Firestone Hot Springs stars are not here to be pretty

for the sake of timelines this is backdated to before this thread.

Stitch had been prattling on to Frank that had clambered down her leg at some point and scurries in a zig-zag as she weaved in an out of Stitch’s legs when she ( Stitch ) stops and realizes rather abruptly and with a look of abject horror that she has not heard the small pitter-patter of Frank’s footsteps. “— Frank?!” Stitch’s prattling is cut short as her baby raccoon’s name comes out of her throat strangled as her heart lurches. Her ears flutter back to slick against her skull and she turns quickly, squinting through the steam that rises from the hot springs before she moves stiffly through the steam in frantic search, fear of a mother having inadvertently lost her child in Target causing her pupils to dilate. “Frankie!” The baby’s name comes from her like the sound of a wounded animal. “Frankie!” Relief slams her like a monsoon as she soon sees the small silhouette of her companion through the steam to see a tiny rock clutched in Frank’s paws. “Ick, Frank. Don’t put that in your mouth. That’s dirty,” She chides Frank and holds her paw and leg out, nudging the small, pudgy raccoon gently with a toe. “We don’t eat rocks, Frankie. We’re not a rock eating family, ok? Put that down and climb back up on my back. You’re grounded missy.” The raccoon peers up at her with big, baby eyes and Stitch feels her lip wobble because it was cute, damnit.

“No, no. You can’t just run off. Come on.” Stitch is proud of herself for sticking to her guns, wincing as Frank’s sharp claws dig into her leg as the baby raccoon climbs up to her favored spot at the junction of Stitch’s shoulders. “You have to behave yourself Frankie. If you can’t we’re not taking field trips like this anymore.” Stitch tells the baby raccoon in a tone that’s meant to be threatening but is actually fairly empty. Stitch has always been fairly mild tempered and even if she does get angry it rarely lasts for more than a few minutes — especially where Frank is concerned. “Ok Frank. You pick a spring to relax in.” Stitch encourages and nods her approval when the baby raccoon lets out a soft squeak of a noise and scrambles back down Stitch’s leg. Stitch scoops up the baby raccoon very gently by the scruff as she would a wolf pup and sinks into the heated water, wrinkling her nose at the sulphuric smell that lingers in the air before she sets Frank very gently on a shallow pool shelf where the water is at the level of kiddie pool equivalent as Stitch sinks down into the water with a contented sigh, fixating her crystalline gaze upon Frank who splashes delightedly in the shallows under Stitch’s ever vigilant eye ( because admittedly, Stitch isn't sure if Frank is old enough to swim or even if the baby raccoon knows how yet ).

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