― Regulations ！

do not interact if :
promoting / engaging in ageplay , raceplay , incest , cnc , bestiality , vore , pedophilia , or ( irl ) bigotry .warning — this account may contain themes of :
lewd / vulgar language , mature / explicit content , violence , death , substance abuse , coercion , homophobia , mental illness , && trauma.

― About ！

maddox kallahan ⌖
∎ natural to dublin, ireland — born of discipline, patience, && power
∎ 25
∎ 5 feet, 8 inches
∎ scorpio
∎ he/him
∎ pansexual, though often posing as heterosexual
∎ son of margot && cormac kallahan
∎ estranged father to a three-year-old daughter, eleanor
∎ renowned photographer, currently holding quiet employment at an esteemed university in the u.s.
∎ heir to a legacy he never asked for, but was seemingly made for
∎ old-money wealth that isn’t often flaunted, but is known
∎ mobster
∎ occasional stalker — when instinct strikes, or control slips

― Attributes ！

traits ⌖
∎ holds loyalty && family above all else
∎ sharply observant
∎ thoughtful
∎ cold at first glance — not made to feel welcoming
∎ blunt
∎ protective to a fault
∎ quietly ambitious
∎ charismatic when it serves him
∎ highly analytical
∎ calm
∎ unapologetically sarcastic
∎ vain — sharply dressed, image controlled
∎ the type to slip through a crowd without ever being noticedlikes ⌖
∎ organization
∎ silence
∎ nighttime — fewer eyes, fewer questions
∎ the mountains — sharp, still, picturesque
∎ the ocean — vast, secretive, steady flow
∎ journaling
∎ letter writing
∎ living in the moment
∎ capturing memories ( especially the ones he shouldn’t )
∎ animals
∎ fitness — mostly functional, partially obsessive
∎ murder ( when necessary )
∎ ( loves ) his daughter — more than anything in this worlddislikes ⌖
∎ people who aren’t very bright
∎ talking / talkers in general
∎ people ( in general )
∎ nosy types ( especially when they’re right )
∎ the media — vultures always smearing the family name
∎ constant relocation
∎ inconsiderate people — details matter
∎ those who take others for granted ( reminds him of what he’s lost )
∎ complainers
∎ tall people — mostly on principle
∎ hateful souls — especially the loud ones
∎ the morally corrupt
∎ blind optimists
∎ authority ( unless it’s his )

― Setting The Stage ！

maddox kallahan wasn’t raised like the others. his childhood—while shrouded in legacy and privilege—was defined by something most didn’t have: love. his parents, margot and cormac, were still together, still in love, still hopelessly devoted to one another. in a world characterized by submission and betrayal, he grew up watching two people stay.as an only child, quiet and always with his head in the clouds, he never quite fit in with the other youth. they called him weird, off-putting. what they couldn’t comprehend, they instead mocked — especially after margot passed. he was just ten when she finally succumbed to her illness. and kids, as they are, were cruel. the jokes cut deep, but the sympathy stung worse. even those who didn’t mean harm couldn’t silence the ones who did.after her death, he stayed moving. always traveling. his father’s right hand, his heir. there were lessons to learn, deals to shadow, violence to stomach. but no matter how far they went, dublin was home. where his mother once waited — where he learned his manners, his calm. the line he’d spend his whole life walking.around eleven, london became a more permanent stay. sometimes with his father, more often just with donal (a bodyguard and constant ghost in the room) who helped him handle the distance well. kept his head down, did the work, but when a close friend of his was stripped away at fourteen, it hit different. like a second fracture. one he didn’t care to talk about. a blackhole he could never plug.life blurred after that. crime and art. blood and cameras. two rising names tied to one boy. he spent the next few years in berlin, still under his father's thumb but honing his creative eye. he returned to dublin at eighteen, trying to live something close to real. there, he met elara, fell into something that almost felt like peace. they had a daughter—eleanor—when he was twenty-three. he tried to be what his father was to him: present, strong, loyal.but old habits, violent ties, and obsessive patterns cracked the foundation. elara left, taking their daughter. he sends money, writes letters, hasn’t seen either of them since eleanor turned two. she’s three now. he’s twenty-five. and he’s still holding out hope.america wasn’t a choice; it was a protection. a pause in the chaos, even if the tabloids suffocate him. his art career won’t falter, the press won’t quiet, and the conspiracies won’t cease. professor by day, heir by blood — he's doing everything in his power to balance the fate bestowed upon him.