#pulp musicals maia

[its-short-for-jackalope]

Don't be scared of the dark... 📻🎶

click for quality! details under the cut!

My cardboard M.A.I.A. lives right to the left of my computer, and I was looking at her today after doing some homework when I got a sudden dose of inspiration and decided to experiment in clip studio. I had so much fun with this, I think I might wind up making more collages like this in the future!

redbubble || ko-fi

[riveracheron]

happy 3 years of pulp musicals! oh my god this fandom means the world to me and so, so many people around this planet. i dont have the words to begin to say how much i love everyone around this group, and thank you all for collaborating on this with me. here’s to so, so many more.

happy three years of pulp musicals, everyone!!! this story means so much to so many people, thank you all for everything

tags under the cut

credits, from left to right:

maia - @faery-people-of-the-future-day

sia - @eggingtontoast

anna - @madeofkaons

charles - @oswaldpettyeye

the nautilus - orangegiraffe (disc)

steve the gator - rose.and.the (insta)

aj - @violetheart77

dakkar - @riveracheron

kal - @alexorsomn

john - @ricky-mortis

rose - @fallinginaforrest

samuel - @hey-its-robin00

margaret - @projectlida

h raccoon - @eldritch-flame

addison - @bazzleman

taavi - @alexorsomn

jarnathan - grimguinningghosts (insta)

ahlaam - @ricky-mortis / @bazzleman

the stars/constellations - @spiralgalexi

[ricky-mortis]

Some more character drawings- but this time they’re Pulp Musicals!

[kmesons]

while the concept of samuel existing in maia's room as some sort of afterlife has been wonderfully and sincerely portrayed in some recent fanworks, it's also very funny to me because I imagine the first few moments of samuel being in the room going something like

[fallinginaforrest]

Got some Pulp requests from the lovely folks over at Blinky's Rewatch Party (there's a very dedicated Pulp Thread there with some brilliantly talented creators) and I'm sharing them here! Close ups under the cut.

[snarky-wallflower]

Guided To His Place

Word Count: 1584 AO3 Inspired by my friend @its-short-for-jackalope's art, which can be found here! Also by my friend @midnightnautilus, whose ficlet can be found here. I found Samuel's arc truly beautiful, and as much as I'm devastated he's gone? I wanted to write my own send off to him, as someone who deeply related to him. I hope you all enjoy it.

Samuel Stratford lies in the grass, the softness of it comforting his back. It's twilight, sweet and true all around him. A peace settles in him, as he looks up at the stars. Shining, brilliant and bright, reminders of home. The stars are familiar, even in this strange place. Shining starlight, up in the sky once more. This place, the end. The place he appeared, once he awakened from his final choice.

He's wandered throughout it as much as he can - recognizing the Paper Stand, the Township, even the Ellen Austin and Lincoln Island. Places he loved, places he made an impact. A place where his story unfolded, now a place for him to walk and discover.

Their echoes.  Now, he rests. It's a strange sensation, being alone. He doesn't know if he'll ever grow used to it. He spots familiarity up in that glimmering cacophony of stars, and feels his shoulders relax. He glows the same as those stars now, golden and warm against the cool night. 

Above him is the Sagitta. Rose, Samuel, Margaret and John. The closest he has come to seeing his friends, his sister. Those stars Rose had named after the four of them, up in the sky. Separated, unable to reunite. Above him, the Satellite, shining out protectively into the dark. A guiding light home. That beauty he laid so many bricks to help create, helping to bring people home.

It's not the true stars or Satellite, of course. But it's still a reminder that his friends are out there, finding their way. He thinks that's still something real, in a way.

A cloak of grief and love covers his heart, as a lump forms in his throat. It's a strange mixture, those feelings, yet they still hold true. He's cried so much since he made his choice. Even now, they start to softly drip down his cheeks, as he thinks of teasing Rose at the Paper Stand, quietly talking with John about the weight of a legacy, of rejoicing with Margaret as she turned that wood to gold, so incredibly proud of her. Masterpieces of memories, fortunate to have ever have made them. They fill him with pride and fondness, rippling through his veins like that starlight across the sky, the love he holds tight to his chest.

John, the man who started as an icon, who became someone Samuel could speak to about his fears of not being enough. Who understood Samuel when he said he still had so far to go. Who Samuel watched choose creativity, becoming more wild and free.

Margaret, his friend, that one who enchanted him with what lived inside her. Her quiet resolve, her determination to find her answers, her own kind of masterpiece. One who he found trust with again, who forgave him for what he had done. Who he spoke and spoke with, trying to build back that original connection once more. Helping her find her way. 

Rose, the one he would have been lost without. The one person Samuel thinks he knows better than he knows himself. The bravest, the best person he knows. Her sheer resolve to make her own legacy, to accomplish whatever she set her mind to. The first person he ever dreamed with, who was the one who reached out with him to find a world that was more than this. 

Memories are what he has in this after, and he thinks of them often. Living in the echoes he made with those he loved so dearly.

There's a peace in his choice, though. Samuel knows it was the only choice he ever could have made. His friends will go on without him. His life was worth them getting to live, to continue their journeys. He acted like the man in his dreams, accomplished great things in the end. There is no greater thing he could have done than make sure that the family he built in brick carried on. 

But, still... "I miss you." His voice is quiet. He misses them so badly that it aches. He could write and write and write, and it would still never come close to capturing the loss that he carries with him now.

But they must go on without him. This is what sacrifice means. It's a sacrifice he cannot ever bring himself to regret. Not when it means that those he loves--John, Margaret, Rose--live on. He did this for them. He would do this for them over and over. He wasn't afraid at the end, no longer needed direction. He knew what needed to happen. In no universe would he have held back from what needed to be done. He saved them, making his final impact.  "I love you." It's easy, to say those words. Reliving those memories, that started all with his notebook. Those connections--those people he holds so dear. His hand reaches out to the stars. Connecting the four of them with his finger, holding their memories and stories in his mind. He's always been a storyteller, after all--that certainly will not stop now. He tells their stories, if only to himself. A fond smile crosses his face, as he feels warm air swoop across his face. He can almost picture them beside him--but only just. 

The world is silent.

It's only Samuel and the stars, at the end of infinity.

A quiet sigh leaves Samuel's mouth, feeling that kaleidoscope of stars all around.

This is a moment, all his own.

Then, a buzz, just above him. He draws his head up, to see an intricately carved box, humming with its own sort of blue-green glow. It's mahogany, the buttons and knobs near the top standing proud and strong. It's near his height, mere inches shorter. He lets out a laugh, recognizing the radio--for that is what she's called--that first and only other being here. He moves to get a better look at her, the other storyteller here. He'd like to call her a peer.  MAIA.  Elation and fear runs through him, as he realises what's happening. "Oh." She does not often call. There's only one reason she's come to his side. "It's time, isn't it?" MAIA lets out a short buzz. An affirmation.  Samuel breathes in. Breathes out. He gets to his feet, feeling the grass shift around him. He rolls back his shoulders, steadying himself.

Once on his feet, he places a hand on MAIA's top.  "Take me there?"  

She lets out another buzz, and-- In a flash, Samuel's no longer in the grass. Instead, he stands in a small room. Marigold-yellow wallpaper covers every wall. A green, plush chair is in one side of the room, with MAIA now rests next to that chair. On her top, now, a vase of roses. Soft blue carpet covers the floor, as a small table holds issues of what he knows to be the Sun. He picks one up and idly flips through it, laughing at the words he wrote with Rose in what feels like so long ago. His journal, a recreation of it, sits besides one of those issues. Trinkets, some he thinks Rose would have loved, strewn across the room.

MAIA starts to hum, a signal. She's picking up on the next story to share.  He's almost nervous.

But why should he be?

They know where to find me. 

Samuel feels a swell of pride, of trust in his friends.  There's agony in no longer being there for them, of course. He thinks he will always feel that pain. There is a part of him that is terrified to listen, to hear exactly what his choice did to his family. That is terrified to hear Rose's grief, the final Stratford still on Earth. His sister, without him. 

But they will persevere.

They always have, and he knows they are strong enough to keep on moving. Margaret, with her quiet inner strength and belief. John with his understanding of the weight of a legacy. Rose, who has survived so much already, his sister who he knows better than anyone else. His harbour in a storm, who will now live on without him. She has people other than him to lean on now, and he prays that will be enough.  They will be enough for each other. They have each other, even without him. They've built their family - and Samuel knows that it will hold fast against the shadows ahead. 

He had always been the storyteller before. The one who wanted so badly to convert passion to action. But now? 

"Tell me how it ends?" 

MAIA buzzes, a unspoken of course. So, Samuel settles in, sitting in the comfortable chair beside her. He can feel warmth exuding from him, something ghostly and true. He leans in, placing his hand on his cheek.  "Rose, Margaret, John..." he muses, "l know you can do this. You're capable of everything. You were worth the world. Protect each other, for me?" He knows they cannot hear him. But he says it anyways, keeping them in his heart. Speaking out to the stars.

A voice starts to play through MAIA's speaker, the blue-golden glow shining across the room, a mixture of Samuel and MAIA's combined light. A sweet tune sounds off before it, a opening of a curtain. Their stories go on, even without him. Samuel smiles.  He's ready. "Somewhere between the comforts of the familiar and the precipice of the unknown, an orchestra performs a score written in stardust..."

[pulpmusicals]

Today’s story: the secret of the island. The aperture into the world of Pulp is widening. More light is coming in, revealing what was previously hidden, and we already know what happens once you get a look.

.

Written by Matt Dahan

Artwork by Jackie Franco

[starcanwreckedpulp-doyoushipit]

do you ship it?

[paranormaltheatrekid]

Samuel: My first girlfriend was really into the moon

M.A.I.A: That’s rough buddy

[midnightnautilus]

If I get one crack theory with an obscure character hill to die on, it’s that MAIA Pulp Musicals (the radio we only see in transmissions and not actually in canon) is a Traveler

[dailypulpmusicals]

Day 32 - Maia and the moon :)

[its-short-for-jackalope]

Mysterious Analog Input Amplifier

click for quality!

phew, feels like it's really been a while since I drafted a post like this, lol. anyway...

I've wanted to make a little M.A.I.A. of my own for ages, and I've finally done it! This lil gal is made of cardboard, hot glue, and dreams.

I had lots of fun making her and figuring things out on the fly, and I'm so proud of how she turned out. 💙

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

i know pulp is a smaller fandom, and you don't have to have merch of a thing to love it, but i would KILL for pulp musicals official merch. merch of Hanover sweatshirts, MAIA, or the Ellen Austin! anyways on the off-chance that anyone on the pulp team sees this, please consider talking to some of the amazing artists in your fandom about this?

~~~

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

CALLING ALL PULP MUSICAL FANS--HELP?

Okay, so I just posted a long-ass theory about the MAIA artwork (here), but it's pretty long and most of it's under the cut so I thought I'd repeat this part as a second post. Basically, I just discovered that the MAIA drawing contains symbols for each of the four main characters and likely at least five episodes. My biggest question is about that little green statuette that sits on top of MAIA next to the vase of roses. I'm thinking that it represents Samuel, but I just can't figure out how.

Here's a blown-up version of the image:

Anyone know what this guy is? Is he something my Pulp Patreon friends have already decoded?

(@atty-goldstein your tags on a reblog said you're in the patreon discord--is this something you guys know/are allowed to share?)

Just throwing this out there into the void.

[mannersmade-blog]

RANDOM FACTS ABOUT THE MUN.

Repost, not reblog! Tag muns you would like to get to know better when done!

NAME: Arlette NICKNAME: Let AGE: 22 FACECLAIM: Not one I use on RP blogs a lot, but when I talk to friends I have the habit of sending gifs of Bradley James rolling his eyes. PRONOUNS: She/her HEIGHT: 5′1 BIRTHDAY: April 2nd AESTHETIC: always early, hufflepuff, yelps at as much as a creaking door, Viking looks mixed with science fiction wishes. LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO:  Common People by pulp

FAVOURITE MUSE(S) YOU’VE WRITTEN: Maia Roberts (Shadowhunters), Athelstan (Vikings), Varga (Underworld)

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON YOUR CURRENT MUSE (THAT YOU ARE POSTING THIS ON): Someone roped me into it. Wouldn’t know who it was.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE: The fact he likes My Fair Lady? No, the way in which there’s such a gentle soul underneath the HAH look at me behaviour.

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING: Music and films. I am the definition of an AU whore.

FAVOURITE TYPES OF THREADS: I am going to be terrible and say AU’s.

BIGGEST STRUGGLE IN REGARDS TO YOUR CURRENT MUSE: He is too hard to pin down and I am not confident enough in my writing to really.. well, I dunno, make him sing yet. One day, though. One day.

TAGGED BY: @tailorofkings

TAGGING: @scottishtech @oxfordnotbrogues and whomever else, really.

[its-short-for-jackalope]

You know where to find him.

click for quality! details under the cut!