#simala

[nala-calame]

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nalaxcalame: No one has selfie game like you, kaka. I thank Allah every day of my life that I got to spend so much of my life as your partner-in-crime! Let’s be real though, I’m still your partner in crime lolol, and I always will be! Now get your arse on a plane ASAP and visit your favourite human. I owe you a pitcher of margaritas and a good time! HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (P.S. yallah you’re not old, so stop whining xP) 

@simba-bonfamille-lyons​

[ber-bonfamille-lyons]

BERELLE :D also u know im just gonna send u everyone so just--go for it in one swoop if u want

idk what EVERYONE means there r too many so

Berelle

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: Belle 

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: uh none rn tbh ahah

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: la vie en rose naturally

my muse’s last text to your muse: “Hey might stop by later to get some recs if that’s okay?” 

Helle

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: Belle

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: A pic of them at the oooocean wow that’s so cute what a boyfriend

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: Standard ring tone Hades cannot be bothered

my muse’s last text to your muse: “Lachesis is reciting the Archive of Lovers again jfc” 

Berlou

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: Lou

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: one of his plants lmao 

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone:  "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)

my muse’s last text to your muse: “c’mon lou you’ll LOVE her.” [referring to puppy] 

LOUD 

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: Lou Bonfamille

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: lol none??? 

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone:  Standard so boring

my muse’s last text to your muse: “i know it doesn’t make sense, i’ve tried to tell her. more power to you if you can get her to listen.” [bitching about belle’s organization system i’m sure]

Simala

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: BFF! 🦁💗

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: a pic of him from when he was REALLY young, like– 5 or 6 hehehe

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone:  Formation by Beyonce 

my muse’s last text to your muse: “simba the meeting is rn where are you????????” 

The Princes [didn’t see this one coming did u]

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: Bambino 🌱🌷😃 [look dad u can put fun symbols they are called emojis] 

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: a selfie by bambi thanks bambi 

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone:  Standard unless…bambi changed it to something lmao  

my muse’s last text to your muse: “Okay, have fun! :)”

Fate 

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: Perdita [changed from baby mama :(]

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: A pic of her and the babiesss at their party before hell broke loose lol

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone:  Standard too 

my muse’s last text to your muse: “Course it’s fine, sounds brilliant. Roger, Anita and I can handle the kids (but i’m expecting fancy italian chocolates tbh)”

[nala-calame]

A Calm Surrender || Simala

@simba-lyons

Nala was exhausted. 

There were many reasons to be exhausted. Technically it was the middle of the financial year, in the thick of the various projects with InterPride both here in Swynlake and in London. Nala was used to that kind of work exhaustion though. She grew up expecting those long hours, honing her organization skills, her ability to sit through long meetings and take even longer phone calls. When Nala was simply busy at work, even if she was tired, she was still happy. It was, after all, what she was supposed to do-- the reason she was here.

But it wasn’t that good, satisfying work exhaustion anymore. Instead, Nala felt like she was running from a fire-- from multiple fires. She went home and was lonely, memories of Adam still everywhere no matter how much she sorted her apartment. 

And then, she ran from that fire to work, and there another fire waited in the face of Henry Charming, though that fire didn’t burn as much as it shined. Like a moth to its flame, she danced closer and closer, the whole time hating herself. 

She wanted him. She couldn’t want him. She wanted to love her work instead. She didn’t love her work. 

She couldn’t get away. No matter where she turned. And the other fires at work, the ones she should be able to put out with her years of experience, the small ones that shouldn’t send her into a panic, were beginning to tire her more quickly. It’s burnout, she’d think as she rubbed her eyes and went through a new contract and then looked up from her desk to see another 100 emails waiting for her. Burnout, this is what it means to burnout.

She was burning out. She needed a vacation. She needed...

She needed Simba. 

And so it was that all these various fires burned to one point. Nala wasn’t even sure what it was. Maybe it was one email too many popping up on her phone. Maybe it was the fact that she had to reschedule her call with the Brazil office for the fourth time.

Maybe it was the emoji that Henry Charming had texted her-- adding it onto his confirmation of his new assignment. Just a little :). 

Nala had burst into tears in her apartment and called Simba in a panic. 

Now she heard the pounding on the door. “It’s open,” Nala called in a warbling voice as she poured herself an entire glass of wine, face smeared with tears. 

[nala-calame]

Girl’s Night In || Simalina

@simba-lyons @attina-the-responsible

Nala was having a girl’s night.

She needed it– desperately. What better way to stave off the creeping feeling that her relationship of over a year was doomed, eh? Nala had done her best to cope in healthy ways, from early morning yoga classes, to switching out her morning coffees to teas, and to focusing on her friendships. But none of those things really fixed anything. None of those things calmed the itch in her belly, the worry clawing in the back of her throat, the dread that she should probably be breaking up with Adam, and she just wasn’t because– well– because– she loved him.

She needed a pow-wow, a pitcher of sangria, and-- well, her best mates guiding her toward something. Even if that something was blowing off steam for a night, or commiserating with everyone else’s woes.

And so Girl’s Night at Nala’s place resumed. She baked fresh chocolate chip cookies with Tina and prepared a ton of sangria and frozen margaritas and had face masks and movies and gossip magazines and her Girl Power playlist queued up and just about everything that a girl on a Girl’s Night could need!

Also, Simba was there. Poor bloke needed it too.

“Alright whooooo wants sangria and whoooo wants a frozen margarita! Orders in now, because once my butt hits that couch I am not getting up again!” cooed Nala from the kitchen.

[nala-calame]

Tell that Boi Bye || Simala

Nala: SIMBA you are not going to believe the bullshit I just had to go through with Adam, I am F U R I O U S

[nala-calame]

Oh Baby! || Simala Texts

Nala: SIMBA SIMBA SIMBA

Nala: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SIMBA

[nala-calame]

The Grand Tour || Double-Date

@simba-lyons @chewbacca-adam @ber-bonfamille

It had taken significant eyelash batting, a nifty pro/con list, and a promise that Simba and Berlioz would be on their absolute best behavior-- but Nala had done it. She had convinced Adam to consider the possibility of hosting their wedding reception in his gardens, potentially the castle (because weather). And now, Simba and Ber were coming over for a tour!

For Nala, nothing could possibly be better. If you asked her, they should’ve been on a double date months ago. It was a perfect chance for Adam to spend a bit more time with Simba in the sort of environment he was comfortable in (his home!) with a convenient framework to eschew conversation (the tour! His castle! Wedding questions!) 

She was getting goosebumps just thinking about it.

But: Nala was staying calm for now. She arrived early at Adam’s and kissed him hello, then drew out a plan for the tour she’d scribbled up.

“Alright, I was thinking we could meander from the foyer to the parlor and sort of...work our way back to the gardens. That way, the gardens are the grand finale, eh?” she explained this plan to Adam and grinned. “Though course if you feel otherwise, just let me know, we can totally wing it, you can take the lead, no pressure--”

There was a massive knock on the front door.

“Oh blimey, I think that’s them!” Nala exclaimed. 

[nala-calame]

She’s My Best Friend || Simala

@simba-lyons Nala was cooking matoke tonight for a very special guest: her best friend, Simba Lyons.

Nala used to do this all the time. She and Simba would trade off nights, when one would cook for the other or sometimes they would tag-team, before collapsing on a couch and digging into their food and homework. It’s how Nala used to motivate Simba, really, back in their long-lost Oxford days. She’d bribe him with ugali or home-cooked stew, and the smell of all those delicious spices, sauces, and meats would make their study sessions easier to swallow too. At least, on Simba’s part.

It had been so long since it’d just been the two of them for dinner. Before InterPride, they’d happened on a weekly basis. But the door was shut on such offers of friendship and company when Berlioz shut the door on Simba.

And then Ber came back and… well, Nala and Simba had not spoken outside of the offices, until mid-February.

But Black Panther reignited their shared love of their homeland and there were not many people with whom they could share that love, except for each other. Little by little, they learned to speak to each other again. And now, when it came time to plan InterPride’s rebirth, it seemed fitting to do it like this: over dinner, food in their bellies and warm soda to sip on. It’d be better than being stuck in one of their offices.

And so the plantain bananas were nearly done cooking in the pot, along with the tomatoes, onions,, chilies and lemon. She’d finished the ugali too and was just getting ready to prepare the plates when she heard the knock on her door.

“It’s open!” she called, loud enough for Simba to hear, so he could let himself in. Soon as he did, she turned around and stuck a plate out at him. “Help yourself, kaka mdogo,” she teased, wrinkling her nose at him. “If you want more garlic, it’s there on the counter.”