#modern shellvision

The studio was buzzing the way it always did.

Cables crisscrossing the floor, lights being adjusted, poppy and boxten arguing over a script in the corner somewhere.

Shelly was crouched by her tripod, squinting through the lens and adjusting the focus.

Vee paced a little nearby. Jacket sleeves rolled up, muttering and rehearsing lines under her breath.

Suddenly though, out of nowhere, Shelly froze mid-adjustment.

She tilted her head at Vee, who was mouthing a dramatic monologue at the empty set.

...

“…Hey”

Vee didn’t break character, just shot her a sideways glance.

“…Yes?”

“uh… since i proposed to you…”

Shelly’s voice trailed off, thoughtful, camera still balanced in her hands.

Vee blinked.

“…hm..?”

“Does that mean…”

Shelly set the camera down, straightening slowly.

“…we actually have to plan a wedding now?”

Vee stopped dead in her tracks.

For a moment, the set went quiet in her head.

She turned fully toward Shelly, arms limp at her sides, mouth slightly open.

“…Oh.”

They just stared at each other.

“..…Veronica never taught me that part.”

Vee said, almost whispering, as if realizing a great and terrible truth.

“…Shanon didn’t either.”

Shelly murmured back, horrified.

....

“…They taught us how to cook.”

"…And how to properly iron shirts.”

“…But not… this.”

There was a long silence.

Two fully grown adults, staring across the room like children who had just realized they forgot to bring their homework.

Vee lifted a hand, deadpan.

“…So… we Google it?”

.......

"…maybe."

"Fantastic.”

Vee deadpanned, then immediately collapsed into a sit on the edge of the stage, jacket sliding down her shoulders as she buried her face in her hands.

“Veronica never told me. Shanon never told you. We’re doomed."

Shelly crouched down across from her, chin in her palm, rubbing vees back for moral support.

“Well…we’ve both photographed and hosted enough events. How different could it be?”

“Different” Vee muttered. “Extremely different. This is ours. Which means stakes. Which means expectations. Which means—”

“Cake”

“…What?”

“Step one, cake”

Shelly said, tapping her knee like she was writing it down.

“Gotta have cake.”

Vee blinked, thought about it, then nodded slowly.

“…Yeah. Cake. Ye- yeah! Cake!”

“Music???”

“Music. Ofcourse, gotta have music”

“ ...flowers?”

“God, right, flowers.”

They kept going, trading items like they were spitballing a business pitch instead of a life event.

“Photographer.”

Shelly said, then paused, snorting.

“Not me, obviously. I’ll be busy.”

“That’s gonna be weird” Vee admitted, fiddling with her cufflinks. “Who could possibly photograph you better than you?”

Shelly grinned. “Flatterer. Keep going.”

“Outfits” Vee said grimly, as though this was the final boss. “Dress? Suit? Something cursed in between? What are the rules?”

Shelly tilted her head, smirk tugging at her lips.

“We don’t have to follow rules.”

Vee froze again, staring at her.

“We can…ignore tradition?”

“Sure.”

...

And then they packed up and immediately went home.

Cause they were screwed.

-By the time they got home, it was dark outside.

Shelly dumped her camera bag on the couch, Vee yanked off her blazer , and the two of them sat down at the kitchen table in complete silence.

Between them:

Shelly’s laptop.

On the screen:

Google’s innocent little blinking cursor.

And In the air:

the unholy weight of their shared panic.

“…okay.”

Shelly said finally, cracking her knuckles with determination.

“Let’s do this. Step one: type ‘how do you plan a wedding.”

Vee reached over, catching her wrist before she could.

“Nah wait. Be more specific. If we type that we’re gonna get, like, fifty Pinterest boards of floral arches and mason jars”

Shelly raised an eyebrow.

“Do you… not want mason jars?”

“I don’t even know what a mason jar is for, Shelly”

“…fair point.”

She typed it anyway:

How do you plan a wedding?

Instant chaos.

An endless wall of results flooded the screen:

Wedding planners, step-by-step guides, “25 Things Every Bride Must Know,” “17 Budget-Friendly Tips,” “Top Ten Dress Mistakes,” “The Perfect Venue Checklist.”

Both of them leaned in, horrified.

“Oh my god”

Vee whispered.

“It’s a cult.”

Shelly scrolled down, frowning.

“Why does every list say ‘first step: choose your theme’? Why would we need a theme?!”

Vee jabbed at the screen.

“Exactly! We’re not running a carnival, we’re getting married!”

Shelly’s mouth twitched, fighting a grin.

“..We could do carnival though. Matching cotton candy”

Vee turned her head slowly, dead serious.

“Please dont tempt me.”

The more they scrolled, the worse it got. Seating charts. Menus. Music playlists. Centerpieces.

“Centerpieces??”

Vee hissed, pressing her palms to her temples.

“We don’t even have a dining table big enough for four people, why would we need centerpieces??”

“Okay, wait,” Shelly said, still calm but starting to sweat.

“What if we just… skip all that. No seating charts, no themes, no centerpieces. We just… say some vows, eat some food, go home.”

“That sounds like a Tuesday night, not a wedding.”

“Exactly. Comfortable. Efficient. Perfect.”

They sat back, staring at the terrifying glow of the laptop.

They stayed like that a moment, breathing, both quietly panicking.

Until Shelly perked up.

“Oh! About the uh- actual officiation- maybe we could… ask one of our friends to officiate?”

Vee blinked.

“…which one?”

“…not boxten. He’d cry the whole time.”

“Not poppy either, she’d try to brand it.”

“…Sprout?”

They both paused.

“…you know what”

....

“we’ll keep that as Plan Z.”

“Perfect. Plan Z it is.”

Vee let out a shaky breath.

..

"dooo.........do you wanna ask glisten"

....

so anyway.

Here they were

At a fancy reservation.

With glisten and co.

Vee and Shelly swore to each other, pinky promise style, that Tisha could never find out about this little meeting.

Glisten spotted them immediately, waving like a maniac, almost knocking someone’s drink over on his way to their booth.

He sat down, eyes sparkling.

“Okay. Okay. OH my god. A secret wedding meeting, oh you dirty dogs.”

“Glisten—”

“NO. Don’t say anything.”

He slapped the table so hard connie jumped. (Metaphorically)

Vee covered her face with her hands, falling back into shelly.

“its so over”

Glisten chirped.

“So! First question: colour palette. Pastels? Jewel tones? No, wait—glitter. Glitter is a neutral. Glitter goes with everything.”

Shelly actually weeped into her soda.

“Glitter isn’t a neutral glisten...”

Meanwhile, Gigi had arrived fashionably late, sliding into the booth opposite them with a sly grin.

She didnt say anything.

...Just watched.

“Okay but listen”

Connie cut in, more practical.

“You don’t need glitter or colour palettes. Just food. Good food, good people, done. That’s the recipe”

“Spoken like a true bartender” Vee muttered, oddly comforted by the logic.

“NO. No. No” Glisten slapped the table again.

“You need an entrance. Fireworks. Doves. Or—wait, better—Vee descends on a glowing platform while Shelly rises from the floor with fog machines—”

“I’m NOT rising from the floor.” Shelly said firmly.

“You say that now—”

And that’s when fate intervened.

Because through the front window of the restaurant.

who should they see strolling past.

But Tisha.

...

With a leash in one hand.

And at the end of the leash?

A very fluffy

Very judgmental-looking

....

..cat.

In a little harness.

....

“Is that…?”

Shelly squinted.

Vee froze.

“No. It can’t be.”

But it was.

Tisha, walking her emotional support cat, Sir Mittens, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Everyone ducked instinctively.

The entire booth sank in unison like a submarine.

“Abort mission! ABORT!” Glisten hissed, dramatically throwing his napkin over his head.

But it was too late.

Tisha’s gaze drifted toward the window.

She stopped. Tilted her head. Narrowed her eyes.

Then she walked inside. Sir Mittens followed like a tiny furry executioner.

She stood at the end of the booth, arms crossed, looking at all of them crammed into the seats like guilty teenagers.

“…so. What are we talking about?”

There was a long, terrible silence.

Finally, Glisten tried:

“…glitter. Neutral colour. Thoughts?”

Oh but no.

The jig was up.

Tisha sat down at the booth, arms crossed tight, jaw clenched.

Sir Mittens was curled in her lap, perfectly relaxed, purring away, like he didn’t notice his owner was radiating rage.

“Unbelievable.”

Tisha muttered, glaring at Vee.

“My best friend. My Shelly. Marrying you. My nemesis. I know about that.”

Vee, halfway through sipping water, choked.

“Nemesis?!”

“Don’t act innocent!” Tisha snapped. “From the first day I saw you, I knew you were trouble.”

“I was literally just hosting a show” Vee said weakly.

“And now you’re stealing her away from me.”

Tisha’s voice cracked in slight despair.

“I was supposed to be the Maid of Honor!”

“...you still.....can be?” Shelly offered gently.

“Don’t you dare try to calm me down—”

Tisha started, but Sir Mittens gave a soft, pointed meow and kneaded her arm with his tiny paws.

Instantly, Tisha’s shoulders slumped a little.

She pet him once, begrudgingly.

“…fine. You win this round.”

The whole table just sat frozen.

Watching her pet this little cat like it was her anger switch.

Connie leaned toward Gigi and whispered.

“The cat is literally her off-button.”

“No, it’s her on-button. That thing controls her.”

Meanwhile Glisten fanned himself dramatically.

“God, the tension in here. Tisha, you’re giving us telenovela vibes right now. I live.”

“I’m not here to entertain you” Tisha grumbled, still stroking Sir Mittens. Then she glared across the booth at Vee again.

“I swear. You hurt her? Even once? I’ll—”

“Mittens” Shelly said softly, like a cue.

The cat purred louder, rubbing against Tisha’s hand.

And just like that, Tisha sighed and deflated again, the fury melting off her face as she cuddled the fluffball against her cheek.

Everyone stared in disbelief.

The whole booth had gone silent except for Sir Mittens’ purring, like a little white-noise machine diffusing Tisha’s rage.

Vee leaned in slowly, narrowing her eyes.

“…what’s this cat’s deal, anyway?”

Shelly, sipping her drink way too casually, went:

“Oh. Uh. That’s her parents’ cat. She walked him once and he just… kinda imprinted on her.”

“Imprinted?” Vee repeated. “Like—like a baby duck???”

“Basically.”

Shelly shrugged.

“She walks him now. Emotional support. Therapy animal. Best friend. You name it”

Tisha, still cradling Sir Mittens like a holy relic, muttered.

“He understands me. Unlike some people in this room.”

(Her eyes cut straight to Vee)

Vee raised both hands.

“Okay, no, fine, whatever. But—” she looked dead at the cat— “does he… get a seat at the wedding?”

Everyone froze.

Connie’s eyes widened. “...wait. Does he?”

Gigi tapped the table thoughtfully. “On one hand, it’s a cat. On the other hand, it’s Sir Mittens.”

Glisten gasped, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Darling. A tiny tuxedo. On the cat. Walking down the aisle.”

Shelly’s face split into the dopiest smile, trying not to laugh.

“…tish?"

Tisha, deadly serious.

“Of course he gets a seat. Front row. Next to me. Maybe instead of you.”

(She jabbed a finger at Vee)

Vee’s mouth dropped open.

“Instead of—?! Are you kidding me?!”

Sir Mittens yawned, entirely unbothered.

Shelly leaned into Vee, whispering through a laugh-

“Careful. He’s got seniority. Been around since she was a kid. You can’t win against him.”

“I—he’s a cat.” Vee hissed. “What do you mean I can’t win???”

The whole crew just stared at her like she was insane for even questioning it.

....

Eventually, They spilled out of the restaurant.

The bartending crew still buzzing about flower colours and cake flavours, Glisten gesturing dramatically about tuxedo options for Sir Mittens of all things.

Tisha stalked ahead, cat carrier slung over her shoulder.

Only… Sir Mittens wasn’t in the carrier.

He was sprawled across her chest like a baby, paws kneading at her jacket, his head tucked right under her chin.

Purring loud enough that Connie muttered: “He sounds like a lawnmower”

Tisha ignored them. Dead serious. Dead silent. Protecting her fuzzy son.

Once everyone split off, it ended up just Vee and Shelly trailing behind.

Vee gave a long stare at Tisha’s retreating back.

Then a sideways glance at Shelly.

“…That your terrifying, ‘I’ll-kill-you-if-you-hurt-my-best-friend’ bartender buddy?”

Shelly laughed under her breath, hands in her coat pockets.

“Yup. That’s her.”

“And she’s—”

Vee gestured ahead, completely incredulous.

“—just walking around town cradling her parents’ cat like it’s the last jewel on earth. Look at her. Look at her face. She’s soft. She’s literally baby-talking him. Oh my god, she’s whispering ‘who’s my handsome boy.’”

Shelly covered her mouth, stifling laughter.

“She’s always been like that. When we were kids, she’d try to look tough, but… one kitten in her lap? Game over.”

Vee leaned closer, grinning wickedly.

“Unbelievable. Your scary bartender childhood friend—arch nemesis of me—is just… a cat lady.”

“Don’t call her that” Shelly wheezed, trying not to laugh harder.

“Cat lady.” Vee said it louder, delighted. “I knew she had weaknesses.”

Sir Mittens turned his head from Tisha’s arms and blinked at them—slow, knowing, almost like he remembered Shelly. His tail gave one lazy flick.

Shelly smiled softly.

“…See? He remembers me. I used to play with him when we were little. Guess he recognizes me still.”

“Unreal.” Vee muttered, still smirking. “I finally have blackmail. Forget all her tough bartender energy—I’ll just remind her she used to nap with her parents’ cat. What’s she gonna do, deny it? Look at her”

Up ahead, Tisha turned just enough to glare over her shoulder—

then immediately softened when Sir Mittens shifted in her arms, cooing at him again.

“HAH! Look at that whiplash. I can’t—” vee barked, doubled over laughing.

Shelly shook her head, smiling at her wife’s meltdown. “You’re gonna get yourself punched one day.”

“Worth it,” Vee grinned, straightening up, tail wagging smugly. “Absolutely worth it.”

..

They hadn’t even made it three blocks before Tisha disappeared and reappeared out of nowhere, empty-handed now that Sir Mittens had been safely dropped off at home.

She didn’t say anything at first.

Just grabbed Shelly by the wrist and tugged her to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, glaring at Vee like she’d just caught her stealing state secrets.

“Alright.” Tisha said, voice low, deadly serious.

“Blink twice if she’s forcing you to marry her.”

Shelly’s jaw dropped.

“WHAT?!”

“I’m serious.” Tisha jabbed a finger toward Vee. “You don’t have to pretend. If this is, like, a hostage situation or some long con, just blink. I’ll handle it.”

Vee blinked. Once. Slowly. Then deliberately held her eyes wide open in defiance.

“You realize if I was forcing her, I wouldn’t just let you interrogate her in the street, right?”

“Shut up.” Tisha snapped. “You don’t get to talk.”

Shelly yanked her wrist free, laughing despite herself.

“Tish, oh my god. I’m not being forced. I love her.”

“Uh-huh” Tisha crossed her arms, unconvinced. “we can still fix that"

Vee snorted, tail flicking behind her. “This is rich. You’re basically accusing me of emotional tax fraud in public right now.”

“Your face is fraud.” Tisha shot back without missing a beat.

Shelly groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

“You guys are going to kill me before the wedding.”

Tisha leaned closer, narrowing her eyes at Shelly.

“You sure about this? Last chance. Blink. Morse code. Sneeze in triplets. I’ll pick it up.”

Shelly cracked up, grabbing her friend’s shoulders.

“I’m sure. I proposed, okay? Me. Not her. Me.”

Tisha froze. Her brain clearly short-circuited.

She looked between them both, then slowly pointed at Vee.

“…So you didn’t… trick her?”

Vee raised both hands, smug.

“Nope. Completely above board. Contractually binding wife energy, straight from the source.”

Shelly nodded, still grinning.

“Yup.”

Tisha looked deeply distressed.

“I hate this. I hate both of you. I’m still watching though.”

“You can watch from the audience at the wedding!” Vee said sweetly, tail wagging just to annoy her.

“Die.”

Shelly shoved Vee with her elbow, but she was laughing so hard she almost doubled over.