From Cute Collectable to Cursed Icon: The Rise and Fall of Labubu

Twelve weeks ago, Labubu was just another adorable designer toy from Pop Mart’s rapidly growing universe. With its wide eyes, tiny teeth, and mischievous smile, the elf-like creature found its way onto the shelves of collectors, the feeds of influencers, and soon into the hearts of thousands. Limited-edition drops sold out in seconds. People queued overnight. Resale prices soared. There were Instagram Reels, unboxings, frenzied Facebook groups, and even the occasional airport brawl over a last-remaining box. In short, Labubu fever had gripped the internet and refused to let go.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

What began as a collectable craze has now descended into chaos. Labubu has officially crossed over from cute to cursed, according to the internet. Once the crown jewel of designer toy shelves, Labubu has now found itself at the centre of a chilling storm. From mass hysteria and resale madness to something far more eerie, the toy’s story has taken a dark turn.

In recent weeks, social media has been flooded with unsettling accounts. Users from across the globe are reporting inexplicable occurrences: sudden nightmares, flickering lights, pets acting aggressively, and an overwhelming sense of dread—all allegedly beginning shortly after bringing a Labubu home. “I bought one on a whim because it looked cute, but ever since, I feel like I’m being watched at night,” wrote a user on Reddit. Another TikTok creator claimed their Labubu toy “moved” slightly on its own shelf and even shared the (grainy and questionable) footage as proof. 

Then came the viral theory—the one that threw gasoline on an already flickering fire. A now-deleted TikTok that went viral last week claimed that Labubu’s design bore uncanny similarities to Pazuzu, the ancient Mesopotamian demon associated with darkness, chaos, and spiritual unrest (and famously referenced in ‘The Exorcist’). The theory highlights similarities in wide eyes, pointy ears, and the constant mischievous smile, which many now reinterpret as sinister. Within hours, hashtags like #CursedLabubu and #DemonDoll were trending. Some laughed it off as classic TikTok bait. Others weren’t so sure.

And so began the descent into modern folklore.

People have taken to throwing their Labubus away, burying them in salt, or smudging their homes with sage. What was once a joyful collectable had, seemingly overnight, become the internet’s favourite horror story.

Pop Mart, naturally, couldn’t ignore the frenzy. In a surprisingly swift response, the brand issued an official statement on Weibo and Instagram:

“We are aware of the ongoing rumours surrounding Labubu and the discomfort some customers have expressed. While we firmly believe these claims are unfounded, we take community feedback seriously. As a precautionary step, we have temporarily paused sales and are conducting internal reviews of the product line.”

A mass callback is now underway. Pop Mart offered refunds, paused future Labubu releases, and urged buyers to contact customer service with concerns. But for many, the brand’s decision to even acknowledge the supernatural chatter has only deepened the mystery.

Meanwhile, the resale market has become increasingly unstable. Some are offloading their Labubus in panic—“I don’t care if it’s worth triple, I’m not keeping that thing in my house,” wrote one seller. Others are seeing this as a goldmine, hoping to fetch thousands for a “possibly haunted” toy.

Whether Labubu is truly cursed or simply a victim of 2025’s collective internet imagination is up for debate. But the transformation is undeniable. What was once Pop Mart’s most beloved character is now a thing of unease, superstition, and strange bedtime stories.

And somewhere out there, behind the glass eyes of a grinning vinyl toy, a new kind of fear is being quietly packaged and sold.