I haven't posted anything on FFN in years, but uh. Here you go I guess. c: It's cross posted on AO3 as well. Talk shit and I'll block you, enough said. Cover art is by my boyfriend, Rengulus on twitter. Why is FFN's editor still garbage?

To Do List:

Go to Class - check

Grocery shop; sale on ramen today - check

Renew bus pass if promotional student sale is still available - failed; going to be walking for a while.

Homework - On the way home now.

Lance ran his hands through his hair and almost wanted to scream. He went over his list of "has to get done today or else" multiple times as he walked down the sidewalk. Being a college student on your own for the first time is grueling and quite frankly terrifying. The brunette could now honestly write sonnets to his mama why it was pure punishment to have to grow up. There wasn't a single part of the cuban boy that didn't want to be five years old again, hanging off of his abuelita's apron strings.

He started watching his feet as he made his way through a small crowd; it was an old habit he had developed as a kid. It typically didn't bode well for walking the busy streets of Los Angeles, though. Lance collided with something solid and groaned loudly as he stumbled. Rubbing his forehead, it only took Lance a moment to notice the distinct purple hue of the person he'd accidentally hit. Eyes wide, he attempted to apologize profusely.

Her ears were folded back against her head and she looked sympathetic. Her bright yellow eyes were round and she parted her lips as if she was about to say something before her owner stepped in. The older white woman's voice was soft and the Galra seemed to visibly relax. "Sorry kid, she didn't mean to scare you. Casia is a little shy."

"N-no, sorry ma'am. It wasn't her fault, I wasn't watching where I was going. Have a nice day." Lance tried to smile and bowed his head in apology.

Casia sounded like a pretty name; she has been dressed really well too. It was so nice to see someone actually letting their Galra have a sense of self and fashion. The older woman must have been a great owner. Lance mused over it for a moment as he cut across the street to a park close to his apartment. He stopped by a large sign reading "Dearborn Park" to check his phone. Gracious, his mother was a worry and a half; he loved her for it though.

That hadn't been the first Galra that Lance had met but it was almost just as jarring every time. Humanoid hybrids were practically unheard of out east where he was from. The south was still struggling with people that were different colors or sexualities let alone literally only part human. He couldn't imagine how tough it would be for a Galra out that way.

The concept of gene splicing had easily revolutionized the world and genetic modification ran rampant within the science communities. It started with plants to produce better, fuller crops and led to fixing genetic disadvantages in dogs like an English Bulldog's respiratory problems. And well, then it just grew until people decided that putting animal features on humans seemed like a grand idea. There were several painstaking ethics debates about Galra and their place in the world; if they were considered human, didn't they have unalienable rights, was it beastiality to marry one… Lance had grown up hearing about the discourse his entire life.

Lance was just barely old enough to remember the outrage and protests that had broken out across the world when the UN had decided that Galra, intrinsically were high class pets. People started selling the humanoid dogs and cats, profiting off of the "breeding" Galra and their new societal title. Sure, a heavy amount of the Galra went into medical training to become special needs helpers but it was common knowledge that the rich and elite liked to keep them as pets or maids. Even their skin color was a mark of their treatment. The purple skin tone was synthetically introduced so that one could easily spot the Galra from a crowd. You can cover your ears and tails but skin was a bit more tricky to hide.

Lance had never liked thinking about it. He had no use for a Galra pet; a "special helper" or otherwise. Hell, he'd never even dream of being able to afford one let alone want to own a humanoid like that. The entire thing felt a whole lot too much like slavery for his tastes. He felt a little guilty about it, but honestly it had just never been an issue he had to deal with growing up. Galra were for rich or disabled people, not poor Latino boys growing up in the Gulf. It's easy to block out an issue when it's not constantly in your face.

The smell of candy roasted pecans and funnel cake wafted through the air, pulling Lance away from his phone. His stomach grumbled and it was more than tempting to blow what little spending money he had on a sweet treat. He hated walking through the park sometimes; he hated being jealous of little kids running around with ice cream and no cares in the world. Negative thoughts like that didn't help anything though. Lance could practically hear his mother yelling at him to enjoy the situation he has and to never steal someone else's walk of life because you never know how rough their path is.

He sighed softly and shoved his phone into his back pocket. With a renewed vigor, Lance made his way through the park and happily watched as a few kids were gathering up for a quick game of basketball. He almost tripped on a frisbee that had hit him in the ankle and caught himself by grabbing onto a metal bike rack. He yelped and pulled away from the metal, falling onto his bum. The metal had to be at least 100 degrees from constantly baking in the sun.

Lance shook his hand, trying to quell the gentle burn to his palm and stubbornly kicked the bike rack. He would have almost completely missed the figure in front of him had it not been for the quiet whimper when the metal vibrated. Lance's eyes went wide as he watched the galra male curl his knees closer, covering his face. Something didn't feel right about this situation.

Lance forgot about the slight pain in his hand and moved slowly, trying to get closer to the frightened hybrid. It flinched and Lance's face dropped. The poor thing was clearly frightened and under distress. He glanced around, trying to see why no one else was with the Galra or at the very least watching over it and trying to help find it's owner. That's when he noticed the thick band around the purple being's neck and followed it to where the "leash" was looped to the solid metal bike rack. Someone had left this poor being here, tethered like some kind of disobedient dog.

The galra tried to moved, yanking at the leather- fuck, was that a belt?! - around his neck and only ended up choking slightly and knocking his knees into the foliage. How long had this poor creature been here? Was this normal? Did people just regularly tie up Galra and then just go galavanting around the park? Lance looked over the Galrian boy and swallowed thickly. He only had on a pair of dirty black swim trunks and his tail looked bruised from the way he was forced to sit from the leash keeping him too low to get comfortable or stretch his legs. The skin across his cheeks looked almost navy from an obvious sunburn and Lance could feel a steady rage pulling at his stomach when he saw the blistered burns on the back on the boy's legs and neck from the metal and concrete.

A metal bowl was close to his hand, bone dry and filthy from exposure to dirt and nature. How had the boy been drinking from it if his neck was quite literally chained a few inches from the metal railing? The human couldn't think clearly. He knew feral galra, what little there were, could be dangerous but nothing about this cowering boy screamed wild. He took a step closer and extended his hand, speaking low. "Hi, my name is Lance. D-do you have a name?"

The black haired galra shook his head, wincing at how the binding moved against his tender flesh. He pointed to Lance's feet, bright yellow eyes petrified and wide. Lance looked down, realizing he had stepped on some kind of cardboard. It was literally a sign.

Untrainable. Take him.

Lance didn't think it was possible to be as beyond livid as he currently was. The cardboard wilted and bent under his hold as he tried to think of anything he could possibly do. Did he tell the police? Did he call animal control? This poor boy deserved and needed attention now. The back of his neck looked almost like a second degree burn.

Lance knew what he had to do. His family would never let him show his face at home again if they knew he turned his back on this poor boy. Taking a deep breath, the Latino hunkered down onto the Galra's level. He hissed slightly from the heat of the concrete on his bare knees but knew it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

"I'm going to undo this belt, alright? Please stay still. I will try my best to be as gentle as possible." Lance's voice was soft, almost like he was talking to a child that didn't want to rip a bandaid off.

A small whimper passed the purple skinned boy's lips but he physically stiffened, sitting on his palms as a sign of good faith. A part of him seemed to trust Lance.

"Dios…" Even the leather of the belt was uncomfortably hot in Lance's hand. This poor, poor boy had to be in almost excruciating pain. To his credit though, the Galra never once lashed out or snapped at Lance like the human's anxiety had supplied.

Standing up, Lance offered the boy his hand. A soft, sad smile breached his features and he tried to help the other to stand. "I'm… I'm going to help you back to my apartment, alright? I can feed you and treat any sore spots you have."

Yellow eyes narrowed but his peaked interest was given away by the almost too large furry ears lifting from their pressed down position. Oh no, this poor boy was adorable. Lance gave a small, genuine smile and surveyed the boy's form a final time now that he was standing.

The Galra was short, possibly the same age or younger than Lance himself; seemingly malnourished if his ribs were anything to go by and… holy fuck, Galra had padded feet. How had Lance never known that there were humanoids walking around, doing day to day life things with literal paws for feet. Jesus Christ, that was adorable.

No. this is serious. Focus.

Stringy black hair clung to the Galra's forehead and neck, making his eyes pop even more. This particular boy must of been a cat hybrid; those eyes were stunning and beyond sharp. Despite his incredibly obvious fear, Lance almost felt like this creature could stare into his soul and use him as a veritable puppet. It was unnerving. The boy's lithe frame looked wobbly and exhausted but a line of defiance raced through his eyes. Lance liked that.

Lance should've seen it coming when the trembling boy fainted and fell forward. His skin felt clammy and almost sticky when Lance tried to hold him up. Anxiety and panic struck the Hispanic college student, making him send a quick prayer that this poor soul didn't just die or that it didn't seem like Lance was stealing someone's pet. How had no one else seen this poor hybrid? He had clearly been there long enough to suffer pure heat exhaustion and dehydration. How had people just walked passed him without even trying to help? Lance's stomach soured.

Scooping up the unconscious boy, Lance did the only thing he could do and started the trek to his apartment. He held the nameless Galra close to his chest, another wave of anger crashing over him at the realization of how small and skinny he was. This was far more than a few days of missed meals. God, the brunette hoped his new companion liked cup ramen.

Lance, barely stopping to think about it, whispered his vows to the hopefully resting kid. He would save him. He would make sure take care of him properly and give him a life worth living. No one deserved to be thrown out like yesterday's garbage. He didn't have a lot, but he knew deep down that this was the right thing to do and he would choose this path every time.