EGO TRIP,⠀⠀⠀2018⠀⠀⠀ ▃ ⠀⠀⠀a fictional rock band formed by five members : WARREN, INEZ, JOSIE, OLIVER, and SAMI.
𝚒. before you interact.
ONE. this blog will deal with MATURE themes and TRIGGERING content. please remember your limits when interacting with those posts..
TWO. i will do my best to make sure content warnings are addressed as they come forward. most posts will probably just feature a cw somewhere. please let me know if I ever missed anything important!
THREE. remember the THINK principal before sending asks: is it true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, or kind? and i will delete anything that has an antagonist tone
FOUR. fic specific dni : if you ethnobend, use minors as face claims, write romantic pairings with idols that are minors.
FIVE. none of this was written with ai. i work in education and have read so many middle grade books lately, so it’s influenced some personal writing quirks.
ODIE — 25 — just for fun.
blog roll : @divinlosers — @heartielamb — @mournmuse
It's crazy that you'd be down to be a fucking rebound, ain't even in my right mind, and you think that's a green light, and that just doesn't seem right, no.
MADISON BEER | LOCKET TOUR
Night 9 — Madrid (Spain)
In my mind, you're alive. And I didn't waste the last chance I could have seen you again and show you I do love you, because I can go visit and do that again.
ANATOLY. They all think they see a man / Who doesn’t know / Which move to make / Which way to go / Whose private life / Caused his decline / Wrecked its grand design / Some are vicious, some are fools / And others blind / To see in me / One of their kind. — Chess: The Musical.
CONTENT WARNINGS : symptoms of mental illness ( paranoia, anxiety ). manipulation. mention of minor character death. previous suicidal ideation. subtle references to substance abuse. let me know if i missed anything && not edited. first piece in saur long 🥳
WORD COUNT : 3.2k words.
OCTOBER 2025 — LOS ANGELES.
Oliver Song learns early on that the world doesn’t end in a single moment. The end of the world is a crescendo of thoughts and feelings that built up over the weeks. It is a slow build, a lingering feeling of hopelessness that continues to spiral out of control. He saw it with his father; he saw it with himself. Two sides of the same coin. And two years after London, Oliver pushes the door to the conference room open with a heavy heart and shaky hands, the same anxiety that accompanied the end of the world taking control of his thoughts.
The room is too perfect, too clean. A giant television sits on one side of the room and two sides of the same table. One side was filled with higher level executives and one of their assistants. Each worker is dressed to perfection, perfectly pressed seams and brand new leather shoes that communicated who had the power in the room. Five minutes until the conference started and everyone continued typing away on their laptops, not bothering to glance his way.
Manila folders with each of their names sat in front of him. His name is written in letters that loop and connect, a fucked of varation of cursive. Pens are placed in the middle. Glasses of the most expensive water filled three quarters. He pulled at his collar. Someone keeps turning up the heat.
”Good morning,” the assistant greets. She leans in closer and says, “They needed a notes keeper and I needed the extra money—win-win situation, ya know? I’m rooting for you guys.”
Oliver tries to smile back. He really did. The assistants were always fans or someone just young enough to know him. He needs to put on a good face for her.
“Yeah, I get it. Gotta do what you have to,” he laughs it off, but his voice cracks and suddenly, it's warmer in the room. He takes a sip of water.
The girl gives him a look and goes back to her computer. He sighs and leans back into his chair. Other Ark 21 employees pass by the conference room and pretend not to look in, but he can still feel their eyes drift inside, wondering what was about to happen. Oliver pretends he doesn’t see them. Everyone at Ark 21 was good at keeping their eyes down. His focus turns back to the manila folders.
Initial contract negotiations were put on hold two years ago because of their indefinite hiatus. Ark 21 said that they did not want to jeopardize recovery and force ( him ) them back into performing; they could take as long as they wanted, and the company would be there to support them. It wasn’t until a few months ago they were able to breach the topic again. All five of them responded in the email chain to their lawyer and manager. They sent their requests for the contract and then a date was scheduled.
Things were good in Manhattan. The city wasn’t as overwhelming anymore. Oliver could leave the comfort of his apartment without the fear of someone following him. He even left after sunset twice last week and met up at a bar with some of his old friends. Friends from before. He switched to drinking vitamin waters and coffee. Conversations were still a struggle. Things were good. He is good. The future is good and something he looks forward to. It's like his mother always said: put it in a box and let it go.
Put it in a box and let it go. He could do that.
The door opens and Inez comes in. Her caramel colored hair is pulled back in a single braid and messy strands are pulled in the front. A large latte balances in her right hand with her phone and lip gloss. She looks wind swept and takes a generous amount of hand sanitizer. Her jeans hung loosely around her waist and Inez wore one of her favorite graphic tees, chunky boots to match, of course. The door shuts softly behind her and she says hello before sitting on the left end of the table.
A seat between her and Oliver. Space. An explicitly placed boundary. Oliver keeps his gaze focused on his hands. He doesn’t say anything and neither does she.
The same assistant from earlier tries a similar tactic and is successful in engaging Inez in conversation. He picks at the skin on his pointer finger as they discuss mundane things. The weather. One of the New York sports teams. Inez’s trip to the MET last weekend. They trade hidden gems and recommendations like nothing.
Josie follows not much longer. Unlike Inez’s careful carelessness, Josie is always attempting perfection. She wears the perfect amount of makeup to look natural and holds herself tall and strong. She has an olive green skirt and cream cardigan on, mary janes, and a bag is balanced on her right shoulder. Josie doesn’t look any different than the last time Oliver saw her. She sits in the seat between Inez and Oliver, carefully leaving the other seats for Warren and Sami. Her face is practiced, smile and open body language; the one he watched her perfect from the beginning.
“Morning,” Josie says.
“Morning,” Oliver replies, wringing his hands under the table. “How are you?”
”Good. It’s nice to see you.” She tests the waters, trying to see how close she could get before Oliver clams up. “You look good.”
Oliver resists the urge to clear his throat. A nervous habit. “Yeah. Tryna put the weight back on and everything. My family’s been really helpful.”
She nodded. “I can imagine. You were in Boston, right?”
He hummed in affirmation. “Mom moved back there when I was seventeen. It reminded me of a smaller Manhattan. What have you been up to?”
”Nothing much,” Josie shrugs. “I was mostly trying to just fill the time. I made this sweater.” She lifts the project to show him.
He is genuinely impressed. “That’s sick.”
The conversation is cut off by the arrival of Warren and Samantha. Their height is the most obvious difference between them. Warren easily towers over anyone in his vicinity while Sami is an average height. They share the same heart-shaped mouth and straight nose as their mother. Warren’s hair is more of a chocolate color while Sami teeters between blonde and brunette. They were both tanned, evidence of their summer spent touring Europe. Neither of them acknowledged Oliver but nodded at Inez and Josie.
This is the first time Oliver’s seen them since London. The conference room was already tense, but this is suffocating. When he makes eye contact with Warren, the other man’s jaw is set tightly. He looked like someone that already decided this meeting was pointless. Warren falls into the seat next to Oliver.
“Who are we waiting for?” Warren asks, leaning back in the office chair. “I don’t see anyone missing.”
“Mr. Gielen, Mrs. Clairmont isn’t here yet.”
”Right.” Warren forces a smile. “How could I forget her.”
The next five minutes are spent in tense silence. Only Warren and Sami talk quietly to each other. Inez texts someone. Oliver continues to ruminate. The natural cycle. The silence is interrupted by the entrance of Maren Clairmont. The other representatives jump into action and the manila folder is placed in front of him with phones being put away.
Maren radiates power. Her dress is pressed to perfection and her golden colored hair slicked back, not a single one misplaced and no split ends. She didn’t have anything in her hands and didn’t offer an explanation about being five minutes late.
She’s always had this easy going confidence. From the beginning, Maren Clairmont was a shark in blood-invested waters. Able to smell talent out in unlikely areas and mold them into stars. She is the current owner and chief executive officer of Ark 21, having occupied the position since 2022 when the original founder stepped down because of health concerns. He assured that everyone was in good hands with Maren, an entertainment lawyer that knew her way around the system.
When no one speaks, she leans back. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Oliver is the first to reach forward. The sound of paper felt louder than it should have and pages upon pages were stapled together. He turns to the back of the packet—ninety nine pages, front and back. The next phase of his career dwindled down to ink and clauses. He breathes deeply and takes a moment. There was no rush. He could read the contact whenever he was ready. That doesn’t stop his leg from shaking under the table.
Daniel, the chief operations officer, clears his throat. “We’re excited to have you back.”
Sami glances up from the contract. “Are you?”
Warren stifles a laugh. Inez smiles from the corner of his eye.
Cora and Daniel are Maren’s seconds. The two of them deal with the artists and manage the behind the scenes operations. Daniel plays the pacifying role while Cora demands results at any means possible. A sick sort of déjà du rolls over him. Nothing has changed in the two years since he last sat in this conference room.
Another representative, Cora, speaks up, shuffling her papers around. “The growth you have shown in just the last few years has been tremendous. You’ve built something really special.”
”Of course,” Daniel jumps in. “That’s what a strong partnership between company and artist looks like.”
Inez laughs, not bothering to hide it. “Right,” she shakes her head. “Partnership.”
Cora moves past the sarcasm. “We’ve marked the most important sections for you.”
Oliver pulls at the first tab and starts flipping through the different sections. He glances at the other headers. He’ll look at those later. He continues until the section about the ownership of their music and uses a pen to track his reading. Ark 21 owns their previous records and Oliver wants whatever they made next.
He doesn’t look up from the contract but, somehow, his voice is steady. “Why didn’t the ownership clause change?”
The question cuts clean through the room. Cora blinks, not expecting any of them to say anything. “We’ve outlined the ownership structure in section—“
”I know,” Oliver says, rushing the words out. “But it’s the same as before.”
A pause.
”Ownership is complex," Daniel starts, looking between Cora and some of the other major shareholders. He doesn’t know what to say. They weren’t expecting any questions. “I mean, especially at your level—“
Warren cuts him off. “Our level?”
”Your current market status. Ego Trip hasn't been active in two years. Ark 21 needs a guarantee of success to keep operating,” Cora explains carefully. Like she’s talking to a group of children.
”And why is that?” Warren asks.
“Warren,” Inez warns sharply.
He exhales through his nose but said nothing. Nobody says anything. The only sounds were the turning of pages and the writing of notes as the company attempted to regather themselves. Oliver shifts in his seat and keeps flipping through the contract. So much of it recycled from their initial agreement
Josie closes the packet with a soft thud. “I have some concerns about this.”
Cora folders her hands. Her expression refined itself into something guarded. “We expected concerns, of course.”
”I think,” she says lowly. “If we’re talking about the next five years, we need to be honest about the last seven.”
He pulls at the collar of his shirt again. Whatever confidence that filled him evaporates as everyone pauses for a moment, letting the words sink in. Oliver risks a glance at the others. Warren is staring at him down, like finally, someone said it; Sami’s pen has gone still, forgetting the questions she was writing in the margins of the contract. .
“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Josie.”
He almost flinches at the icy tone of Cora’s voice.
“I’m not—“ She exhales deeply. “I’m not implying anything… I just think we’ve changed since last time.”
Daniel is quick to try to save things. “That’s natural. Growth is a part of the artist’s journey—"
”It doesn’t feel the same,” Sami interrupts.
Cora turns to her, the same icy anger leveled at her. “In what way?”
Sami shrugs. “It doesn’t feel like us.”
Maren leans forward in her chair and the entire room re-centers around her. All attention snaps to her. “Let’s simplify this, then. They are right.” She speaks clearly and confidently and the representatives nod eagerly, their initial point forgotten. “The structure isn’t perfect and it wasn’t built to be. You’ve outgrown it. That’s a good thing.”
Warren demands, “Then we want to change it.”
”Of course,” Maren agrees, waving him off. “You all want different things, though. Ownership, transparency and choice in decision. Maybe even some leverage against the company,” she listed each reason on her fingers. “Am I wrong?”
”No,” Inez says carefully.
Maren nods. Hook, line, and sinker. “All of that is possible, but it will be incremental. Sustainably isn’t about control—it's built piece by piece with a steady foundation. We adjust your ownership percentage over the years and steadily increase creative control.”
She tosses the stack of papers into the middle of the table like nothing. Maren didn’t even spare the papers a single glance. She, instead, looks closely at each one of them and Oliver swears she could read every thought he had. The ball’s in their court. She waits for someone to say something, to refute the gift that she just gave them.
”How?” Inez asks. She looks down at the fine print in front of her again. “How will you decide when we can have more?”
“Tie it into performance—ticket sales and albums sold. We’ll set a goal each time and each time you break expectations, you will gain more say in distribution strategy.” She looks at Warren before saying the next part. “Creative oversight can be guaranteed. Ability to veto ideas.”
Oliver frowned slightly. Everything was falling into place far too easily. He expected more of a fight from the representatives and especially Maren.
He clarified “But not full ownership?”
”Not yet,” Maren promises. “You don’t want all that anyway.”
Sami’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”
”Full ownership means full risk placed on you—financial, legal, operational, everything. We cover those things because you’re the artists. You’re not supposed to worry about the behind the scenes. You would have to completely rebuild and start from the very beginning and who knows if anyone would even be willing to work with Ego Trip again…”
Daniel continues with a soft voice. “You’re already stretching thin during promotional periods. You’ll be recording soon enough and a tour will follow not long after. The last thing you need is another thing to fracture your focus again.”
”Let us carry that weight,” Cora says. “While you focus on moving forward and coming back.”
”This is just step one,” Maren clarified and gestured to the contract. “Things can still change and we can discuss another date.”
Oliver looked down at the pages.
The contract still looked like the one he signed at seventeen years old, the one that almost broke him completely the first time. But maybe… having more control and clear support could lead them somewhere better. Being on stage was possible again. Making music and doing the things that he loved.
He glances at Warren and hesitates. Warren had been assigned the leader of the band because he was the oldest. Following in Warren’s footsteps was the natural progression. Things never seemed to change as Sami also watches Warren. The siblings make eye contact and have a silent conversation back and forth. Then Warren lets out a shaky breath.
Warren looks conflicted. Just like Sami, his eyebrows are pulled together and Warren finally acknowledges them as a group. “I mean… it's not nothing.”
“It’s better than what they were offering at first,” Josie agrees.
”I don’t know,” Inez shook her head. “Is it too good to be true?”
Oliver flips through the words again, imagining the new benefits that they hammered out. Some of the pressure loosened and his stomach no longer felt like it was doing flips. His hands still shake as pages turn. That wouldn’t stop until the meeting was over. None of the representatives pushed. They didn’t need to. Oliver leans into the middle of the table to pick up a pen. It feels heavier than it should. He didn’t move for a second. Then there was a flicker, the click of a pen and he was removing the plastic top to get the ink flowing.
Oliver presses the pen to paper and signs.
His signature was a looping thing, connected by vowels and unstable lines. Just like the writing on his folder. One by one, the others followed. Maren smiled as she watched them. Certain. Like something had been resolved.
”Congraulations,” Maren says simply. “We look forward to continuing this partnership.”
Sami lets out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Yeah,” she muttered, still looking at her signature. “Congrats to us, I guess.”
Another beat. Warren spins side to side in the office chair. “Feels weird.”
Maren nods and stands up from the head of the table. Everyone else on their side followed in suit. “We’ll schedule a time to discuss the addendums you want. Ingrid will be contacted in the coming weeks as we discuss with lawyers and such.” She waves them off again. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it sorted.”
Inez closes the folder carefully and hands it to the other side. “We’ll make it work,” she says and tries to keep her voice even.
“You will,” Maren confirms, smoothing out her sleeve.
Cora and Daniel follow behind her as they exited, quietly chattering away and making plans for their next move.
“Next steps will be sent over,” the assistant says. Oliver wishes he could look as happy as she did about the agreement.
”Yeah,” Oliver says, feeling hollowed out. His voice worked, but the rest of his body felt frozen where it was. All of the nerves about the contract suddenly crushed him. ”Thanks.”
She nods eagerly. “Of course! I’m just glad you just stuck together. Can’t wait for the next album!” She leaves the conference room with a bright grin and wave.
Oliver doesn’t know if he moves or even responds. Everything suddenly is like rushing water. He watched himself from the other side of the room, unable to respond to a simple comment.
Josie nudges his arm.
“You good?”
The question is posed casually, but they both knew its anything but.
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