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You had been invited to your friend Don’s house to watch his naga’s clutch hatch. He bred them, humanely of course, and it was always exciting when he messaged your group chat that one of the clutches was hatching and for all of your friends to come and see the newly-hatched little skeletons.
This clutch was just the same as the last several. He was a small breeder- he had a pair of Sans-type bitties- a Cherry and a Baby Blue- who together produced eggs every year for their owner. It was part of their deal- Don actually paid his nagas to breed at their own pace and lay eggs for him to raise. It sounded like a pretty sweet deal to you- Baby Blue got pregnant once a year for a couple of months, and the rest of the year was spent relaxing, buying cool bitty-sized things on the internet, and cuddling with his adorable little partner, Cherry.
Things happened, though. Of course things had to happen the morning you were invited over to witness the reveal of the hatched nagas.
“They started pipping yesterday,” Don explained, the terminology going right over your head. Cherry and Blue were nowhere to be seen- once the eggs were laid, Blue’s job was done, and Don was the one who hand-raised the baby snakes. It was hard, given that they were little more than ten inches nose to tail at birth, but they were large compared to most bitties, so Don made do.
The human lead you through the house into the kitchen, where a couple of your other friends were waiting. They waved to you, and you smiled back.
There was some chit-chat. A bit of flare, a show, as Don took off the lid.
Inside were four nagas, healthy and perfect, all different breeds of bitties. The small group gasped as they saw the adorable little things curled up in balls resting…
Your eyes were only for the fifth. The littlest thing you’d ever seen- two inches, maybe, in its upper half. As all the babies raised their heads to look up at you, you saw that this little one’s eyes were lightless. They uncurled as the light flooded into the container, and you saw that the runt with the faded red magic was missing an arm from the elbow down.
The others were quick to ask permission to pick up the healthy nagas, who were all either Cherries or Baby Blues, and soon all three of your friends were fawning over them. Don and you exchanged a look as you moved closer to the little one that was left in the corner, so small.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Don said, reaching in and picking up the naga. It grabbed onto his hand with its arm as he lifted it up and examined it. It had a couple small kinks in its spine. “This has only happened once before… Baby Blue has a real good record.”
“What happened?” you breathed, hurrying over to him and reaching out for the snake. He deposited the little guy into your palms and you held him, careful not to drop the thing. Its tongue was darting out and tasting the air, but it wasn’t looking around.
“Hard to say- sometimes life’s just not fair. Little thing must’ve got the short end of the stick- blind, looks like, and with kinks like that…”
You stroked down its back and the naga snuggled into your palm, its one good hand clutching at your skin. The others were watching the exchange now, healthy nagas content to lay in the warmth of their palms as they gave the poor creature sad eyes.
“What… what’s going to happen to it? Can you take it to the vet?” you asked as Don held his hand out for the naga.
“Aw jeez,” he said, holding the snake with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “Nah, I mean… Deformities like this, y’know, it’s best just to cull it…”
“Cull?” you asked.
“You know… euthanize.”
“Wh- no!” you said at once, tears coming to your eyes as you reached out for the naga again. Don handed it back to you without a fight and you held it against you.
“Aw man, I’m sorry… if I’d known there’d be a dud I wouldn’t have invited y’all over to see them like this, I know it’s hard, but-”
Another of your friends put their hand on your shoulder. “C’mon, man, Don knows what's best. If the little guy’s fucked up like this, it’s probably best to put him down.”
“But- but-” you floundered, holding the naga just a little tighter.
“If it lives- if it lives, with those kinks- it’s not going to have a good life. Nobody’s going to want to buy a naga like that, I know it sucks but that’s just how it is,” Don explained softly. He looked genuinely sorry, maybe even upset, but you were mad. Mad at him, mad at life, even.
“Well, I’ll buy a naga like this,” you said at once.
Don stared at you for a moment. There was a pause.
“You’re serious? You know how much work it is to raise a baby naga, let alone a disabled one?”
You looked down at the little guy in your arms. It was maybe seven inches long, total, little fingers curling and uncurling into your shirt, flicking its tongue out into the world as its sightless eyes stared at nothing.
“Will you teach me how?” you asked, looking up at Don.
He rubbed his neck again, but with a sigh, he nodded.
And that was that.
---
Everybody but you left not long after that. The mood of the little get together had been absolutely destroyed by the “runt” of the clutch.
“So, good thing, nagas hatch mostly developed, like snakes. Bad thing, this little guy won’t be very self sufficient, because of the deformity.”
You nodded. Don was writing things down on a sheet of paper, the four healthy nagas already in their baby bins and sleeping. You were still holding the runt- he was so tiny. All skeleton nagas were male, so you were trying to think of names that fit him. His magic was very dull and his pattern was non-uniform and kind of bland.
“Good thing, nagas usually only need fed about once a week, maybe twice when they’re young. Bad thing, because of the kinks, the runt won’t be able to process large food, so you’re going to have to feed him smaller meals more frequently. I’d say three times a week, maybe four, give him about an ounce of lunch meat, let him eat his fill, but make sure he eats it slowly. Any kind will do, skeleton nagas aren’t particular, though I’ve found they like turkey and ham the most. Stay away from processed meats. Raw chicken is also a good alternative.”
You nodded as Don wrote all of this down, trying to commit it to memory.
“I’ll give you a box for him, and a hide, and a spare heat mat. He’ll be pretty tired from the hatching process for a while- it’s a miracle he didn’t drown in his egg fluids. Socialization is important, though it’ll be hard not to socialize him, because he’ll be completely reliant on you.”
Another nod. Don looked at you as he paused his writing.
“I’m gonna be honest, this is going to be a lot of work, even once he matures. The ‘blind’ part isn’t usually a problem for actual snakes, but this is a naga, and nagas require a lot of stimulation- Cherry and Baby Blue have an old phone that they play with constantly. In a way, they’re kind of like tiny people.”
“Okay. I can manage.”
“And I’m gonna be double honest- even with all the proper care, he might not make it. He’s very outwardly deformed, and that could mean something inside that ain’t right, too. If I were you, these first few weeks, hold off on the vet’s number I’m writing down. If he can’t make it through, there’s not much the vet can accomplish and you’ll just end up wasting your money.”
You didn’t think “attempting to save an innocent life” was a waste of money, but you nodded. Don was being more than accommodating of your soft heart.
He sighed and wiped down his face, sliding you the sheet of paper. “There. That’s everything I can think of, if you have anymore questions you’re always free to text.”
“Thank you, Don,” you said, and you meant it. He gave a tired smile.
“Yeah, no problem. Honestly, I hate having to cull the little guys, so… in a way, I guess this is just me passing off my problems to you. Let me go get your stuff.”
Don went back into his breeding rooms, and you were left with the dull, miniscule naga in your arms.
“You’re gonna be okay, hun,” you said softly, rubbing at his tiny, tiny skull. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”
He flicked his little tongue.
---
Back home, it wasn’t hard to get him set up. His bin was small- it didn’t need to be large, and since he was blind, you didn’t want him to get lost in a bigger enclosure. On one side, under his hide, was the heat mat, and on the other a water dish.
You let him rest in the hide, and he seemed content. He didn’t move a lot. It didn’t seem like he was in any pain. You guessed you’d find out when you fed him if he could actually digest the food- these were monsters, of course, so it was all dissolved into magic eventually, but the process took time and space in there, and with the kinks you weren’t sure it could reach the places it needed to in order to get “digested.” Don seemed doubtful, but you weren’t going to give up on him yet.
Don had told you that your naga wouldn’t likely be hungry until after his first shed, which could take up to a week. That gave you plenty of time to go out and buy food for your new little friend, who had been set up in your bedroom, where you spent a majority of your time.
You didn’t disturb the naga the rest of the night.
You were woken the next morning by crying. You jerked awake and immediately went to your naga, who was outside of the hide and pawing with his good arm at the side of the tank.
“Shh, I’m here, I’m here,” you cooed, reaching in and picking him up. He stopped crying at once and snuggled into you, kinked tail curling around your arm as much as it could, given its miniscule length.
“You’re okay, bud,” you said softly, stroking along his back.
The rest of the day (which was thankfully a weekend) was spent with your naga. He didn’t do much, barely vocalized, just clung onto you. You eventually found that he loved hiding in the front pocket of your hoodie, so long as your hand was in there to keep him warm and toasty.
You did a lot of research on nagas that day. How they aged, their diets, how to keep them, things like that. You found that hatchlings typically started speaking within the few couple of weeks of hatching, and could be taught language at that point. They ate small mice when available, but were also perfectly happy to live on human foods, like Don had told you.
Your research brought up one more question; a name. He didn’t have a name yet…
You looked down at him, his skinny little tail, the mismatched and nonsymmetrical pattern along his back, and you thought hard for a moment. It was messy and hard to parse in some places, a bit of a tangled mess...
“...Tangle. Your name is Tangle, little guy,” you said as he slept in your arms after growing bored of the hoodie pocket. He looked up at you, but not quite at you, tongue flicking as he tested the air.
“Can you say that? Tangle?”
“Ah…” he babbled. You smiled and gave his head a rub.
“Very good!”
---
Tangle’s first meal was tense. Five days passed by quickly, a majority of your free time spent with the snake, and eventually he did get hungry.
“Right here, little one,” you coaxed, using your finger to guide him to where you were holding the small cube of raw chicken. He was so fuckin’ small that your finger was the size of his upper half, pretty much.
Tangle leaned forward and tested the air. With his good arm he reached out and hesitantly fumbled the meat into his palm, only dropping it once before he sunk his malformed fangs into it and chowed down.
Okay. So he could eat.
“Good boy!” you said, giving his skull a scratch. You waited a few minutes for his food to go through before you gave him another tiny, tiny chunk.
In all, he ate less than an ounce of chicken, but you were satisfied. He seemed satisfied, too, because he curled up in your arms and all but purred as he fell asleep.
You were careful to monitor him the rest of the night as his magic processed all of his meal. Nothing seemed to go wrong- you texted Don about an hour after he ate and asked how long it usually took for a meal to get fully absorbed. Don said about three hours.
Three hours went by, then four, and Tangle didn’t seem phased. You sighed in relief.
You bought Tangle some cheap internet bitty shirts, but ended up having to alter them because they were all too big for him. He was growing so fast- two weeks had gone by, and Tangle was still alive and kicking, so your worries of waking up and finding a pile of dust under his hide were slowly beginning to fade.
“Tangle,” you said, the aforementioned snake belly-up in your arms. You scratched at his little tummy, a bit swollen after his meal.
“Tagguh,” he replied. You smiled down at him even though you knew he couldn’t see it.
“Naga,” you said, touching him. “You’re a naga.”
“Nuh…” he babbled, reaching out with his arms, one a bit more stumpy than the other. You put the tip of your pinky into his hand and he held it.
“You’re my naga,” you said gently. Tangle cooed at that.
---
Bath time was fun. Tangle was having a bit of trouble with his fourth shed, so after a consultation text with Don, you were giving him a bath to help him loosen the dead skin so it was easier to peel.
“Tangle, you have to get in,” you said softly, tub of water already prepared for him, warm and clean.
“No!”
“Tangle, it’ll help with your shed…” you said softly. The naga was on the counter beside the tub, arms crossed as much as they could be, pouting.
“No!” he repeated. He was almost eight weeks old now and his favorite word was definitely ‘no.’
“Maybe I’ll take a bath without you…” you said with a smile, poking him gently on the chest, leaving your finger there to tease him. He broke, smiling at the ground as his tongue flicked and he grabbed your finger.
“Nooo, Tangle bath too?”
“I don’t know… what do you say?” you asked.
“Please?”
You helped him in, giving him little warnings and signals when things were about to happen. You didn’t want him to get too spooked by anything he couldn’t see.
He looked so silly, like a soggy noodle, picking his dead skin off to float in the tupperware full of warm water.
You sang to him while he bathed.
---
Tangle grew like a beanstalk. By the time he was four months old, he was talking like a pro, per your lessons and help.
“I don’t want to eat slow,” he whined, picking at his T-shirt and waiting longingly for another piece of chicken.
“You know you have to, baby, you might get hurt otherwise.”
“I wanna eat fast!”
You frowned. “I know… but sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do to feel good- you don’t want to get hurt, do you?”
It was Tangle’s turn to frown.
“Mama,” he began, a little more timid than usual, “do all nagas eat slow like me? How come humans eat fast?”
Your heart fell.
“Well… other nagas can eat a lot more than you can. Because of your kinks, you have to eat slower and smaller, so all the food can get absorbed.”
“Why do I have kinks?”
Your heart fell even deeper.
“It’s how you were born,” you said softly. “Some nagas are born like you are- you’re very special.”
He thought about it for a moment. He didn’t seem phased as he shrugged and reached out for his piece of chicken.
“Okay,” he said, and you let him have it, and he gulped it all down in a hurry.
---
You thought about changing his name when he got older- though the name ‘Tangle’ had largely been inspired by his pattern and not his kinks, you winced every time he said it, hoping he wouldn’t be bothered.
“Tangle?” you asked one afternoon as the two of you rested.
“Yeah?” he replied, squirming around in your arms to go belly-up, eyes kind-of sort-of looking in your direction.
“Do you mind being called ‘Tangle’ or would you like a different name?”
“I like it!” he said at once. “It’s my name, and you gave it to me… why?”
“Well… I gave you the name because of the patterns in your scales,” you explained, tracing some of said patterns with your finger, “but… if it bothers you to be called that, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t pick your own name.”
“No, I like it. I got tangled patterns and a tangled up tail!”
“But I don’t want you to be defined by your tangles,” you pressed on, wanting to be absolutely sure. “It isn’t like other nagas are named “tail” or “arms” or something, so…”
“Well I don’t care! I like my name!” he protested, flicking his tail in mind annoyance. “I don’t wanna change it!”
You sighed. “Okay, you don’t have to. I just wanted to make sure…”
“Would you want somebody to give you a new name? Don’t you like being called Mom?”
You smiled at him and scratched his little chin.
---
“Do other nagas have two arms?”
You paused the cartoon the two of you were watching- well, you were watching. You were telling the naga what happened that he couldn’t see. Tangle was six months old now- growing fast. Too fast- it felt like you’d only had him a short time and he was already so grown up.
“Most other nagas do.”
“How come I only have one? What happened to the other one?”
“It’s just how you were born, honey,” you explained. “Nothing happened to it- you were born without it.”
“Why?”
You winced a little. You held him a bit tighter and stroked along his back and he snuggled into you.
“Sometimes… people are born a little different. Some people don’t have arms, or legs, and some nagas have kinks in their tails. There isn’t really a reason why it happens.”
“Mama?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Is it bad that I can’t see and don’t have two arms?”
“No!” you said at once, sitting up a little straighter. “Oh goodness, no. Honey, you’re perfect the way you are- it isn’t bad at all. All that matters is that you’re happy and healthy.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, flicking his tongue for a moment. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he curled himself against your chest and closed his sightless sockets.
---
Tangle was full of questions. He was curious about colors- you did your best to explain them, and he was fascinated.
“What are trees?”
“They’re plants- living things that grow like nagas and humans do, just… a little more slowly. They help clean the air.”
“What color are they?” Tangle asked. You were sitting in the park with him. He was laying in the grass, belly up, right beside you.
“Brown and green.”
“Soo… like broccoli? Green?”
“The leaves are, except when it gets to fall, then the leaves turn orange and red and yellow like the sunset and fall off. They regrow in the spring.”
Tangle was quiet for a while. You looked down at him and his eyes, staring right up into the sky.
“I wish I could see the sunset,” Tangle said softly.
Your heart squeezed. You reached over and gently hefted the naga into your arms- he was getting to be a not-so runt now.
“Mamaaa,” he protested, a blush on his cheeks as you kissed him.
“I wish you could see it, too,” you said simply. “But it’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.”
Tangle shook his head. “No way, I’m ugly.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Am too. I’m the ugly little duckling, ‘cept I’m never gonna be pretty.”
“Tangle,” you said softly as the naga curled into your arms and nestled himself against you. He seemed shy. “You’re not an ugly duckling- that was just a story. And the point of it was that the duckling was beautiful the whole time, it’s just… a matter of perspective. That’s all.”
“But there’s so much wrong with me…”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, baby,” you said. The wind was blowing in the grass as you looked out over the park and the people running and playing. “You’re different. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I bet you wanted a regular bitty,” Tangle said sadly. You looked down to see tears welling in his sockets. “I bet you got stuck with me.”
“I picked you- out of all the bitties in the world I could have had, I picked you,” you said, shifting your bitty so you could wipe his tears away with your sleeve. “And I wouldn’t ever change that- you’re the smartest, most handsome little bitty in the whole world.”
Tangle was quiet for a while. You pet his back and let him think. Out of all the “issues” your friend had warned you about having a bitty like Tangle, this was the one you hadn’t expected going into all this. But even if you had to remind Tangle sometimes that he was yours, and that you loved him, you’d never regret it.
“How about we go home and you can have some beef jerky?” you asked after a good five minutes of quiet.
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Tangle admitted.
---
Tangle was a year old before you knew it. He grew to be over a foot and a half long, a little chubby, and as he aged his magic brightened and became not-so dull. His kinks didn’t straighten out any, and no matter how often you prayed, his eyelights never formed- despite that, he seemed happy. He’d been watching videos on his tablet all day while you were at work. He was so smart- almost too smart for his own good.
Or maybe yours.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?” you asked. Tangle was in the middle of eating his dinner- slowly, as always- when his eyes seemed to go over to where you were sitting.
“They were going to put me down, weren’t they? You didn’t just… buy me like this.”
You slowly put your fork down, big dark hole in your chest.
“Please don’t lie,” Tangle tacked on.
“... I-I mean… yes. But-”
“I knew it. All that stuff- about me being perfect and fine, it was all made up.”
“Of course it wasn’t, I… Tangle… of course I didn’t-”
The naga shook his head, pushing his plate away with his good arm, a deeply wounded expression on his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
You gulped. He looked so fragile sitting on the table as he was, tears just beginning to form in his sockets.
“I didn’t want to hurt you…”
“So you lied to me?!” he snapped. He was angry- you knew this was coming, of course you did, he was a year old. “You just… let me think I was actually fine? Like I didn’t come out of the egg wrong? ”
Tears welled in your eyes. Tangle’s tongue flicked out in anger, the tip of his tangled tail twitching violently.
“Why’d you even save me? Is that what happened? They were gonna kill me and you felt so bad for the awful, ugly naga you took it in?”
“No! I… I couldn’t just let them… you were so small, and helpless, and-”
“You should have just- you- you shoulda just let them do it,” Tangle seethed. He was crying, but hastily trying to wipe the tears away with one hand. “I’m just- I’m- I-I bet I’m just a burden-”
It was your turn to sob, hands pressed to your mouth. Tangle went stiff and looked in your direction, as much as somebody who couldn’t see could. You shook your head and took a deep breath.
“I love you, Tangle. You’ve never, ever been a burden. Please don’t think that.”
“Well! Well then why’d you- why…”
“I…” you trailed off for a moment to wipe your own tears away. “I saw what you could be… a happy, healthy naga… and I couldn’t just let somebody take that potential away from you.”
“I…” Tangle sniffled. “I’m just… I don’t understand, mom. I don’t… why’d you pick me ? I’m just… I’m wrong …” he broke off to suck in a shuddering breath before he started crying in earnest.
You scooped him up at once and he didn’t protest. He hugged you and cried into your arms as you pet down his spine and cooed to him. He was just one year old- a teen in naga years- and though you knew this day would come you could never have prepared yourself for it.
“I just- I-I want to- I wanna be good enough,” he sobbed, snuggling his face into your shirt to the point that you could hardly make out what he said.
“You’ve always been good enough,” you said gently, rubbing the back of his ribs. “I love you so much, Tangle.”
“I… I love you, too, mom,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry I… I said those things…”
“Shh… hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say sorry- I know… I know these things are hard to understand. But I promise, with all my heart, 100%, that I love you, and wouldn’t trade you for any other bitty in the whole world.”
Tangle sniffled but nodded into your chest.
You held him while he cried, your heart aching, but… but you were hopeful. Things would be okay. You’d do everything you could for him- the little naga who’d come into your life so unexpectedly but was now your whole world.
---
Weeks passed. Tangle got better- he still doubted, and when he would ask at night if you loved him, if he was good enough, you’d always tell him yes. With a little cuddle and kiss, of course, which he always weakly protested in just the right way that told you he didn't actually mind in the least.
The park was his favorite place. He liked the wind, and the smell of the grass, he’d told you. So you were there, sitting underneath a tree, the naga curled in your lap, enjoying the weekend.
“Hey, mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinkin’...”
“That’s a dangerous hobby,” you teased, and the naga smiled at that but batted your hand away as you went to scratch the back of his skull.
“Shh! I’m tryin’ ta be serious here… I’ve been thinkin’ about… well, you know, since you rescued me , and I was the runt and nobody would have bought me, uhm… what if… what if we started rescuing other nagas like me?”
You blinked. Tangle stared up at the sky as he blushed.
“I-I mean, we don’t have to!” he added, “Sorry, y’know, it was just a dumb idea-”
“No no, Tangle, I think that’s a wonderful thing for you to think about!” you said, picking him up to hold him. “Wow… that’s really something I hadn’t considered. We could take them in, get them going, and find them homes once they’re healthier…”
“Yeah!” he exclaimed. He seemed genuinely excited. “I just- y’know, I… I want to help other disabled bitties like me. Not even just nagas, y’know, but… but any bitty that’s gonna be put down. I think… y’know, we could give them a second chance…”
“That’s so sweet of you, Tangle. I think it’s something we can definitely look into- how about I talk to Don and see if he has any other breeder friends? We can get a circle going, maybe get a few bitty rescues involved… does that sound like a plan?”
“Mm,” he said, red tail flicking in excitement and determination. “Just don’t go lovin’ any other bitties more than me, okay?”
You laughed and kissed him, which he protested, of course.
“Never. I’m so proud of you, Tangle.”
He glowed red at that, a smile on his face, crooked fangs peeking out.
“Love ya, mom,” he said.
“I love you too,” you replied.