winter ivory


Another Hundred People: Nala in The Liong King

In honor of the 20th Anniversary of The Lion King on Broadway I figured we should take a look at some of the crazy talented actresses who have portrayed the role of Nala. (This list is all productions, not just Broadway)

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anonymous asked:

♟ patching up a wound for suga

A Floral Band Aid

“OW!” Yoongi pulled his sliced knee into his chest, snarling at you like some wild beast.

You scoffed, “Oh, please, Yoongi. Quit being so dramatic.”

“But it hurts,” he whined, popping his bottom lip forward playfully, fighting your reach for his scraped knee.

“Yoongi.” A warning growl coupled with a mother’s stern, hard stare had your boyfriend offering up his wound freely. Mostly out of fear that you might reward him with a matching one on his other leg.

Rifling through the small first aid kit, you found a few bandages, laughing as you realized they were floral—a set you had picked up years ago—and screaming femininity. Yoongi furrowed his brow, crossing those arms over his chest in an “Oh, heck no” gesture. You smirked and strapped two lavender and pastel pink floral band aids on his scrape.

“Floral, really?”

“Maybe you’ll think twice about sliding around the dance floor at your next rehearsal now,” you smiled, leaning forward to kiss the bandaged knee.

He muttered to himself, but a flush of red colored that winter-kissed ivory skin all the same. Your hands trickled up to his cheeks, and squeezed lightly, making him smile forcibly. “You’re mumbling again.”

“I said,” He snapped, “that it isn’t like I wanted Hoseok to spin me around and try to toss me to Jungkook.”

“Hoseok threw you?” This was news to you. Yoongi’s original story was that he fell. A hand clasped over his mouth and he silently reprimanded himself as your hands shot to your hips in an angry mom stance.

“Baby—it was an accident. Don’t kill him.”

But it was too late, you were heading to the studio to give those boys a piece of your mind! No one hurt your Yoongi and got away with it!

Yoongi was chasing after you, limping with his wound, that flash of floral band aid stark against his bone white knee. But you knew that if the roles were reversed he’d be doing the same—knew that you were both fiercely protective of one another no matter how much you bickered.

So, with a frown and a glare that could drop a three hundred pound man on his butt, you stalked into the studio and scolded the boys that dared to wound your precious, perfect Yoongi.