Me And Teddy Bear Quotes

Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "You told him about me?" At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting. Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death. Of course I told him about you," Liesel said.

I want neither a terrorist spirituality that keeps me in a perpetual state of fright about being in right relationship with my heavenly Father nor a sappy spirituality that portrays God as such a benign teddy bear that there is no aberrant behavior or desire of mine that he will not condone. I want a relationship with the Abba of Jesus, who is infinitely compassionate with my brokenness and at the same time an awesome, incomprehensible, and unwieldy Mystery.

I don't think my parents liked me. They put a live teddy bear in my crib.

Tell me about Raffe." Nothing. "okay. Let's practice fighting," I said in an enthusiastic voice as if I'm talking to a little kid. "I could use more lessons." Nothing. "Right. Well, I guess I have nothing better to do now than to decorate the teddy bear with ribbons and bows. What do you think of dusky pink?" The room wavers, then morphs.

Your spirit is sweet So pull off your sheet And give me a ghost of a smile Show me your teeth 'Cause you're teddy beneath So just grin and bear it a while.

I am not cute. I am a ferocious killing machine. Paranormals everywhere tremble before me."  "My teddy bear.

She was made for ultimate respect. How is she supposed to get that disguised as a teddy bear in a bridal gown?" "It's not a bridal gown, it's a skirt for her scabbard. And it's cute." "She hates cute. She wants to maim and scar cute." "Nobody hates cute." "Angel swords do." He arches his brow and stares down at me. I guess I won't tell him how many cutesy angel figurines and pictures we used to have in the World Before.

Let's call me a shadow child, overlooked rather than broken. I'm the teddy bear gathering dust bunnies under the bed, not the one-legged soldier.

When he’s around, I’ve noticed those at court are less likely to approach me. When I bought him, he was meant to be a source of protection.” “And instead you were stuck with a teddy bear

Virtue," he said. "The real thing. It's not some kind of cuddly teddy bear you can keep on the shelf until you need a hug. It's dangerous, which is why it makes people so nervous. Virtue has its own agenda, and believe me, it's not always yours. The word itself means strength, power. And when it gets loose, you'd better watch out." Something bad might happen..." Impossible. But possibly something painful" -A Wizard Alone by Diane Duane

Gabriel shuffled around the trunk again, searching for faux arrows—arrows designed to injure but not kill. “All these arrows are sharp—and have blood on them.” “Yes, well, I left my cotton candy arrows at home next to my teddy bear.” Gabriel turned to Tristan. “We’re not going to kill that guy.” “We might.” “Tristan, that’s homicide.” “It’s self defense.” “It’s not self defense. He didn’t come after you.” “But he came after Scarlet. And, technically, Scarlet is a piece of me. So, yeah. It’s self-defense. Are you coming with me or not?” “I don’t want to kill him. I just want to hurt him. Or detain him.” “Or maybe you could just give him a big hug.”Tristan started marching into the woods. “You can stay there and clean weapons or whatever, but I’m going after our intruder.

He dropped his voice, and came a couple of inches closer. "I think you're beautiful when you wear oversize hoodies and fleece pyjamas with teddy bears on them. Or when you wear thick socks and use them to slide around on marble floors when you think no one's looking at you." "I - Oh. You know about that." "And I think you are especially beautiful when you are giving out to me." "In that case, you must find me constantly compelling.

He belongs to me, and I to him... without each-other, we are merely two lost pieces, empty, without purpose...

Twelve years old, Priya, after the worst days of your life, angry and scared and grieving, you threw a teddy bear at my head and told me not to be such a fucking coward.

God, I’ve just figured out what’s missing – you ditched the hallowed Albermarle Teddy Bear!’ I nodded.   ‘Banished to a dark cupboard for all eternity.’ ‘You cold-hearted bastard.’ ‘Give me a hot water bottle any day.   At least they have some appreciable function.   Not like that pathetic pile of overpriced fake fur and anthropomorphic bullshit I locked in the wardrobe.’ ‘You have serious teddy bear issues.

When she was gone, I went to the basement, found an empty box, and sealed the teddy bear and the NYU sweatshirt inside with heavy-duty tape. I started thinking about Leigh's ID bracelet and I imagined that one day, maybe years and years from now, I might open the box and say the same thing to my daughter that Leigh might say to hers: This was from a boy I used to know. He was very special to me, but that was so long ago.

Show me your memories of the kiss.” I close my eyes. The heat creeps up my cheeks, which is silly because the sword was there when the kiss happened and saw the whole thing. So what if I’m curious about what he felt? “Oh, come on. Do we have to do this again?” Nothing. “That last one was totally awful. I need a little comfort. It’s just a small favor. Please?” Nothing. “Extra ribbons and bows for you,” I try to sound like I mean it. “Maybe even sparkly makeup on the teddy bear.” Still nothing. “Traitor.” I know that’s a funny statement since the sword is actually being loyal to Raffe but I don’t care.

And I love you." "Remember the night we sat here, and I fed you all the clues the future Em had given me to convince you I was legit? The bluegrass, the belly ring-" "The designated hitter?" "Yes." He grinned. "Hmph." "What else did I tell you?" "That you had a teddy bear named Rupert." He rolled his eyes. "About you, and the first time I saw you." Answering made me feel shy, but I did it anyway. "That I said I would take your breath away the first time you saw me." I was still holding his face, and he reached up to put his hands over mine. "You did it then. And you just did it again." His kiss was sweet, soft, and easy at first. I felt urgency stir just under the surface, but I refused to let the desire to hurry things interfere in the moment. I wanted to savor every single one. We had all the time in the world. My brother's voice floated down from the open window. "Emerson!" Well, as son as my grounding was over, we had all the time in the world.

We wanted to see the baby!” Hope cries. “Yeah. The whole point is for you to bring Jamie so we can coo over her. I’m almost done with the booties.” Carin pulls out a mess of yarn that looks nothing like a shoe or even a sock. “What is that thing?” I lay down the menu to get a better view of the object she’s holding up. It’s kind of like the wool equivalent of Logan’s horrifying teddy bear. “It’s a sock. Is it too big or too small?” She stretches it out and I vaguely see something shiplike in the mess. “It’s…are you sure that’s a sock?” Hope giggles behind her menu. Carin scowls at me. “Have you ever tried knitting? It’s hard as fuck, thank you very much.

Caden’s kinda…” She hesitated. “Overwhelming, isn’t he?” “What do you mean?” He was a big teddy bear to me now. Well, a hot and delicious teddy bear that wasn’t a teddy bear. He was more of a grizzly bear. No, not even that. What was I thinking? He was a damned panther, but I could hope one day he’d turn into a teddy bear. Much safer.

Oh, don’t be afraid of dreams,” a voice said right next to me. I looked over. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to find the homeless guy from the rail yard sitting in the shotgun seat. His jeans were so worn out they were almost white. His coat was ripped, with stuffing coming out. He looked kind of like a teddy bear that had been run over by a truck. “If it weren’t for dreams,” he said, “I wouldn’t know half the things I know about the future. They’re better than Olympus tabloids.” He cleared his throat, then held up his hands dramatically:   “Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff.”   “Apollo?” I guessed, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips. “I’m incognito. Call me Fred.” “A god named Fred?” “Eh, well…Zeus insists on certain rules. Hands off, when there’s a human quest. Even when something really major is wrong. But nobody messes with my baby sister. Nobody.” “Can

Go ahead. Would you like a preview of what’s gonna happen when you carry me outside the inn?” He tosses the empty bottle at the trash can, misses, then skips over to scoop up the teddy bear. He meets Sloan’s gaze, his bottom lip turning down in a pout. Tears well in his eyes. “I tried to s-stop her, officer, but she t-touched my private p-place.

It was one thing for him to ignore me when I tried to be playful with him, or when I said “good-bye” or “good morning,” but for him to act that way with me in front of other people? I mean, he wasn’t exactly a teddy bear on the best of days, but he usually wasn’t a model for Asswipe & Fitch. At least, not when we were around other people, which was rare.

Behind me, a teddy bear was resting on the shoulder of a corpse. A lemon candle stood below the branches. The pilot's soul was in my arms.

I curse him silently for moving my hands as he raises them to study the scars. He kisses them, his lips a fluid brush along sensitive flesh, then places them on his cheeks. Mouth inches from mine, he whispers, "Forgive me for bringing you into this. There was no other way." His skin is softer than clouds must feel, and the tears gathering around my fingertips are hot and tangible. But are they sincere? Our breaths swirl between us, and his black eyes swallow me whole. My heart knocks against the bottom of his rib cage. I know what's coming next. I fear it. But it's the surest way to distract him and get the wish. And if it has to happen, I'm going to be the instigator. Rising up on my toes, I press my mouth to his. He moans, frees my wrists, and sweep-s me into his arms—sealing the teddy bear between us.

Somewhere along the line the American love affair with wilderness changed from the thoughtful, sensitive isolationism of Thoreau to the bully, manly, outdoorsman bravado of Teddy Roosevelt. It is not for me, as an outsider, either to bemoan or celebrate this fact, only to observe it. Deep in the male American psyche is a love affair with the backwoods, log-cabin, camping-out life. There is no living creature here that cannot, in its right season, be hunted or trapped. Deer, moose, bear, squirrel, partridge, beaver, otter, possum, raccoon, you name it, there's someone killing one right now. When I say hunted, I mean, of course, shot at with a high-velocity rifle. I have no particular brief for killing animals with dogs or falcons, but when I hear the word 'hunt' I think of something more than a man in a forage cap and tartan shirt armed with a powerful carbine. In America it is different. Hunting means 'man bonding with man, man bonding with son, man bonding with pickup truck, man bonding with wood cabin, man bonding with rifle, man bonding above all with plaid'.

TEDDY DAY POEM: A bear hug for you, and I would make you forget your sorrows! I’ll be there with you forever, in your today and all tomorrows!! .. The moment I am not there.. Close your eyes and you'll see me.. You're there in my heart, and yours, I always would be; so just be fine! .. O girl, O girl, O.. O.. girl.. you be mine.. You're my buddy and I am your teddy.. O sweety, you be my.. Valentine. .. Just be mine.. O O.. be my Valentine!!!

You know who used to scare me when I was a little kid? Snuggle the Bear." "Do I know Snuggle?" "In those TV ads for that fabric softener. Somebody would say how soft their robe was or their towels, and Snuggle the teddy bear would be hiding behind a pillow or creeping around under a chair, giggling." "He was just happy that people were pleased." "No, it was maniacal little giggle. And his eyes were glazed. And how did he get in all those houses to hide and giggle?" "You're saying Snuggle should've been charged with B and E?" "Absolutely. Most of the time when he giggled, he covered his mouth with one paw. I always thought he didn't want you to see his teeth." "Snuggle had bad teeth?" she asked. "I figured they were rows of tiny vicious fangs he was hiding. When I was maybe four or five, I used to have nightmares where I'd be in bed with a teddy bear, and it was Snuggle, and he was trying to chew open my jugular and suck the lifeblood out of me." She said, "So much about you suddenly makes more sense than it ever did before." "Maybe if we aren't cops someday, we can open a toy shop." "Can we run a toy shop and have guns?" "I don't see why not," he said.

I shove the wooden debris out of the way until I see the smudged face of the teddy bear. “There she is.” I carefully pull out the bear and sword. I proudly flip the bridal veil skirt to show him the scabbard. Raffe stares at the disguised sword for a second before commenting. “Do you know how many kills this sword has?” “It’s a perfect disguise, Raffe.” “This sword is not just an angel sword. She’s an archangel sword. Better than an angel sword, in case that’s not clear. She intimidates the other angel swords.” “What, the other swords quake in their scabbards when they see her?” I walk over to the pile of scattered junk by Captain Jake’s boat. “Yes, if you must know,” he says following me. “She was made for ultimate respect. How is she supposed to get that disguised as a teddy bear in a bridal gown?” “It’s not a bridal gown, it’s a skirt for her scabbard. And it’s cute.” [...] “Have you named her yet?” he asks. “She likes powerful names so maybe you could appease her by giving her a good one.” I bite my lip as I remember telling Dee-Dum what I named my sword. “Um, I could rename her anything she likes.” I give him a cheesy smile. He looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst. “She gets named once by each carrier. If you’ve named her, she’s stuck with it for as long as she’s with you.” Damn. He glares at me as if he already hates it. “What is it?” I consider lying but what’s the point? I clear my throat. “Pooky Bear.

I believe that the emergency room policy in which saying “I have had severe psychotic depression exacerbated by extreme pain” is treated much the same as saying “I have to have a woolly teddy bear with me before you can use sutures” is unacceptable.

Teddy bears aren’t real. They don’t give anything back. But people have energy and heat and compassion. So when you hug me, you give me your energy. And then I merge it with mine and give it back. And then we just kinda stew in each other for a while until you feel better. See?

I shove the wooden debris out of the way until I see the smudged face of the teddy bear. “There she is.” I carefully pull out the bear and sword. I proudly flip the bridal veil skirt to show him the scabbard. Raffe stares at the disguised sword for a second before commenting. “Do you know how many kills this sword has?” “It’s a perfect disguise, Raffe.” “This sword is not just an angel sword. She’s an archangel sword. Better than an angel sword, in case that’s not clear. She intimidates the other angel swords.” “What, the other swords quake in their scabbards when they see her?” I walk over to the pile of scattered junk by Captain Jake’s boat. “Yes, if you must know,” he says following me. “She was made for ultimate respect. How is she supposed to get that disguised as a teddy bear in a bridal gown?” “It’s not a bridal gown, it’s a skirt for her scabbard. And it’s cute.” “She hates cute. She wants to maim and scar cute.” “Nobody hates cute.” “Angel swords do.” He arches his brow and stares down at me. I guess I won’t tell him how many cutesy angel figurines and pictures we used to have in the World Before.

One of my most vivid childhood memories is of my tenth birthday. I retreated to my room after an exhausting party and cuddled up with a teddy bear, but I found that it didn’t really work anymore, that whatever had once soothed me about this soft and silent creature no longer did. I remember thinking that I would never be a kid again—not really. Which was the first time I can remember feeling that intense longing for the you to whom you can never return. Sarah Dessen once wrote that home is not a place but a moment. Home is a teddy bear, but only a certain teddy bear at a certain time.

Jesus Christ is not a cosmic errand boy. I mean no disrespect or irreverence in so saying, but I do intend to convey the idea that while he loves us deeply and dearly, Christ the Lord is not perched on the edge of heaven, anxiously anticipating our next wish. When we speak of God being good to us, we generally mean that he is kind to us. In the words of the inimitable C. S. Lewis, "What would really satisfy us would be a god who said of anything we happened to like doing, 'What does it matter so long as they are contented?' We want, in fact, not so much a father in heaven as a grandfather in heaven--a senile benevolence who as they say, 'liked to see young people enjoying themselves,' and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, 'a good time was had by all.'" You know and I know that our Lord is much, much more than that. One writer observed: "When we so emphasize Christ's benefits that he becomes nothing more than what his significance is 'for me' we are in danger. . . . Evangelism that says 'come on, it's good for you'; discipleship that concentrates on the benefits package; sermons that 'use' Jesus as the means to a better life or marriage or job or attitude--these all turn Jesus into an expression of that nice god who always meets my spiritual needs. And this is why I am increasingly hesitant to speak of Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. As Ken Woodward put it in a 1994 essay, 'Now I think we all need to be converted--over and over again, but having a personal Savior has always struck me as, well, elitist, like having a personal tailor. I'm satisfied to have the same Lord and Savior as everyone else.' Jesus is not a personal Savior who only seeks to meet my needs. He is the risen, crucified Lord of all creation who seeks to guide me back into the truth." . . . His infinity does not preclude either his immediacy or his intimacy. One man stated that "I want neither a terrorist spirituality that keeps me in a perpetual state of fright about being in right relationship with my heavenly Father nor a sappy spirituality that portrays God as such a benign teddy bear that there is no aberrant behavior or desire of mine that he will not condone." . . . Christ is not "my buddy." There is a natural tendency, and it is a dangerous one, to seek to bring Jesus down to our level in an effort to draw closer to him. This is a problem among people both in and outside the LDS faith. Of course we should seek with all our hearts to draw near to him. Of course we should strive to set aside all barriers that would prevent us from closer fellowship with him. And of course we should pray and labor and serve in an effort to close the gap between what we are and what we should be. But drawing close to the Lord is serious business; we nudge our way into intimacy at the peril of our souls. . . . Another gospel irony is that the way to get close to the Lord is not by attempting in any way to shrink the distance between us, to emphasize more of his humanity than his divinity, or to speak to him or of him in casual, colloquial language. . . . Those who have come to know the Lord best--the prophets or covenant spokesmen--are also those who speak of him in reverent tones, who, like Isaiah, find themselves crying out, "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts" (Isaiah 6:5). Coming into the presence of the Almighty is no light thing; we feel to respond soberly to God's command to Moses: "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground" (Exodus 3:5). Elder Bruce R. McConkie explained, "Those who truly love the Lord and who worship the Father in the name of the Son by the power of the Spirit, according to the approved patterns, maintain a reverential barrier between themselves and all the members of the Godhead.

A diary, the first of a long succession, was given to me for Christmas 1920, and the entry for New Year’s Day might have been written by a child of five. Here was no budding woman, ripe for sex instruction, but someone who perhaps had been left behind on the Never Never Island in Peter Pan. I quote: ‘New Year’s Day. I oversleep myself. We go for a long walk in the morning and stay indoors in the afternoon. It is my teddy-bear’s birthday. I give a party for her. Angela is very annoying. Jeanne and I box, and then I pretend I am a midshipman hunting slaves. Daddy says I have a stoop. I begin to read a book called With Allenby in Palestine.

I, um, I thought you might want this back.” I pull out the battered old teddy bear and hold it toward him. He frowns and shakes his head and doesn’t reach for it, and I feel like he’s punched me in the gut. Then my baby brother slaps that damned bear out of my hand and crushes his face against my chest, and beneath the odors of sweat and strong soap I can smell it, his smell, Sammy’s, my brother’s.

Please, you’re not listening.” I loosen my hold around Dane’s neck, and a snarl rips out of his mouth. “Explain before your mate goes all fee-fi-fo-fum,” Valen drawls. “Don’t compare me to that dumb motherfucker who thought legumes were a legit form of currency,” Dane snaps, turning from the door and glowering at Valen. “Uh, teddy bear, that’s Jack. The giant is the one who says fee-fi-fo-fum.

Beckett, where’s Eve?” When he had her pressed to his chest, she tried again. “Are you going to tell me or what?” Beckett sighed and looked into her face. “I left her, babycakes. She needs wings, not handcuffs.” He held Livia tighter, like she was a teddy bear. She stopped moving her feet and hugged him around the neck. “You’re not handcuffs. Don’t you know that? She loves you. She does, I’ve seen it.” Beckett resumed dancing, dipping her again. “Look around, Whitebread. She’s not here. She didn’t try to stop me from coming. Her heart belongs to a dead man and a dream. I’m neither of those things.” Beckett released her and clapped for the end of the song. He reached in his pocket and produced a crumpled envelope. “Here’s my gift to you guys. I’m sure Blake won’t want to accept it, but I’m hoping you’ll convince him. For me.

Somebody reported my book bag!” he says. “My promposal got fucked.” I take the teddy bear out of his bag and hug it to my chest. I’m so happy I don’t even tell him not to cuss. “I love it.” “You were going to turn the corner, and see the book bag right here by the telescopes. Then you were going to pick up the bear, and squeeze it, and--” “How was I going to know to squeeze it?” I ask. Peter pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of the bag. It says, Squeeze Me. “It fell off when the security guard was manhandling it. See? I thought of everything.” Everything except the ramifications of leaving an unattended bag in a public place in New York City, but still! It’s the thought that counts, and the thought is the sweetest. I squeeze the bear, and again he says, “Will you go to prom with me, Lara Jean?” “Yes, I will, Howard.” Howard is, of course, the name of the bear from Sleepless in Seattle. “Why are you saying yes to him and not to me?” Peter demands. “Because he asked.” I raise my eyebrows at him and wait. Rolling his eyes, Peter mumbles, “Lara Jean, will you go to prom with me? God, you really do ask for a lot.” I hold the bear out to him. “I will, but first kiss Howard.” “Covey. No. Hell, no.” “Please!” I give him a pleading look. “It’s in the movie, Peter.” And grumbling, he does it, in front of everybody, which is how I know he is utterly and completely mine.

I still dream about him almost every night. And I still sleep with a teddy bear that he gave me. He was the only one why ever knew me. It wasn't always good - especially toward the end. But when I was with him I felt like I had a place. When I came home at night, there was somebody who actually wanted me to be there. And you can't just let go of something like that. Especially when you'd never felt it before. And you've never felt it since. Carmine was the only one who ever loved Stephanie.

Yes, atheists pray in their foxholes—in this case, with a yearning new to me and sharp as lust, for a clean and honorable death by shark bite, lightning strike, sniper fire, car crash. Let me be hacked to death by a madman, was my silent supplication—anything but suffocation by the pink sticky sentiment embodied in that bear and oozing from the walls of the changing room. I didn’t mind dying, but the idea that I should do so while clutching a teddy and with a sweet little smile on my face—well, no amount of philosophy had prepared me for that.

As I turn the corner, I hear Peter calling out, “Wait! Wait! Sir!” He’s following a security guard who is approaching a red backpack on the floor. The security guard bends down and picks it up. “Is this yours?” he demands. “Uh, yeah--” “Why did you leave it on the ground?” He unzips the backpack and pulls out a teddy bear. Peter’s eyes dart around. “Can you put that back inside? It’s for a promposal for my girlfriend. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” The security guard is shaking his head. He mutters to himself and starts looking in the backpack again. “Sir, please just squeeze the bear.” “I’m not squeezing the bear,” the security guard tells him. Peter reaches out and squeezes the teddy bear and the bear squeaks out, “Will you go to prom with me, Lara Jean?” I clap my hands to my mouth in delight. Sternly the security guard says, “You’re in New York City, kid. You can’t just leave a backpack on the ground for your proposal.” “It’s actually called a promposal,” Peter corrects, and the security guard gives him a look. “Sorry. Can I just have the bear back?” He spots me then. “Tell him Sleepless in Seattle is your favorite movie, Lara Jean!” I rush over. “Sir, it’s my favorite movie. Please don’t kick him out.” The security guard is trying not to smile. “I wasn’t going to kick him out,” he says to me. To Peter he says, “Just be more aware next time. In New York, we’re vigilant. If we see something, we say something, do you feel me? This is not whatever little country town you guys are from. This is New York City. We do not play around here.” Both Peter and I nod, and the security guard walks away. As soon as he’s gone, Peter and I look at each other and break out into giddy laughter. “Somebody reported my book bag!” he says. “My promposal got fucked.” I take the teddy bear out of his bag and hug it to my chest. I’m so happy I don’t even tell him not to cuss. “I love it.

This is why you’re not supposed to catch more than one lightning bolt at a time,” Elwin said, leading a familiar round-faced boy into the treatment area. “I thought I’d found a way to do it,” Jensi said, patting the ends of his brown hair, which was sticking out in every direction. Both Jensi and Elwin froze when they spotted Fitz and Sophie—and the panic in their eyes reminded Sophie they still had their masks on. “It’s okay,” she said, tossing back her hood and shoving her mask up on her forehead. Fitz did the same, and Jensi and Elwin each did a double take. Then Elwin laughed. “Should’ve known you’d find a way to end up here,” he said, wrapping them up in a group hug. Sophie hugged him back, remembering how once upon a time she’d been afraid of Elwin. It hadn’t been Elwin’s fault—she’d been afraid of all doctors after growing up with needles and hospitals and scary human medicine. But now she knew that Elwin was a giant teddy bear, with dark, messy hair, and smiling dragons all over his tunic. “Yeah—they told us you were banished,” Jensi said in his trademark rapid-fire manner. “But I knew they couldn’t keep you away—and cool—you have to tell me about Exillium—are those the uniforms—they’re awesome—but what are the masks for?” The happy reunion lasted about ten seconds, until Elwin noticed their patient.

As a little boy, Samuel became very nervous at night and would only go to sleep with a night-light and his favourite teddy bear. ‘He had a teddy bear called “Baby Jack” and they had brass bedsteads. And it was always tied to the top of the bed, with almost no stuffing left in it at all,’ said Sheila Page.89 These details find their way almost unaltered into Beckett’s account of Jacques Moran Junior in Molloy: My son’s window was faintly lit. He liked sleeping with a night-light beside him. I sometimes felt it was wrong of me to let him humour this weakness. Until quite recently he could not sleep unless he had his woolly bear to hug. When he had forgotten the bear (Baby Jack) I would forbid the night-light.90

Oh, Teddy Bear, dear Teddy, though you're gone these many years, I recall with deep affection how I nibbled on your ears, I can hardly keep from smiling, and my heart beats fast and glows, when I think about the morning that I twisted off your nose. Teddy Bear, you didn't whimper, Teddy Bear, you didn't pout, when I reached in with my fingers and I tore your tummy out, and you didn't even mumble or emit the faintest cries, when I pulled your little paws off, when I bit your button eyes. Yes, you sat beside me calmly, and you didn't once protest, when I ripped apart the stuffing that was packed inside your chest, and you didn't seem to notice when I yanked out all your hair— it's been ages since I've seen you, but I miss you, Teddy Bear.

Ben had the most expressive face I’d ever seen. When he told a story, he dove into it, re-enacting each character with a new set of his jaw and cast of his brow. His eyes shone vibrantly, and every time he laughed, it showed in his whole body. Just watching him made me smile. I felt warm around him, and happy, and comfortable. I felt like flannel pajamas, hot cocoa, a teddy bear, and my favorite comedy on DVD. I felt like home. I loved Ben, that’s what I felt. It popped into my head, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. I loved Ben. Well that was settled then, wasn’t it? Then my eyes darted to Sage, and I noticed he wasn’t focused on Ben’s story either. He was watching me. He was watching me watch Ben, to be precise, leaning back on his elbows and staring so fixedly that I could practically hear him scratching his way into my brain to listen to what I was thinking. And the minute I felt that, I was desperate to take back what I’d thought, and make sure he hadn’t understood. Especially since I had this strong feeling that if he believed I loved Ben, he’d disappear. Maybe not right away, but as soon as he could. And that would be the end of the world. “Okay, Sage, your turn,” Rayna said. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the middle of a social function?” Instantly Sage’s intense stare was gone, replaced by a relaxed pose and a charming smile. “Um, I would say doing a spit take in front of Clea’s mom, several senators, and the Israeli foreign minister would probably cover it.” “You did that?” I asked. “Oh yes, he did,” Rayna nodded. “And the minister still offered you his house in Tel Aviv for the honeymoon? That’s shocking.” “Rayna is particularly charming,” Sage noted. “Thank you, darling.” She batted her eyes at him like a Disney princess. “What happened?” Ben asked. “Piri spiked your drink with garlic?” “You say that like it’s a joke,” Sage said. “I’m pretty sure she did.” “She must really have it out for you,” Ben said. “Palinka’s Hungarian holy water. You don’t mess with that.” “Speaking of holy water, I so did not get that on our trip,” Rayna put in. “Clea and I were touring one of the cathedrals in Italy, and in front of the whole tour I go, “That’s too cute! Look, they have birdbaths in the church!

Christmas comes and goes as if it never happened. The white lights strangle the tree half on and half off, just like the new lace thong string panties that I got myself for Gym class days it was a gift to me from me. I had them on today… yet they were uncomfortable there. I do not want to stain them, so I took them off myself- this time, so I set them beside me on the floor. My old ones have been torn and they were washed far too many times. I am sitting just like the lonely tree in the living room, in the bay window nook, I am hugging my teddy bear, yet for me- this is what happens every day; even when it is not Christmas. However, as of now looking over this room, the tree is dying and the mantle of the fireplace is73 completely naked too. Why has the mantle remained untouched?

I don’t give a fuck what people say,” Ryan said. “I want a good cuddle after this sucky day.” He smiled at the unintentional rhyme and opened his arms. “Come here, Jamie bear.” Rolling his eyes but grinning, Jamie walked over and all but flopped on top of Ryan. “You’re still such a big baby,” Jamie said, resting his cheek against Ryan’s shoulder. “If your brothers knew you still use me as your teddy bear when you have a shitty day, they’d never let you live it down.” “You would never tell them,” Ryan said, wrapping his arms around Jamie tightly and closing his eyes as the tension that had been gathering in his body over the last month somehow ebbed gently away from him. “You’d never tell them, because I’m your favorite person in the world.” Jamie just sighed, burrowing his face into his neck. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t deny it, either. “Don’t do it again,” Ryan said, opening his eyes and putting a hand on Jamie’s nape. “Okay?

Mother charged about five hundred dollars for a delivery, and this was another way midwifing changed her: suddenly she had money. Dad didn’t believe that women should work, but I suppose he thought it was all right for Mother to be paid for midwifing, because it undermined the Government. Also, we needed the money. Dad worked harder than any man I knew, but scrapping and building barns and hay sheds didn’t bring in much, and it helped that Mother could buy groceries with the envelopes of small bills she kept in her purse. Sometimes, if we’d spent the whole day flying about the valley, delivering herbs and doing prenatal exams, Mother would use that money to take me and Audrey out to eat. Grandma-over-in-town had given me a journal, pink with a caramel-colored teddy bear on the cover, and in it I recorded the first time Mother took us to a restaurant, which I described as “real fancy with menus and everything.” According to the entry, my meal came to $3.30.

21. Mr. Koenig reports that Ms. Griffin commenced approximately five minutes of hysterically expressing disappointment at her son’s choice of friends. 22. Mr. Koenig reports that the subdued response on the part of Kyle Griffin and his companions indicated that “they were totally wasted.” 23. Mr. Koenig reports that Ms. Griffin suddenly lunged at a girl with a teddy bear safety-pinned to the back of the her jacket. NARRATIVE CONTINUATION BY OFFICER: Upon arrival, I identified myself as Seattle PD. I attempted to pull Ms. Griffin off the teddy bear, which appeared to be causing her acute distress. I informed Ms. Griffin that if she did not lower her voice and step into the hallway with me, I would have to put her in handcuffs. Ms. Griffin started screaming at me with profanity, “I’m a model citizen. These druggies are the ones breaking the law and corrupting my son.” I grabbed hold of her left arm. Ms. Griffin screamed profanities at me while I placed her in handcuffs.

Or when you keep a sex-addiction meeting under surveillance because they’re the best places to pick up chicks.” Serge looked around the room at suspicious eyes. “Okay, maybe that last one’s just me. But you should try it. They keep the men’s and women’s meetings separate for obvious reasons. And there are so many more opportunities today because the whole country’s wallowing in this whiny new sex-rehab craze after some golfer diddled every pancake waitress on the seaboard. That’s not a disease; that’s cheating. He should have been sent to confession or marriage counseling after his wife finished chasing him around Orlando with a pitching wedge. But today, the nation is into humiliation, tearing down a lifetime of achievement by labeling some guy a damaged little dick weasel. The upside is the meetings. So what you do is wait on the sidewalk for the women to get out, pretending like you’re loitering. And because of the nature of the sessions they just left, there’s no need for idle chatter or lame pickup lines. You get right to business: ‘What’s your hang-up?’ And she answers, and you say, ‘What a coincidence. Me, too.’ Then, hang on to your hat! It’s like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Most people are aware of the obvious, like foot fetish or leather. But there are more than five hundred lesser-known but clinically documented paraphilia that make no sexual sense. Those are my favorites . . .” Serge began counting off on his fingers. “This one woman had Ursusagalmatophilia, which meant she got off on teddy bears—that was easily my weirdest three-way. And nasophilia, which meant she was completely into my nose, and she phoned a friend with mucophilia, which is mucus. The details on that one are a little disgusting. And formicophilia, which is being crawled on by insects, so the babe bought an ant farm. And symphorophilia—that’s staging car accidents, which means you have to time the air bags perfectly

So Dad was a tedious, well-connected workaholic. But the other thing you need to understand is that Mom was a living wet dream. A former Guess model and Miller Lite girl, she was tall, curvy and gorgeous. At thirty-eight, she had somehow managed to remain ageless and maintained her killer body. She’s five-foot-nine with never-ending legs, generous breasts and full hips that scoop dramatically into her slim waist. People who say Barbie’s proportions are unrealistic obviously never met my stepmother. Her face is pretty too, with long eyelashes, sculpted cheekbones and big, blue eyes that tease and smile at the same time. Her long brown hair rests on her shoulders in thick, tousled layers like in one of those Pantene Pro-V commercials. One memory seared in to my brain from my early teenage years is of Mom parading around the house one evening in nothing but her heels and underwear. I was sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV when a flurry of long limbs and blow-dried hair burst in front of the screen. “Teddy-bear. Do you know where Silvia left the dry cleaning? I’m running late for dinner with the Blackwells and I can’t find my red cocktail dress.” Mom stood before me in matching off-white, La Perla bra and panties and Manolo Blahnik stilettos. Some subtle gold hoop earrings hung from her ears and a tiny bit of mascara on her eye lashes highlighted her sparkling, blue eyes. Aside from the missing dress, she was otherwise ready to go. “I think she left them hanging on the chair next to the other sofa,” I said, trying my best not to gape at Mom’s perfect body. Mom trotted across the room, her heels tocking on the hard wood floor. I watched her slim, sexy back as she lifted the dry cleaning onto the sofa and then bent over to sort through the garments. My eyes followed her long mane of brown hair down to her heart-shaped ass. Her panties stretched tightly across each cheek as she bent further down. “Found it!” She cried, springing back upright, causing her 35Cs to bounce up and down from the sudden motion. They were thrusting proudly off her ribcage and bulging out over the fabric of the balconette bra like two titanic eggs. Her supple skin pushed out over the silk edges. And then she was gone as quickly as she had arrived, her long legs striding back down the hallway.

My locker. The card is still there, a white patch of hope with my name on it. I tear it off and open it. Something falls to my feet. The card has a picture of two cutesy teddy bears sharing a pot of honey. I open it. 'Thanks for understanding. You're the sweetest!' It was signed with a purple pen. 'Good Luck!!! Heather.' I bend down to find what dropped from the card. It was the friendship necklace I had given Heather in a fit of insanity around Christmas. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How stupid could I be? I hear a crackling inside me, my ribs are collapsing in on my lungs, which is why I can't breathe. I stumble down the hall, down another hall, down another hall, till I find my very own door and slip inside and throw the lock, not even bothering to turn on the lights, just falling falling a mile downhill to the bottom of my brown chair, where I can ink my teeth into the soft white skin of my wrist and cry like the baby I am. I rock, thumping my head against the cinder-block wall. A half-forgotten holiday has unveiled every knife that sticks inside me, every cut. No Rachel, no Heather, not even a silly, geeky boy who would like the inside girl I think I am.

We took a hike in Malibu and shared ice cream. I stayed with him while he had walking pneumonia, heating soup and pouring him glass after glass of ginger ale and feeling his fevered forehead as he slept. He warned me of the life that was coming for me if I wasn’t careful. Success was a scary thing for a young person, he said. I was twenty-four and he was thirty-three (“Jesus’s age,” he reminded me more than a few times). There was something tender about him, broken and gentle, and I could imagine that sex with him might be similar. I wouldn’t have to pretend like I did with other guys. Maybe we would both cry. Maybe it would feel just as good as sharing a bed. On Valentine’s Day, I put on lace underwear and begged him to please, finally, have sex with me. The litany of excuses he presented in response was comic in its tragedy: “I want to get to know you.” “I don’t have a condom.” “I’m scared, because I just like you too much.” He took an Ambien and fell asleep, arm over my side, and as I lay there, wide awake and itchy in my lingerie set, it occurred to me: this was humiliating, unsexy, and, worst sin of all, boring. This wasn’t comfort. This was paralysis. This was distance passing for connection. I was being desexualized in slow motion, becoming a teddy bear with breasts.

Priming is not, it should be said, like brainwashing. I can’t make you reveal deeply personal details about your childhood by priming you with words like “nap” and “bottle” and “teddy bear.” Nor can I program you to rob a bank for me. On the other hand, the effects of priming aren’t trivial. Two Dutch researchers did a study in which they had groups of students answer forty-two fairly demanding questions from the board game Trivial Pursuit. Half were asked to take five minutes beforehand to think about what it would mean to be a professor and write down everything that came to mind. Those students got 55.6 percent of the questions right. The other half of the students were asked to first sit and think about soccer hooligans. They ended up getting 42.6 percent of the Trivial Pursuit questions right. The “professor” group didn’t know more than the “soccer hooligan” group. They weren’t smarter or more focused or more serious. They were simply in a “smart” frame of mind, and, clearly, associating themselves with the idea of something smart, like a professor, made it a lot easier—in that stressful instant after a trivia question was asked—to blurt out the right answer. The difference between 55.6 and 42.6 percent, it should be pointed out, is enormous. That can be the difference between passing and failing.

Maybe a young Jacques Cousteau...?" Sadie was still working on the boy in the suit. "But that would just be silly. I mean, a suit...? On.No." Apparently our scrutiny hadn't gone unnoticed. Teddy-Jacques-Whoever was bearing down on us,smiling broadly under the mustache that,I noticed, was coming loose at one corner. "Good evening,ladies!" He was a senior, I thought. We didn't have any classes together; he was AP everything,but I thought I remembered seeing him during Performance Night in the spring, part of a co-ed a capella group. They'd done a Black Eyed Peas song-pretty well,too. He was cute, too, in a pale,lanky way. "Walter Elias Disney," he said with a bow. "At your disposal." "Walt Disney?" Sadie was obviously too intrigued to be shy. "Um...?" He grinned and waved his arm at the spectacle behind him with a flourish. "The myriad talents of Johnny Depp aside,it is debatable whether any of this would have come about without me. It seemed only appropriate that I should make an appearance." I nodded. "I'll buy that." He bowed again,but his eyes stayed on Sadie. "Would you care to dance?" "Oh.I....Oh." Several emotions flooded her face in an instant: terror, pleasure, uncertainty, and why-the-hell-not. She darted a glance at me. I gave a quick, emphatic nod. I would be fine. She absolutely should dance. "Sure," she said. And off they went.

That is when, I walked into the home as if I would have like any other day, with my head down, going to take a bath and get ready for supper, with guardian Hope. Plus went up to the steps up to my room dripping wet my braindead mind puzzled.' 'My sweet brown shaggy teddy bear was the only thing I grabbed covering my body from dinner, then I went into my room. My pink nighty top on my bed from the night before. Truly, I did not care about my nakedness anymore; after all, I am wild, continuous, unbroken, and untamed.' 'Moderate retardation books,' said Hope when she picked them up under her breath, showing them back into the unzipped backpack. 'I feel so weird, like never before; I sat stark naked in my bed soaking wet, rocking hoping for nightfall to come. to see if the next day I would have to go to school.' 'How? I don't know. Just like fast-forwarding it will only dawn another day. That's going to repeat all the hell ones more, I'm just sure of that.' 'Previously this is my question, I asked myself, as I am laying in my bed holding onto my teddy bear far too tightly. 'Is it me who is the problem, or the ones that are all around me?'' I answer myself- 'I know that there is not one person on this planet, who truly cares if I am even here or not.' Oh, 'God' - 'Why does my life have to be like this?' 'I do not think I can take any more of living in this town or going to this school!

... family men, Claude." "Then why aren't they home with their families?" "You haven't been listening to me, Claude. It takes lots of honey to raise a family these days..." No, it isn't even that, these teddy bears don't like honey as much as they think they do. They think they're supposed to like it, the way they're supposed to like women and children. They think they're supposed to act like real grizzlies, but they don't feel it. You can't blame them, they just don't have it inside them. What they have, what they love most, is their memories: how the Coach used to shout niceworkpal whenever they caught the big ball or somehow hit the little one, how Dad used to wink when they caught one of his jokes, how when they repeated them he almost died laughing, so they told them and told them - if they told one really well he might do it. They memorized all the conversations verbatim, that about the pussies and the coons, the homers and the balls, the cams and the bearings. They're still memorizing. You can see them almost anytime you're out driving, there in the slow car just ahead, the young man at the wheel, the old man talking, the young man leaning a little to the right in order to hear better, the old man pointing out the properties, the young man looking and listening earnestly, straining to catch the old man's last word, the last joke verbatim, the last bit of know-how about the deals and the properties and the honey. When he thinks he's learned all he can from the old man, he'll shove him out of the car. You watch, next time you're out driving. "...these are the cream, Claude." These are the all-American fairies.

Don’t jump to conclusions over first impressions. They’re often dead wrong. When I first met Mark, I thought he was spoiled. When I met Shirley, I assumed she was tough as nails. But getting to know them both as a member of their family, I saw how wrong I was. Shirley is a teddy bear, a caring, loving person who would do anything for me. And Mark? I think of him as a brother, in every sense of the word. I’ve learned to make a special effort to get to know the people who put up walls and seem cold or tough. It’s like an onion; you have to peel back the layers. I’m sure some of my DWTS partners made an assumption about who I was the first time they worked with me. They probably thought I was a tough taskmaster and cursed me out for putting them through this! But anyone who truly knows me will tell you, I’m harder on myself than I am on anyone else. And I’m a softie who loves to goof around. But to see that side of me, you need to move past the first impression. What’s the lesson here? Dig a little deeper. Get to know people and what makes them tick. Don’t make an assumption till you know someone a lot better. Think of all the people you might have dismissed who could have been great friends, mentors, or allies, if you’d only given them the chance. Perfect example: dancing with Lil’ Kim on DWTS. She had recently spent time in jail and I remember thinking, Oh my gosh, I’m afraid I’m going to get shanked in the middle of the dance! Then I realized I was judging her without knowing her, something that I have hated people doing to me in the past. It took only a few minutes to see the sweet, loving person she truly was. Had I not given us the chance to get to know each other better, I never would have learned that.

What did you say was chasing you?” Liz sighed in frustration. Apparently the Kindred weren’t big into stuffed animals. “It was this little fuzzy blue thing that came at me when I was in the kitchen—what you called the food-prep area,” she clarified, seeing his confusion. “At first I thought it was cute and tried to pet it. But then it opened its mouth and it had these long, sharp—Omigod! There it is!” She pointed behind Baird where the bright blue teddy bear had suddenly appeared. “Where?” He turned at once, putting himself between her and the perceived threat. Liv couldn’t help noticing he moved with incredible speed for such a large man. She waited breathlessly for the murderous teddy bear to attack but nothing happened. Then, to her dismay, Baird began to laugh. It was a deep, rumbling noise that came from the bottom of his chest and it might have been nice to hear if it wasn’t so obviously directed at her. “What?” Liv glared at him. “Would you mind telling me what’s so damn funny?” “I’m sorry, Olivia. It’s just…I can’t believe you were scared of Bebo.” Baird laughed again. “Bebo? What the hell is a Bebo?” Liv demanded, still keeping her distance from the bright blue teddy bear which was eyeing her mistrustfully. “Bebo’s his name. He’s a zicther—an animal native to my home world, Rageron.” “Rageron?” Liv frowned, wondering why the name of his home planet evoked strange images in her head. Baird nodded. “It’s a jungle planet with a helluva lot more scary animals than Bebo here.” He crouched down to scratch the little animal under its chin. Its large eyes closed and it made a sort of grunting purr as it submitted to his caress. “A jungle planet,” Liv murmured. “Only instead of green, most of the vegetation is blue.” “That’s right.” Baird looked up from where he was crouched on the floor, a startled expression on his chiseled features. “How did you know that?” “I saw it in a dream.” Liv blushed and looked down. “One of the dreams we shared I think. I saw you…never mind.” She shook her head. “Anyway, that accounts for his bright blue fur. I still don’t understand why he tried to attack me though.” “He tried to attack you?” Though he was clearly trying to keep the skepticism from his voice, Baird wasn’t succeeding too well. “Well, he bared his teeth at me!” Liv said, irritated. Of course now that its master was home the little animal was acting like butter wouldn’t melt in its alien mouth. Its alien mouth filled with shark teeth, she reminded herself. “That’s just a greeting stance. He probably did it because he was meeting you for the first time.” Baird rose and dusted blue feathery fur off his large hands. “I’m sorry if he scared you. He’s not dangerous though, just curious.” “Curious

A young soldier stepped into the old rowboat and reached for Matt and Q first, grabbing them by the arms and directing them over to the general’s vessel. He then tried to separate Hooter and Tony, but Hooter had pulled Tony to him and wouldn’t let go. He was holding him to his chest as if Tony were his teddy bear. Actually Hooter still slept with a teddy bear but it was a secret he had kept from his friends. Tony wasn’t furry or cuddly like his bear but Hooter wasn’t about to be choosy. He was so scared he just needed something to hold on to. “Hooter, let go! You’re squeezing me so hard I can’t breathe,” Tony cried as they were lifted together onto the general’s boat. “Sorry,” Hooter mumbled, without loosening his grip.

A teddy bear, to me . . . is endless and unconditional love.

The transitional object—the teddy bear, stuffed animal, blanket, or favorite toy—makes possible the movement from a purely subjective experience to one in which other people are experienced as truly “other.” Neither “me” nor “not-me,” the transitional object enjoys a special in-between status that the parents instinctively respect. It is the raft by which the infant crosses over to the understanding of the other.

think of myself as a plain dealer and I am rather proud of the honesty of my transactions. After all, I have had to make my way in the world, and I could only do so by being clear-eyed and self-reliant. I forbid myself to remember that it has not always been easy, and I never, ever, blame my parents: that sort of thing is so old hat. I pass lightly through life, without anguished attachments, and this was nearly always the way I intended it to be. I say nearly always because I do sometimes have these odd dreams. The dreams are of no interest in themselves, but they leave me wondering where they came from. In dreams I bear children, sink smiling into loving arms, fight my way out of empty rooms, and regularly drown. I wake up in a state of astonishment, and sometimes of fear, but I banish the memory of the dreams, of which no one knows anything. Telling dreams, like blaming one’s parents, or falling in love and making a fool of oneself, comes into my category of forbidden things. And yet the ghastly Teddy, who was obviously

I only have to change on the one night of the month the moon is fullest. I can hold it off all right the rest of the time. So don’t worry—you won’t have to see too much more of my wolf.” “Oh really? That’s too bad.” To my surprise, she sounded disappointed. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Too bad? Why would you say that?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just… I liked your wolf. He was so big and cuddly—kind of like a living teddy bear. He kept me warm while I was sleeping—I mean really warm and that’s hard for me. I’m always cold since I was turned.” “He is actually me,” I reminded her. “I was the one cuddling you and keeping you warm last night.” “Oh, I know.” She blushed a pale pink. “I just… it’s hard to think of you and the wolf as the same being. You’re just so different in that form. Less, I don’t know… less threatening. Not that you’re threatening now,” she went on hurriedly. “But you’re just less… less scary as a wolf.” I couldn’t help laughing. “You must be the only person I know who thinks a huge wolf is less scary than a man.” “Animals aren’t deliberately cruel,” she said softly. “I mean, they may do savage things sometimes but it’s because of instinct, not because they want to hurt someone on purpose. You know?” I nodded. “So animals are safer than men—is that what you’re saying?” “Pretty much.” She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “Sorry, I’m not saying you’re cruel or anything. I guess I just like animals better than people sometimes, that’s all. They’re less… complicated.

When Bindi, Robert, and I got home on the evening of Steve’s death, we encountered a strange scene that we ourselves had created. The plan had been that Steve would get back from his Ocean’s Deadlist film shoot before we got back from Tasmania. So we’d left the house with a funny surprise for him. We got large plush toys and arranged them in a grouping to look like the family. We sat one that represented me on the sofa, a teddy bear about her size for Bindi, and a plush orangutan for Robert. We dressed the smaller toys in the kids’ clothes, and the big doll in my clothes. I went to the zoo photographer and got close-up photographs of our faces that we taped onto the heads of the dolls. We posed them as if we were having dinner, and I wrote a note for Steve. “Surprise,” the note said. “We didn’t go to Tasmania! We are here waiting for you and we love you and miss you so much! We will see you soon. Love, Terri, Bindi, and Robert.” The surprise was meant for Steve when he returned and we weren’t there. Instead the dolls silently waited for us, our plush-toy doubles, ghostly reminders of a happier life.

When Bindi, Robert, and I got home on the evening of Steve’s death, we encountered a strange scene that we ourselves had created. The plan had been that Steve would get back from his Ocean’s Deadlist film shoot before we got back from Tasmania. So we’d left the house with a funny surprise for him. We got large plush toys and arranged them in a grouping to look like the family. We sat one that represented me on the sofa, a teddy bear about her size for Bindi, and a plush orangutan for Robert. We dressed the smaller toys in the kids’ clothes, and the big doll in my clothes. I went to the zoo photographer and got close-up photographs of our faces that we taped onto the heads of the dolls. We posed them as if we were having dinner, and I wrote a note for Steve. “Surprise,” the note said. “We didn’t go to Tasmania! We are here waiting for you and we love you and miss you so much! We will see you soon. Love, Terri, Bindi, and Robert.” The surprise was meant for Steve when he returned and we weren’t there. Instead the dolls silently waited for us, our plush-toy doubles, ghostly reminders of a happier life. Wes, Joy, and Frank came into the house with me and the kids. We never entertained, we never had anyone over, and now suddenly our living room seemed full. Unaccustomed to company, Robert greeted each one at the door. “Take your shoes off before you come in,” he said seriously. I looked over at him. He was clearly bewildered but trying so hard to be a little man. We had to make arrangements to bring Steve home. I tried to keep things as private as possible. One of Steve’s former classmates at school ran the funeral home in Caloundra that would be handling the arrangements. He had known the Irwin family for years, and I recall thinking how hard this was going to be for him as well. Bindi approached me. “I want to say good-bye to Daddy,” she said. “You are welcome to, honey,” I said. “But you need to remember when Daddy said good-bye to his mother, that last image of her haunted him while he was awake and asleep for the rest of his life.” I suggested that perhaps Bindi would like to remember her daddy as she last saw him, standing on top of the truck next to that outback airstrip, waving good-bye with both arms and holding the note that she had given him. Bindi agreed, and I knew it was the right decision, a small step in the right direction. I knew the one thing that I had wanted to do all along was to get to Steve. I felt an urgency to continue on from the zoo and travel up to the Cape to be with him. But I knew what Steve would have said. His concern would have been getting the kids settled and in bed, not getting all tangled up in the media turmoil. Our guests decided on their own to get going and let us get on with our night. I gave the kids a bath and fixed them something to eat. I got Robert settled in bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep. Bindi looked worried. Usually I curled up with Robert in the evening, while Steve curled up with Bindi. “Don’t worry,” I said to her. “Robert’s already asleep. You can sleep in my bed with me.” Little Bindi soon dropped off to sleep, but I lay awake. It felt as though I had died and was starting over with a new life. I mentally reviewed my years as a child growing up in Oregon, as an adult running my own business, then meeting Steve, becoming his wife and the mother of our children. Now, at age forty-two, I was starting again.

Jonah lowered himself onto his backside and scooted against the wall. He kept his hand on the thick fur and petted the wolf that he’d seen on an almost daily basis for as long as he could remember. For the first time since that afternoon’s debacle with Zev, Jonah felt calm. He’d had trouble falling asleep, still anxious about Zev’s reaction to their encounter and Jonah’s assertion that Zev was attracted to him. Even when he’d finally drifted into slumber, Jonah had tossed around restlessly, terrified that he’d driven away his best friend for good. But in that moment, sitting on the floor with his arms around the brown wolf, he felt better. There was something about the animal that tempered Jonah’s worry and relaxed him from the inside out. Jonah sighed. His eyelids felt heavy and his body was worn out from the stressful day. So much so, that with the wolf’s warm body pressed against his, Jonah succumbed to sleep without giving any thought as to why his cock had lengthened and hardened as soon as he’d embraced the creature. HE’D never rested so soundly, felt so complete and at peace. Jonah snuggled up against the soft, warm pillow and sighed happily. An answering rumble caused him to reassess the pillow theory. As sleep started clearing from his mind, Jonah became aware of the strong heartbeat close to his ear and the sound of someone else breathing. Zev. He sensed Zev. But the last time he’d seen his best friend they’d fought, so that didn’t make sense. Jonah opened one eye and was greeted with an amber gaze. Except these amber eyes weren’t attached to the body of the young man who’d played front and center in Jonah’s every fantasy. They were attached to the brown wolf Jonah had known even longer. His arm was already wrapped around the large canine, so Jonah just moved his hand back and forth over the soft coat, petting his animal friend. “Morning, Pup. Anyone ever tell you that you make a great teddy bear?” Jonah laughed when the wolf growled. He actually looked affronted. Who knew that expression was possible for a dog? “Oh, Pup, did I offend you? Sorry, boy.” Jonah squeezed the large animal into a tight hug. It felt so comforting, he didn’t want to let go.

The last time we saw you, you had that teddy bear permanently attached to your side, didn’t you? What was his name again? Mr. Boo? Mr. Boony?” Megan turned purple as the boys snickered. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Her teddy bear? “John,” Regina said in a warning tone. “I don’t really…remember,” Megan lied. Everyone was staring at her. “Oh yes, you do! You wouldn’t put that thing down for the world!” John’s voice boomed. “Mr. Binky? Mr.--” “Mr. Boogie,” she said. The laughter was deafening. “Yes! Mr. Boogie! I remember because you kept making him kiss me,” John said gleefully. “You still have that thing?” “Um…no,” Megan lied. Mr. Boogie was tucked snugly at the bottom of her suitcase.

How many Jell-O shots had I done with that big ginger teddy bear of a jock before letting him mount me?

Monkstown Hospital by Stewart Stafford My first time away from Mam, Tonsillectomy at six years old, Teddy bear fights Action Man, Pinball Pocketeer for company. Silver torch lights the dark hours, A miniscule pack of playing cards, A made-up game played undercover, My best guess of what picture follows. An older man awaits surgery too, Seeing that I'm alone and scared, He draws pictures to amuse me or, We watch "funnies" in the TV room. Waking from the operation in the bed, Congealed blood covers my pyjamas, My mother makes her shock known, We go home for my First Communion. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

I’ve got you, little shrew,” he murmured reassuringly, a soft, teddy bear of a Dragon peering down at me instead of a raging animal as I felt the truth of that statement. “What’s wrong with me?” I whispered in fear, not wanting to voice it to anyone else but him.

For a man who apparently hates hugs, he’s certainly a very enthusiastic spooner; he’s clutching onto me like I’m a teddy bear, his face buried in the curve of my neck.

Theo Berenson, you, you, you’re a big bear. A teddy bear, and you’ve given me the biggest gift anyone’s ever given me.” A sob in my throat chokes, and I want to make a joke about my dick, but I don’t.

It takes me a while to figure out what to do. I finally decide to slice the bottom of a teddy bear and jam it onto the hilt. I’ll just have to pull off the bear if I need to use the sword. “Come on, admit it, Pooky Bear,” I say to the sword. “You love your new look. All the other swords will be jealous.

Jesus was not giving us His Spirit so that we could merely feel Him, like some kind of divine teddy bear. He gave us the Spirit and His power so we could be His witnesses. And He accompanies us, not so we can have happy families, but so we can make disciples.

TEDDY BEAR RAPIST   When I was a kid, I used to masturbate by lying on my stomach, and basically I humped my teddy bear. After a few months, he was covered in little dried cum stains. I hid him in my closet, so my mom wouldn't see him like that.   One day she was cleaning my room, and while she was getting some fresh sheets out of my closet, she found my teddy bear, hidden under some clothes I had thrown over him. She picked him up, examined him, and then asked me: "What happened to your teddy bear? Have you been blowing your nose on him?

I had developed a very complicated and little-understood disorder called misophonia, which means “hatred of sound.” Certain sounds act as triggers that turn me from a Teddy bear into an agitated grizzly bear. People with misophonia are annoyed, sometimes to the point of rage, by ordinary sounds such as people eating, breathing, sniffing, or coughing, certain consonants, or repetitive sounds. Those triggers, and there are dozens of them, set off anxiety and avoidant behaviors. What is a mild irritation for most people -- the person who keeps sniffling, a buzzing fly in a closed room—those are major irritants to people with misophonia because we have virtually no ability to ignore those sounds, and life can be a near constant bombardment of noises that bother us. I figured out that the best way to cope was to avoid the triggers. So I turned off the television at certain sounds and avoided loud people. All of these things gave me a reputation as a high-strung, moody and difficult child. I knew my overreactions weren’t normal. My playmates knew it

I don’t know why she broke up with me. I was always there when she needed me. Well, aside for about 3/4ths of a year that one time when she told me she was pregnant. 
This was the second time in my life that I’ve felt like I’ve found “The one.” But the first one doesn’t count, because neither could I at the time. I was two, and I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with my teddy bear, FDR. 
Things were going so splendidly before we split. Just last week we were sitting on a bench in the park on a sunny afternoon, when she put her hand on mine, turned to look at me, and said, “We should have brought some bread.” 
And now it all makes sense. Bread for the birds. At the time I thought she was asking me to marry her, so like a fool my eyes teared up and I simply said, “Yes.” I guess it is like my grand pappy said when he told my pappy, “I’d be a fool to think you didn’t raise a fool.” Well, he was right. He was a fool. Like father like son. Good thing he wasn’t my father. It’s like that saying found in the correspondences between Jarod Ora Kintz and Dora J. Arod: I’m looking at him to look at me, but he is me, so what am I, a mirror?

We reached the doors and I presented the crew passes to the outside guards. They waved us on to Rene’s welcoming arms. Recognition sparked in her eyes. She surveyed Jim and turned to me. “Congratulations, love. You traded up. Does he treat you well?” “He’s a teddy bear,” I said. Teddy bear looked like he was suffering from murder withdrawal.

I stared at my handsome ‘teddy bear’ and uttered, “Do not leave me. I’d be devastated if you did.” My Valet pinched my cheek and assured, “You silly boy, I’ll never leave you. I’m always with you.

I believe that. I don't think you could ever intentionally hurt anyone. You're like big, sweet teddy bear." "That makes me sound like a pussy." "No, William. You're all man from your head to your incredibly large dick" He laughed "Thank you.

His gaze fell to the rolling table beside his bed and the tattered brown teddy bear resting there. “Your boss said the little girl you saved wanted you to have it while you were sick, but she expects to get it back.” Emotion constricted his throat and he had to look away from Cat to clear it. Reaching out a finger, he stroked down the stuffed animal’s head. “She didn’t have to do that.” “Chad seemed very surprised she had given it up.” He nodded, his head throbbing from emotion and physical pain. He wanted to crawl into bed and drag Cat with him. She seemed to sense as well that he had almost reached his limit, because she peeled the blankets back on the bed. “Why don’t you chill for a little bit? We’ll go over our options later. Want me to help you with the sling?” Without argument he turned to let her release the Velcro strips, then shifted himself back to the mattress, dragging a spare pillow over his aching eyes. The lack of light immediately eased some of the tension in his head. “Can you hang out with me for a while?” She stroked her hand down his arm and squeezed his fingers. “I will.” Huffing

The one standing closest to Candice, who reintroduced himself as Mason, had arms so massive, I swear the sleeves of his shirt were about to tear from how much they were stretching against the bulging muscles. To be honest, they were kind of frightening. He had tribal tattoos coming down both arms, stopping halfway down; a killer smile; and dominating eyes. But then he picked me up in a big bear hug, and all freaky thoughts of him melted away. Massive teddy bear. I

We curl up in bed together, without a blanket. She wraps me in her arms like a teddy bear, the way she always does, and falls asleep against my forehead. My hand is squished against her belly, probably pressing into the clouds of the tiny world inside of her.

You’ve got your hands full with Ayla.  The clock is ticking Pierce.  You’re the only one that can’t hear it yet.” “I’ve got perfect hearing.” Pierce looked over at his companion who was watching him and wondering what he’d say next.  He’d stopped just short of insulting her on several occasions this evening and she wondered when he’d cross the line.  He was a Sloan and it was coming, she could feel it.  “Tell them Ayla.  Tell them how things are between us.  They obviously don’t believe me.” God only knows what possessed her. She bowed in deference to Pierce and then smiled serenely at Deacon and Dorothy. “Gladly Pierce.” She winked at Dorothy before saying, “I wouldn’t marry a Sloan if every other man on the planet had the last name of Marconi.” Dorothy erupted in a giggling fit and Deacon fought to stay in control of his own laughter. Pierce was the only one at the table that found no humor in her remark.  His eyes darkened to a violet shade of blue and he tilted his head slightly towards her.  Ayla knew that look and knew it well.  Her skin grew hot and her hands itched to touch him.  She wouldn’t though.  Not unless he gave her permission.  Even though he’d never caused her one second of pain, he was still Dominant to her Submissive.  He might be her big Teddy Bear, but she still called him Sir.

When the day came for me to leave, I sat on my front step with three suitcases, two boxes, and a teddy bear, the grand total of everything I owned. Neither of my parents was home.

So here’s the dealio; I was trying to think of what I could get for your birthday that would mean something, not just the usual Barbie crap. And I was thinking—you and me are Indian. Your mom’s not, but we are. And I’ve always liked Indian symbols. Know what a symbol is?” She shook her head. “Shit that stands for shit. So let’s see if I remember this right.” Sitting on the bed, he plucked the bird card out of her hand, turning it around in his fingers. “Okay, this guy is magic. He’ll protect you from bad spells and other kinds of weirdness you might not even be aware of.” Carefully he unwound the wire ties that attached the small charm to its plastic card and placed the bird on her bedside table. Then he picked up the teddy bear. “This fierce animal is a protector.” She laughed. “No, really. It may not look like it, but appearances can be deceiving. This dude is a fearless spirit. And with that fearless spirit, he signals bravery to those who require it.” He freed the bear from the card and set it on the table next to the bird. “All right. Now the fish. This one might be the best of all. It gives you the power to resist other people’s magic. How cool is that?” She thought

eye. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mia. You’re safe with me. No matter what. Whether you change your mind about this at the last minute, or you want to go full speed ahead, I promise you I’m going to keep you safe. But I’m not a teddy bear. You sleep with me tonight, and you’re not going to end up peacefully cuddled next to me. There’s nothing soft about me.” He tightened his hold on her wrist, pressed her palm more firmly against his length, and then drew her hand up to his stomach, across the flat planes of his ab muscles, and up to his well-defined chest. “And just because you’re a virgin, because you never met a man who made the kissing good enough to make all that other stuff fade into the background, I’m not going to take it easy on you. I’m going to demand a lot. But I’m going to give you a lot. And if you’re all right with that . . . Then yes, we’ll do this. But if you’re expecting me to turn the lights off and let you leave your nightgown on while I dispense with things quickly and easily, you have the wrong guy.

For so long, I had convinced myself that it was clinging to me, despite my desperate attempts to escape it. But now I realize it’s me that’s been holding on like a child with their favorite teddy bear. “No more running, baby. I want him to come looking for you just so I can have the privilege of ending his life for touching what’s mine.” “I wasn’t yours then. You didn’t even know me.” “You were always destined to be mine,” he says.

And when he decided to lie back on the pillow and kept his arms around me, clamping me close like I was his teddy bear, I let him do that, too.

It was difficult in the ’70s to get hypodermics in America. So when I traveled I would wear a hat and use a needle to fix a little feather to the hatband, so it was just a hat pin. I would put the trilby with the red, green and gold feather in the hat bag. So the minute James turned up, I got the shit. OK, but now I need the syringe. My trick was, I’d order a cup of coffee, because I needed a spoon for cooking up. And then I’d go down to FAO Schwarz, the toy shop right across Fifth Avenue from the Plaza. And if you went to the third floor, you could buy a doctor and nurse play set, a little plastic box with a red cross on it. That had the barrel and the syringe that fitted the needle that I’d brought. I’d go round, “I’ll have three teddy bears, I’ll have that remote-control car, oh, and give me two doctor and nurse kits! My niece, you know, she’s really into that. Must encourage her.” FAO Schwarz was my connection. Rush back to the room, hook it up and fix it.

THE BEAR A bear, however hard he tries, Grows tubby without exercise. Our Teddy Bear is short and fat, Which is not to be wondered at; He gets what exercise he can By falling off the ottoman, But generally seems to lack The energy to clamber back. Now tubbiness is just the thing Which gets a fellow wondering; And Teddy worried lots about The fact that he was rather stout. He thought: "If only I were thin! But how does anyone begin?" He thought: "It really isn't fair To grudge one exercise and air." For many weeks he pressed in vain His nose against the window-pane, And envied those who walked about Reducing their unwanted stout. None of the people he could see "Is quite" (he said) "as fat as me!" Then, with a still more moving sigh, "I mean" (he said) "as fat as I! Now Teddy, as was only right, Slept in the ottoman at night, And with him crowded in as well More animals than I can tell; Not only these, but books and things, Such as a kind relation brings - Old tales of "Once upon a time," And history retold in rhyme. One night it happened that he took A peep at an old picture-book, Wherein he came across by chance The picture of a King of France (A stoutish man) and, down below, These words: "King Louis So and So, Nicknamed 'The Handsome!'" There he sat, And (think of it!) the man was fat! Our bear rejoiced like anything To read about this famous King, Nicknamed "The Handsome." There he sat, And certainly the man was fat. Nicknamed "The Handsome." Not a doubt The man was definitely stout. Why then, a bear (for all his tub ) Might yet be named "The Handsome Cub!" "Might yet be named." Or did he mean That years ago he "might have been"? For now he felt a slight misgiving: "Is Louis So and So still living? Fashions in beauty have a way Of altering from day to day. Is 'Handsome Louis' with us yet? Unfortunately I forget." Next morning (nose to window-pane) The doubt occurred to him again. One question hammered in his head: "Is he alive or is he dead?" Thus, nose to pane, he pondered; but The lattice window, loosely shut, Swung open. With one startled "Oh!" Our Teddy disappeared below. There happened to be passing by A plump man with a twinkling eye, Who, seeing Teddy in the street, Raised him politely to his feet, And murmured kindly in his ear Soft words of comfort and of cheer: "Well, well!" "Allow me!" "Not at all." "Tut-tut! A very nasty fall." Our Teddy answered not a word; It's doubtful if he even heard. Our bear could only look and look: The stout man in the picture-book! That 'handsome' King - could this be he, This man of adiposity? "Impossible," he thought. "But still, No harm in asking. Yes I will!" "Are you," he said,"by any chance His Majesty the King of France?" The other answered, "I am that," Bowed stiffly, and removed his hat; Then said, "Excuse me," with an air, "But is it Mr Edward Bear?" And Teddy, bending very low, Replied politely, "Even so!" They stood beneath the window there, The King and Mr Edward Bear, And, handsome, if a trifle fat, Talked carelessly of this and that…. Then said His Majesty, "Well, well, I must get on," and rang the bell. "Your bear, I think," he smiled. "Good-day!" And turned, and went upon his way. A bear, however hard he tries, Grows tubby without exercise. Our Teddy Bear is short and fat, Which is not to be wondered at. But do you think it worries him To know that he is far from slim? No, just the other way about - He's proud of being short and stout.

Chocolate is a girl's best friend.' 'Consequently, I am going to polish off this entire chocolate pie, as well as sit here and cry, yes just sitting in my white tank top, and light pink comfy old short shorts, with the black drawstring in the fronts, tied, into a big floppy bow.' 'I sit looking at the TV, hugging my teddy bear. Tonight's movie lineup is 'Shawshank,' 'Misery,' 'The Notebook,' and 'A Walk to Remember.' While my black mascara from the day runs down my cheeks.' 'Life is not a fairytale, so maybe I can go next year. I know the prom is not going to happen either, yet I want to go at least once in my life. Yet, some get to go to prom, and dance for five years running. They go all four high school years.' 'Plus, they get asked for their date, which is still in school after they're out, even though they have gone many times before.' 'Then someone like me never gets the chance; that is not fair! I am not jealous; I just want to have the same opportunities, the photos, and the involvements.' 'I could envision in my mind the couples swaying to the music.' 'I could picture the bodies pressed against one another. With their hands laced with desire, all the girls having their poofy dresses pushed down by their partner's closeness, as they look so in love.' 'I know is just dumb dances, but I want to go. Why am I such a hopeless romantic? I could visualize the passionate kissing.' 'I can see the room and how it would be decorated, but all I have is the vision of it. That is all I have! Yeah, I think I know how Carrie White feels too, well maybe not like that, but close. I might get through that one tonight too because I am not going to sleep anywise.' 'So why not be scared shitless! Ha, that reminds me of another one, he- he.' 'I am sure that this night, which they had, would never be forgotten about! I will not forget it either. It must have- been an amazing night which is shared, with that one special person.' 'That singular someone, who only wants to be with you! I think about all the photographs I will never have. All the memories that can never be completed and all the time lost that can never be regained.' 'The next morning, I have to go through the same repetition over again. Something's changed slightly but not much; I must ride on the yellow wagon of pain and misery. Yet do I want to today?' 'I do not want to go after the night that I put in. I was feeling vulnerable, moody, and a little twitchy.' 'I do not feel like listening to the ramblings of my educators. Yet knowing if I do not show up at the hellhole doors, I would be asked a million questions, like why I did not show up, the next day I arrived there.

Going through the rest of the budget from Falcon Plastics is stressing me out. Who am I to decide which charities and organizations need it more than others? Charlie stopped by half an hour ago to find me all but hyperventilating. He asked what the problem was. That was about the time Alexa the Freak-Out Chick pushed her way out of my brain by means of my mouth. “There’s not a lot of money left, Charlie, and I thought this would be easy, you know? Giving money out to people who need it like Robin Hood. Which makes you a member of my merry men. And that’s fine, because you’re like this huge Islander teddy bear, so people would be scared of you and have no idea that you’re a sweetheart, but as a member of my merry men, I have to ask you to take this burden away from me. Because it’s a lot of burden. And I’m only human, Charlie.” I looked up into his eyes in pleading. “I don’t like being Robin Hood. Please don’t make me wear tights.

I love you so much, angel,” I whispered. “If anyone ever hurts you, I’ll kill them.” And I meant it. At this point it seems important to note that I am not a violent person. True story: I capture flies under plastic cups and relocate them into the wild. So, I quite literally wouldn’t hurt a fly. My soul belongs in an overstuffed teddy bear, but something inside me had changed. I wasn’t just a momma bear; I was a momma grizzly. An Ursus arctos horribilis, y’all. Accent on the horribilis. From the moment you become a parent, your heart moves outside of your body. There is nothing you wouldn’t do, no line you wouldn’t cross, to protect the child that you love. As I held my son and felt that grizzly roar within, I was forced to reckon with the possibility that I had never loved anyone like this before. That before I became a parent, my life was a little bit selfish. Not that I was a jerk or anything. It was simply this: Every decision, until I had children, was made in the interest of me. I was out in the world, living free and wild, taking consequences as they came. But when a child is born, so is a mother. And in her, a grizzly awakens. Her love is maternal, instinctive, and deep. And when necessary, even dangerous. There are certain movies you watch as a kid which inspire you to do stupid

At the hospital I watched a Russian girl put a teddy bear on an Afghan boy’s bed. He picked up the toy with his teeth and played with it, smiling. He had no arms. ‘Your Russians shot him,’ his mother told me through the interpreter. ‘Do you have kids? A boy or a girl?’ I couldn’t make out whether her words expressed more horror or forgiveness.

overcompensated and next thing the buggers aren’t dropping far enough, so they’re hanging there strangling!’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Gave the Yanks their cards, packed them off home, and Albert and me took over their quota.’ ‘What’s the most you ever done in a session at Nuremberg, Harry?’ someone asked. We were all quiet as we watched him and waited for his answer. ‘Mmmm, one afternoon we did twenty-seven in two hours forty minutes.’ ‘Bloody hell! So they weren’t left to hang for very long.’ ‘No, hadn’t the time. As soon as we put four down, the doc would go underneath the scaffold, ’ave a listen with his stethoscope, feel for a pulse. “Right, okay,” he’d say. We had these soldier orderlies. They’d go underneath and lift them up, take the weight, we’d take the ropes and bags off, the soldiers would put them onto trolleys and whisk them away to the temporary morgue. A couple of minutes later the next four were marching in.’ That had been the craic last night. As Ken and I sit having breakfast with the hangmen, I can’t rid myself of the contradictory feeling that, somehow, I’m letting Russell down by breakfasting with the men who are about to hang him. ‘How was he last night?’ Allen looks rather bleary-eyed. He’s on his second mug of hot, sweet tea. And at least his third cigarette. We tell him. He takes a deep draw. ‘I think this lad will go without any bother.’ As he speaks, the blue smoke spills out of his mouth. Just after ten to eight, from the kitchen door at the end of the mess, Ken, the two hangmen, Teddy Bear and I, watch as the Governor, Lord Lieutenant of the County and other official witnesses file quietly into the block. They enter the empty execution chamber. At three

I should have gone with. Slayers are stronger together.” Valen drums his fingers on the table. “Have you met Greer, slay bae?” One of his fries smacks into my face. I blink twice, glance down at the fried potato in my lap, then give him a look. “Rude.” “She’s the only one who can call me that, teddy bear.

Kira gasped as the truth hit her. “Oh hell, don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who likes dressing up in those big teddy bear costumes? Do you have some fuzzy Leo the lion costume that you like to wear and then get it on? You’d better not be because, I’ll tell you right now, I don’t swing that way.