Aha im sorry I love this ship m an

warnings: abuse, self-harm, blood, neko-ness?

disclaimer: I don't own dan or phil? jfc

Dan's POV

Perhaps luck was simply not on your side.

Plenty of other people lived normal, happy lives. Most of them got married at some point in their lives and quite a few of them had children after that. They were all lucky, or at least in your eyes they were.

You were convinced that you would never have any of that.

Your name is Dan Howell, and you're a half-breed.

Half-breed as in you were half cat. Though you had no whiskers and with a hat on you looked like a perfectly normal human being, you certainly had a pair of chocolate-coloured ears coming out of your head and a soft furred similar coloured tail coming out of your arse.

Your eyes go into slits when you're scared and your fingernails have managed to grow into some rather sharp claws, requiring a trim every now and then. You've never minded any of these things, though you've been careful to try and hide them whenever you went outside, which was almost never considering your father was extremely abusive, both mentally and physically.

Your mother was dead, leaving nobody to help comfort you or tell your father to back off. You'd never been strong enough to do this yourself, either. Considering the amount of bruises you had on your body, you'd likely end up in the hospital for the fourth time if you attempted to rebel against him.

You're currently curled up on your rusty old bed, tail wrapped safely around you. It's one of those quiet moments when nobody's around to disturb you, though you're sure it won't last long. You usually savor these times, being quite rare since your father is almost always yelling at you to do this or that.

Sure enough, the man barges into your room, almost tearing the door off its hinges. You immediately bolt off the bed and scatter away into the corner of your room, cowering. Your dad is a very intimidating man; he's tall, unlike you, and he has various tattoos over his body.

He's also a drug and alcohol addict, which explains why he has little to no money most of the time. You rely on the low-paying job at an ice cream shop you have, the money from the job mostly going towards clothes and food, your father being too obsessed with buying things to get high and drunk on to care about your wellbeing.

He angrily walks toward you and grabs you by the collar, effectively cutting off your air and putting pressure on the bruises around your neck. You can smell the disgusting stink of alcohol on his breath and you recoil, squeezing your eyes shut and leaning away from him in general.

"Listen here, you little shit," He's yelling at you like always. You've grown used to it over the years. "Get your fat ass outside. It's time to take out the trash, and I won't be the one doing it," He roughly drops you onto the ground and you scamper away, struggling to get back onto your feet before he did something worse to you.

You shiver as soon as you step outside, cold air hitting your body, only being dressed in a t-shirt and black skinny jeans. The garbage smells like someone took a shit right in front of you. You take a second to wonder what kind of shit he's been eating recently; however, this soon ends as you realize something.

You're outside. Alone. In the front yard.

Your father was likely too drunk to comprehend that he was letting you outside unaccompanied. You're about to begin thinking about what kind of things he could do to you if he found you trying to run when you find yourself dropping the garbage and sprinting away, almost being hit by a car as you cross the road, ears and tail securely being hidden from the headlights by your hat and jeans, though you find it rather uncomfortable to go about like this.

You have no idea how long you've been running; your throat is stinging like hell and your legs feel like they're being ripped off. You're also feeling like you're going to vomit your guts out, nevertheless, you decide that it was much worse back at home.

Taking a moment to sit on the ground, you study your surroundings thoroughly. You seem to be in one of those alleyways where they have a dumpster and all, albeit you can't be sure due to the fact that it's pitch black and the only streetlight is quite a distance away.

You cover your face with your hands, claws poking your skin, while you try to even out your breathing. Your throat feels like its being burned from the inside out, reminding you that you never thought of where you were going to get food or water from. Hell, you hadn't given this whole thing much thought at all, you'd just ran at your first and now likely last chance.

The rest of your body sinks to the ground as you begin seeing black dots in your vision, grime and dirt sticking to your clothing and skin, breathing still extremely uneven and heavy. You feel yourself sigh as you drift off into sleep, deciding that you'll give all of this some thought in the morning when you can actually see more than three feet in front of you.

Your dreams are scarier than normal; most of them involve your father killing you in some kind of gory, inhumane way.

You wake up to banging noise, forgetting where you were and that you'd run away for a few minutes before realizing that it wasn't your father and that it was some man throwing garbage into the dumpster opposite from you.

You shrink back against the wall, closing your eyes, willing for the man to go away. Once you are certain you are no longer in any type of danger you crack an eye open, examining your surroundings for the second time.

It's early, the sun is only just beginning to rise and it's still fairly chilly out. You shiver as you get to your feet, almost falling back down as a sharp pain in your legs surprises you. Making a hissing-like noise, you suck it up and balance yourself with your hand against the wall. Parts of your clothing are covered in dirt and you feebly try to brush it off before realizing that it was likely stained. Great, You think. You've never spoken much due to the fact that your father used to hit you whenever you did, eventually silencing you whenever you were around him. It had become a habit. I probably look like some hobo now, Your bruises probably made people think that you were some highschooler who'd just gotten beaten up by the entire football team. Not that it mattered; you were planning on staying out of sight for as long as possible.

You suddenly hear a quiet mewl and you jerk away from the noise. Perhaps you were going insane?

You'd thought that you were just hearing things (and possibly losing your mind) when a small kitten made its way out from under the dumpster. It noticed you, to your distaste, and began making its way toward you, causing you to press against the wall.

The little thing sat at your feet, mewling noisily. Jesus Christ, if its owner was around they'd find you and you'd be in some pretty deep shit.

Realizing that it probably thought you were a cat too due to your scent, you lean down and pick the calico-coloured kitten up, careful not to puncture its delicate skin with your sharp claws. The thing purrs happily and nuzzles whatever part of your hand it can reach. It doesn't seem to be a stray; perhaps a housecat that got lost from its mother?

The feeling of someone or something comforting you was foreign to you and you didn't know how to react to the little kitten licking and nuzzling your skin. Cautiously, you sit back down and place it into your lap, running your fingers through the soft and plush fur. How could a so-called stray have fur like this?

Though there are traces of dirt on the white parts of the kitten you can tell that he or she is fairly healthy. Not seeing a collar or some kind of tag anywhere on the cat, and being desperate for some kind of companionship, you decide to take her (since you had no way of finding out its gender you settled on a girl) with you, or at least for now. You had no idea where you'd be going after this, and it was likely that your father was on the hunt for you.

You moment of peace is interrupted by loud laughter and swearing. Three men are coming down the alleyway and fuck they've seen you and they're heading your way. No no no no no, You place the kitten behind you and shakily stand up, raising your hands.

"'Ey, what've we got here?" The shortest of the men speaks first, grinning like he's won the lottery. He's also the first to attempt to approach you, causing you to hiss and jump away, baring your fangs. The guy, thankfully, doesn't notice any of your more.. unusual features and gestures for the other two to follow him. You're terrified at this point and even more so as the tallest walks up to you, punching you in your already bruised stomach, causing a shrill scream to rip from your throat.

It's the first time you've used your voice in so long. So very long.

You're now bent over the ground clutching your stomach so hard that your fists are beginning to turn white. The pain was comparable to what you often received at home on a daily basis, yet nothing you couldn't handle.

The next guy approaches you and kicks you again. They're all laughing now; even when you've begun to violently cough up blood, crimson staining the pavement below you. The fall caused you to scrape your arms fairly badly, droplets of blood peeking out of the scrapes.

Your eyes widen to the point where it hurts when you see one of the guys pull out a knife and kneel down over you with a wicked grin on his face. You're about to let out another scream when he clamps your mouth with his hand, digging the knife into your waist and running it through your skin like butter. Blood almost immediately begins pouring out of the wound. The pain is brutal; the cut running through multiple bruises, staining your skin once more, a red colour covering the blue, purple and black your bruises were.

He pulls out the knife very suddenly and you wonder what made him do it, as he seemed very intent on killing you not a moment before.

"Dude! There's someone coming over here!" The shortest one is already a fair ways away from the other two, and he's waving his arms at them in panic. "Let's get outta here before we get caught!" The one who just stuck his knife into you grunts, sounding disappointed, and both of them sprint away like there's no tomorrow.

Your whole body is burning up. It feels as if you are being skinned alive; you can feel a metallic taste in your mouth and your vision is starting to fade and blur when you feel a hand on your neck. You only get a glimpse of his ice blue eyes and raven-coloured hair before your vision goes black.

I have no idea how often i'll be able to update this oops but yeah I do hope you enjoyed