Hey, Roxy Goth here. First story for Puss In Boots. Posting mainly to see reactions, please let me know if you like because reviews do help me motivate myself.

Anyway, I do not own Puss In Boots or any fairytales.

20/02

To anyone who may have found this diary and be considering it for teasing/blackmail purpose - Baby, I'm looking at you - I want you to know that if you try it I will personally hunt you down and kill you.

The only reason I've got this stupid thing is because after the whole 'wishing star' debacle, when I finally admitted to feeling...stuff about my family, Mama got me a diary and presented it to me with a nice ribbon and everything.

"I even paid properly for it." Mama said, proudly. Which is a big thing in our family as we hardly ever pay for anything.

I took it off her and looked at it sceptically. At least she'd got it in pink, which I love.

"What am I meant to do with this?"

"Write in it. Look, I even got you a nice pen." Mama produced it from behind her back and handed it to me. It was painted gold and looked quite shiny and I DO like shiny things, so I took it.

"Wow." I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Thanks, Mama."

She must have caught my tone because she looked at me gently and explained. "You can write down your feelings about anything that happens. It might help you work out some...issues."

I squirmed uncomfortably. "Mama...I just...I didn't mean it...well, I did, but-"

She shushed me and patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Hush now, love, I understand. Well. I think I do. Is there anything me or the boys can do to help you?"

I felt tears welling up and quickly blinked them back. Crying is a form of weakness that is definitely not just right. I learned that early on. I shook my head, unable to speak and Mama just hugged me tightly and told me it would be alright. And you know what, I believed her.

Later on I showed it to Baby. Don't know why I bothered, I could have seen the reaction.

"Mum, why's SHE got a diary? I want a diary!"

"Baby, you can't write." Mama said, stroking his head. "And anyway our paws aren't meant for holding pens like Goldies are."

Baby scowled and went to say something no doubt cutting, but caught himself.

I frowned. "Cat got your tongue, Baby? What's the problem? Can't think of anything cutting enough?"

There was a slight pause and then Baby said, quietly. "I don't want to drive you away."

A poignant [I think that's the word] silence and then I laughed and noogied him. "Ah, you ain't getting rid of me that easy, Baby. I'll be there to torment ya until we're both old 'an grey."

"Talking of which." We both jumped as Papa spoke - we'd thought he was asleep. "How are we gonna take this pie business over? How do we know Horner hasn't got any relatives?"

"If he does we'll chase em off." I said. "This is our business now."

"An' how are we going to take it over?" Papa said, again.

I shrugged. "We'll figure something out."