BLACLPINK future

The concert lights are down, the roar of the crowd fading into the low buzz of backstage — stylists whispering, crew members packing up, and laughter spilling from the dressing room. Lisa’s sitting in front of the mirror, still catching her breath, when little Nari toddles over holding her juice box upside down. “Mama dance again?” she asks, voice sugary and serious. Lisa laughs, brushing sweat-damp hair from her forehead. “No more dance, baby. Mama tired.” Jennie leans over, still half in her stage outfit. “She says that every time,” she teases. “Then five minutes later she’s doing the ‘DDU-DU DDU-DU’ gun pose with a hairbrush.” “Lies,” Lisa mutters. “That was one time.” Rosé’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Noah untangle his toy mic cord. “You know,” she says softly, “he keeps trying to hit my high notes.” Noah grins, humming off-key. Jisoo snorts, tossing her jacket onto a chair. “At least he’s trying. Mine just critiques everyone’s outfits.” You’re sitting near the snack table with the rest of the kids, trading cookies and stickers. Sora claps every time a stylist walks by. Jennie’s twins are arguing about who gets to wear the glitter sneakers first. Nari is scribbling with a lipstick she definitely stole. Lisa looks over and grins. “Hey, Mini Blinks — how’d we do tonight?” You hold up a paper you drew earlier — a stick figure group of BLACKPINK under big pink lights with a gold star and the words “Best Show Ever.” Rosé melts instantly. “I’m framing that.” Jennie: “You said that about the macaroni art.” Rosé: “I did frame it!”