#violet foster

► basics;

Full Name: Violet Amara Foster

Known Aliases: UltraViolet

Nicknames: Vi

Age: 21/33

Birthday:  October 1st 2044

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Relationship Status:  Undetermined

Religion: Unknown

Occupation: Supervised Psychologist

Powers:  Enhanced Superhuman Ability, Chaos Magic

Powers Registered: Violet is completely registered with the government for all known powers and until college ended, was regularly subject to testing in exchange for her education and dormitory being taken care of.

Nationality: American

► background;

Place of Birth: New Jersey

Hometown: New Jersey

Education: PsyD Doctorate Completed

► physical;

Faceclaim: Ana De Armas

Eye Color: Green/Hazel

Hair Color: Dark Blonde

Height: 5'6

Weight: 57kg/125lbs

Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars, etc: N/A

► relatives;

Mother’s Full Name: Sarah Genevieve Rogers

Mother’s FC: Deborah Ann Woll

Mother’s Status: Deceased

Mother’s Occupation: Avenger

Mother’s Full Name: Petra Maximoff

Mother’s FC: Emma Dumont

Mother’s Status: Deceased

Mother’s Occupation: Avenger

Siblings: N/A

Aunts: Elena Westwood (By Marriage), Maria Stark (By Marriage), Stella Morales (By Marriage)

Uncles: Orion Maximoff, James Rogers, Nathan Rogers Cousins: Wendy Maximoff, Luca Maximoff, Phillip Maximoff, Petra Maximoff, Anthony-James Rogers, Sarah-Grace Rogers, Nathaniel-Morgan Rogers, Khalo Morales, Raphael Morales

Second+ Cousins: Wade Maximoff, Charlotta Barnes, Stepan Barnes, Romeo Barnes, Valentina Barnes, Riley Stark, Jordan Stark

► relationships;

Ex-Significant Other(s):  Caine Beasley

Reason for Separation: Broke up during her third year of college after dating for two years when he became aware of her powers. Though everything was initially fine, his behaviour following ranged from fearful to outright confrontational.

Current Significant Other:  N/A

What They Look For In Others:  Violet seeks immense trust with anyone she allows into her life. She is attracted to strong and protective energies, this is largely a result of her unstable bonds due to how she grew up and her fear of abandonment, someone that at least appears to be prioritising Violets needs or safety opens her up to communication and is a big part of how her employment is currently manipulating her with her mentor.

► personality;

Positive Traits:  Compassionate, Intelligent, Considerate, Empathetic, Sincere

Negative Traits:  Aloof, Stubborn, Bitter, Naive, Reserved

introvert / extrovert / ambivert risk-taker / cautious organized / disorganized close-minded / open-minded calm / anxious / restless disagreeable / agreeable / in-between patient / impatient outspoken / reserved leader / follower / flexible empathetic / un-empathetic optimistic / pessimistic / realistic traditional / modern / in-between hard-working / lazy

Moral alignment (chaotic good, lawful neutral, etc): Lawful Good

Biggest Advantage:  Her powers are immense and can alter the fabric of reality and Violet is aware of this fact younger than Wanda herself was. Though she uses them sparingly in comparison it stands to reason to be Violets biggest advantage, especially in conjunction with her occupation, Violet is particularly good and planting images and ideas.

Biggest Vulnerability:  The ability to play on her emotions and morals to manipulate her. Violet tends to make snap decisions on whether or not someone can or cannot be trusted and often does not reevaluate that stance leaving her open to agendas and people who are even slightly adept at coming across friendly and goodnatured.

Mental Ailments: Attachment Disorder, Depersonalisation, Post Traumatic Stress

Physical Ailments:  N/A

Addictions: N/A

Phobias:  Athazagoraphobia, Syngenesophobia, Kakorrhaphiophobia

► misc;

Hobbies:  Swimming, Online Checkers

First Book They Read: Sleeping Beauty

Favorite Book: Pet Sematery

Favorite 1900′s - 2000′s Music Artist:  Lady Gaga

Favorite Subject:  Psychology

Pets:  

Church - A six year old Doberman that she rescued two years earlier from death row. While others may not be suited to such a traumatised animal, someone like Violet who is able to get inside his head and rewire to calmness is ideal. This is also how she knew she had SOME ability to tamper with minds on a permanent basis, which later lended itself to Charlie Flynn.

Gage - A two year old Doberman, given to her by her college friend after her brother bought the dog, ignorant to its needs, resulting in much destroyed furniture. 

Habits: 

Makes checklists for almost everything.

Grips her thumb when she’s feeling anxious, often behind her back if in a professional setting.

Checks her emails frequently and often checks for phantom texts.

► backstory;

Childhood:

Wanda had never intended for any of this to happen. One moment she’d been blissfully unaware and the next it was like someone had severed a limb. Sokovia was the last time she’d felt something like that; the moment thirteen bullets had torn through her brother. Her daughter was dead. All that grief and all that rage boiled inside of her, festering as Wanda withdrew from everyone around her, unsure who had been complicit and who she could still trust. When her paranoia buried deep enough, she doubted even her own husband. A moment she can look back upon as the last semi-coherent thought she’d had from that moment on until the hex began to crumble. She was aimless, fuelled by the intangible goal of seeing her daughter again and sick with misery. She stumbled to the site of their first home, before there’d been a need for a compound. A brief window of simplicity that she and Lucas had shared as they made up Petra’s room in shades of violet. The house she’d known was now a flat slab of concrete and an abandoned frame from a fallen through development. This wasn’t even the roots of the home she’d known. And then she was drowning, suffocating alone and it all poured from her in waves, coating the town of Westview in her magic, enslaving the suburb.

She thrived with Lucas, straining joy inside her bubble of denial. She hadn’t meant to do it, but then, she hadn’t meant to do any of this. One day crying erupted from the room down the hall, a spare room containing only boxes from their move Wanda could not remember. Now, it lay fully furnished in shades of violet, reminding her of a room she’d known a thousand years ago. She crept closer to the crib, and up smiled a baby. A baby with grassy hazel eyes and soft tufts of blonde atop her head. A plot-hole, a rewrite, a character inconsistency, Violet had been written into Wanda’s world, now the adored daughter of two lovely, docile parents in their slice of suburban bliss.

Violet was a sweet child, who drew immense satisfaction toddling after butterflies. Wanda was shocked at just how many seemed to flock Westview, especially on such frosty days. But she never had a shortage, content to roll about in the long flowers and plush grass. A yard that would be impossible in the states, with the native Sokovian flora. Wanda, subconsciously emulating her favourite clearing she played in as a child. Sometimes she’d sneak a peak through the fence and babble happily to the women next door, who always entertained her with a smile. Wanda liked the domesticity of it all. The routine and belief that nothing bad could happen here.

Violet bonded to Wanda immensely, often reflecting her joy or concern. Wanda dismissed it to the influence she held over Westview, everyone swayed to her in one way or another. In reality, Violet was keenly aware of her mother’s feelings, often roaming her emotions without restraint, unaware she was doing something others could not, it came naturally, as easy as reading words on a page and she’d learned to do that at age three. Something that had happened seemingly overnight. One moment, Wanda had been laying in bed debating whether or not to console the baby as Lucas slept soundly through her wails and the next a little mop of blonde curls peeked around the corner, suddenly three and able to climb out of the crib to come and collect her mothers attention. Wanda panicked, unsure if this was Violet’s doing or her own. Violet swore she could remember her first birthday, her second Christmas, when Wanda and Lucas questioned her more she’d simply smiled and stated she’d seen them on the reruns.

When new people began to appear around her, Violet grew anxious, feeling almost ill when she’d ride her bike by down the streets. Faces that loomed at her dangerously, sending her peddles speeding a little faster. Some tried to speak to her until one day the smoke cleared. There was no more fear, or apprehension. The faces that had frightened her were friendly, now slotting into this world as though they had never looked out of place. The girl paid it no more thought, content that her anxiety’s were now quashed. At least she had attempted to do so until she’d heard it clear as day. Her soccer ball had shattered Sheriff Rogers front window and all that had been keeping the visions inside scattered into the air and she could feel his anguish pouring into the atmosphere like toxic gas. He stared at a wall, dormant and unmoving, out of commission while Wanda had no use for him, eyes glowing red as his mind cried out. She hadn’t known what she was doing, only that it had made sense to her in the moment as she dragged a chair into the living room, all of seven years old as she climbed up precariously, grabbing the sides of his head in a vice lock grip, imaging herself flinging the visions from his mind like blowing dust from an old book. Steve blinked, once, twice and again, staring at the child in confusion and disbelief.

Adolescence: 

Among all their talking, Steve asked her if she could do it again, Violet mumbled that she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a lie. Though Violet knew she possessed the physical capability, she found herself worried about what her mother would say. If she had been controlling this man, maybe it was for good reason. She rode her bike home in contemplative silence, spending most of her night much the same. Uncharacteristically quiet, Wanda began to probe. First with words, next Violet could feel a tickle in her skull. Until now, her mother had lived in plausible deniability about her daughter’s abilities, and Violet had done the same, ignorant of anything out of the ordinary until her response to Wanda’s unwelcome intrusion was blowing her clear out of her mind, practically locking her thoughts with a bolt and chain. Wanda stared in disbelief, unsure of what dynamic she had truly created. Violet was frightened, for the first time feeling truly alone with her thoughts and suddenly uncharacteristically wary.

She sought out Steve the next day, and the day after and the day after. He was polite but rarely friendly, only ever asking for her help, offering little explanation. It wasn’t until each other Avengers had been cut loose from Wanda’s ties did anyone truly begin to explain to little Violet what was happening at all. They told her awful things, scary things like the man inside her home was not real, and certainly not her father. That the real Lucas was outside Westview unable to enter, and then they were asking her for help with that too. Violets age began to fluctuate rapidly over the next few weeks, ageing up and down rapidly each time she felt overwhelmed, and the more she came to know the avengers the more often that was. They even took her blood, promising they would bring her answers in turn.

Over the next months, though they felt like years, Violet bonded to varying degrees with each of the Avengers as they posed in the faux world in the roles they’d been cast. All of them keeping it secret from Wanda and her vigilant eyes, finding new ways to distract her so Violet could roam unimpeded throughout the day. The more estranged her daughter became, the more often Wanda saw a large black dog within the neighbourhood, an unfriendly animal that no matter what Wanda tried to do, she could not control. Weeks, she felt driven mad, seeing it on every corner and knowing it was a sign of something wrong. It was not her magic that had created it. Everything felt as thought it was slipping from her control, the avengers she wanted desperately out of her home, far away and out of sight, but the power inside her wanted penance. Inside her walls, they would be punished. Even if Wanda wanted to let them go, she knew they would never stop if she released them. It wasn’t in their nature.

Violet was sixteen when she learned the truth about her mother, or mothers rather. The blood test they had ran, told them the unexpected. Violet was not created from Wanda, or from nothing. Her DNA was clear and familiar. Sarah Rogers and Petra Maximoff in equal measure. A revelation that set everything in motion, pushing Violet from the fence she had straddled. Wanda and the life she’d known on one side, and the truth the avengers brought her that she could no longer deny. This time when they asked for her help, Violet held no hesitations. The people of Westview were hurting and it was time for it to end.

Of course, with that came the fear of her own end. It made sense that Violet could live within the hex but when it fell, by every estimation, she would disappear along with it. She wanted to be brave. But she didn’t want to die, not even if it didn’t hurt. Grace offered her arms to the girl, who melted into them trembling. She would have to confront Wanda, only she had a chance of asking her to disband it. The confrontation was horrible, Wanda’s grief and denial lashing like whips clinging to the hope that she might keep this one slice of peace and the defeat that filled her when Violet insisted that she was risking the life of every single person involved if she did not comply, especially Violet’s. With her friends and family to flank her, Wanda succumbed. Finally able to push through the fog of her power, Wanda promised to release Westview, even at the expense of Violet. The Avengers had debated lying to her, thankfully recalling it was what had gotten them into this to start with, they informed Wanda of the risk, allowing Violet to assure her she was prepared and willing. Teary goodbyes were exchanged and Violet pretended that oblivion did not petrify her, ultimately choosing Grace again to be the one with her when the hex finally came down.

Young Adulthood:

Born in an instant, Violet expected to embrace oblivion much the same. With her arms wound around Grace Rogers, she watched Wanda pull the hex apart at the seams and waited for the darkness that never came. The house she’d known for the entirety of her life, less than a year but decades to herself, disintegrated to the roots from which Wanda had built from, but Violet remained. She recalled the shocked eyes on her, the teary goodbyes that were exchanged suddenly moot and uncomfortable. She had prepared for the end and was suddenly confronted with a lifetime ahead of her, in a world she did not know. The reconciliation that every she had previously known had been a lie came slowly, nipping at her heels as she saw the truth at every street corner, the entirety of Westview returned to normal. To Violet, she’d spent twenty years wandering this town, she knew every street, every neighbour, every business... She’d known nothing, not a single sign was the same as they drove the streets in heavy exile, a thousand angry eyes following the vehicle.

Loving her family and the extended chaos she’d come to know from them had been easy within the hex. She’d never known anything else and for all she knew, never would. Their web was broad and colourful, with plenty of room for her if she chose, but the longer outside of the hex Violet spent with them, the more painfully obvious how little they knew her and she them. It contrasted horrifically with how well they seemed to know each other. Every mannerism, every tick, they worked symbiotically. Even the most cantankerous cogs meshed where they need to. Wanda was forgiven, a grieving mother they were desperate to protect. Day by day Violet’s resentment grew, the more displaced she felt the more ill at ease she became around Wanda in particular. It was her fault and hers alone that she had been sprung into this world so abruptly, that she existed as a husk of a women, made up of only parts of sitcom-like days to her memory, the vast majority of which were false and faded with each passing day she spent within reality. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She was the daughter of ghosts and felt like one herself, floating down the compound halls lonely and unfulfilled. She could understand Wanda, even empathise, but forgiveness seemed intangible.

Violet lasted only 3 months within the avengers compound. Unable to come to terms with her own existence and unable to forgive her pseudo-mother Wanda, Violet felt displaced within the Avengers unit. This was not her family. If she ever hoped to find one, she could not do so tethered to the lead weights that came with life surrounding the Avengers. But where could she go? She was uneducated, resourceless and alone. She was frightened to leave, but frightened to stay. Maybe these people did consider her family, but if this is how much damage is wielded against those they love, perhaps she was better off all alone regardless. Wanda tried to apologise, a hundred times over but Violet brushed back each attempt. They tried to warn her of the influence that chaos magic could take on a vessel. How it had taken Petra and almost Wanda completely, and that one day she may struggle with it too, but even that was not enough to quell her anger or grief. Perhaps she couldn’t blame Wanda, but she couldn’t forgive her either. She packed her bags in the middle of the night, almost creeping down the hall to tell Grace that she was leaving, of all the people here, she felt she owed an explanation most to her. But that would mean waking Steve, so Violet left wordlessly, only dialling agent Hayward when she reached the main road. He had offered her assistance in the real world, it was time now to take him up on it.

Violet struggles immensely with her identity and the knowledge her mothers had zero input into her creation. For all anyone can tell her, Sarah and Petra seemed unmoved by the idea of children and never actively pursued it to the knowledge of anyone within their inner circle. What would they make of her? This bastard creation, made with what was left of their earthly matter. Google only made it worse. Most pieces found on Petra made her seem like an unstable monster, that she had nearly destroyed a city after a life time of releasing dangerous criminals, hiding behind her friends in the Avengers Tower. Sarah’s framing was different, a martyr, who died to spare them from the monster, but looking over the years of criminal behaviour, not much better. They took what they wanted, much like Wanda. Violet could read between the lines and see some truths to the arguments of the others had made in their defences, the ones who had truly known them best. The print certainly made it sound worse but deniability became moot when she stumbled into the leaked footage, so much footage she felt ill. Their deaths, their rallies, the jailbreaks. Some only lasted seconds, but Petra and Sarah’s death had minutes of filming, distorted and from a distance sure, but Violet saw Petra crumble, and Sarah catch her. She saw them propped among the rubble until Sarah could no longer hold herself upright. It was overwhelming. She never knew them and they never wanted her, but watching these women die slowly while the world burned around them made Violet weep cold tears.

Adulthood:

Hayward was not a man to be trusted. Violet knew that from the moment he’d sent a drone in to the hex to fire upon her Mother. But he was simple. He kept promises to a minimum and delivered, what else could she really ask for at this point? She was given short term accomodation in exchange for running some noninvasive lab tests. Nothing with a needle, she’d insisted. She was smart as their tests displayed, frustratingly so for a creature so new to the world, but it prompted them to offer more. They gave her a chance to go to school, in exchange they monitored the way she flourished. In some ways she knew, like handing over semester grades and redoing their shitty tests over and over and in ways she did not; like constant surveillance and communication from her professors. Violet thought that she had been getting away with the new clothes she wore, the textbooks they had deliberately not provided in her hands despite no job, the food always filling her dorm fridge. Violet knew how to manifest and by watching her, they knew she knew it too, but said nothing. Like Wanda in the hex, Violet quietly fashioned herself to her own flights of fancy, plucked the things she needed from thin air, leaving them to wonder if she created it all on her own, or somehow pulled them from a reality that was not their own.

They watched her consistently, carefully, all the way through her years of college and doctoral studies, planting people in her life quietly to ensure eyes were on her at all times. Violet supposed because she had been so forthright and willing to provide information, that S.W.O.R.D. or whoever it was now overseeing her would have no reason to pry so invasively into every fold of her life, let alone go as far as to manufacture it almost like Wanda herself. It wasn’t until the hex that the world truly understood what a Maximoff power could provide outside of destruction; a key to salvation, if they could alter the world to a molecular level, physically creating matter rather than the illusions only thought possible before, what could this mean for the rest of them? The idiotic, violent behaviour that had come before had already cost them Petra Maximoff and Wanda was getting older, well past her years of having children unless she felt like plucking another from the cosmos. Violet fell into their hands so perfectly, the organisation was terrified of spooking her and losing all ground they have gained over the years. Violet is not the only Maximoff under surveillance, all of Orion’s children too have some form of government interest, as will Wade’s when the time comes.

She lives modestly, no longer in a home provided to her. Of course what Violet does not know is her lease may come from Ursula Ditkovich, a kind older woman who’d spent a small fortune fixing up the drab apartment building, a small fortune provided to her by S.W.O.R.D. no less. Violet is far from the only mutant in the building, more than a dozen of their designated marks reside within the building for easier surveillance, including Abel Thackery. Violet finally began to feel as though she had earned some autonomy from the cards that had been thrust upon her, aware of the devastating knowledge she was more controlled now than she had ever been before, and each liar had met her with a smile. She called them friends, some even more so.

Throughout her years of college, Violet has pursued mental health studies. This began as a way of coping with her own trauma’s and insecurity with the new world around her and morphed into a passion with minimal coaxing. She became convinced this was how she could make her difference, that this was the way to help people. Wanda, Petra... They had immense power they felt obligated to use for the greater good, maybe the best thing she could offer humanity was the decision to stay dormant. All the violence and horror they’d been exposed to lead to the crescendo of their power, one too many straws and the magic took hold of them, ate away at them until it was too late. Wanda had been saved, her daughter had not. If Violet stayed out of it all, she wouldn’t be forced to look breaking point in the eye and know that she was still flesh and blood and whatever was inside her allowed her free reign, but not absolute control. Instead, she looked other people’s breaking point in the eye and did her best to yank them back from the edge. Her powers were never intended to be involved, she was determined to live this aspect of her life as humanly as possible. She’d been successful until Charlie Flynn walked into her office.

Present Day: 

Charlie Flynn was the unknowing catalyst to the new direction her life had suddenly taken. He’d found seeds planted to lead his way to her, of course they hadn’t been specifically for Charlie but he had felt as such. They had wanted to test her, but it wasn’t as simple as sending in an agent. It had to be authentic, someone truly hurting and in need of help with no idea of who was pulling any strings, especially if Violet was going to be given free access to rifle through their thoughts. So they laid the breadcrumbs for the most desperate of the desperate to find her and they did, Charlie just happened to get there first. He knew who she was, what she was, what she could do. Online forums filled with conspiracies that watered down all the way until it trickled to her feet. He was an addict, unable to function addict who had dealt with more than anyone’s fair share of pain but he was still hanging on by a thread. A thread he explicitly stated to be the hope Violet provided that she could take it away.

At first she was horrified by the implication and terrified that he had tracked her down so invasively. But the more he spoke, the more she thawed. It was so much grief and misery, it felt suffocating to her. She thought back to the hex, the looming feeling of hopelessness that suffocated the town and compared it to the concentrated dose he had walked into her office with. Why should he suffer? What good did his martyrdom do when he was so close to the edge that any moment now he was likely to launch himself out of a window? He had tried to get clean a thousand times, even if he didn’t choose to end it all, how long until a dirty needle did? It was wrong, everything inside herself told her that much, but Violet ultimately agreed. She needled her way into his brain, rewriting the memories at a cellular level, erasing others completely. When their session ended, Charlie didn’t just feel like a new person, he looked like one, sounded like one. A lifetime of pain gone and she wondered if he was still himself in anything but name. After exiting the building, leaving Violet reeling with what she’d done, Charlie was pulled of the streets and tested upon. When the lab confirmed his brain scans to look completely regular, nothing as to be expected with long term mental illness and substance abuse, they confirmed what they’d suspected. She could rewire someone fundamentally, from all scientific view points, it seemed as though it was permanently as well.

Violet has had minimal contact with the Avengers over the years, unwilling to compromise her new life to include any of them within it. Unbeknownst to her, she needs them now more than ever as S.W.O.R.D. coerces her more and more down their bleak path. Her mentor, the doctor she works beneath, Violet believes to be a friend. When she first told him what she’d done, he seemed repulsed and afraid of the notion that she could so easily fiddle about within a human mind, he stood back and let her convince HIM that she was doing the right thing, now that she’s primed and ready to continue their experiments, he relented and agreed to help her, playing the part of the begrudging wiseman, playing on Violet’s naivety towards those she trusts. All it would take is one good look in his head to know he isn’t who he says he is and that his interest in her wellbeing is commercial. He is working closely with Violet, monitoring her sessions as more and more people track her down, watching intently and guiding her through their minds.

Worse still, Violet has began to notice that her body is unchanged, despite the decade she has spent in the natural world. Even as a super soldier, she has shown no genetic sign of ageing, something else that S.W.O.R.D. had learned before she had and neglected to share.