Cw Child Abuse - Blog Posts

Prologue - Blood Stains Don't Wash Off

Tw: mentions of abuse, and violence. Dead dove, do not eat.

There are countless ways to avoid violence. But avoidance doesn't mean survival.

Violence is stitched into the seams of existence — a pulse running beneath every century, every age. It thrives, adapts, becomes more creative, more cruel. We like to pretend we are better than our past, but reality doesn't flinch under the weight of our illusions. Even in a world infused with magic, people are still monsters. And monsters don't need fangs or claws. Sometimes, they wear the faces of your neighbors. Or your own family.

Hagarin was not the victim that day.

She was the witness.

A child, too young to spell her own name properly, stood paralyzed in the doorway as her mother's body became a canvas for violence. A fist to the ribs, a boot to the spine. Blood, spit, sobs. The kind of sounds that become permanent residents in your skull. Hagarin clamped her small hands over her eyes, praying that darkness would protect her, but the sharp metallic click of a pistol tore through the air.

"Watch."

A command. Not a plea. A curse.

She was forced to see it all — her mother's skin bruised into unrecognizable shades, her breath turned into shallow gasps until there was no breath left to take.

Hagarin's mother died that night, leaving behind three little girls and a silence too loud to bear.

In a world glutted with magic, you'd think there would be a spell for justice. But magic didn't save her. Magic was a luxury — one used more often to destroy than to heal. Power and violence walk hand in hand like childhood friends, both feeding off each other's hunger. Hagarin understood this at an age when most children only understand fairy tales.

Those who crave chaos? They are not misguided souls. They are predators, drunk on their own sense of invincibility, poisoning everything they touch. They rip the seams of peace just to see what spills out.

And Hagarin? She learned young that survival is not a right — it's a skill.

At seven years old, she became a mother, a protector, a builder of shelters, a scavenger of scraps. She wasn't good at any of it. But no one else was left to try.

She used magic to knock down trees because her hands were too weak. She built a shack with trembling fingers and whispered prayers that the walls would hold for at least one night. Her sisters clung to each other for warmth, while Hagarin stood guard at the entrance, eyes fixed on the sky. The moon was too bright — like it was exposing their helplessness for all the world to see.

That night, her lips moved in silent prayer — not to gods, but to whatever force was out there listening.

"Please. Let me be strong enough. Just for them. Even if it breaks me."

Tears traced down her dirt-streaked face, and for the first time, she allowed herself to feel the weight of what had been taken from her. But grief is a luxury you can't afford when you're responsible for someone else's survival.

They walked for days — blistered feet on broken ground — until the steel skyline of Aloy City appeared like a mirage in the distance. Aloy, the City of Metals. A place where survival was possible, but only if you were useful.

"Are we almost there?" the youngest sister asked, her voice soft from exhaustion.

Hagarin squeezed her hand. "Just five more hours." She wasn't sure if that was true. But hope tastes better when you lie with confidence.

"You're just guessing," Hanari, her twin, muttered.

"Obviously." Hagarin shrugged.

Hanari, loud and bright despite the darkness they carried, was everything Hagarin was not. They bickered like breathing — every argument a strange lifeline that reminded them both they were still alive. Still sisters.

Aloy was both salvation and sentence. A city where children like them became projects — charity cases processed and filed into the system. At the help center, they sat across from a woman who asked too many questions with too soft a voice. What happened to your parents? What did you see? How do you feel?

Hagarin wanted to scream. Instead, she said nothing. Hanari did all the talking — filling the silence with half-truths and protective lies, all while Hagarin's hands dug crescent moons into her palms beneath the table.

When they were placed onto a bus, bound for an orphanage disguised as a "facility," Hagarin didn't cry. She just stared out the window, watching her reflection blur against the world passing by.

Life at the facility was not kind, but it was stable — which was almost the same thing. They were clothed, taught to read, trained to summon spells from nothing but breath and willpower. Time passed, and they grew taller, sharper, harder. But Hanari never lost her brightness. The little sister never lost her innocence.

And Hagarin never lost the weight in her chest — the cold iron reminder that peace is temporary, and safety is always conditional.

She watched from the window as Hanari and their sister chased each other through the grass, laughing like the world hadn't tried to crush them under its boot.

For a moment, Hagarin let herself believe it was possible — that they could outrun the ghosts, the memories, the trauma woven into their bones.

But only for a moment.

Because Hagarin knew better than anyone: The past never stays buried.

And the worst monsters aren't the ones hiding in shadows. They're the ones smiling in the light.

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 2,731 words.

Next chapter: Chapter 1: Present time

A high effort shit post based off of this post I saw a while back and tagged Hunter core.

(Click image for better quality)

Natalia Grace, from a victim of Neglect and Narcissistic Abuse

The case of Natalia Grace hits home incredibly hard for me. It occurred in my home state, in very familiar locations.

She also is only one year older than I am. I grew up parallel to her. And when she was alone in that apartment at age 9, struggling to care for herself because no one ever taught her, I was in the middle of my parents’ horrific divorce also struggling to care for myself because no one was there to teach me.

Comments were made towards me around that time about how I hardly ever brushed my hair, I didn’t take a shower until I was told, I didn’t know I needed a bra, I wore pajamas to school, I never brushed my teeth. And when I heard the neighbors comment about how she smelled and her hair was dirty and she would come into their houses only looking for something to eat, I immediately thought fuck, it’s because she’s a kid! And also disabled, even if she were an adult she can’t fucking care for herself! And the neighbors that thought she was creepy or annoying, I got those comments too. People wanted away from me because at age 9 all I wanted to talk about was Warrior Cats or My Little Pony or Minecraft, nothing else.

The most important lesson I’ve learned in my adult life is that nothing is taught. Everything, common sense and basic self care, everything must be taught to a child. And people who don’t know how to do those things almost always come from neglect or abuse. I suffered neglect. Natalia suffered both.

And when I saw the clip of Michael Barnett interrogating her about the social worker and the donuts, that was eerily similar to the rants my step mom would go on about my dirty laundry or me drinking her orange juice. Abusive Narcissists like to put you down about the stupidest, smallest things. And there’s nothing you can say to stop it, you just have to sit there. When she was sitting in silence, just blinking at him, saying “I don’t know”, I felt that. Because I have been there.

I’ve blocked a lot of what I’ve experienced out, just because that’s what happens when you’re ill. Occasionally I’ll have moments of clarity though, when I remember, oh this horrible thing happened! Or I should know how to do this! And I realize why I don’t. I’m still struggling to keep up with my peers in all areas. I can’t imagine also being beaten, physically punished, abandoned, and then having to see your abusers get away with it. And on top of all that - being physically disabled.

There is no fucking doubt about this. Natalia Grace was born in 2003, proven by genetic evidence and dental records and BY HER BIRTH MOTHER. She was 9 years old when she was left abandoned in that apartment. And Michael Barnett and Kristine Barnett are monsters. I believe that no matter what kind of afterlife exists, they will be punished for what they’ve done.

Father // The Front Bottoms

This started as a vent comic but turned into a whole thing that really helped me work through some feelings of my own- this song applied to Hunter makes me go crazy and I hope it strikes a chord with someone else too.

For me it’s like. Struggling with feeling like you’re broken and you can’t/won’t ever be able to do things normally due to your trauma and having confusing feelings towards people who hurt you yk?

inktober 11: cruelty

um... this is more vent art but... I kind of drew a bit of a traumatic event form my childhood... i don’t really wanna talk about it...

The Disney Company has made it’s back-catalog of work the foundation of the corporation since the 90′s. While at the same time, distancing themselves from the ugly realities that plague the companies history. Covering them up in hopes that the public forgets. Racism, animal abuse, and their now-obscure, former-superstar, young Bobby Driscoll. 

The Disney Company, while so-often celebrating their “masterpiece collection” of films, and “Disney Legends” such as Mary Blair, Annette Funicello and Kathryn Beaumont, the name Bobby Driscoll remains conveniently left out. This is entirely intentional.

Who is Bobby Driscoll?

Discovered in a barber shop at the age of 5, Bobby was the first actor to ever be signed under-contract by Disney Studios. In 1946, his starring role in Song of the South made him an overnight sensation. At one point, he was the highest paid child actor in Hollywood. Soon, he was Disney’s golden-goose, with films like Melody Time, So Dear to My Heart and Treasure Island. He even won an Academy Award for his performance in the film noir, the Window.

Today, he is best remembered as the voice and live-action model of the titular Peter Pan.

What Happened to Bobby Driscoll?

Despite his success, Bobby could never seem to please his parents. They physically abused him, and kept him locked in a closet for hours at a time. Sometimes, all night. When Bobby was around 9, the beatings became so bad Disney temporarily moved the boy in with the family of his co-star, Luana Patten. They could not shoot, after all, if their star was battered and bruised.

When shooting wrapped, he went back home. Child abuse was still extremely normalized during this time, and was also an accepted method of getting a good performance out of a child. Many of Bobby’s contemporaries describe being slapped in the face or being manhandled by adults as every-day occurrences on set.

Around this time, Walt Disney himself became fixated on Driscoll, Marc Elliot stating Walt often referred to Bobby as “the living embodiment of his own youth.” He saw the child as an extension of himself, and ignored Bobby’s own identity. Bobby was susceptible to the attention and latched onto Walt as a father figure. He came to see Disney Studios as a family, and indeed “Uncle Walt” encouraged this idea, especially among his child performers. One former animator described feeling uncomfortable by seeing higher-ups kiss Bobby on the face and mouth.

During Bobby’s pre-teen years, he was signed to a new 7-year contract and given a substantial raise of $1750 per week. Bizarrely, Bobby was now making the most money he ever would, while actually working less than ever before. 

He was cast in the leading role of Peter Pan, as both the voice and visual inspiration for the character. Peter had Bobby’s wide eyes, and upturned nose. If you watch any Bobby Driscoll movie, and then watch Peter Pan in motion, you can easily see the character’s every facial expression and mannerism taken directly from Driscoll. His expressive eyebrows, nose-scrunching, even down to the way he positions his wrists.

As Bobby got older, Walt stopped speaking affectionately of him in meetings. He stated Bobby was no longer likeable enough to play protagonists. Meanwhile, Peter Pan was released, and is a massive hit.

In 1953, Bobby began to hear rumours he would be fired. He tried asking the higher-ups he was formerly friendly with, but none would speak to him. He went to Walt’s secretary, asking to speak to Mr. Disney. She refused to call him, and when Bobby asked again, she abruptly told him he was no longer needed and to get out.

Stunned, Bobby burst into tears. She called security, and had the boy escorted off of Disney property. Disney Studios told the press they had let Bobby go due to an extreme case of acne, which sullied his image with other movie studios. 

Personally, I don’t buy the acne explanation. Acne can be covered, and Disney was focusing heavily on television at this time, which had terrible picture quality compared to film. Not to mention, Walt had already talked about shifting Bobby into playing unlikeable bully characters. But the true reason for the cancellation of Bobby’s seven year contract may never be known.

Unable to find work, Bobby’s parents enrolled him in public school. He was mercilessly bullied for his Disney roles, being beaten up by his classmates constantly. He stated he “became afraid all the time”, and it was at this time he began experimenting with drugs.

After being imprisoned for possession of marijuana, he was eventually sentenced to a “rehab centre”. The so-called first of it’s kind, employed no doctors or nurses, and used abusive psychiatric practices now outlawed.

During this time, Disney was making millions off of the heavy merchandising of Peter Pan. Bobby never saw a dime from this, despite his likeness being used.

Bobby’s life remained difficult, and although he had a few more acting roles, and became a talented artist in the beatnik scene, he just couldn’t make enough money to get by.

He died on March 30th 1968, aged 31, without a penny to his name. Alone, and forgotten. He was found on a dirty cot in an abandoned building. His body was unidentified, and police could not find anyone who recognized him. He was buried in a mass grave, unmarked, on Hart Island. 

Eventually, his mother asked Disney to help find him, and he was finally identified through finger prints. Although, his remains were not moved to a cemetery, which would have been possible at the time.

The public did not learn of Bobby’s death until 1973, when Song of the South was re-released in theatres.  After his death had been reported, actress Jane Wyman insinuated in an interview that Bobby had been sexually abused while working for Disney.

Erasure of Bobby by Disney

As mentioned above, Bobby has never been named an official “Disney Legend”, despite fan petitions and letter-writing campaigns since the start of the program in the late 80′s.

Both the Peter Pan VHS, and DVD making-of featurettes only mention Bobby Driscoll in passing. Compared to the Alice in Wonderland DVD, which features an entire documentary about Alice’s voice actress.

The DVD release of So Dear to My Heart was cancelled without explanation. Years later, it was quietly released as a Disney Movie Club Exclusive. Making it rare and difficult to find.

Fan requests for a memorial to Bobby Driscoll in Disney Parks have also gone unanswered. Disney will likely never own up to Bobby Driscoll, or what the company did to him. His story is tragic, and paints the company in an uncomfortable light, going directly against it’s branding of love, family and happy endings. After all, if the average joe-blows and Karens of the world knew what happened to Bobby Driscoll, they might cancel their Disney+ subscription. And Disney certainly doesn’t want that to happen.