Labubu Dolls: Truth Behind Teeth, Hype, Demonic, Rumors

Labubu Dolls

Hey, it is Sarah again from THOUSIF Inc. – WORLDWIDE, the place where we obsess over global trends so you do not have to stay up until 3 a.m. scrolling TikTok (though we totally do it anyway).

If you have been anywhere near the internet in the last 18 months, you have seen them: those furry little gremlins with nine razor-sharp teeth grinning from luxury handbags, car rear-view mirrors, and even David Beckham’s golf bag.

Labubu dolls went from niche Hong Kong blind-box toy to a full-blown cultural tsunami, and somehow sparked exorcism videos in the same breath.

So let us settle it once and for all.

Are Labubu dolls evil? Demonic? Cursed? Or are they just the most addictive piece of plush chaos ever created?

Grab your coffee (or holy water), because we are going deep.

Chapter 1: Meet Labubu Dolls

Imagine a fluffy, peach-colored creature no bigger than your hand, with ears so enormous they flop over like a rabbit who gave up on life, a permanently mischievous squint in her eyes, and a wide, crooked grin that reveals exactly nine sharp, pointy teeth.

She looks like she is about to offer you a cookie and then accidentally set your kitchen on fire.

That, dear reader, is Labubu, and once you meet her, there is really no going back.

Labubu is not just a toy; she’s the chaotic queen of a whimsical monster family dreamed up by a quiet, wonderfully weird artist named Kasing Lung.

Born in Hong Kong and now based in Belgium, Kasing spent years soaking up old European fairy tales: those slightly spooky Nordic stories about forest spirits who play tricks, steal socks, and generally make humans question reality.

One day, he picked up a brush, painted a cheeky little elf with a shark-tooth smile, and decided she needed her own universe.

He called her Labubu, gave her a mop of wild fur, oversized ears that hear gossip from three villages away, and a personality that can only be described as “pure-hearted disaster.”

In Kasing’s original picture books, Labubu lives deep in an enchanted forest alongside her skeleton boyfriend Tycoco (they are very supportive of each other’s life choices), her spiky-tailed big brother Zimomo, and a whole crew of equally bizarre friends.

She always means well; she really does, but every time she tries to help, something explodes, floods, or catches fire in the most adorable way possible.

She is the friend who shows up with homemade cake and somehow leaves your living room covered in glitter and marshmallows.

When Pop Mart, the Beijing-based toy giant famous for turning cute drawings into global obsessions, discovered Kasing’s books, they saw pure magic.

They transformed his delicate watercolor characters into soft plush toys with vinyl faces, keeping every tiny detail perfect: the slightly lopsided eyes that make her look like she is plotting something, the nine jagged teeth arranged in that now-iconic grin, the blush on her cheeks, and ears so big you half-expect them to pick up radio signals.

Since then, Labubu has appeared in hundreds of variations.

Some wear pastel macaron outfits and smell faintly sweet; others rock streetwear hoodies or cozy scarves, and a few lucky ones come as giant huggable versions taller than a toddler.

However, no matter how she is dressed, every single authentic Labubu still rocks the same nine teeth, the same peach-pink face, and the same expression that says, “I swear this was not my fault… but it was totally worth it.”

She is playful, she is mischievous, she is scary if you stare too long at 3 a.m., and she is 100 percent the reason grown adults suddenly find themselves refreshing store pages at midnight, praying for a restock.

So that is Labubu: a forest sprite who wandered out of a fairy tale, landed in a surprise box, and accidentally took over the world, one toothy grin at a time.

Chapter 2: World Lost Its Mind For Labubu Dolls (Thanks, Lisa)

It all started with one Instagram story.

April 2024.

Blackpink’s Lisa, queen of cool and effortless style, posted a simple photo of her phone case.

Dangling from the bottom corner was a tiny, cocoa-brown Labubu pendant from the “Fall in Wild” series, the one with the rare golden horns that only one in every 144 surprise boxes contains.

She did not say much, just a little leaf emoji and the word “cute.”

That was it.

Within minutes, Pop Mart’s Southeast Asia servers buckled.

Within hours, the entire “Fall in Wild” collection vanished from every official store across the planet.

Within days, that same pendant, which had retailed for about thirty dollars, was flipping on resale sites for eight hundred, a thousand, sometimes fifteen hundred dollars.

Grown adults who had never cared about toys in their lives were suddenly googling “Labubu secret odds” at 2 a.m. like their lives depended on it.

Lisa never asked for the chaos, but chaos came anyway.

Then Rihanna happened. She stepped out in New York carrying a chocolate-brown Labubu the size of a small dog clipped to her Birkin like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Paparazzi photos hit the internet, fashion blogs lost their minds, and the phrase “Birkin boy charm” got replaced overnight with “Birkin Labubu.”

If Lisa lit the match, Rihanna poured gasoline on the fire.

After that, it was a full-on celebrity avalanche.

Dua Lipa wore a glowing “Angel in the Clouds” version down the Paris Fashion Week runway.

Kim Kardashian posted an entire acrylic shelf dedicated to nothing but rare Labubus, arranged by color like a very expensive bag of Skittles.

David Beckham got spotted with one swinging from his golf bag (yes, really).

Lizzo shouted them out in a song lyric.

Naomi Campbell, Madonna, and even a few Premier League footballers started dangling them from car mirrors.

Suddenly, owning a Labubu was not just cute; it was a status symbol with better bragging rights than a limited-edition watch.

The best part? Most of these stars were not being paid to do it.

They were genuine fans who had fallen down the same rabbit hole as the rest of us.

Lisa later admitted in an interview that she had been quietly collecting them for months before anyone noticed.

Rihanna reportedly sent assistants on last-minute flights to Tokyo just to hunt specific secrets.

Kim K’s collection, rumor has it, is insured for more than most people’s houses.

The effect was electric.

Regular fans saw their idols carrying the same little gremlin they had just spent their rent money trying to pull from a surprise box, and it turned Labubu from a toy into a cultural badge.

If your favorite celebrity had one, you needed one if their Labubu was rarer than yours. Well, it is time to refresh the Pop Mart app again.

It also turned every new celebrity sighting into a treasure map.

Fans started stalking Instagram stories the way detectives stalk clues.

“Wait, zoom in, is that a Macaron Mint or a Macaron Lavender? Enhance!”

Discord servers filled with screenshots and frantic typing.

One particularly dedicated group correctly predicted an entire restock just by analyzing the background of Rosé’s selfie (turns out the reflection in her sunglasses showed an unopened box).

In less than a month, Labubu went from “that weird toy the kids in Asia are into” to the most photographed accessory on the planet.

Vogue ran a feature.

Elle called it “the ugly-cute revolution.” The New York Times tried to explain blind-box economics to confused boomers.

Moreover, somewhere in Belgium, Kasing Lung, the soft-spoken artist who started it all with a few watercolor paintings, watched the madness unfold and probably wondered if his little forest sprite had any idea what she had just done to the world.

She did.

She absolutely did.

Moreover, she was loving every second of it.

Chapter 3: Why Are We All Addicted To Labubu Dolls?

By now, you are probably wondering how a little elf with nine scary teeth managed to out-hype luxury handbags, limited sneakers, and even some actual cryptocurrencies.

The truth is, Labubu did not become huge because of one thing.

She became huge because everything lined up perfectly, like the universe itself wanted us to lose our minds (and our savings).

Here are the five ingredients that created the perfect Labubu storm:

1. The Blind-Box Casino (But Make It Adorable): You walk into a store or open the app, hand over twenty-five bucks, and tear open a foil bag. Inside could be a common pink Labubu worth exactly what you paid, or it could be a shimmering secret worth ten rent payments. That tiny hit of “maybe this time I will get lucky” is pure dopamine. Scientists say the blind-box format lights up the same reward centers in your brain as slot machines. Except instead of losing money and feeling sad, you lose money and get a fluffy monster who grins at you like she is proud of your terrible life choices.
2. The Rise of Ugly-Cute: We have spent years being sold perfection: filtered faces, symmetrical everything, pastel feeds that look like cotton candy thrown up. Then Labubu shows up with uneven eyes, a lopsided smirk, and teeth that belong on a baby shark. Moreover, suddenly millions of us exhale and say, “Finally, something that looks as chaotic as I feel on the inside.” She is not trying to be pretty. She is trying to have fun, and we fell in love with the honesty.
3. FOMO You Can Clip to Your Bag: Once celebrities started flashing them, Labubu became walking social currency. See someone on the subway with a rare Macaron Labubu swinging from their tote? Instant conversation starter. See someone with the basic version while yours is a secret? Quiet flex achieved. They are like luxury logos, except way more fun and (at retail, anyway) actually affordable.
4. A Community That Feels Like Family (A Very Sleep-Deprived Family): There are teenagers trading duplicates in mall food courts. There are thirty-something accountants staying up until 4 a.m. on Discord, helping strangers snipe restocks. There are grandmas on Facebook groups learning words like “chase figure” and “full set.” Labubu did not just create collectors; she created friends who scream together when someone finally pulls the golden-horned secret after six months of trying.
5. Scarcity on Steroids: Pop Mart releases new series in limited runs, then never produces most of them again. Ever. A secret you miss today might literally never come back. Add in the fact that secrets can be 1-in-144 odds (or worse), and every drop feels like the last chopper out of Saigon. People refresh apps so hard they break their thumbs. It is not shopping; it is surviving.

Put all five together, and you get numbers that sound fake but are not: billions of TikTok views, Pop Mart stores with queues longer than iPhone launches, and resale prices that make grown adults whisper, “I could sell one and pay off my car…” before immediately buying three more surprise boxes “for the rush.”

Labubu did not just get popular.

She hacked every weak spot in the human brain (curiosity, belonging, greed, joy, chaos) and then smiled with those nine little teeth like she had planned it all along.

And honestly? She probably did.

Chapter 4: How Much Does A Labubu Actually Cost?

Let us rip the surprise box open on the one question everyone asks the second they fall in love: “Okay, but how much is this going to hurt my wallet?”

The short answer: anywhere from twenty-five dollars to the price of a decent used car. The long answer is a roller-coaster that starts at “totally reasonable” and ends in “I need to speak to someone about my life choices.”

Here is the 2024-2025 price bible, broken down so you can pretend you are just “doing research.”

How did we get here? Simple.

1. Blind-box math is evil. You might spend $35 and pull a $5,000 secret. Alternatively, you might spend $35 × 150 and still not have it. Both outcomes keep you buying.
2. Pop Mart never re-releases most secrets. Once a series is gone, it has gone forever. That scarcity turns toys into limited-edition art.
3. Celebrity multiplier. The second, Lisa or Rihanna, is photographed with a specific version, which shoots up 10× overnight.
4. Auction houses got involved. When Sotheby’s and Christie’s start accepting plush toys alongside Picassos, you know prices have left Earth’s orbit.

Real-life examples that still hurt to think about:

1. A single “Fall in Wild” secret (the one Lisa posted) went from $30 retail to $1,800 resale in 48 hours.
2. A complete set of the ultra-rare “Tree of Life” series sold for $42,000 at a Hong Kong auction, complete with certificates and original packaging.
3. Someone in Singapore paid $173,000 for a life-sized brown Labubu because it “matched their living-room aesthetic.” (Their therapist is very busy.)

However, people keep spending.

Because pulling a secret feels like winning the lottery, and selling one feels like printing money, and displaying one feels like saying, “Yeah, I was part of this madness, and I have the teeth to prove it.”

So yes, you can start at twenty-five dollars.

You can also end up explaining to your bank why you just dropped five figures on a stuffed elf with a shark smile.

Choose your fighter wisely.

Chapter 5: Where To Actually Buy A Real Labubu?

You have accepted your fate.

You have budgeted (or lied to yourself about budgeting).

Now comes the hard part: getting your hands on an authentic Labubu before the rest of the planet beats you to it.

Here is your no-nonsense 2025 hunting guide, ranked from “safest and most boring” to “chaotic but sometimes worth it.”

Pro tips from someone who has cried in too many parking lots:

1. Set calendar reminders for Thursday, 8:55 a.m. EST. Be logged in on two devices. Pray.
2. Download the Pop Mart app and turn on push notifications. They sometimes drop surprise restocks at 3 a.m. your time because sleep is for non-believers.
3. Join the regional Labubu Facebook or Discord groups. People post in-store sightings faster than corporate can restock shelves.
4. Walmart app → search “Pop Mart Labubu” → sort by “new” every single day. They sneak new stock without warning.
5. If you travel, hit every Pop Mart you see. Airport locations often have exclusives that no one else gets.
6. Never, ever buy from TikTok Shop live unless the seller shows the official QR code scan live on camera. 99 % of those are fakes.

Moreover, finally, the golden rule: if the price is under $18 and it is not an obvious clearance sale from an official retailer, it is fake.

Walk away.

Your future self will thank you.

Happy hunting, soldier.

May your cart never crash and your secrets always be golden.

Chapter 6: Fake vs. Real – How To Spot?

Congratulations, you have survived the drop, you have outrun the bots, and a package is finally on its way to you.

Now comes the moment of truth: is the little gremlin inside a genuine Labubu, or a sad knockoff the internet has nicknamed “Lafufu”?

Fakes used to be laughably bad, but in 2024-2025, the counterfeiters leveled up hard.

Some are so close that even experienced collectors get burned.

So here is your cheat sheet.

Memorize it, tattoo it on your arm, whatever it takes.

These ten checks take literally ten seconds once you know what to look for.

A quick field test you can do in five seconds in a store or when your package arrives:

1. Flip it over → count the teeth. Nine? Good start. Anything else? Run.
2. Shine your phone flashlight through the box side → real ones have a hidden UV mark you can sometimes faintly see. No mark? Fake.
3. Scratch the foot logo gently with a fingernail → real engraving feels deep and crisp; fakes feel flat or sticky.

Pro collector tricks:

• Real Labubus have a very slight “new plush” smell (think clean laundry). Fakes often reek of glue or factory chemicals.
• The ears on authentic ones are perfectly symmetrical and stitched with tiny, almost invisible seams. Fakes have obvious glue lines or wonky ears that droop differently.
• If you are still unsure, join any Labubu Discord, post a 10-second video under blacklight and natural light, and fifty people will tell you in three seconds whether to keep it or burn it (ceremonially, of course).

The heartbreaking truth: some fakes are now so good that even Pop Mart employees have been briefly fooled at first glance.

That is why StockX and official channels are worth the premium, no stress, no tears, no explaining to your group chat why your “secret” has ten teeth and smells like a gas station.

Keep these rules close, trust no one who says “it is basically the same,” and you will never bring a Lafufu into your home.

Your collection (and your dignity) will thank you.

Chapter 7: When Labubu Became Stealable Gold?

If you thought grown adults crying over surprise boxes was the wildest this hobby could get, buckle up.

In 2024 and early 2025, Labubu literally turned into crime bait.

It started small: someone snatching a few boxes from a mall display and sprinting out.

Cute story for TikTok, right?

Then the numbers got ridiculous, and suddenly, news headlines read like a comedy movie written by someone who hates sleep.

Here are the greatest hits of the Labubu crime spree (so far):

• Los Angeles, August 2024: Four people in ski masks and hoodies stormed a Pop Mart in The Grove. Ninety seconds later, they were gone with $18,000 worth of Labubu mega plushies and rare blind-box cases. Security footage shows one guy hugging a 40-inch Labubu like a baby while running. The clip has 42 million views and its own sound on TikTok.
• Chino, California, warehouse raid: Thieves cut through a fence, loaded two U-Haul vans, and made off with roughly $200,000 in stock headed for the U.S. launch. Police recovered one van two days later; inside were two very confused teenagers and $60,000 worth of plush still in plastic.
• London, Westfield: A flash mob of twenty teens rushed the store the second the doors opened, grabbed everything off the shelves, and vanished into the crowd. Total haul: £32,000. The store had to close for the rest of the day because the shelves were literally empty.
• Singapore 7-Eleven incidents: Multiple midnight grab-and-runs where someone walks in, fills a backpack with the entire counter display, and bolts. One kid did it twice in the same week at the same store. The cashier just sighed and started a GoFundMe for better locks.
• Hong Kong International Airport: A woman in a full designer outfit casually walked out of the duty-free Pop Mart with two life-sized Labubus (estimated resale $80,000 each) tucked under her arms like groceries. CCTV lost her in the crowd. She is still out there somewhere, probably using one as a very expensive pillow.

Police actually have a nickname for it now: “plush crime of opportunity.” Because the toys are small, cute, and worth more per pound than some drugs, they are perfect for quick grabs.

One detective in LA told reporters, “I have been on the force for twenty years, and I have never seen people run that fast holding stuffed toys.”

Stores fought back in the most 2025 way possible:

• Locked glass cases that look like they belong in a jewelry store
• One-per-customer limits (strictly enforced with ID checks)
• Security tags inside the actual plush heads
• Some U.S. locations hired off-duty cops just to stand near the Labubu end-cap
• Pop Mart quietly removed the biggest mega plushies from most retail floors and made them “online only” to stop the smash-and-grab crews.

Collectors adapted too.

People now ship in plain brown boxes, insure packages for five figures, and install home display cases with alarms that scream if someone so much as breathes on the glass.

And the wildest part?

Most of the stolen stock ends up right back on the resale market within days, washed through fake accounts on Mercari and Facebook Marketplace.

You might be buying a “lightly used” secret Labubu that was literally sprinting down the street in a hoodie last week.

So next time you are refreshing the app at 3 a.m. and cursing the bots, just remember: somewhere out there is a guy in a ski mask who wants your fluffy gremlin even more desperately than you do.

Sleep tight.

Chapter 8: Wait, Is Labubu Actually Demonic?

If you spent any time on TikTok, Facebook, or WhatsApp forward chains in the past year, you have seen the videos.

A shaky camera zooms in on a grinning Labubu. Ominous music swells.

A distorted voice whispers, “This is Pazuzu, the ancient Mesopotamian demon from The Exorcist; they are putting it in children’s toys.”

Cut to someone dramatically pouring holy water on a plush while screaming in tongues.

Another clip: a woman claims her Labubu moved by itself at 3 a.m.

A third: a pastor burns one in his backyard “to break the curse.” Some of these videos have 80, 90, 100 million views.

So, should we be worried?

Short answer: No. Long answer: Let us unpack the entire panic, because it is equal parts hilarious and terrifying how fast it spread.

The main accusations

1. “Labubu is modeled after Pazuzu.” Pazuzu was a real ancient demon (wind demon, looked like a winged lion-man with claws and a snake penis—zero fluff). Someone noticed Labubu has sharp teeth and pointy ears and decided that was proof. Never mind that thousands of cartoon characters have sharp teeth and pointy ears (Stitch, Gremlins, half the Sonic cast). The internet ran with it.
2. “She has demonic eyes and moves on her own.” Translation: the vinyl face catches light weirdly at night, and parallax makes the eyes seem to follow you. Same effect as those creepy old paintings in haunted houses. Also, houses settle, shelves creak, and cats exist.
3. “Children are acting strangely after getting one.” Children also act strangely after three juice boxes and no nap. Correlation ≠ causation.
4. “Iraq banned them / Russia called them harmful.” True, sort of. A few local officials made noise after viral videos, but no nationwide bans ever happened. It was mostly grandmas forwarding WhatsApp messages titled “DEMON TOY ALERT 🚨”.

The facts that kill the rumor dead

• Kasing Lung (the creator) has said repeatedly, in interviews and on his own social media, “Labubu is inspired only by Nordic forest elves and my childhood imagination. Nothing else.” He literally drew her while thinking about mischievous fairies who steal cookies, not ancient demonology.
• Pop Mart’s official statement: “Labubu is a kind-hearted character who loves adventure and making friends.”
• The nine teeth? Purely an aesthetic choice for balance. Kasing tried eight (too symmetrical) and ten (too crowded). Nine just looked right.
• Not a single verified case of “possession” or anything supernatural. Every viral story traces back to “my cousin’s friend’s neighbor” or someone later admitting it was a prank for views.

Why Did The Rumor Explode Anyway?

Because fear + cute-but-slightly-creepy design + algorithm = rocket fuel.

That grin hits the uncanny valley just hard enough to freak some people out at 2 a.m.

Throw in religious panic, cultural differences, and the human love of a good exorcism video, and boom: millions of people suddenly convinced a $30 plush is a portal to hell.

The funniest part?

A lot of the same accounts screaming “demon toy” also sell fake Labubus in their TikTok shops.

Irony is alive and well.

So keep your Labubu on the shelf, let her grin at you while you sleep, and rest easy.

The only thing she is possessed by is chaotic good energy and an unhealthy love of macarons.

(And if she ever does start levitating, film it in 4K and call me. We will split the YouTube money.)

Chapter 9: The Final Verdict

You have made it to the end.

You now know more about Labubu than most therapists, parents, and customs officers combined.

So here is the only question that actually matters:

Should you buy one?

Here is my completely biased, totally honest answer. Yes. However, only if at least four of these are true for you:

• You secretly (or not so secretly) love the rush of opening a surprise box and screaming in public.
• You think “ugly-cute” is the highest form of art.
• Have you ever refreshed an app so many times that you got the “Are you a robot?” captcha seventeen times in a row and still kept going?
• You want something on your desk, bag, or shelf that makes strangers smile, ask questions, and occasionally back away slowly.
• You are okay with the very real possibility that one day you will look at your bank statement, see “Pop Mart × 12” and just… accept it.

If that sounds terrifying, close the tab right now and hug a normal teddy bear.

No judgment.

Labubu is not for everyone.

However, if your heart just did a little flutter at the thought of nine jagged teeth grinning at you from a keychain welcome.

You are already in too deep, and that is perfectly okay.

Because here is the thing nobody says out loud: Labubu is not really about the toy.

It is about the stories. It is the group chat exploding when someone finally pulls the secret after eight months of pain.

It is trading duplicates with a stranger in a mall and walking away with a new friend.

It is watching your non-collector partner slowly start naming them and moving them around “for better lighting.”

It is the pure, childish joy of opening a foil bag and feeling like the luckiest human alive for exactly six seconds.

Labubu is chaos wrapped in fluff, FOMO dressed up as a forest sprite, and the closest thing adults have to Saturday-morning cartoon magic in real life.

So yes, she is expensive.

Yes, the queues are insane.

Yes, the teeth are creepy at 3 a.m. Moreover, yes, sometimes you will hate her (and yourself) when the cart crashes at checkout.

However, then you will clip her to your keys, look down at that ridiculous grin, and realize you are smiling like an idiot for no reason at all.

Moreover, that, my friend, is worth every single penny and every single tear.

So go ahead.

Let the gremlin win.

Your shelf, your bag, and your slightly unhinged heart will never be the same.

Sarah and the entire monster-obsessed crew at THOUSIF Inc. – WORLDWIDE

That Is It

Labubu started as one artist’s funny little drawing.

Now she is everywhere, making people happy, broke, and a tiny bit crazy, all at the same time!

She is cute, she is wild, she costs too much, and we still love her.

Thanks for reading our crazy story.

If you smiled even once, the little gremlin already won.

See you in the next line!

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THOUSIF Inc. - WORLDWIDE

Our editorial team at THOUSIF Inc. – WORLDWIDE is a group of experts who aim to create well-researched, highly informative, and helpful content.

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