās a man and a boy coming right towards the farm!ā
Her voice rang out loud enough to attract the attention of her family, including brother Eli who was sitting and crafting a sermon instead of helping out with the chores, much to Evieās chagrin. Intrigued about the interruption to her otherwise tedious routine, she rushed back outside, wiping her dusty hands on her apron and looking around to see where the man and the boy had gone.
From behind her, the eldest Sunday, Abel, stepped out from the humble homestead and crossed the rocky soil to meet the strangers. āGood evening,ā Abel called in a polite but cautious greeting, while Evie, her mother, Ruthie and Mary watched in a row, waiting to see what was going on.
Hello! Here on my quest to scratch a creative itch. Like so many others, There Will Be Blood was an instant favorite of mine after watching it and I've been drawn back to Daniel Plainview. Call it clichĆ© like trying to fix a broken man, but Iād love to explore what could have been before he completely devolves into a shell of a man living in his castle alone. There is a distinct lack of interactions between Daniel and any (adult) female character, yet heās accused of lusting after them - this is something I would really like to dig into. There is a bounty of EliDan content out there, which I think Iāve torn through already, but weāre a little restricted by the source material for any other pairings in TWBB (FletchDan would be hot, ngl). Iām also a shameless fan of pregnancy subplots, shhhhh Anyway! If you think you could give me a version of Daniel Plainview around 1911ish and would like to collaborate on something more akin to a fic than 'roleplay', then come on down! *cue The Price Is Right music*
I would prefer to be playing an original character - what if Eli had a sister that Daniel had his eye on? Enter Evelyn 'Evie' Sunday, 21ish. Daniel takes a shine to her, or she catches his eye at the celebration when the new oil well starts pumping, or better yet, he bids for her services to keep house and raise his son when he purchases the Sunday plot. Sheās easily dazzled and manipulated by promises of a better life, wealth, power - all of which Daniel goads her with easily. To him, sheās an easy piece of tail with a shelf life of the 10 or so years left to raise H.W. before heās a man, a live-in cook and nanny to both of the Plainview men. A plaything and a trophy he can domesticate and keep in a cage until he tires of her or she crosses him. A very twisted romance if we want it to be, but she could also soften him if we so choose for a more domesticated family man, flawed as he may be. We know that Danielās weakness is his family, and if she bonds with H.W., it could be a means of gaining Danielās trust. The connection to the Sunday family is also exciting, as she could potentially be another means of putting Eli Sunday back into the place that Daniel deems he should be - I can imagine Danielās delight in torturing Eli and gloating over the fact that he has his sister wrapped right around his little finger. Better yet, if Eli himself has to perform the marriage ceremony or else lose face in front of his flock and community of Little Boston - imagine the rage, the smugness, the tension at Sunday dinners! Like Daniel, Evie resents Eli for her own reasons and may even be a willing participant in this humiliation of the preacher. Obviously, there is a lot of potential for dead dove here; the premise is practically begging for it, but Iām open to subverting that entirely for something closer to a happy stage in Danielās life, however temporary and fleeting. Whump, age gap, slow corruption, fucked-up love triangles, and more are all fair game.
About me: Call me ann! Iām a F in my 30s, EST, married, with 20 years experience in RP and longer writing. Longtime Ao3 lurker. As a writer, I consider myself advanced-literate, often novella, but I also enjoy dynamic replies with more for description and scene-setting and less for dialogue and action. I often break the Discord Nitro character limit a couple of times over, but I can work with a lot less! I'm currently using Saoirse Ronan as a face claim/inspiration, but I'm fine with written descriptions only if that suits you more. I have very relaxed expectations of a reply schedule and would appreciate it if you could also be understanding of real life outside of writing. :)
If this is something youāre interested in, please shoot me a message! I am happy to write here or on Discord.
