(The title for this one is actually the first line.)

Dear Diary: My parents said they adopted a cat, but I was somehow still surprised to see Chat Noir in my living room, drinking hot chocolate.

Worse, he was curled up, with his head on my mom's lap, enjoying her fingers running through his hair, while they both watched my father play Story Mode on Ultimate Mecha Strike III. Apparently, he and my father had already played Versus Mode so much that, after their last tiebreaker, Maman forced them to stop before they broke the couch with all their shenanigans.

Her words, not mine.

I'm also in trouble for leaving him stranded on my balcony.

I WASN'T EVEN HOME! I WAS WITH ALYA ALL AFTERNOON! How was I supposed to know Chat would stop by for a visit tonight?! Or that Maman would happen to see him peeking in when she brought up my laundry?

Apparently, they're giving him free reign of the house from now on, diary. I'm to keep my balcony hatch unlocked until they can get another key made.

My balcony.

Okay, look, I get it; there's no one else who would likely use an entrance like that one, so it makes sense, but still! IT'S MY BALCONY! TO MY ROOM!

I'M A TEENAGE GIRL! HE'S A TEENAGE BOY! DOES NO ONE SEE THE PROBLEM HERE?

My dad thinks he's a perfect gentleman. My mom thinks he's a cat. THEY DON'T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO!

They don't know about all the flirting and lame puns I have to endure as Ladybug! He's told them it's all in good, harmless fun! That Ladybug flirts as much as he does! And I can't refute that without revealing myself!

IT'S SO FRUSTRATING!

He's still sitting down there, preening under their care while they watch a movie and—hold up, they're calling me down.

….

GDI

FML, they're actually trying to adopt him. They said either I marry him, or he becomes my new brother. Excuse me while I go scream into my pillow. They even asked for his real name, so they can start the process. (He refused, of course! Thank GOD! In fact, I think he was blushing as hard as me.)

I can't even, anymore.

Dear Diary: IT GOT WORSE.

Today, that stupid cat came by and asked for my hand in marriage, using a—no joke—ball of yarn!

Oh yeah. The whole nine yards. Got down on one knee and declared his everlasting love for me in the sappiest tone possible. Tears. Big smiles. I think there was Shakespeare. The goof was really laying it on thick, having the time of his life, but the joke's on him.

My parents are already planning our engagement party.

End.