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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/uninteresting_reveal on 2025-05-22 13:38:58+00:00.

I bought a Labubu on a whim. If you’re not familiar, they’re little designer dolls—sort of cute, sort of creepy. Big ears, wide smile, permanent expression like it knows a secret it’s not telling. Mine was from the “Soy Milk” line. Pale tan, little carton logo on its chest. I got it from a blind box at a pop-up near my job. It felt like a dumb treat for surviving a rough week.

For the first few days, I clipped it to my backpack. People commented on it—most didn’t know what it was. A couple of people lit up and told me how hard they are to get, especially that version. I didn’t think anything of it. It was just a conversation piece.

Eventually, I took it off my bag and sat it on my bookshelf, next to a small row of paperbacks and a rock my niece gave me. It stayed there a week. Then it didn’t.

The first time it moved, I figured I’d knocked it off. It was lying face-down on the carpet, about a foot from the shelf. I just picked it up and put it back. But the next night, it wasn’t on the shelf. It wasn’t on the floor, either.

It was sitting on my desk chair.

I live alone.

Still, I told myself maybe I’d moved it and forgot. Maybe it slid off and bounced weird. I don’t know. You can justify anything if you don’t want to believe the alternative.

I started waking up at odd hours. Not from dreams—just… waking. Once at 2:44 a.m. Another time, 3:12. No sound. No obvious reason. Just that vague, electric sense that something had changed. That you were being looked at.

I started finding Soy Milk in different places. Once on the kitchen counter. Once on the bathroom sink. Once—this really messed me up—it was sitting on the edge of the tub. Its body dry, but its ears were wet.

I did a full sweep of my apartment. Checked the windows. The locks. I even put tape on the inside of the front door to see if it was being opened while I slept. Nothing moved. No signs of entry. And yet, every morning, the doll was somewhere new.

I thought I was losing it. So I set up my phone to record overnight. Just cheap, looped footage. The first two nights, the angle was off. I could barely see the shelf. The third night… it caught something.

The video starts normal. Room dim. The doll’s on the shelf. Around 2:07 a.m., the feed glitches briefly—just a stutter. And when it clears, Soy Milk isn’t on the shelf anymore. It’s not on the floor either. It’s just… gone. For four minutes, the room is still. Then, slowly, it appears again. Not crawling. Not walking. Just present. Sitting on my nightstand, like it had always been there.

I haven’t recorded since.

I keep thinking if I don’t document it, it might stop. Like it wants to be seen.

Last night, I woke up to it on my pillow. Our faces were inches apart. I could swear the stitched smile was wider than before.

Tonight, I’m locking it in a drawer. If it gets out again… I don’t think I’ll still be the one in charge of this story.