#𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃: [ REC ● ] a bright young reporter with a point of view, the chronicler, witness and participant. archivist turned addict. an independent, private, TVC book and head canon focused ( selective AMC inspiration ) medium activity & mutuals only DANIEL MOLLOY or the boy from anne rice's the vampire chronicles: a study in 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, vampirism as a metaphor for queerness, obsession in journalism, macabre seduction, the slow rot of truth, and unreliable narration from a man consumed by the very story he sought to own. established july 2025. tortured by moth. ⁽ ᵗʰᵉʸ / ᵗʷᵉⁿᵗʸ ⁿᶦⁿᵉ ⁾
DEFAULT VERSE IS YOUNG DANIEL IN THE 70s/80s. dead dove and serious topics explored ahead, especially depictions of addiction, violence, internalized homophobia, toxic relationships, the AIDs crisis in san francisco and the exploration of trauma cycles. USFW will occur on this blog without apology. heavily plot, ship and friend focused. flexible verses.
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ⁽ ᵉˣᶜˡᵘˢᶦᵛᵉ ⁾ : ♡ @desiresuffering as armand ♡ @evilanew as lestat de lioncourt ♡ @solilacquist as louis de pointe du lac ♡ @rueroyaled as alice molloy
𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 ⁽ ᵐᵃᶦⁿˢ ⁾ : @stvampyr as nicolas de lenfent ♡ @thechildeath as claudia
finishing up my long work week today and tvl in 4 days… can’t wait to be back to writing. i’m hearing some crazy things about daniel i can’t wait to unpack. >:)
Moth, your love for Daniel is infectious and writing immaculate... but you already know that. So let's talk about how fun you are to plot with. How much joy your presence brings to those around you. How appreciative I am for how welcoming you are to newbies such as myself into the TVC community/series. It's always a pleasure to see you on my dash interacting with the entire coven. You are a highlight and I wish you nothing but the best day, month, and year. Happy Birthday!
PS. Your Marvel Rivals obsession might be contagious and I bow to your skills at shooting & dying 😭
AW TY ACE <3 i really appreciate your kind words, and writing alice and daniel together! it's very rare to get to dabble into them. listen marvel rivals is an addiction and you stumbled into it willingly....... no suffer with the rest of us.
i just have to show off the beautiful bind @desiresuffering got me for my birthday today (with the most loving writing inside i’m gnna cry) 🫶🏻 i will forever be so grateful for devil’s minion bringing me to my love. god.
#TALAMSCA: an independent, private roleplay blog featuring the aging scholar, DAVID TALBOT, and the watcher, JESSE REEVES, of the vampire chronicles books by anne rice. a study in 𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 & 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧, reluctant immortality, family lineage, and the consequences of forbidden curiosity.
tortured by moth (they/them, 29, cst) - graphics.
*notes: information may change as the amc adaptation progresses. most of this is pieced together based on the information provided via his linkedin, assumptions based on that information, as well as personal head canon. this can be slightly altered based on individual plotting for character interactions!
1953: born in modesto california. as a child, daniel grew up in a conservative middle class family, exposed to the beat generation and eventually the 1960s counterculture movement. this inspired him to move way from modesto and to san francisco after his high school graduation, estimated to be around 1971.
early 1970s: involves himself in counterculture scenes and starts experimenting with drugs (cocaine, amphetamines, heroin). freelance journalism work is a primary motivation. enrolls at the university of california (uc berkley) in the fall of 1971.
1973: the san francisco interview with louis de pointe du lac and the vampire armand. by this point, he's working freelance, prowling the underground of san fran for interviews with his tape recorder, and scarred immensely by the interview attack, both physically and mentally. although his memories were erased, it's clear the emotional toil made daniel more reckless, intensified his addiction, and more persistent in his journalistic career (thank you louis.)
my headcanon is that his education was derailed by the 1973 interview. for a few years he dropped out and struggled with his mental health and drug addiction, and the relationship with armand throws a massive wrench in his ability to be present in any sort of educational environment simply due to the amount of traveling they do together, the chase, and the day sleeping he adopts for a short time.
late 1973 - early 1974: daniel's affair with the vampire armand really begins. he travels the world with him and is submerged in the seduction of immortality. along with vampires, daniel is searching for other supernatural.
*note: in the books, daniel publishes interview with the vampire during this time.
1979: interview with governor jerry brown for the berkley barb. interest in education reignites and possibly encouraged to pursue it by the vampire armand for a sense of stability. daniel does so and enrolls for a track towards journalism with columbia university. (eventually earns a honorary master's degree)
1981: debut as a freelance author / investigative journalist with his book on kaposi sarcoma, 'a shadow on the skin.' as well as his publication of a san francisco chronicle article, searching in the dark: one san francisco clinic’s fight against AIDS. around this time he's involved with the los angeles herald examiner and palo alto daily news. between now and 1982, night island is officially purchased by the vampire armand and eventually owned by daniel molloy in name. daniel proposes to armand but is rejected.
early 1982: marriage to alice molloy. relationship with armand has taken a rocky turn before tethering off by late 1985.
1985-87: birth of his first daughter. the san francisco chronicle is his main hub of journalistic contribution. wins the hillman prize recognition and the anthony shadid award for journalism ethics.
*note: in the books, daniel is turned into a vampire by armand after his deteriorating health and addiction.
late 1980s: sometime here, his relationship with alice molloy takes a turn for the worst. journalism becomes his primary focus over family life. addiction intensifies. relationship with armand continues but with the recurrent memory loss. conscious in media award.
1990s: divorced at some point in the mid 90s. recognized as a celebrity journalist, daniel's working with rolling stone, time magazine and increasingly more involved in global crisis and international politics. daniel marries his second wife and has a second child, but this marriage was very short lived and not as emotionally impactful as alice.
2002: working for the guardian, daniel publishes 'and then they were gone: a collection of interviews on the one-year anniversary of 9/11. he also wins his first pulitzer due to his work on major washington politics and/or prison industrial complex investigation.
2003 - present: part time visiting lecturer at the university of california. (practicum)
2018: awarded a pulitzer for his interview with sergei naryshkin. by this point, his relationship with his daughters is estranged and he is on a second divorce. while he's dedicated to a sobriety track, daniel dips in and out of using and alcoholism.
2019: daniel receives his parkinson's diagnosis but keeps it quiet. only his family and louis are really aware by his flight to dubai. dedicated to his sobriety for his health.
*note: i think it's an obvious replacement for his addiction in the books that will lead to armand turning him. my research suggests at daniel's age, parkinson's progresses much faster. i suspect by dubai, he's somewhere in stage 2 but the levodopa throws it off a little. i also really like these reads on his development and his situation with levodopa, armand's blood, and fareed's background (here) (here)
2022: dubai interview with louis de pointe du lac and the vampire armand. turned into a vampire by armand up to a year after the interview.
present: the vampire armand's only fledgling and currently the director of the vampire lestat's biography.
*bonus: my estimations for when his works were published. literally based on vibes and the correlation to when these topics were 'big' in mainstream media:
a shadow on the skin: 1981 (kaposi sarcoma)
murder, intent and american free speech: 1988 (media manipulation?)
under the burning sky: 1990 (nixon + bush eras covered. environmental policy. still pretty young looking in his author photo)
the united states of prison and profit: 1998 (as well as prisons as a growth industry with the los angeles herald examiner)
veto proof: 2000 (difficult to place. my guess is about silicon valley and corruption due to the cover being in california?)
homelandia: 2002 (surveillance post-9/11)
hate & ashbury: late 2010s (*note: i struggle with this one the most because it seems to be the book featured as his memoir, and if i recall correctly, even displayed in the bookstore of the TVL snippets as if it's new. as well as read by louis. so it suggests a later publication, but the writing and style feels very young daniel. shrugs... he also looks older in his author image. gimmie the dates, amc!)
black blood: the enronian way: early 2000s (based on the enron scandal? or a reference to the oil industry following the enron corporation's fraudulent and corrupt footsteps)
the internet's gavel: 2012 (as well as steve jobs lost his password with the paolo alto daily news. seems to be fixated on the expansion of the internet sphere and the wild west of navigating it during this time)
snowden: an oral history: 2014 (as well as his piece from time magazine, titled edward snowden has a cold... and a house in moscow)
the cost of the second: 2016 (clearly about gun control or gun violence on the rise)
interview with the vampire: 2022 (in the books, 1970s)
*note: i have no idea what 'has anyone seen bob? a weekend in malibu looking for a rock icon' could really be about or where to even place it LOL, but it was published with the LA times so i can only assume it's about mr. bob dylan.
“Why does it bother you when I flirt with other people?”
@molloyed
“doesn’t bother me.”
comes out of louis like something already dead, a husk of a sentence, dry as old paper left too long in the sun. and there it is, right on fucking schedule: a whisper, a familiar rot-soft voice curling at the edge of his hearing, amused, knowing. the ghost of a man very much alive, somewhere out there, who still refuses the dignity of staying gone. methinks the duke of gloom doth protest too much–
louis doesn’t turn his head. doesn’t need to. the presence that occupies the bar stool on his left is as predictable as decay. it ebbs, it returns, it lingers in the marrow. the man he failed to kill. the man who didn’t hesitate to kill her, not even for love, not even for him.
to his right, the boy. folded into the dim light with his cheap beer sweating in his hand, watching in that way of his. curious, clinical, a little too sharp for comfort. louis’s bourbon waits untouched before him, black maple hill, incongruous in a place like this. a jewel dropped in gutter water. the kind of bar daniel gravitates toward, or the kind louis drags him into, depending on which of them is pretending harder that chance is what keeps arranging their meetings.
doesn’t bother him none, as if repetition might sanctify the lie. daniel’s question still hangs between them, needling at louis’s senses. once, years ago, louis could’ve had him. easy as reaching out. fingers in those unruly curls, tugging just enough to unmake the careful disarray. a word, a look, and daniel would have folded, pliant with curiosity, with hunger. it doesn’t bother him.
except there’s a man in the corner that’s been worrying his cue tip for two fucking minutes, and a table behind them that erupts in laughter that’s too loud, too bright. except daniel’s gaze lingers, knowing in that infuriating, human way, as if he has mapped louis’s silences and finds them wanting. and louis, in a moment both fleeting and vast, wonders what it would cost to turn this room inside out, paint it red.
too damn much.
he reaches for the bourbon at last, tips it back in one decisive motion. it burns a clean, honest line of fire down his throat, blooming briefly in his chest before it begins its inevitable retreat, warmth dissolving into nothing, like everything else that pretends to last.
“you wanna flirt, flirt. i ain’t stoppin’ you.”
voice steadier now, or maybe just colder. he turns too quickly on the stool, the world tilting for a fraction, catches the first man passing by. hand flat to his chest, stopping him with a force that is just shy of violence. louis appraises him like he might be considering a purchase. or a sacrifice.
“you wanna fuck my friend here?”
the words slip out smooth as oil, dark with something that might be humor if it weren’t so sharp at the edges. he glances back at daniel, eyes glinting with that dangerous, brittle light.
“what d'you think, daniel? this one dysfunctional enough for you?”
𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 why don't you? the unfortunate bastard that louis stops looks seconds away from throwing a punch, spilling his guts out on his shoes, or apologizing for existing, but daniel can't blame him for a second. he's been on that side of louis' agitation back in san francisco, has shuddered under the terror of being scrutinized by eyes that've witnessed the passage of decades like a flipbook. he's earned that stare now, bourbon dark just like the stench on louis' breath, but this time daniel isn't cowering away from it. the smooth offering would normally make him stutter over his words too, but he's at least three drinks in and all he can think is that louis is the fucking worst when he's pretending not to give a shit.
the flush still creeps down his neck nonetheless, splotchy and hot and human.
that's what gets him the most about all this, though. whose louis performing for? is he trying to convince himself, as if saying it enough times or out loud, that it might finally ring true? he sure as shit doesn't convince daniel. not when it's the same routine as it's always been: following one another into whatever dark hole in the wall they can get the best drinks at. but it's never been about the drinks. daniel's not picky, he'll get shitfaced on the cheapest bullshit on the shelf. no, he follows after louis with the same hungry curiosity, apparently never the type to learn his lesson. the guy stammers something, and daniel is too busy raking his gaze over louis to really hear it, but he waves his beer vaguely in another direction. ❝ hey pal, ❞ he says as dismissively as he can manage, ❝ i really can't stress enough how bad your timing is right now. ❞
don't poke the fucking bear, man. don't poke any bear, but especially don't poke this one. his eyes slide back towards who he really wants to look at as the guy murmurs an indiscernible something under his breath, maybe that apology for existing, and scrams.
and sure, maybe he should let it go. it would be nothing to laugh it off, bring back that suave, smooth talking, broody man he knows louis to be, but remember the three drinks? right. his instincts and self-preservation are withered away, and he's fiending for a morsel of louis' affection. even if he has to wring it out of him. ❝ nah, my type is more... constipated, ❞ now that they're alone, molloy's brows bunch, chin jutting out in a challenge. ❝ you're a real asshole when someone reads you a little too well, you ever notice that? ❞ because he sure as shit has. he's wearing the scars from it still. ❝ it's easier to admit it than putting on a show. real sweet of you, by the way. guess you can't really take the pimp out of the man, huh? ❞
and all of it still doesn't explain why louis would rather drag him around the city than give into what he really wants. but what is that, exactly, 'cause daniel's got ideas but he's always been a little hopeful. the blood? surely it would be nothing to drain him at any point. the experience? he's nothing special. there's about a dozen broke addicts down the street that would kill for conversation in exchange for their happy pills. sex? his confidence wanes just slightly--louis turned him down once already.
ㅤㅤThere’s the faintest huff of bemused laughter. Mojo had been given free reign of some of the rooms on account of good behaviour, this hulking beast of a canine having more sense and compassion than some mortals and immortals alike, bringing Lestat a great deal of comfort in spite of how morose he became with this entire mess. There’s a small nod of understanding, head tipping back to rest against the headrest and peer up at the ornate ceiling, dangling droplets of crystal at the centre of the room refracting a cascading shimmer of light, effulgent shapes dispersing into streaks the longer he stared into it. Dark lashes flutter closed with a pained furrow of the brow, the warmth emanating from the hearth of a newfangled electric variety on account of the building’s new safety policies ( pas tout à fait la même chose qu’une cheminée traditionnelle, mais ça a quand même fait l’affaire ). A palm limply pats at the centre of his chest amidst all the layered clothing, the motion creating a dull echo that only unleashes a gurgling cough, fluid in the lungs taking the opportunity to proudly announce its pervasive presence.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Pitiful thing as it may be, I have been informed it may take time to commence recuperating… ” As unintentional as it may be, Lestat catches himself refer to the mortal body as its own entity, as if it was a disjointed and untethered thing that didn’t belong to him, spirit and form scantly joined by an ethereal cord, the mere thought creating a turbulent chemistry of emotions. There’s a shuddering heave of the man’s frame as thoughts spiral. “ The cynics of the Savage Garden claim that one cannot rely on the love of others. Loathe as I am to admit, centuries have passed and I am beginning to understand that old damnable poetry. ” A tightly wound fist clenches, feebly pounding against the very edge of an armrest with an ill-timed thud, a combination of the awkward angle and the impact of the gesture itself sending a tingling shockwave across the extremity of the appendage ( merde! ). It’s with a small cry of frustration that the mortal rubs at the afflicted area while abruptly leaping up, pacing about the room once more in small yet aimless circles, agitation so close to the surface that it’s palpable.
ㅤㅤIf looks could kill— Lestat’s countenance egregiously twists into a terrible simulacra of himself, shooting Daniel a glare that can only stem from sheer and utter exasperation ( pourquoi tout le monde insistait-il pour poser autant de questions?! ). A humourless scoff emerges, an accusatory index finger jutting into the air to slice across in the direction of large French windows. “ You think I would not ask them? Rejected, or outright ignored— Stubborn, the lot of them! They would sooner have me perish than offer me the Dark Gift! ” Lestat barks back with a heavy undertow of chagrin, a mind’s eye feverishly flitting between each of those whom he held so dear in the Blood, a seed of betrayal taking root until jagged thorns sprout and lacerate. The exhaustion sets in once more, desperate palm finding the armrest to steady himself, an involuntary trembling of the visage as the back of a hand wipes at the dampness gathering about crestfallen eyes. “ I do not know how much longer I can manage in this state. You have to grant me this! I will… ” Lips hover open in silence, Lestat pushing himself to think. “ There has to be something you desire in this world, something you cherish above all else. Name your price. ”
𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 armand dealt with when it was daniel begging for the gift, often outright on his knees? lestat's frustration pulses, an infected wound, the lungs he only recently inherited already weathering a georgetown snow storm. the freezing cold and air pollution intermingle in the body, only dispelled by time and alcohol and luck. daniel's brows scrunch at the thought of such sick blood in his mouth, cloying scent be damned. the initial thirst is hindered by the idea of sucking it from his body... and well, not to be rude, lestat, but it repulses him. ❝ i'd be scared shitless too. you've done something no one even thought possible, ❞ and that in itself is why molloy invites himself into lestat's human life while everyone else watches from afar, too damn scared to put themselves in the way of a rumored body thief. he's become a horror story for the damned. a sitcom to others. a case study for a curious vampire and the empty notebooks waiting for his chicken scratch. ❝ you never know what might happen, and what about your body? you'd be satisfied in this one? ❞
he thought vampires would be less suspicious, but daniel's grown quite protective of his immortality too. still, it's a surprise that marius would turn lestat away. marius, who thought so highly of the younger man. marius, the image of perfect calm and understanding. rarely did he find it in himself to be angry. then again, lestat is so adept at pushing the limits of anyone that comes into his orbit. his own, clearly, too. ❝ no offense man, but you've got nothing i want like this, ❞ now daniel smiles sadly, almost apologetically, but it isn't him who got lestat into this mess. he isn't even sure he has the ability to make a fledgling, or if he could tolerate the thought of it. imagine: daniel molloy as lestat's maker... surely it would kill him! and if not the process, then it would be armand's temper. daniel's head shakes rapidly, a flash of movement bringing him to inspect the broken window. this he can at least fix. money's no issue. ❝ look, i can't do that, i don't have it in me. but i'm not so far removed from mortality that i can't help you in another way. fucking, ❞ daniel's arms fling outwards, frustrated at how helpless lestat appears to be. mojo's head cants to the side as if he understands a single word. ❝ you're lestat de lioncourt, man. you sold out stadiums, so stop trembling. ❞
the broken glass cracks underfoot, but daniel is there, leaning down towards a sickly lestat. his cold hand meets the warm, or rather, the burning flesh of lestat's chest, and hums. every inhale crackles, the pain evident in his foreign expression. molloy's blood might be powerful, but it isn't enough to mend wounds and rid of illness. such things are far beyond his capacity to even understand, and he's barely able to stand himself when he takes the little drink. ❝ maybe i can give you some of my blood. help your pain. you need something warm though. get up, you're bringing me down. ❞
up, up, he motions lestat, using his strength to help him from the chair. take me to your closet, he echoes into lestat's mind, suddenly very interested in the opportunity to rifle through his thoughts.
✱˚｡⋆ ↪ THE 𝐒TAGES OF 𝐈NTIMACY. a collection of various action prompts centered around the varying stages of intimacy. feel free to adjust as desired. heavily mature content, dni with this post if you are under 18, & DO NOT use these prompts for non-con scenarios. )
SETTINGS.
[01.] finding privacy in a cramped dressing room.
[02.] cramming into the backseat of a car together.
[03.] slipping into the lonesome alleyway behind the bar for "time alone".
[04.] pulling them away from a party after hours of relentless teasing.
[05.] getting handsy under the table at a fancy dining establishment.
[06.] taking the long way home and pulling over on a dark stretch of road.
[07.] staying behind at the venue after everyone else has left.
[08.] the hotel room door barely clicks shut before hands are on them.
[09.] a tent in the middle of nowhere where no one can hear anything.
NEW TERRITORY.
[10.] finding yourself staring at their mouth and getting caught.
[11.] pulling back from a kiss to look at them, then immediately going back in.
[12.] memorizing the shape of them for the first time with your palms.
[13.] that exploratory first kiss, reserved and shy.
[14.] a gentle first kiss that morphs into intense want.
[15.] feeling the shape of their body through their clothes.
[16.] asking for permission to remove one of their garments.
[17.] finally succumbing to the thick tension & colliding feverishly.
[18.] fumbling with buttons or zippers because your hands won't stop shaking.
[19.] admitting out loud that you've been thinking about this for a while.
HEATING UP.
[20.] pulling them into your lap in the midst of a heated kiss.
[21.] discovering that they're wearing [ GEAR / LINGERIE ] under their clothes.
[22.] kissing away from their lips, down the length of their neck.
[23.] desperately grinding on them through layers of clothing.
[24.] dirty talking directly into their ear to turn them on even further.
[25.] pushing them onto a piece of furniture before straddling them.
[26.] lifting them onto the countertop while making out.
[27.] tugging their hair to expose more of their throat to your mouth.
[28.] the wrecked way they say your name for the first time.
[29.] fabric tearing because neither of you has the patience for buttons.
[30.] removing an obstacle of clothing with your teeth.
UNRAVELING.
[31.] biting down on their shoulder to muffle how good it feels.
[32.] the sound they make when you find the spot that undoes them.
[33.] begging without any trace of pride left and meaning every word.
[34.] their composure cracking for the first time, they finally stop holding back.
[35.] repeating "don't stop" like it's the only language left in their mouth.
[36.] leaving possessive marks in places only they'll see.
[37.] whispering "look at me" right before you take them apart.
[38.] trying to be quiet and failing, so they clamp a hand over your mouth.
[39.] flipping positions so fast neither of you remembers who initiated it.
[40.] their nails dragging down your back hard enough to sting later.
[41.] being told to open your mouth and doing it before the sentence is finished.
[42.] having your hands pinned above your head.
[43.] the desperate scramble to get closer when there is no closer to get.
COMING DOWN.
[44.] fingers lazily tracing the marks they just left on your skin.
[45.] pulling the blanket over both of you without being asked.
[46.] that silent, dazed smile when they catch your eye across the pillow.
[47.] the shaky laugh when neither of you can remember where your shirt is.
[48.] going to get water and bringing a glass back for them without asking.
[49.] lying chest to chest, feeling their heartbeat slow back down against yours.
[50.] the quiet "hey" that means something completely different now.
[51.] "come here" said softly — not urgently. just wanting them close again.
