the house was quiet in the way that only a place untouched by time could be. sunlight stretched through the window in faded ribbons, catching on the fine dust that hovered in the air, untouched by movement. ivory had slept too long—long enough for the day to start slipping toward evening, long enough for the weight in her bones to feel less like exhaustion and more like avoidance.
when she finally shuffled into the kitchen, there was already a cup of coffee waiting. not steaming, but still warm, the heat dull against her palms when she curled her fingers around the ceramic. across the counter, the woman who had placed it there lingered, watching without watching, her hand resting idly against the marble like she had been waiting for something that never arrived.
for a while, neither spoke.
the silence between them wasn’t new. it was built from old bricks, cemented by the things they had never figured out how to say. the younger girl took a sip of the coffee. it was made just the way she liked it.
that alone made her stomach twist.
her mother exhaled slowly, shifting her weight. “you can stay as long as you need.” the words settled between them, heavier than they should have been.
jane’s slender fingers tightened reflexively around the mug, as if it could be the only source of grounding in that fragile moment. “that’s not how this works.”
“i don’t care how it works.” jennie replied without hesitation. there was a brief pause before she continued again, tucking a strand of her own loose hair out of her eyes. “you don’t have to rush into anything.”
a bitter scoff pressed against the back of ivory’s teeth, but she swallowed it down. the thought of staying here—of being cocooned in this familiar, yet unfamiliar space, waiting for the storm outside to pass—felt too much like pressing pause on a life that wasn’t waiting for her to catch up.
she slowly set the cup down with a quiet clink. “and then what?” each word is slow and deliberate, as if she was expecting some sort of catch, or perhaps a way to never face the reality that loomed so large outside these four walls.
“then we figure it out.”
the ‘we’ caught her off guard.
there had been no ‘we’ for years. only phone calls that rang too long, missed moments softened by expensive gifts, letters never sent. a life built in separate rooms, separate countries, separate realities.
and yet, here they were, pretending there was something salvageable between them.
ivory’s gentle gaze dropped to her hands, tracing the rim of her cup with the pad of her thumb. “you think that’s possible?” she whispered, the implication evident without any more explanation.
her mother hesitated. just for a mere second. but it was enough.
the truth settled in the space between them, quiet and suffocating.
maybe neither of them knew how to be a mother and daughter. maybe they never even truly had.
the clock on the wall ticked forward, measuring the silence between them in steady, indifferent beats. the weight of it pressed against ivory’s ribs, a quiet suffocation she had learned to live with. it had always been like this between them—words clipped before they could be said, emotions restrained, careful.
her mother’s hands twitched where they rested against the counter, fingers curling ever so slightly before she stilled them again. she looked the same as always—poised, untouchable, beautiful in the way that had made her a legend long before ivory ever knew what it meant to belong to her. but in the soft glow of the afternoon, there was something weary in her eyes. something fragile beneath the surface, like glass just before it cracks.
ivory swallowed, the taste of coffee bitter on her tongue. “i don’t know if i want to figure it out.” the words left her mouth before she had the chance to stop them, and the moment they were out in the open, she wished she could take them back.
something flickered across her mother’s face—hurt, maybe. but it was gone before she could be sure.
“i know,” was all she said. and somehow, that was worse.
the ache curled itself deeper into ivory’s chest. she had expected an argument, a sharp retort, something to grasp onto. but instead, there was only quiet acceptance. the kind that made her feel like she was slipping further away, like there was nothing tethering them together except the undeniable fact of what they once were.
she looked away, eyes drifting to the floor, then to the window where the sun had begun its slow descent. she had spent years imagining what it would be like to stand in front of her mother like this, with nothing between them except everything they had never said.
it didn’t feel like closure. it just felt hollow.
her mother sighed, soft and almost imperceptible. “you can still stay.”
ivory hesitated. “for how long?”
“for as long as you need.”
the words should have been comforting, but instead, they sat heavy in her chest. she didn’t know what she needed. didn’t know if this was a bridge being built or if they were just two people standing at the edge of something that had already collapsed.
she ran her fingers along the rim of her cup again, the warmth fading, leaving only the ghost of heat behind.
“okay,” she said finally, barely above a whisper.
her mother didn’t smile. she didn’t reach across the counter, didn’t try to make it something it wasn’t. she only nodded, as if that single syllable was the most they could manage.
and maybe it was.
the clock on the wall ticked forward, measuring the silence between them in steady, indifferent beats. the weight of it pressed against ivory’s ribs, a quiet suffocation she had learned to live with. it had always been like this between them—words clipped before they could be said, emotions restrained, careful.
across the counter, her mother’s fingers twitched before stilling against the marble, a hesitation so small it would have been easy to miss. but ivory didn’t miss it. she never had. she had spent a lifetime attuned to the subtleties of the woman in front of her; the way her jaw tensed when she was thinking too hard, the way her hands curled when she wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.
for all her mother’s poise, for all the ways the world saw her as untouchable, it was in moments like these that she felt painfully human.
“i don’t know if i want to figure it out.” the words left ivory’s mouth before she had the chance to stop them, and the moment they were out in the open, she wished she could take them back.
something flickered across her mother’s face. hurt, maybe. but it was gone before the younger girl could be sure.
“i know,” was all she said. and somehow, that was worse. there was no fight, no sharp retort, no insistence that they try. just quiet acceptance. the kind that made her feel like she was slipping further away, like there was nothing tethering them together except the undeniable fact of what they once were.
ivory looked away, cat-like eyes drifting to the floor, then to the window where the sun had begun its slow descent. she had spent years imagining what it would be like to stand in front of her mother like this, with nothing between them except everything they had never said.
it didn’t feel like closure. it just felt hollow.
her mother sighed, soft and almost imperceptible to someone who wouldn’t be sitting this close to her.
“you can still stay.”
ivory hesitated. “for how long?”
“for as long as you need.”
the words should have been comforting, but instead, they sat heavy in her chest. she didn’t know what she needed. didn’t know if this was a bridge being built or if they were just two people standing at the edge of something that had already collapsed.
and yet, she wasn’t blind to the struggle on the other end of it. it had taken her far too long to realize that this wasn’t easy for her mother either.
she thought of the quiet sacrifices—the ones she had been too young to understand, the ones she had willfully ignored. the endless flights back and forth, the phone calls left to ring not because of carelessness but because of exhaustion. the way her mother had tried, in the only ways she knew how, with gifts wrapped in ribbons and words spoken through other people because directness had never been their strength.
she had always been waiting for a version of her mother who knew exactly what to do, how to love her in all the ways she needed. but what if that version never existed? what if, just like her, she had been figuring it out as she went, doing her best even when it was never enough?
ivory ran her fingers along the rim of her cup again, the warmth fading, leaving only the ghost of heat behind.
“okay,” she said finally, barely above a whisper. her mother didn’t smile. she didn’t reach across the counter, didn’t try to make it something it wasn’t. she only nodded, as if that single syllable was the most they could manage.
and maybe it was.
when ivory made her way back to her room, it smelled faintly of lavender. it wasn’t the scent of a new space but of one carefully curated, pieced together from the fragments of a past she had long since left behind.
kuma’s nails clicked softly against the hardwood as he followed her inside, his round, aged eyes looking up at her with quiet expectancy. he had always been a patient little thing, even when she was a child tugging him into her arms, chattering away about whatever nonsense had filled her head that day.
she knelt down, letting her fingers sink into his thick, graying fur. “hey, old man,” she murmured, scratching gently behind his ears the way he liked. he let out a small huff of approval, leaning into her touch.
ivory reached for the small bag of snacks she had found on the bedside table (clearly left for her, like so many other things in this room) and took out a tiny piece of jerky, holding it between her fingers. kuma sniffed it once before taking it delicately, chewing with slow, deliberate motions.
ivory exhaled, letting herself settle into the quiet. it was easier like this. just her and kuma, no words, no expectations.
her gaze flickered across the room, taking in the details. the furniture was new, but the essence of it wasn’t. the softest sheets, the pillows stacked just the way she used to like them. a shelf lined with books she barely remembered reading but knew had once been her favorites.
and then, there were the boxes.
she hadn’t noticed them at first, tucked carefully into the corner as if they had been waiting for her to rediscover them. a strange feeling curled in her chest as she reached for the first one, peeling back the lid.
inside, ribbons. bows in soft pastels, some slightly frayed at the edges from years of use. she picked one up—light pink, satin, still neatly tied. she used to wear them all the time. her grandmother used to fix them in her hair before school, gentle fingers smoothing down flyaways.
she swallowed the lump in her throat and set it aside, moving on to the next box.
this one was heavier. she opened it to find stacks of old photographs, some in envelopes, others loose. the kind taken with a disposable camera, the colors slightly faded, the edges curled.
she pulled out the first one and let out a quiet breath.
her finger covered half the frame, but she could still make out the image—her mother, seated in a makeup chair, a stylist working on her eyeliner. the date on the back was barely legible, but it must have been years ago.
she shuffled through more. a shot of her mother, asleep on the couch in jieun’s home, one arm curled under her head. another of kuma, much younger, standing in a bathtub with a guilty-looking jennie beside him, hands stained with traces of blue and yellow paint. ivory barely remembered that day, but suddenly, it came back in flashes—how she had wanted to make kuma “prettier,” how her mother had sighed but laughed through it, gently scrubbing the paint out of his fur.
the photos were endless snapshots of a life she had long since convinced herself was too distant to reach for. her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up another one, the glossy print curling at the edges. it was blurry, the kind of shot taken in haste, but she could still make out the scene—a much younger ivory clearly running off with a much younger kuma in her arms.
she barely remembered that day, but the warmth of it seeped into her bones like something familiar.
another photo was one of her mother outside of a performance venue, bundled in a thick coat, one arm slung around jieun’s shoulder as they both smiled at the camera. ivory recognized the building, the soft glow of streetlights casting shadows against the pavement. it was a rare night that she had been there too, clinging to her mother’s sleeve. she mostly remembered being half-asleep in the back of a black van waiting for the idol to finish her rehearsals.
she swallowed, reaching for the next item, but this time, it wasn’t a photo.
a tiny bracelet, tucked carefully at the bottom of the box. the elastic was stretched, but the small white beads were still intact, spelling out her name in block letters.
ivory traced her fingers over them, the ghost of a memory flickering to life. she had worn this every day in elementary school, a gift from her mother after one of her first big performances. she had lost it once—cried for hours thinking it was gone forever—only for her mother to find it in the backseat of the car, slipping it onto her wrist before bedtime with a soft, “it’s okay. i’ll always keep track of you.”
her throat tightened.
her gaze fell to another item, nestled between the photos. a silk scarf, delicate and impossibly soft beneath her fingertips. she recognized it instantly—the chanel pattern, the muted golds and blues.
paris. fashion week. she had been too young to go, still in school, but her mother had called her late at night, voice tired but excited.
“i’ll bring something back for you.”
she had thought it would be a keychain, a souvenir from an airport shop. instead, jennie had pulled her aside after returning home, slipping the scarf into her hands with a conspiratorial smile.
“don’t tell anyone, okay? this was part of my outfit.”
ivory had worn it everywhere around the house. around her neck, draped over her hair, even tied it around her wrist a few times before eventually tucking it away somewhere. she had completely forgotten about it.
and yet, her mother hadn’t.
she exhaled shakily, setting the scarf down. kuma shifted beside her, pressing his small, warm body against her leg. she reached out instinctively, running a hand over his fur, grounding herself.
her mother had kept everything.
not just the big things. not just the glossy, polished memories that made their way onto magazine pages. but the small, quiet pieces of their life together—the bracelet, the scarf, the photos ivory had taken with clumsy fingers, even the ones where her finger blocked half the frame.
the ones that no one else would care about.
the ones that mattered.
a lump formed in her throat, impossible to swallow down.
kuma let out a soft huff, resting his head against her knee. she looked down at him, brushing her fingers over his graying fur.
“she never really let go, huh?”
the little dog sighed in response, curling closer. ivory sat there, surrounded by pieces of her past, letting the weight of it settle over her like a blanket. and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel quite so confused.
since she’d be staying here for a while, ivory decided to walk around and explore her mother’s home. the house felt different when she wandered through it—not foreign, but not quite familiar either. ivory had spent years here in pieces, never long enough to claim it as home, but never distant enough to forget some of its layout.
she moved through the hallways with quiet steps, brushing her fingers over the walls, the faint hum of memories whispering beneath her touch. most of the doors were open, revealing rooms with carefully curated furniture, minimalist but warm. her mother’s taste had always been expensive but never cold.
she hesitated at one door, slightly ajar.
jennie’s office.
pushing it open, she stepped inside, her breath catching for a moment.
it was a space that could belong to no one else.
awards gleamed from polished shelves—golden statues, crystal plaques, framed certifications. blackpink albums were lined up neatly, each era immortalized in glossy covers. magazines, stacked and arranged, bore her mother’s face in various phases of her career. some covers were young, fresh-faced, from her early years; others carried the weight of experience, eyes sharper, presence even stronger.
ivory had seen these before, on coffee tables, on billboards, in passing. but here, in this room, they felt different. personal.
she let her gaze drift lower, toward the desk. packages, unopened, sat neatly near the foot of it. but one thing in particular made her pause.
a black-and-white album, familiar in every way.
her chest tightened immediately.
fearless.
lesserafim’s debut album, her own group’s first album. an ep technically, but they sold like albums. but this specific one sitting in front of her very own eyes wasn’t just any regular copy.
this was a signed one.
and the album wasn’t just signed by her. it was signed by all of them.
ivory recognized the way the metallic ink layered over the glossy black-and-white cover, the way sakura’s looping signature sat just above kazuha’s neat scrawl, how yunjin’s writing curved beside eunchae and chaewon’s. and how her own signature was right in the middle, elegant and simple.
this wasn’t a random purchase. this version wasn’t even for sale. because this was a fan sign edition.
her brows furrowed as she carefully picked it up, running her thumb along the edge of the plastic. the thought of jennie waiting in line at a fan event, sitting across from her, was almost laughable. that definitely didn’t happen.
but that only made the question worse; how did she get this?
she gently flipped it over, checking for anything unusual, but there was nothing beyond the standard album. no note, no sign of how it ended up here.
ivory’s stomach twisted. her mother had done this on purpose. she didn’t just buy an album online—she had gone out of her way to get this, knowing exactly how limited it was.
there was only one explanation.
she must have sent someone. a manager, an assistant—someone who had gone in her place, sat in front of lesserafim, and handed over the album to be signed by each and every single member.
and yet, her mother had never mentioned it. never brought it up in casual conversation, never let it slip during their rare phone calls.
she had just simply kept it for herself.
ivory exhaled sharply, sinking onto the edge of the desk. her mother wasn’t the type to make grand declarations, she never had been. but this? this was something she had never expected to find. and then she heard it.
“what are you doing?”
ivory startled, her grip tightening on the album as jennie’s voice cut through the quiet. it wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t exactly soft either—just careful, measured. the kind of tone that left no room for misinterpretation.
she turned her head slowly, finding her mother standing in the doorway, one hand still resting on the frame. jennie’s gaze flickered from ivory to the album in her hands, her expression unreadable, but not surprised.
like she had known this moment was inevitable.
for a second, neither of them spoke.
ivory’s fingers hovered over the album’s cover, her mind racing through the implications of it all. “you had this.” the words came out quieter than she intended, but there was something pointed underneath.
jennie didn’t immediately respond. her lips parted as if she had something to say, something she had thought about before—but then, she hesitated. just enough for the silence to stretch.
ivory didn’t know what answer she was expecting.
an explanation? a reason? maybe even an admission that she had cared, in her own strange, distant way.
jennie exhaled, tilting her head slightly, her expression caught between embarrassment and something else—something closer to pride.
“i did.”
the words were simple, but the way her arms crossed, the way her gaze flickered from ivory’s hands to the shelf behind her, said more than she probably intended.
ivory studied her carefully, her fingers grazing over the smooth cover of the album. “why didn’t you tell me?”
jennie let out a soft, almost nervous chuckle, running a hand through her hair. “what was i supposed to say? ‘hey, i sent someone to a fansign so i could get my daughter’s album signed like some overgrown fangirl?’” she shook her head, pressing her lips together as if the thought alone made her cringe. “i figured you’d just make fun of me.”
ivory blinked in surprise. the idea of her mother, none other than jennie kim, going out of her way to get a signed album, then hiding it away because she was embarrassed? it didn’t fit with the image she had built of her over the years.
“you actually sent someone to a fansign for me?” ivory’s voice wavered somewhere between disbelief and something warmer, something more fragile. her mother scoffed, looking away like she couldn’t believe she was admitting to this.
“of course, i did. you think i wouldn’t?” she said as nonchalantly as she could. but then, softer, she spoke to add to her previous statement. “you’re my kid.”
something in ivory’s chest ached.
it was such a small thing, barely more than a murmur, but it landed heavy—like a stone dropped into water, sending ripples through everything she had been trying so hard to keep still.
she glanced back down at the album in her hands, suddenly unable to meet her mother’s gaze.
you’re my kid.
all this time, she had thought the distance between them was insurmountable, a canyon too wide to cross. but now, holding the proof of this, she wasn’t so sure.
synopsis: ivory's vlog during her mother's first solo coachella performance.
a/n: just a little fun thing i wrote for ivory :) enjoy
BEFORE THE FLIGHT
the video opens in low, amber-toned lighting—clearly still dark outside. the frame is shaky, like it was grabbed in a hurry, and when it finally stills, it focuses on ivory, curled up in bed. her blanket is slipping off one shoulder, her hair a little mussed, eyes barely open. she blinks at the camera, squinting against the glow of the screen.
her voice is thick with sleep, low and mumbly. “it’s 4:37 in the morning,” she whispers, then flips the camera around to show her digital clock glowing on the nightstand in bold red numbers.
there’s a pause before she speaks again, the lens now pointed at the ceiling. “she said we’re leaving at ten,” ivory mutters. “and do you know what time she told me to be at her house?”
another beat of silence. then the camera flips back to her face. her expression is completely deadpan, eyes blank as she slowly drags a hand down her cheek in disbelief.
“six,” she says. then adds, in a monotone: “she’s not okay in the head.”
the video cuts in mid-slide—ivory gliding dramatically across the sleek hardwood floors of her mother’s foyer in fuzzy black socks, arms stretched out like a ballerina. the camera is angled downward, catching the satisfying sound as her socks skim the floor.
from somewhere off-camera, jennie’s voice rings out, sharp and very motherly.
“baby, stop sliding.”
ivory freezes mid-glide, one foot slightly lifted, her phone pointed toward the ceiling like she’s been caught in the middle of a crime.
“you’re gonna fall and break something,” jennie adds from the other room, tone casual but clearly not up for debate.
“i’m literally a trained dancer,” ivory says, panning the camera to her face, which is trying very hard not to laugh. “this is my art form. it’s called coachella floor choreo.”
“do that at coachella then, not in my house,” jennie calls back.
“so you’re saying…i am performing.”
“stop sliding.”
another cut—ivory tiptoeing down the hallway now, whispering dramatically into the camera. “she thinks i’m done. but i’m not done.” she pans to her socked feet again, crouches slightly, and then launches into a full-blown run-slide across the kitchen floor.
you can hear jennie sigh so hard it echoes.
“jane ivory!”
the video shakes as ivory bursts into laughter.
FLIGHT/POST FLIGHT
the video picks up mid-whisper, the camera pointed sneakily across the aisle. ivory zooms in on alison, who’s lounging in her first class cubicle with an eye mask pushed up on her head and a bag of haribo gummies in hand.
"alison, please," ivory begs, her voice laced with quiet desperation. "please, please, please."
alison grins and holds up the gummies like she’s dangling treasure. ivory lets out a dramatic gasp behind the camera, as if she’s been offered gold.
“mom told me i can't have any sugar until we land,” ivory murmurs, reaching forward from her seat like she’s in a wildlife documentary. “the contraband is now crossing the aisle—”
before her fingers can reach the bag, a soft thwack lands on her arm. the camera jolts as she squeals, catching a flash of a plush travel pillow being wielded like a weapon.
"valentine." jennie's voice is flat but so mother-coded. “what did i say about sugar?” the camera spins around to catch jennie leaning over from her cubicle, still in her cozy flight fit, looking unimpressed as she holds the pillow mid-air, clearly ready to strike again.
ivory shrinks into her seat dramatically. “how did you even see that?” jennie just taps her temples, a knowing expression on her face. “eyes everywhere.”
“okay freak,” ivory mutters, shoving the gummies into her hoodie like a raccoon hoarding food. “you’re supposed to be relaxing, not sniping me from seat 2A.”
alison’s trying not to laugh, covering her mouth with the bag as jennie gives her the you’re not helping look. ivory aims the camera at her again. “you saw her give it to me, right? this is entrapment.”
“you’re banned from the snacks until we land,” jennie says, settling back into her seat, still side-eyeing her daughter. “i’m literally an adult,” ivory protests, half-heartedly, mouth already full of one of the stolen gummies.
jennie doesn’t even look up as ivory shifts the camera back down to her gummies. but the idol’s voice is crystal clear before the video cuts again.
“you’re literally on my flight.”
the video cuts in with a gust of wind, the sound sharp and loud in the mic as the camera sways. they’re officially off the plane, walking down the stairs onto the tarmac, the sky bright and cloudless above lax. black-on-black suvs line up ahead like secret service and team members are already splitting off into groups, everyone looking important and exhausted.
ivory, meanwhile, is in full gremlin mode. the camera flips to her face—her hair windswept, sunglasses slightly crooked, lip gloss somehow still intact. “we have arrived,” she narrates. “hello, los angeles. i’m officially just emotional support now.”
she spins the camera toward her mom walking a few paces ahead, hood still up, sipping the same iced coffee like it never ended. ivory catches up in a little half-run, and her voice comes through loud and exaggerated.
“mommy, can i hold your hand?”
jennie, without missing a step, side-eyes her daughter. “aren’t you eighteen?”
“so?” ivory doesn’t even blink. she slides her hand into her mom’s like it’s a red carpet moment, and immediately starts swinging their arms. jennie tries to resist it at first. and fails. “you’re gonna pull my shoulder out.”
“you don’t need it,” ivory chirps. “you have stage presence.”
the camera briefly captures a member of jennie’s team turning around to hide their laugh, then cuts again. now they’re in the suv. it’s quiet, cool, the leather seats pristine. jennie’s settling in, reaching for her phone, when ivory suddenly gasps like there's a spider.
“um your seatbelt.” ivory's tone is dire. her camera is pointed dramatically at her mother, who freezes like she’s being scolded by tsa. “oh my god,” the idol mutters, laughing under her breath as she clicks it on. ivory nods solemnly from the passenger seat. “can’t lose you before weekend one. i have merch to buy.”
“you’re not getting any merch,” jennie warns, pulling out her phone. the younger girl, still filming, turns to the camera and whispers, “she’s lying. i will be getting merch.
COACHELLA DAY 1
the scene opens with alison's camera facing ivory, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. the music is blasting, the crowd is going wild, and she is clearly having fun—except for the fact that she keeps glancing at her mother, who’s standing and watching the stage with an intensity only a perfectionist could have. jennie’s arms are crossed, her face calm and analytical.
ivory holds up the camera to the manager, whispering dramatically, “can you believe this? it’s friday. not even the day she performs yet. and she is already acting like she’s about to go on stage! look at her.” she zooms in on the blackpink idol, who’s standing perfectly still, practically in full “monitoring” mode and completely unfazed by the crowd’s energy.
the younger girl sighs exaggeratedly, throwing her hands up. “this is supposed to be fun! people are dancing, and she’s out here thinking about random things when she doesn’t even go on until sunday!”
alison, barely holding back laughter, continues to record as ivory stands there, biting her lip in frustration. she pans back to jennie, who’s still completely engrossed in her phone, completely ignoring the chaos around her. “mom! MOM!” ivory shouts, but her mother doesn’t budge.
ivory gives the camera a look of complete exasperation, shock on her feline features. “she’s literally not even enjoying the festival, guys. what is wrong with her?” she spins the camera back to alison with an exaggerated shrug. “like, i get it, she’s a perfectionist, but this is coachella. there are dancing people over there, and my mom is analyzing things.” ivory shakes her head, her frustration mounting.
just as jennie looks up from her phone, ivory leaps in front of the camera, dramatically shaking her. “mom, you have to dance with me! it’s coachella!” she whines, trying to pull jennie away from her “work zone.”
the older woman, looking mildly annoyed but not phased at all, raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “baby, this is important. you don’t get it.”
ivory rolls her eyes and points to herself like she’s about to go on a whole tangent. “you’re too busy to have fun. well, this is supposed to be about fun, too. not just boring business.”
alison snickers quietly behind the camera as ivory turns it back on her face, dramatically shaking her head again. “mom, i’m telling you. you can’t just keep working when you’re literally at coachella. just...dance with me!” she pleads, and finally jennie looks up, slightly amused.
“no,” jennie deadpans, “i’ll dance when i feel like it.” ivory lets out an exaggerated gasp, her face in disbelief. “she won’t even dance with me!” she says to alison, wide-eyed in shock and almost mortification. “this is abuse.”
alison tries to keep it together as she zooms in on the younger woman’s face, and ivory dramatically flips her hair back. “i am officially traumatized by the lack of fun at this festival.” with that, ivory turns and runs off toward the crowd, yelling back to jennie, “i’m going to have fun whether you like it or not!”
alison, still filming, lets out a wheeze. jennie stands there for a moment, shaking her head with a half-smile, and mutters, “she’s dramatic.”
the last clip in the segment is a short shot of ivory and rosie jumping up and down together in the distance during lisa’s set, with the two absolutely shaking the life out of each other as they have fun.
PRE-PERFORMANCE
jennie’s in full glam now, standing in front of the mirror in her performance fit, looking like she’s ready for her set. her game face is on–calm, focused, commanding. meanwhile, her daughter is lounging on the couch behind her, sipping from a juice box like the world’s most unserious hypewoman.
trying to act casual, ivory throws out, “i'm excited for seoul city.” the younger woman is unable to fight the sneaky grin off her face from her own humor.
jennie freezes mid-hair-fluff. she turns around slowly, blinking at her daughter like she just confessed to a felony. "seoul city?" she asks in utter disbelief, not even looking at ivory’s phone camera but straight at her daughter. jennie then quickly narrows her eyes. “you’re messing with me.”
ivory shrugs innocently, sipping louder. “i mean it is a good song. i think a lot of people already like it, but they’ll like it more with your choreography.”
alison—seated nearby and going over last-minute run-throughs—starts wheezing. jennie looks at her, stone-faced. “cover her ears during seoul city. and her eyes. matter of fact, just get her out of the venue.”
ivory lets out the loudest laugh yet, nearly choking on her juice as the camera shakes from the force of her laughter. “i’ll sing every lyric—”
“stop.” jennie shrieks in embarrassment and grabs a throw pillow and hurls it directly at her daughter’s face. ivory, now dramatically sprawled across the couch like she’s been wounded, is laughing so hard she’s crying. she points her phone camera at her mother who is rubbing her temples in exasperation, while alison and ivory herself are still laughing. “this is so embarrassing for you.”
the next clip is a quick cut of the sun starting to dip below the desert skyline, casting golden rays across the coachella grounds. the camera’s shaking a bit as it follows ivory weaving her way through the backstage barriers, giggling and ignoring the fifteen texts her mother has probably sent her telling her to stay in the artist section.
ivory, naturally, is already pushing through toward the barricade of general admission. she flips the camera around to selfie-mode, beaming. “hi everyone!” she says into the lens, waving wildly. and then it's instant chaos.
phones are out in seconds, fans scream her name, and someone quite literally throws a capybara plush at her. ivory shrieks when it hits her shoulder, picks it up, holds it like simba, and dies laughing. “why do you guys always have these?” she yells over the crowd, holding up the capybara like a trophy.
someone hands her a handwritten note. another offers her a phone for a selfie. one girl starts crying. there’s glitter everywhere. ivory, both flattered and slightly overwhelmed, clutches the plushie to her chest and keeps yelling over the barrier, “okay but i literally have to go before my mom kills me!”
she turns to the camera again. “i’m not supposed to be here. she said to ‘stay with alison.’ that was the rule.” she holds the capybara up, showing the camera all its angles. “but would alison have given me this?? exactly.”
she blows one last kiss to the fans and sprints back toward the vip gate, screaming “bye” like she’s just committed a crime.
PERFORMANCE/POST PERFORMANCE
the screen opens to a wide shot of the coachella main stage glowing in deep violet and gold, the crowd pulsing with energy as the beat of jennie’s set kicks off. quick cuts follow—grainy, sparkly clips filmed on a phone from the vip area.
the first clip is where ivory’s phone swings around in dizzy excitement, landing on her face. “it’s startingggg,” she yells into the mic, grinning like a maniac. the camera tilts to show lisa beside her in dark sunglasses and a mesh top, blowing a kiss to the crowd. rosé is behind them, already doing little shoulder rolls in time with the music.
the next cut is a shot of the three dancing together—lisa doing exaggerated hip rolls, ivory jumping up and down like she’s never heard music before, rosé twirling dramatically with her arms in the air. jennie’s voice echoes from the stage, effortlessly cool and commanding, and all three scream like fangirls.
it shifts to ivory panning the camera to the sea of fans behind her, showing glowing lightsticks, flags and a few stuffed animals. she zooms in on one capybara plush someone is holding above their head. “its so cute,” she wheezes, voice half-lost to the music.
the clip following that is lisa with her arm around ivory’s shoulder now, both swaying with their heads knocked together, screaming lyrics as jennie sings “with the ie”. rosé is filming the two of them, laughing so hard she snorts.
the final clip is during the second verse of starlight. the camera stays on ivory, still dancing but suddenly very focused as she’s jumping around. it’s her favorite song—she’s grinning, mouthing along, ready for that line.
“so many after hours…”
ivory beams, mouthing the words—
“i just wanna make my mama prouder—”
but on stage, jennie sings:
“i just wanna make my daughter prouder—”
ivory freezes. the scream she lets out is immediate and primal. “WHAT—”
she nearly drops the phone as lisa grabs her shoulders and shakes her in disbelief. rosé’s mouth is fully open, gasping as she joins in with the shaking. ivory is literally screaming somehow louder than the actual live stage sounds. not words, just pure screams of emotion.
“MOMMYYY!” is the last thing heard, the camera shaking violently as ivory screams her lungs out at her mother on stage before the scene cuts into the next clip.
the next clip fades in with a shaky but clear shot—courtesy of alison—of jennie and ivory on a golf cart, slowly being driven through the backstage lot under soft festival lights. the sky is dark now, the stars barely peeking through the haze of stage smoke and camera flashes.
jennie’s still in full glam, mic pack wires tucked away, hair a little wind-blown, her stage outfit covered with a cozy jacket tossed over her shoulders. she’s clearly tired—but glowing. there’s something serene and proud in her eyes, even as she leans back on the cart’s seat.
ivory, however, is fully curled into her mother’s side like a sleepy koala.
she’s practically glued to her mom’s torso, legs draped over jennie’s lap and arms wrapped tightly around her middle, face hidden against her shoulder. jennie rests her chin on the top of ivory’s head, gently rubbing her daughter’s back as the cart hums along.
alison, seated opposite them, is clearly trying not to laugh as she records. “ivory,” she says, teasing. “you good? or are we still crying?”
ivory doesn’t lift her head. her voice is muffled but still sharp nonetheless. “don’t talk to me.”
jennie snorts, squeezing her daughter softly as the wind whips around them. “she’s been like this since i got off stage.”
“she’s like, part of you now,” alison laughs. “she might actually be fused to your ribcage.”
“i am,” ivory mumbles, still not looking up. “we’re one organism now.”
jennie grins and looks into the camera. “she’s mad i didn’t tell her about the lyric change.”
ivory finally peeks up, red-eyed and dramatic. “i wasn’t prepared for that!” alison laughs so hard the camera shakes. jennie kisses ivory’s forehead, cradling her like she’s five again. “okay, okay. next time, i’ll give you a heads-up. deal?”
ivory just tightens her grip again and hides her face again before speaking. “deal,” she mumbles. “but i’m still crying. and don’t do that next week, grandma’s coming. you have to keep the original lyrics for her.”
the cart bumps along in the background, the sounds of the festival fading behind them as the clip ends on jennie brushing her daughter’s hair gently with her fingers, looking down at her with all the pride in the world.
after watching those coachella stages, jennie for sure isn’t letting ivory see ANYONE 😭 prob has that girl in her trailer with an ipad and some food bc there’s no way she’s letting her see anything else
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