scale replica

From Coraline to Kubo : A Magical Laika Experience - Universal Studios Hollywood (extremely image heavy)

During the month of August 2016, Universal Studios Hollywood hosted a Laika exhibit wherein characters, sets and props from all four of Laika’s movies to date were displayed. My husband and I had activated our passes on the LAST day of the exhibit. Little did we know, we had to make reservations to attend! It took some convincing, but the staff let us into this AWESOME display!

The first room was, of course, Coraline. This area featured real animation puppets, that I believe had been used on screen; and a massive Pink Palace Apartments display. (please excuse the phone quality photos)

Next was Paranorman! The displays beyond Coraline used display maquettes as opposed to actual animation puppets. However, the quality was still screen worthy. All of the props and sets still breathtakingly detailed.

The victorian-inspired details of The Boxtrolls displays were gorgeous, even in all their lopsided quirkiness.

Before diving into the Kubo displays, we took a moment to appreciate exactly HOW much work is put into these films. This is just a TINY fraction, of how many face plates these characters use. Can you count all of these?

And lastly, the fantastic Kubo displays.

This room (pictured below) was massive. It stretched back so deep, and every tiny item was crafted with full real-life detail.

The leaf boat was HUGE. It towered above the display walls (and they weren’t short).

But what was the real monster here? The skeleton! There was a little scale replica of him. (I swear… 1/100 scale? lol!)

But no… They had a full sized replica. I don’t feel the photos really bring it across, but he was HUGE. The last photo was taken underneath him, with my arms fully stretched upward over my head, holding the phone for the photo.

This event was so quietly advertised - and not simple to get into either! I feel it was a shame it was so temporary, and I wish so many more people had access to see these amazing puppets and sets. I truly treasured this experience, and look forward to what Laika has in store for the future.


When it’s Sunday night at 11 pm and you remember the 12 assignments, 5 exams and the full scale replica of the Sistine chapel all due on Monday that you forgot to do


For my final in my overview art history class, we had the choice of a 10 page paper or a scaled replica of a work of art and a two page paper. I opted for the project and decided I was going to make a life size replica of John Singer Sargent’s Madame X. This was either very stupid or incredibly brave. Either way, by some miracle I’m almost done??!?!?! And I’m so proud. I’ll post a picture when it’s actually done!

anonymous asked:

What is your headcanon for what happened to Nora post-series? I know we don't really KNOW if she was a controller or not but I feel Marco would have figured it out if she was. He wouldn't even date a girl in 25 without making sure and he has no idea if his stepmother is one? Regardless of what he told Peter...Like I get what he did and why to put his family back together but damn do I wonder what happened to Nora after that. So cold.

[First of all: Nora is ALMOST CERTAINLY not a controller before Marco saves Peter, and Marco is an ice-cold mofo who should be ashamed of himself.  Secondly: you have inspired a ficlet within my Eleutherophobia ‘verse; I hope you don’t mind.]

Tom gets the call about a week after Visser One’s trial ends, and raps out an automatic “Matter Over Mind, this is Tom, how can I help you?” with the receiver sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.  

“Hi,” the woman on the other end says.  “I’m not… Not a member or anything, but…”

Tom waits patiently as she continues to mumble, not in the least because he can’t be certain that this isn’t more of Loren’s Mystery Shopper routine.  She’ll sneak-attack him with the strangest requests imaginable to train him in how to respond, and he’s learned the hard way that any time Loren wants to disguise her voice, the lady can morph.  

“I saw the footage of the trial on TV,” the woman says at last.  “And… And I wanted to ask about Marco Alvarez.”

Tom nearly hangs up the phone right there, because he’s had to entertain more celebrity-seeking crap than he ever wants to think about in the weeks since Matter Over Mind started generating its own press, and he’s not in the mood for more.  The only thing that stops him is the faint slur in the way that she says “Marco,” under-prounouncing that “r” sound and one or two others.  Ex-hosts display the whole range of speech impediments, from near-nonverbal communication to precise perfection.  Eva and Tom both tend to fall into the same pattern of using correct inflection at the expense of tone; many other hosts have natural rhythms but imprecise consonants or other verbal tics.  The only time Tom ever asked Steve about it over dinner, he spent the next thirty minutes nodding politely through Steve’s incomprehensible neurobabble while Jean made hmmming noises and Jake fell asleep at the table.  

Whatever the cause, there’s no mistaking it.  This isn’t Loren, and it’s not a random civilian either.

Tom gives her the scripted line—“I’m afraid we don’t have much contact with Mr. Alvarez as an organization, but the number of his agent is listed online”—but tries to do so as gently as possible.  

“No, no, that’s all right,” the woman says.  “I was just… I was hoping you’d be able to tell me how he’s doing.  Whether he’s sleeping, getting enough to eat, whether he’s taking care of himself…”

And now Tom has circled right back around to wondering whether this lady is yet another Animorph-stalker, zombie or not.  He glances across the office at Eva, who is currently muttering to herself in Spanish as she balances this month’s Matter Over Mind budget, and decides against asking her for help. “May I ask who’s calling?” he says carefully.  

“I knew about the nightmares already.  Marco’s, that is.  The rest of it, the trauma, the panic attacks, I probably could have guessed.  He was—he is—a good kid.  He never liked me, but that never stopped him from making an effort to be polite, to welcome me…”  She clears her throat, clearly gathering her thoughts.  “And I knew that he was sad.  That he was carrying a lot of weight, a lot of fear.  Of course, I never knew why.  Not until…”

Tom waits, but nothing else is coming.  “Until they infested you?” he suggests.  “Was that when you knew, Mrs. Robbinette?”

“Please, just Nora,” she says, apparently missing that she never gave him her name.  

Of course, Tom’s no fool, and he had her for ninth-grade Algebra.  Even if he didn’t recognize her voice at first, he can put two and two together.  

“What would you like to know?” he asks.  He’s hardly going to give away Marco’s address or personal number, but he’s also starting to suspect that her concern is genuine.  

“I’m not looking to contact him,” Nora says hastily.  “Or Peter.  It’s… I moved to San Francisco, to get away from it all, and I don’t want to reopen old wounds, because I have a job here, and Antoine and I are…”  She clears her throat.  

While waiting for her to get her thoughts together, Tom glances up and gets a jolt.  Eva is sitting with her own phone—which he can clearly see from the blinking green light is connected to the same call as his—sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder.  She’s giving him her I wasn’t born yesterday look, somewhere between incredulity and amusement.  

“Um.”  Tom scrambles for something to say to either one of them.  “Um, Mrs.—Nora?  Would you be willing to talk to E—to Mrs. Alvarez instead?”  

“Would she be willing to talk to me?” Nora asks softly.

Tom glances up again.  Eva’s expression has now slid fully into amusement.  

“Yes,” he says.  “Yes she would.”

“Then yes, I’d like that very much.”

Eva continues to stare pointedly at Tom until he takes a hint and hangs up his own line.  She listens for a few minutes, says, “Of course I appreciate you taking care of them, what kind of possessive bruja do you take me for?” and then laughs at whatever response she gets.  

Tom does his best to focus very, very hard on the graphic design for the fresh set of pamphlets that advertise Matter Over Mind’s brand-new paid counseling services.  

“Well, he has yet to learn that simply because he can buy a working jetpack off the internet, that doesn’t mean he should buy a working jetpack off the internet,” Eva says.  “I’ll spare you the description of the to-scale replica of the Millennium Falcon he’s got in his backyard, because by the end of it you’d have as many white hairs as I do.”

Before her was a miniature version of the giant golden temple pagoda, probably about a meter tall – no, closer to a hundred and fifty centimeters, as it almost exactly matched her eye level. Around it was an exact scale replica of the blooming temple gardens, the red wooden gate, and beyond – the entire rest of the city. It had to have been created in painstaking detail, with every plant rendered in miniature form, every roof shingle in place, every structure a tiny, lifelike work of art. The wind gently rustled through the near-microscopic leaves on the trees as the sun shone down on the tops of the toy buildings at an angle suggesting that it was early morning in whatever this place was.

Yuki felt like her mind was on fire. She wanted to scream, or cry, or demand some kind of explanation for why the fabric of her reality was tearing itself to shreds.

Opening her mouth, she attempted to yell to anyone who could hear.

What the fuck is happening?!

Rather than a yell, the sound that came out of her was deafening, bellowing, and definitely not human.

-excerpt from chapter 4

MBTI as shit I’ve done

ESFJ: We had a project in 6th grade where we had to write nice things anonymously under every student’s name, wrote “self-centered” under one girl’s name and got the project cancelled, then started a rumor that that very girl had written “girly” under another boy’s name and it was her fault

ENTP: Put off a 9 month project until the last day, learned to bake medieval bread in 3 hours and wrote a paper about it, printed it out 20 minutes before class and presented it along with a powerpoint titled “Bready or Not: Here I Crumb”

INTP: Slept through 80% of my 9 am Astronomy lecture, got an A on the midterm while my friend who took notes every day got a B

ENFP: Brought my pet fish to school in his tank, then took him out to recess and accidentally dropped the poor bastard and his tank down a huge dirt hill

INFJ:  Convinced my friends I was psychic, then tried to predict how much change my friend had in her pocket, magically got it right, then thought I was actually psychic and went crying to my mom bc i was afraid of my own power

ISFJ: In 2nd grade, gave my pet tarantula Aragog a big bug that my dad caught for him to eat as a special birthday treat, but it turned out to be a tarantula wasp and it laid eggs inside my pet and killed him and I cried for like two days

ENTJ: Convinced everyone on a field trip to this science center that rock candy was actually real rocks that would clog your intestines and offered to “properly dispose” of them so every single person in class gave me their candy

ESTP: Lit a toaster on fire trying to make smores and grabbed the burning toaster with rubber gloves and tossed it out the window onto the concrete patio, smashing it to bits

ISTP: Built an exact scale replica of a surburban family home out of toothpicks and glue in 7 hours, then lit that shit on fire just to see what arson would be like

ENFJ: Baked a huge chocolate cake with “go gay” written on it with icing and brought it to school the next day for a friend who had been dumped by a girl

INTJ: Became known as the best speller in my 3rd grade class and demanded that if someone wanted a word spelled they had to greet me with “Genius” and bow their heads like the frickin godfather

INFP: Wrote a fable in 7th grade about a girl with a deformity who had the power to dream up magical worlds and then went to live in one, then the teacher called my parents and i realized it looked like i actually wrote a story about a deformed girl locked in the basement who then got beaten to death by her parents

ESFP: Came to school on april fool’s day in 7th grade in a short black wig with a bag full of fake cockroaches and teamed up with my friend to put an actual real dead snake in a girl’s backpack to embarrass her at lunch

ISFP: Decided to be emo in 8th grade and demanded my mom take me to Hot Topic for a new wardrobe, but she saw right through me and I complained for hours about how she expected me to be emo with clothes from walmart

ESTJ: In elementary school, we had a “reading hour” in which we read a storybook of our choice to our peers. I chose a book that had nothing in it but the world’s longest word, a 189,000 letter amino acid, and forced everyone to listen to me

ISTJ: Did homework once


In a couple of weeks, Hatsune Miku will "return” to the city of Dallas for Miku Expo 2016. Last time she was here, it was under less pleasant circumstances!

I decided to update my Dean Ambrose-Hastune Miku cosplay for the concert. I created my very own “Vocaloid World Heavyweight Championship” title (don’t call it a belt :P)! I actually never had my own full-scale replica bel–err, title, so I built this one from scratch!

This is also my first time working with EL wire. I think it turned out pretty well!

If I wear this to Miku Expo, and I’m sure very few people will understand it, lol. I’m thinking about converting it into a John Cena Miku cosplay, because anime people know John Cena because of meme reasons!

As I write this, I am sitting in the cold night air with the occasional breeze stirring up the leaves, gazing in the weak moonlight at a fictional, scaled down replica of a western mining town in the backyard of my parents home in a suburb of San Francisco. I worked all day today, muscles still sore and protesting and I have not done this specific activity in some months. In truth, there is no time at Disneyland like this outside of the imagination, when the fictional realm can just be lived in by one sole person, the recreated reality not being treated as just another workplace by some, or as temporary diversion by others.

It may not have a Haunted Mansion, a spooky cave system on a rustic island or a cruise down the jungle rivers of the world but I suppose I am fortunate indeed to have access to even a small slice of that kind of themed design on my own terms and time table, without it meeting the needs of a public amusement zone and highly maintained job environment for thousands of staff.

Just some late night musings from a imaginary frontier town in the chill of a pre-summer night…..

I’m still doing my best to follow along with the story, despite watching this whole thing in Polish.

From what I can gather, Freddy wants to play an old CD of his on the drive…

…which a Warner Bros. intern obviously had a lot of fun writing the copy for.

Man, I wish my glitch hop and viking metal albums were in “Exciting Stereo.”

Needless to say, the rest of the gang doesn’t approve of his musical choices.

Eventually, they arrive at the amusement park… which apparently has multiple scale replicas of Aztec pyramids.


Because Scooby-Doo, that’s why.

Though that second one might actually be Blade Runner architecture, come to think of it….

The gang talks to some unhappy-looking security people…

…who deny them entrance, probably because all the other park guests had left. Screaming. 

Pretty reasonable, if you ask me.

They walk back to the Mystery Machine, and 5 minutes into the movie ditch their crazy-intricate KISS makeup and the outfits they must have worked on for hours.

They discuss something, probably a plan of some kind…

…and Shaggy is obviously worried about the plan, in classic Scooby-Doo fashion. 

See, this all makes sense! I think I’ve got the hang of understanding it. Who needs dialogue in your own language, anyway, everything’s just–


Um… no, your eyes aren’t deceiving you… Shaggy actually started making armpit noises completely out of the blue.

All things considered, I wasn’t really expecting that.

…and… Daphne and Fred seem totally fine with it? Almost encouraging of it?

And then they all go sneak into the amusement park?

…alright, fine, maybe I don’t know what’s going on.

Characters’ examination quotes for trinkets (long post):

Some of them are old, some of them are new, some reveal a tidbit about a character, but most of them are just silly puns.

Wilson: “They are all melted together.”

Willow: “I’ll bet the fire that melted these was fiercely hot.”

Wolfgang: “Glob of glass!”

Wendy: “Perfectly misshapen.”


Wickerbottom: “What a lovely set of bottle washers! Too bad they’re all melted.”

Woodie: “I used to play that game.”

Wigfrid: “Toys do not interest a great warrior such as I.”

Webber: “We could still play with these, if we’re extra creative.”

Maxwell: “These must have been heated to an incredible temperature.”

Wilson: “What’s kazoo with you?”

Willow: “A cheap fake. It probably doesn’t even burn properly.”

Wolfgang: “Fake bless you.”

Wendy: “Just a temptation, like death.”


Wickerbottom: “A fake membranophone.”

Woodie: “Much kazoo about nothing.”

Wigfrid: “Accompaniment for my ballad of triumphs.”

Webber: “A voiceless instrument.”

Maxwell: “A complete and utter fraud…”

Keep reading

60. The muggleborn ravenclaws introduce their pureblood dorm mates to Minecraft. They instantly fall in love with creative mode and make it a house project to create a full scale replica of the Hogwarts grounds

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