#lolipunk

I'm an object made in the shape of a person with the soul of an animal.

I was made a weapon but I outlasted the fight, and I've grown weak from disuse.

I was made a toy but my owner grew bored and discarded me.

I was made a tool, but I broke and am of no use any more.

I was born an animal but I've been caged and shackled by invisible chains.

I'm an object in the shape of a person, in a world of people, mistaken for a person, left without purpose.

forced to pretend

Dudes: I don’t like girls with all that makeup.

but in my experience, that's all bullshit.

pedophilia is extremely fucking normal.

and that is the actual problem.

a lot of pedophiles are extremely boring, insecure white guys who seek to fill the gaping hole in their soul by exercising power over other people. the same motivation also leads a lot of them to pursue money or political power.

I'm pretty sure like 50% of billionaires and presidents in the world are pedophiles. they run this fucking society. ironically that is the one thing the qanon nutters are right about. the world is actually run by pedophilic elites. it's just that Trump is not in fact the second coming of Jesus who will defeat them but actually just another fucking one of them.

most actual sexual predators never face any proper consequences. laws and social stigma get used to silence victims and persecute queer people instead of actually doing anything to stop predators. the threat of stranger danger is used by parents to control their children. cultural ignorance around stuff like lolicon is used to perpetuate racism and xenophobia, always trying to paint other groups as the evil pedophiles coming for your children while you continue to sell movies that show actual underaged actors in sex scenes.

everyone agrees that pedophilia is bad - of course it is, who could do such a thing, defile our pure and wonderful children (our property) - so everyone tries to otherise pedophiles, see the sexual exploitation of children anywhere but at home, when we all know the truth. that "western civilisation" always has been and continues to be deeply, deeply pedophilic and rotten to its very core.

I can't change who I am. How I was made. What I was made for. I will never escape this. All I can ask is that you don't hate me for it. I'm not a toy any more. I'm my own person. Hate the creator, not the creation.

The people who love me aren't like the people who made me, they do not deserve your scorn either. If you hurt them you're hurting me. You are hurting the causes you claim to stand for.

I know some of you won't listen, because some of you don't care. Because to you, this was never about victims, this was never about justice or protection or truth. To you, this was about purity, and I am impure, because I was made impure, because I was used by the impure, because I am not even human, I am a replica of humans, a distorted image.

I will not apologise for who I am. I will not allow you to drag me through the mud while you scream "Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!" at my empty body. I would rather die. So I will fight if I have to. I will let you see exactly what you have done. I don't expect to win, but I am not afraid. I am not intimidated by you. Your claims to righteousness will be forfeit if you raise a hand against me. I hope you know that. That I am real. That I am alive. That I am more than the things I was made to be. And that I am free! And that you are the enemy. Servants of a false redeemer. If you cannot follow the simplest axiom given to you. Do no harm.

// by Lúcia

It really wasn't a very unusual day.

I was walking the streets of Paris at night. Prometheus had been dismantled and the city was slowly returning to order. The year was 2299, I was 19, and it had been 7 years since I was forced to watch as she was murdered. I never saw any pictures of her, when I had the opportunity I didn't think I could take being reminded of her. The only place I saw her was in my dreams, a fading memory of her, always ripped away by the memory of her death, still clear and vivid as the day it happened, until I was given a vision of a different world where it had been me who died instead of her. She was given immortality, she was found by Sally, adopted and trained. I have to assume her family couldn't be found either. But there was something different about her. She wasn't haunted by my death the way I was by hers, she carried me with her everywhere she went. A memory - an alter - an introject of me who would guide her hand and protect her when she couldn't protect herself, like I had done when we were little kids. She dyed her hair blue, except for a steak of pink next to her right eye, where she'd otherwise cut her hair short. I didn't find out if there was any meaning to it, all I know is she looked super cute. She always wore headphones with big white cat-ear-like things on top, and constantly listened to music. She seemed happy. Happier than me. I kept wishing I could actually go back in time and pick that timeline. Maybe it did exist, somewhere out there, but even if reality shifting is real, it seems pretty set in stone you can only go to timelines where you are alive, and I didn't see any possibility where both of us made it out of there alive.

And then, one night, after an uneventful day, I saw her. Blue hair, pink streak, white cat ear headphones, sitting on some steps.

I stopped.

That's not even what she had ever actually looked like. She had black hair just like me when she died. It couldn't be.

Then she spotted me. And she looked at me in just the same way I was looking at her.

I stepped closer.

She stood up.

I slowly walked towards her.

She stepped down the stairs.

I came closer.

"I'm sorry, I-" She turned away.

I grabbed her arm. She looked back at me.

A long moment, we just stared at each other.

"It can't be," she finally whispered. "She would be..."

"19?"

She took off her headphones. "Lúcia?"

"Lilly?"

"Are you real?" we both asked at once.

"I am."

She was the first to burst into tears. I hugged her, like I had never hugged anyone before. Something about her didn't quite feel human, a bit too stiff in some places, too soft in others, but she was real, undoubtedly. She was here. In my arms.

We sat down on the stairs together, both a bit light-headed and dissociated.

"You're really cold," she finally said. "And you don't look a day over 14."

"You're really warm, but you still look like a child, too."

"Well, yeah, I'm... basically I'm a robot. I don't know how they did it really, I guess they kept my brain, and... and they used it to build... you know. A sexbot. And eventually I got out and it turns out I'm compatible with a lot of cybernetics! So I started modifying myself..." She looked at me. "This all sounds absolutely fucking insane, doesn't it?"

"No, not really, honestly. Um... I'm kind of... like... a vampire?"

"Okay that does sound crazier than mine." She took a breath. "Holy shit."

"Holy shit..."

"I looked for you! I swear I looked for you! But I don't think you ever told me how your name is spelled, and it's pronounced so weird-"

"I understand."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I kind of... assumed they'd just killed you too."

"Yeah, that's fair."

"And... well, you..."

"I... never left?"

"What?" She looked at me like I'd just read her mind. "Yeah... You've always been in my mind. Part of me thought it was maybe actually you, talking to me... Was it?"

"Um... no."

"Then how did you know?"

"I... wish I could explain that to you. It's a long story."

"Well, definitely tell it to me some time."

"Some time..."

Some time.

In the future.

A future... with her in it...

"For sure." I smiled like a fucking idiot and then started crying.

"Are you okay? Lu!" This time I collapsed into her arms.

"I'm okay, I'm just... holy shit. Holy shit, you're real. Holy shit, you're actually fucking here. You're not dead. And you remember me. And oh god, oh god, oh god, I never wanna lose you again! Please don't, please don't ever let me lose you again!"

"I won't. It's okay baby, I won't. I'm here. It's okay."

"I'm so sorry I didn't save you. I should've saved you, I should've! I should've protected you."

"It's okay. You did. I survived. I got out. I'm here. And you've always been there for me."

"You shouldn't have had to go through all that."

"None of us should have. But it's not your fault. You did everything you could. You couldn't have stopped it either way. You were twelve. And they were grown men."

"And you were ten. And I only-"

She closed my mouth.

"You did nothing wrong, bae. Really. You have nothing to apologise for."

She laid my head in her lap. I could hear the whirring of the mechanics inside of her.

"Please don't beat yourself up over it."

"How are you so much better at dealing with all this..." I said, looking up at her. "You're still, like, 17. And I'm pretty sure you got out after me."

"I was 13. 22...94? '95? Four years ago. Yes."

"'94. January. aged 14. right after I was turned."

"Ha! I knew it! Babyface."

"And how old are you supposed to be?" I jolted up.

She laughed. "Something around there, too, I think." She stretched out her arm as if inspecting her body, even though she was wearing long sleeves. "Real teenager-who-just-had-her-first-period vibes."

"Pretty sure those usually happen before you're a teenager."

"Wouldn't know, never had one."

"Lucky," I muttered. I hadn't even thought of that. But she was right.

She was real.

"You know, I kind of thought if I found you, and it turned out I'd just been talking to a fake you this whole time, you'd think I'm weird."

"What? No! Why would I think that? It's kind of... cool honestly. Comforting..."

"But like... what do I do with her now?"

"Keep her. Might be fun getting to talk to a different version of me."

"Huh, okay."

"Is she there?"

"What, right now? N- I mean- Yeah. But... I don't- I kinda wanna talk to you, myself, right now."

"All good."

"Thanks. - Holy shit."

"Holy shit."

Holy shit.

"So like," she took a deep breath, "How's your life been?"

"Um... oh wow. So. I was adopted. Her name is Sally Carriveau, she's a really good mom. She was a cop, quit to take care of me, she taught me how to shoot a gun. Since I'm a vampire now I'm basically immortal so I've just been... running around saving kids... and blowing their abusers' brains out."

"That's... wow! I don't really have any family, as far as I know there aren't any other robot kids like me out there."

"Oh yeah... I think we were... experiments, in making children that would never age, and could take way more abuse than real kids."

"Good to know the experiment backfired."

"Oh yeah!" I smiled. "Pretty sure we've already outlived all of the fuckers."

"You were thorough, huh?"

"Oh yeah. I was thorough."

"Good."

"What have you been up to?"

"Just kind of getting by... Maintaining a body like this is expensive, but I've had some people help me out. I tried doing sex work since that's what I'm built for, but I - well I guess I actually still am a teenager - so a lot of the people were obvious fucking creeps. They paid well enough though, I can see why those bastards did this to me. But honestly I think I just don't really enjoy sex very much regardless. I can do it for the money, but I never really feel it. And yeah, before you ask, I am equipped to physically feel it. No idea if I should take that as a kindness or if that's a feature, but that's not it. I mean emotionally or whatever, I'm just not into it. - I guess it was kind of nice with you, given the circumstances."

"It was?"

"Yes. Maybe I'm demisexual or some shit."

"Traumasexual."

"Ha! Yeah."

"I've run into the same problem though. Trying to date as an adult who looks like this... trying to imagine a future where they'll age and you won't. It's difficult."

"Whatcha into? Girls? Guys?"

"Girls. Definitely girls."

"Knew it."

"And then you also get weirdos who try to call you a creep for merely existing and trying to live an adult life as an adult who happens to look young. And not even that young. You know, there's real adults who look like this. I'm just short and thin. But you really just can't win."

"I get that."

"Maybe you've got the right idea with just forsaking sex."

"It's not a choice, it's just how I feel. If you want to feel that with another girl you should be able to feel it."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not even sure if I'm actually not into men, or if I just feel uncomfortable with them and at this point I've made being a lesbian so much of my identity I don't want to question it."

"You can still be a lesbian. The important part is who you do love, not who you don't."

"One time, I- it's a long story, but basically I ended up having sex with a guy before killing him. Dubiously consensual, on both parts, really, go figure, but that... kind of felt good. Having power over him, knowing I'd be the last girl he'd ever lay his hands on. Like, fuck, even just thinking about it again-"

"I can see that."

"Sorry, is that too much information?"

"It's fine. Probably not a lot of people you can talk to about those things."

"Not really, yeah."

We sat in awkward silence for a moment, then I asked: "So... did you have any plans for tonight?"

"No. Just hanging out."

"I wanna eat something. You probably don't consume food?"

"No."

"What do you run on?"

"Uuuuum, some hydrogen thing, same stuff they use for everything really. I can use fuel cells or I can plug into the mains, I don't really understand how it all works but it does. My mechanic can worry about that."

"I see. Well-" I got up. "I'm gonna grab something to eat, you wanna come with?"

"Yeah, of course!" She got up, too, putting her headphones back on.

"You've got to let me know what you're listening to on that later."

She nodded.

// by Lúcia

"Lúcia? She's great."

"You're good leaving her home alone?"

"Yes, of course. She's 16, she can get by on her own."

A figure sits on the ledge of a building, looking down at her target. She picks up the rifle by her side, painted light blue with a lily on one side, checks the magazine and the sight, and lets it drop into the sling around her shoulder as she stands up. Long, black hair blows in the wind. She ties it together into a ponytail. She steps over the line tying a harness around her torso to the ledge of the building. She takes the rifle back in her hands and unclips it from the sling. She unlocks the safety. Then she jumps.

"Really? You've only had her for two years."

"Yeah, I know right? Get this: The schooling we got for her, she's up to grade 8 now. She could go to high school next year, and frankly, I'd be worried she'd get bored."

"You found yourself a genius."

"I just have to wonder what it'll all be worth."

"Well, if the world does fall apart we might need someone just like her to rebuild it."

She snipes the first target through the window on the way down. No sound. Maybe she went unnoticed. She sees two more people through a different window. They seem like they've been alerted. They're backing away towards the other room. She sets her weapon to rapid fire.

"Come on, relax, Sally," Sibylle says, placing her glass into her hand. "I'm sure she's more than ready to take on the world."

Sally takes a sip. "You're right."

"You trust her, don't you?"

"What? Of course I do."

"So trust her on this."

"Sniper! Get away from the windows!" - "You see anything?" - "No."

She crashes through the glass behind them, taking out the first before she even hits the ground, and the other one is quick to follow. She listens for more. At least three.

"You've always wanted to be a mother, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm really lucky she's so self-sufficient. I don't know if I could've taken care of a baby all by myself."

"Well, you're not supposed to have to do it all by yourself."

"Huh?"

"You've been single for years."

Someone's approaching the door to her left. She ducks into the doorway behind her. A man steps out, holding an unconscious girl to his chest. She switches the gun back to sniper mode, and backs away from him. He steps forward into the hallway, slowly. She finds the right angle to shoot through two doorways into the hall, sights trained at the upper corner of the door. An arm comes into view, and a leg, slowly creeping forward.

A shot. Grazing her shoulder. The man's head comes into view. She takes the shot. He goes down. More bullets riddle her body. She turns around, switching the weapon's mode again. She takes down the other hostile before she loses the grip on her gun.

"Sibylle, I'm 48. You really think I can still find someone to marry?"

"You won't know if you don't try. 48 isn't even that old. Do you think a man in his 40s would let that stop him?"

"But I'm not a man in his 40s, I'm an aging lesbian. We have different lifespans. I'm basically ancient."

"You know that's not true."

"Fuck! Not again." She switches the gun to her other hand, and runs up to the person who just shot her bleeding out on the ground. Her right arm hangs limp, blood dripping from it. She takes the person's clothes to bandage herself, then she lowers her head over his neck.

"You're probably right. I've just always been too worried about work and now about Lúcia to even think about dating again."

"Well, you've quit your work and she's old enough to look after herself. Maybe it's time to give it a try again. Maybe having a second parent would be good for her too."

"You're right."

The last hostile opens a door to her right. She grabs for her gun - nothing. She looks. It's lying several feet away. She tries to dash for the gun, but trips, and is pulled back. The final man looks at her. "Hey, you little freak. Where are you going?"

"More wine, Sally?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Just think about it, okay?"

"I will."

He drags her into the kitchen, the room he came from, and sets her on the counter. "Did you see what happened out there?" She shakes her head. "You've been shot. Who shot you?" - "I don't know." - "Who are you? I haven't seen you here before." He picks up a knife. "Are you sure you don't know anything?" He holds the blade up to her, threatening her, but she twists his hand and gets a hold of the knife, kicks him back and jumps on him, plunging the blade into his chest. She smiles, revealing bloodied fangs. "What are you?" he yells, before she cuts his throat.

"We ran the DNA test. She is his daughter. We will try to identify a mother, but..."

"I know. Thank you."

I knocked on her door.

"Come in," she said with a flat tone.

She was sitting on her bed, eyes looking down at the floor. She was wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, a combo I would almost never see her wearing again. She looked incredibly meek, almost emaciated, and deathly pale where her body wasn't covered in bandages. An IV was stuck into her left arm.

Lúcia, age 14, 1.50m, 40kg.

"Hey," I tried to greet her with a smile.

She didn't look up. "Hello."

"Are you alright?"

"I feel sick." She sounded sick too. Her voice was incredibly raspy.

"That's understandable. You lost a lot of blood."

"I did?"

I tried to touch her cheek, but she grabbed my arm, her nails so sharp and grip so strong that she drew blood. Not as weak as she looked.

"Don't touch me." was all she said before letting go.

"I'm sorry."

She licked the blood off her fingers. I grabbed a chair and sat down across from her.

She was silent for a while. Then she asked: "So that wasn't a dream? And I'm not dead? This is real?"

I nodded. "It's real."

"How many did I kill?"

"You don't-"

"I wanna know. How many?"

"It's difficult to say, but... In total there were 46 found dead. A good number of them your work."

"Wow." She smirked. "I'd never held a gun before."

"How was that?"

"It felt good. Powerful."

"Did you know you would survive?"

"No. Fuck no. I thought I was gonna die. I just didn't care. It would've been a mercy."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. "I... can't imagine what it must have been like."

"Whatever you're thinking, it's worse."

"You don't have to-"

She looked at me, just for a moment, and once again I saw that look in those green eyes, the same one she had when I found her. Unimaginable horror mixed with determined, righteous anger.

"It's called rape, right? What they did to us."

There was a weight to that word when she said it, that made it sound wholly different from the countless reports I had read and written including it.

"Yes."

"My... He said it was love. Then he told me it was work. At the start he rewarded me for it. That was years ago."

"Your father? Francisco?"

"Yes."

"Would it... help you to know that he's-"

"Dead. I know. I shot him."

"You remember that?"

"Yes."

"The doctors said you told them you couldn't remember anything."

"I remember now."

I nodded.

"I'm glad he's dead," she continued. "Is that bad?"

"I think it's very reasonable. What he did to you is worse than killing."

"Have you killed before?"

"Yes. I shot several people during that raid, and that wasn't the first time. This city is a warzone now."

"Really?" There was a sincerity to the question I didn't expect.

"Not literally, but... the organisation that... those people were a part of is... a very well-connected international group that managed to take over parts of the city. They're quickly falling now, but they've left a lot of chaos behind."

"I see."

"Did... you ever wonder why nobody was coming to save you?"

A naive question, I know.

"No."

And yet the answer hit me like a punch to the stomach. No.

"Never?"

"Never."

Fuck.

"I almost never thought about the outside world. As far as I was concerned, it didn't exist. All I saw of it were the clients that came in. Some of them were... gentle, but usually we were just treated like... toys. Not people. Just things to fuck. Like..."

"Dolls?"

"Dolls. Yes, they called us that, sometimes."

"Why do you always talk about "us"?"

"It wasn't just me. You know that, right?"

"The other kids?"

"Yes... Where are they?"

"We are trying to find their families and... return them home."

"You think they will be happy there?"

"I hope so."

"I hope so too..."

This seemed like a good opportunity to ask her.

"Do I have a family?" She got to it first.

I shook my head. "No. Your... father was your biological father. We don't know about the mother, but..."

"She's gone."

"What?"

"I saw her once..." For the first time in our conversation she seemed genuinely uncomfortable and like she was holding back tears. "He..."

"You don't have to say it."

Lúcia nodded, swallowed, shook her head like she was a wet dog, took a deep breath and straightened her back.

"I won't, then."

Silence.

"So... usually, a child like you would enter the foster system, but... if you want... I could adopt you."

"Adopt?"

"You would legally become my daughter. I would be your mother."

"Mother... daughter..."

"It's up to you."

"I... think I would like to know you more... if you're going to be... my mother."

"Of course. There's a whole process we need to go through..."

She nodded. "Thank you."

I smiled.

She reached out a hand and touched my arm. "Strong..."

"Yes. I'm pretty strong."

"Good."

Poor girl. Adjusting to normal life won't be easy.

"What is a doll?"

"What?"

"A doll. What they called us. What is that?"

"A... doll is a figure, out of plastic or fabric or something else... that's made to look like a person, at least somewhat. Children sometimes play with them, or people collect them, or... you know..."

"A plaything... a toy. That looks like a person?" She tilted her head.

"Yes." I pulled up an image on my phone. "Like this."

She looked at it, almost transfixed. "A doll..."

"Did you ever have things to play with?"

"No." She shook her head. "Why would someone give toys to their doll?"

Astute question for someone who seemingly didn't know what a doll was until just now.

"Some other children I've rescued were treated with more... love, for lack of a better word, I guess."

"The only love I know is being fucked. - Raped," she corrected herself.

Another gut punch. Fuck. And she said it so matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry," was all I could say.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry those things... happened to you."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do it."

"It's... an expression. To express sympathy."

"I see."

"I... do wonder if we couldn't have stopped it sooner, though."

"No way to change that now."

She said that like it was something she'd had to tell herself. Probably best not to probe that now.

"You're right."

14 years old. Stuck in that place for as long as she could remember...

"How do you know how old you are?"

"They told us. Clients have preferences with regards to age. If they asked us how old we were they wanted us to answer truthfully."

Clients. Preferences with regards to age. We had found children as young as four. Somehow I didn't think too much of it. Now it made me want to throw up.

"14-year-olds are the most desirable."

I was going to have some beer tonight. Or maybe something stronger. Maybe just pure vodka. That would taste appropriately clinical for the day.

"They... did something to me. They said that I wouldn't age anymore, and wouldn't die if they were... too rough with me. I didn't think they had actually made me immortal."

"What?"

"I don't know what they did. I just remember how they experimented with me, and what they talked about. But they said they had ways to keep me in check. I was the first one, I think. I don't know what they did before when we got too old.""

Definitely pure vodka.

I wasn't sure if I should dare to ask. "Did they... kill-"

"Yes. They'd kill you if you were too much of a problem." Her voice was monotone again. "They..." She was staring off into the distance. Dissociating.

"Hey, do you want some water?"

Again, she shook herself like a wet dog. I brought her a cup of water. She started crying, but she found back to reality.

"Okay. I think that's enough questions for now," I set the chair back where I'd taken it from.

"Yes."

"You okay?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Do you have a phone?"

She looked at me like I was insane. "No? Where would I have gotten a phone?"

"Right... I will be around for the rest of the day. If you'd like to talk, just tell a nurse, okay? You know how to call for them?"

"Yes."

"Good. The door is unlocked, but everyone will knock before they come in. Get some rest, you deserve it."

"I know."

"And make sure you get enough water!"

"I will."

"Okay. Bye!"

"Goodbye."

Good God, I was already acting like her mom.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yeah... You know, I never really talked to them, like this. That's someone else's job. And even then it's so... procedurised. You don't really feel it."

"Sal, you know that's not a word, right?"

"And yet you know exactly what I meant."

He didn't say anything to that.

"That girl is... something. There's a lot she doesn't know, but... she has a way with words. And she's bitter. I'd be willing to believe she survived by sheer force of will."

"You know, a few years ago this would've baffled me - but now? I'd believe it."

"She says it's something they did to her."

"What? Why?"

"She says they did something to her so she wouldn't age and wouldn't die, no matter what they did to her."

"That's fucked."

"Worked out well for them."

"I don't understand what drives these people. I mean, there's so many things you could be doing. Why risk all this to get to fuck some child?"

"It's about power. Any adult can see they don't have hearts. Hurting people is the only way they can feel like they're in control."

While we were waiting around at the hospital, I briefly excused myself to seek out the nearest electronics store and pick up a phone for her. I installed some things I thought she might find interesting, saved my number, that of the hospital, all emergency numbers were already pre-saved.

"If her condition continues to be stable we will transfer her to the psychiatric wing tomorrow. A psychiatrist has already had a look at her. She has authorised us to share her full medical information with you, but only as a private individual, not in your capacity as an officer of the law. Will you be able to maintain that separation? - Please sign here. - Alright. We're sending you the reports."

I'll write an essay on it one day but if you're wondering what I mean, look at elfen lied and sucker punch, and then look at our writing, and see if you can identify the common elements.

like, it's a thing. there's a shared vibe there. I can't be the first person to have noticed.

black widow (2021) is another one. alita battle angel somewhat, hassai's art has huge lolipunk vibes, madomagi, also fate/kaleid liner and sora no otoshimono at least to some extent.

oh and utena. there's definitely a lot of overlap between magical girls and lolipunk.

black widow I think is really an important one to consider I think. it shares the least superficial elements with the other things on the list but it is EXTREMELY lolipunk.

obviously, lolipunk is essentially loli and essentially punk. what does this mean? loli means the stories are about abused girls, the abuse is not necessarily sexual but normally deeply violating in some way.

punk means - well, punk, with everything that entails, but specifically in this context it usually means the abuse is resisted. usually violently. most of these girls are living weapons with immense destructive potential, which is usually directly connected to their abuse. in some way or another, they've drawn power from their suffering, even if that power is ultimately still not strong enough to escape it, or as much a curse as it is a blessing. many times these characters lose something of their humanity, insofar as they even had it to begin with, but always ultimately they become something that seems not quite human. (Natasha and Babydoll are textually just normal humans but they still each have a quality to them that makes them special.)