#Teddy Bear 🧸

[cookie4liran]

He's never gonna beat the converse allegation

[xtruss]

How Did the Teddy Bear Get Its Name? President Theodore Roosevelt Had Something To Do With It. So Did A Real Bear.

— By Erin McCarthy | August 30, 2024

The Teddy Bear Has a Very Specific Origin Story. Carol Yepes, Getty Images

Perhaps the question first occurred to you in the toy aisle when you were picking out a present for the kid in your life. Or maybe it was when you were cleaning out your old toys from the attic of your childhood home that you asked yourself, “How did stuffed bears come to be called ‘teddy bears,’ anyway?”

It’s a story involving President Theodore Roosevelt, a bear hunt, a political cartoon, and a candy shop owner in New York.

The Hunt

The Cartoons

The Toy

The Hunt

In November 1902, Mississippi governor Andrew H. Longino invited Roosevelt on a bear hunt, and the president—who would be in the state to try to settle a border dispute it was having with Louisiana—eagerly accepted.

His luck, however, was terrible: For the first few days, there was not a bear to be found near Roosevelt, let alone shot. Anyone on the hunting party who did spot an ursine was forced to hold their fire. According to biographer Edmund Morris in Theodore Rex, Roosevelt “insisted on first blood,” writing ahead of the trip, “I am going on this hunt to kill a bear, not to see anyone else kill it.”

President Theodore Roosevelt speaking to onlookers in Vermont. Historical, GettyImages

(Roosevelt had an interesting history with bears: He was nearly killed by a grizzly on a solo hunt in Montana in 1889, and some of his supporters from West Virginia sent him “a small bear”—which his children named Jonathan Edwards, after the revivalist preacher—as a pet in 1900. He wound up giving the bear to the Bronx Zoo the next year because “we do not have the accommodations to keep him.”)

Things came to a head on November 14. Holt Collier—a formerly enslaved man and legendary bear hunter who was serving as Roosevelt’s tracker—and his dogs flushed out a black bear into a clearing where the president was supposed to be waiting. The dogs chased the bear into a pond, where, Morris wrote, “Collier threw a lariat over the shaggy neck and pulled tight … and cracked the bear’s skull with the butt of his gun—carefully, because he wanted it to stay alive.”

Unfortunately, Roosevelt was not where Collier thought he would be. After waiting in the designated area for hours, the president and his hunting companion assumed no bear was coming and returned to camp for lunch. A messenger was dispatched to get Roosevelt, who rushed back to the scene to kill the bear—but when he saw that the scrawny creature was tied to a tree, he refused to shoot it. Someone else ended up killing the bear (not with a gun, but with a knife).

Ultimately, Roosevelt didn’t bag a single bear on the trip—but in a strange twist, he would soon end up lending his name to one.

The Cartoons

Reporters checked in on the hunt once a day, and it wasn’t long before reports of Roosevelt’s refusal to kill a restrained bear made the papers; the president was lauded for his sportsmanlike behavior. (The papers had harsher words for the bear, derided as “incorrigible and uncultured,” and for “these Mississippi people,” which one paper opined “seem as ignorant of modern methods as they are lacking in the finesse and technique of true sport.”)

Washington Post political cartoonist Clifford K. Berryman, reading about the event, found himself struck by inspiration: He drew a black bear—“a poor measly little cub with most of its fur rubbed off,” he would later write—with a white handler holding its leash. Roosevelt holds one hand out; in the other is his gun, butt on the ground, muzzle up. The illustration appeared on November 16, 1902, and was captioned “Drawing the Line in Mississippi.”

“Drawing the Line in Mississippi” by Clifford K. Berryman. Library of Congress//Public Domain

“I drew the cartoon of it from the description as sent by the Associated Press,” Berryman recounted later. One senator “thought it so good that he ’phoned to me and asked me to make another bear cartoon when Roosevelt returned to the city.” The resulting illustration, published November 19, was captioned “After a Twentieth Century Bear Hunt.”

“It seemed to make a hit,” Berryman said, “with the result that I continued the bear in all future cartoons in which the President appeared.” The bear got more adorable with time; you can see all of Berryman’s bear illustrations in this collection from the Theodore Roosevelt Center.

The Toy

As Berryman created illustration after illustration featuring Roosevelt and an adorable bear, Morris Michtom sensed an opportunity. The Brooklyn-based candy store owner had his wife Rose hand-sew a cuddly stuffed bear, which he placed in their store window; it quickly sold. Rose made more, ultimately selling so many that the Michtoms began mass producing what they called “Teddy’s Bears” in 1903 (apparently with Roosevelt’s blessing, though the president apparently believed the toy would amount to nothing). Around the same time, the German toy company Steiff made its own stuffed bears, shipping 3000 of them to U.S. toy stores. Soon, the cuddly toys were going by “Teddy Bears.”

Teddy Bear With Teddy Roosevelt Tag. Hulton Archive, GettyImages

Roosevelt himself used the teddy bear in his 1904 re-election campaign, even though he hated the nickname Teddy (perhaps because it was used by his first wife, Alice, who died after giving birth to their daughter, also named Alice). When a lawyer used the nickname in his presence, Roosevelt declared it an “outrageous impertinence.”

The toy took off, selling in the tens of thousands, enduring a brief controversy, and paving the way for beloved bears like Winnie the Pooh, who was inspired by a teddy bear purchased for A.A. Milne’s son Christopher.

There was also an unsuccessful imitator: Billy Possum, which was presented to then-President William Taft, Roosevelt’s successor, on a trip to Atlanta in January 1909 and was, according to the Theodore Roosevelt Center, “designed to replace Theodore Roosevelt’s ‘Teddy Bear.’ ” Taft endorsed the cause, and soon, there were Billy Possum stuffed animals, buttons, and posters. But Billy Possum was ultimately a failure; the toy’s time in the spotlight was over by the time the holiday season rolled around in December.

The teddy bear, however, has never ceased to be popular. Today, the stuffed animal remains a popular gift and the industry was valued at about $6.4 billion in 2022. It’s also the state toy of Mississippi, and a Michtom-made bear owned by Roosevelt’s descendants has a spot in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History.

[sallyfaces-world]

[fo-plushie]

+ Bonus

[starbvrryhwa]

IT’S BACK ON MY DASH @yoonguurt @anyamaris I’M SCREAMING AGAIN 🫠🫠🫠

how to be a piece of confetti

[cafe-mouse]

a bear-themed breakfast with my childhood friend Teddy

[sun-kissy]

hi baby!! for your christmas sleepover can i request the 🧸 with poly!marauders and prompt try to eat please!! thank you so much love bug!!

thank you for the request, my lilypad! hope you like your teddy bear, love you loads 🧸💛

muffin | poly!marauders

— “Try to eat.”

poly!marauders x reader

summary: you feel sick because you haven’t eaten in a bit. your boyfriends take perfect care of you.

tw: nausea, implied ed recovery, just a whole lot of hurt/comfort, our boys are angels fr <3

“Sweetheart,” Sirius coos worriedly as soon as he’s within sight, clearly tipsy as he stumbles towards you and Remus. James follows close behind, one hand on his boyfriend’s back and a pinch between his eyebrows.

You’re crouched on the cold floor of the bathroom, Remus right beside you with his hand on the small of your back. Everything looked like nothing but blurry dots, fading in and out of your vision. You can faintly make out the silhouette of one of your boyfriends flushing your sick down the toilet.

Mary and Lily were throwing a Christmas party at their new place. You and your boyfriends had been here for a couple of hours, Sirius going straight to the food table while James was immediately dragged away by a couple of old pals from the team back in school.

You could see Marlene beckoning to you across the room from the corner of your eye, but opted to stay next to Remus instead. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with your friends, you really did miss them. You just felt really, really sick. It had started as a quiet upheaval in your stomach on the way here, but then started to feel like a full-on tornado. It was as though someone was slamming a hammer against your temple, the metallic taste of bile quickly rising up your throat.

You knew you probably looked worse than you felt. Your hair clinged to the sweat on your forehead, breaths coming out in small, painful huffs. Even your makeup felt smudged, mascara mixing with the perspiration and further adding to the irritation on your skin. It was obvious that Remus had noticed. He asked you if you were okay a couple of times, and you waved him off. His instincts told him to stay right next to you. He was glad he did, because less than a half hour later, you had your hands pressed tightly over your mouth as you gagged, wide-eyed and panicked.

Now you were sat pathetically on the marble tiles of the bathroom, tear-streaked cheeks and burning throat. Sensing your need for space, Remus had resorted to rubbing his thumb over the curve of your ankle while you leaned against the wall opposite. He had quickly texted James about the situation, who gathered up Sirius, in all his inebriated glory, before rushing into the bathroom.

You feel a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, some things cold and metallic, though not unpleasant, digging into your skin. Sirius’ rings. The same sensation hits you someplace on your hips as you’re steered into another person’s arms. Your back falls snug onto a hard wall of a chest, gentle arms wrapping around your waist.

“Baby? Can you hear me?” James’ voice is soft near the shell of your ear, hands loving where they rub the fat of your stomach. You blink a couple times, vision still hazy but clear enough to pick up on your surroundings. The buzzing in your ears seemed to quieten at your boyfriend’s murmured words.

Your voice comes out as a quiet croak. “Yeah.”

Remus’ hand stills on your ankle, knowing you’d feel overstimulated by the sensation of two people touching your skin in different places. It’s no matter, though, because Sirius is quick to take your hands in his and squeeze them. He looks dangerously close to tears from where he’s kneeling in front of you.

“Are you okay? Do you feel better?”

You clear your throat, trying to muster a weak smile for his sake. “I –”

“What happened? Why did you feel sick? Did you –”

“Siri,” Remus is quick to take initiative, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulder and gently pulling his boyfriend against him. “Relax. She’s okay,” he murmurs, unclear whether he’s trying to reassure Sirius or himself.

The long-haired boy frowns, but doesn’t say much else. Satisfied, Remus turns his attention back to you, eyebrows bunching up concernedly. “Do you feel better, lovely?”

You nod, and it’s a little more convincing than the smile you just tried to flash them. You feel yourself sinking more and more into James’ embrace, the feeling of his thumbs on your stomach distracting you from the searing pain in your gut.

James and Remus share a look. “Dove,” Remus starts softly. You meet his gaze curiously. He reaches out to wipe the tears off of your cheeks, palm settling on the dip of your chin. “You haven’t been eating enough.”

You sigh exasperatedly, opening your mouth to brush it off like you always do. But you’re cut off by James, tone slightly harsh though his touch remains gentle. “He’s right, angel. You’ve been skipping meals these past few weeks.”

“Yeah, and… and when you do eat,” Sirius pipes up, eyes narrowing like it’s taking him tons of effort to form a coherent sentence. It probably was, given the alcohol in his system. “You barely touch your food. You nibble on it, like… like um, a mouse.”

“Guys,” you speak up, feeling their eyes trained on you. Your breathing starts to pick up speed, and you try to ignore the anxiety slushing around in the pit of your stomach. “I’m fine, okay? I eat enough, and I didn’t puke because of that —“

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” James murmurs from behind you. You expect a telling off, maybe even a fight — but there’s nothing but sadness and worry in his voice.

You swallow, feeling your eyes start to sting again. “I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear. I’m trying,” your voice turns shaky as you lock eyes with Remus. He softens, moving forward slightly to take one of your hands in both of his. “We know you are, sweet girl. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” James adds quietly, dotting a kiss into your hair. “You were doing so well. You still are. Just let us help you, okay?”

You nod, and almost don’t notice Sirius clumsily pulling himself up and staggering out the bathroom. Remus frowns, turning around and calling out to him, only to receive silence in response. He sighs and turns back to you, continuing to thumb at your palm comfortingly.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sound being that of soft kisses as James presses his lips to different parts of your cheek. His hands move sideways from your stomach, coming to rest against the curve of your hips. He feels the empty space between your skin and jeans — jeans which fit you snugly just a month ago. He says nothing, but you feel the disappointment radiating off him and seeping into your skin.

That’s when Sirius bursts in through the door, causing all three of you to glance up startledly. He marches towards you with a hint of determination in his eyes, sitting back down in front of you. He takes one look at you, and everything hard about his expression melts into softness.

“Here,” he mumbles, holding a muffin out to you like a child would. “Try to eat.”

You don’t miss the hint of adoration in Remus’ gaze as he smiles at his boyfriend, then at you encouragingly. “Go on,” James says softly, hands resuming their movement on your stomach.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you reach forward and take the muffin with a quiet murmur of thanks. You swallow and stare at the muffin. It glares back with hostility.

Sirius starts to babble, like he always does when he doesn’t know what else to do. Only this time, he knew exactly what he was doing. He tells you about this weird girl at work who tried to flirt with him.

Between the animated storytelling, Remus’ soft smiles and James’ touches, you find yourself quietly biting into the muffin. You still didn’t feel like you deserved to eat. But you did feel safe. And you wanted to try, for them.

You even let out a laugh when Sirius mentioned the girl’s disgust at finding out about you guys, making him grin. It takes a while, but you finish the muffin. Your boyfriends tell you just how proud they are. You believe them.

san’s christmas sleepover

[pyotrkochetkov]

JACK DRAPER Monte-Carlo Masters | April 6, 2025

[theyluvjake]

im always down for munch jake thoughts 🤤🙏

- 🧸 <3

the fact this took me so long to answer bc i just couldn't formulate all my thoughts abt this... i am sorry.

but argue w the wall jake is THEE pussy muncher of all enha. like honestly i feel like he would rather eat pussy then actually fuck😭 like he lowkey has an oral fixation bc he loves to have his mouth all over you, tits included..

but above all he just wants to have his face buried between your thighs 24/7... imagine needy golden retriever bf jake who constantly is just whining in your ear like "pleaseeee, i just need a little taste.." and you can never deny him because hes so cute. of course its never a little taste because after the first sip of you hes drunk on it, arms locking around your legs holding them open so he can just devour you for hours on end.

sometimes you would be scared he was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen... bc he would not even want to come up to breathe. ughhsshsh fuck sorry jake just loves to eat pussy, his tongue is always out, i call that muscle memory!

[fraternum-momentum]

REALLY Llate but HAPPY VALENTINES OOMFRAY🤍🧸

𝓘 𝓦𝓘𝓛𝓛 𝓜𝓞𝓥𝓔 𝓜𝓞𝓤𝓝𝓣𝓐𝓘𝓝𝓢 𝓕𝓞𝓡 𝓨𝓞𝓤

[starbvrryhwa]

GGGGRRRRRRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF BARK BARK SNARL

jongho ∙ 230625

[fo-plushie]

This is how having any f/o merch feels

[gloomybear-vexillologist]

Incomprihorroric

a gender related to incomprehensible horrors. there is no wrong way to identify with this gender.

(Note: LMAO IM SORRY THE EYE IS OFF CENTER </3)

[cafe-mouse]

fun with graham cracker ♡

[sun-kissy]

hi!! so for your Christmas sleepover (which is so cute btw) can i do 🧸 with Remus and the prompt 'just tell me!'

thank you for the request, angel! here’s your teddy bear :) 🧸

cookies | r.l.

— “Just tell me!”

remus lupin x reader

summary: remus tries to surprise you for christmas, and fails

tw: fluff fluff fluff <3, remus is boyfriend material. actually remus is boyfriend.

You let out a soft groan, flopping onto your side as another thud resonates from downstairs. Your mind feels muddled with sleep. You instinctively reach for your boyfriend, arm outstretched as you pat down the mattress beside you. There’s nothing to your touch but empty space.

Remus’ absence adds to your sleep-addled confusion. There’s one more loud bang from somewhere in the house, jolting you awake. You roll onto your back, grunting as you sluggishly pull yourself up into a sitting position.

You crack your eyes open to the darkness of your room, trying to rub the sleep out of them. The blanket you were cozied up in pools at your waist, chilly air immediately stinging your skin as though it had been waiting to strike.

Metallic, clanging noises continue to reverberate off the walls. You think you hear some silent cursing too.

Sighing irritably, you drag your blanket off the bed with you, pulling it over your shoulders as you stumble out the room. The night before Christmas and you still couldn’t get uninterrupted sleep — you thought Santa might have been nicer to you.

You tiptoe down the stairs, remembering the faulty heater in your living room; tug the blanket tighter around yourself. The festive green garland twined around the staircase railing looked silver-streaked, reflecting the soft light from the kitchen.

You peer around the corner, blanket trailing behind you like a cape as you inch closer towards the kitchen. You involuntarily grimace as a strong stench wafts your way. It had hints of smoke, as though barbecued. Maybe even burnt.

You’re too drowsy to panic about the house burning down, but awake enough for your heartbeat to start picking up the pace.

Sneaking your hand out from under the cocoon of blankets, you curl your fingers around the cold metal of the knob. You’re beaten to it by the person on the other side of the door.

It’s the curls which you catch sight of first, followed by his lovely brown eyes peeking out — then widening, from behind the door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Remus mutters as he quickly steps out, casting backward glances as though someone in the kitchen was holding a gun to his head. “What are you doing up?”

He hurriedly closes it before fully turning to you, instantly softening at how endearing you looked. Sometimes, he wonders how he got so lucky, and you chide him till he admits that he deserves you. Right now, he could see how close you were to falling asleep right then and there — too close to berate him, close enough to look like an angel worth falling in love with all over again.

“I could ask you the same —“

Remus cuts you off mid-sentence, stepping forward to cup your cheeks and kiss you. You indulge him. He smells nice, you note. Like chocolate and peppermint.

He pulls away but doesn’t let go, sliding his hands around the back of your neck to rub comfortingly at the nape.

“So,” you start again, already visibly much happier and awake, “why are you not in bed?”

He sighs and shrugs, trying, but failing, to look nonchalant. Something in his heart tightens as you tug the ends of your blanket closer to each other. He presses a kiss to your blanket-laden shoulder, smitten. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“And you decided to come down to the kitchen to do… what, exactly?”

“Oh, nothing much,” he shrugs again. “You know, just cleaning up a little bit.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You needed to wear an apron for that?”

“Oh, um — well,” he looks down at his apron, chuckling sheepishly as he looks back up at you. “I mean, yeah. You know how much I hate the dust and stuff getting on me.”

“Right, right,” you mutter, squinting as you step closer and rake your eyes over him. Ah ha. There’s flour dusted on the top of his shoulder, and you’re quick to swipe some of it onto your finger. “This is said dust, huh?”

He looks down at your finger, struggling to keep a straight face upon seeing the white powder. “Mhm.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying, I swear,” he grins upon seeing your frown, leaning forward to give your nose a peck.

You swat him away. “Yes, you are. Tell me what you’re up to.”

“I’m not up to anything, pretty girl,” he mutters as he moves up to kiss the soft spot under your eye.

You try to back up, but he takes your wrist and pulls you closer. At this point, you’re fighting to keep the smile off your face. “Just tell me!”

Remus chuckles. Like the flirt he is, opts to avoid the question and capture your lips in a kiss instead. You involuntarily lean in.

“If you’re trying to distract me,” you mutter in between kisses, “it’s not working.” You feel his smile on your lips.

He pulls away slightly to rest his forehead against yours, hands going up to thumb at your cheeks. “You really wanna know?”

You decide to change tactics, putting on your best puppy eyes and pout as you look up at him. You nod, and Remus’ heart melts in record time.

“Okay, well,” he sighs. “You know those choco chip and peppermint cookies you really like?” He lets go of you to push the door open. “Since tomorrow’s Christmas, I was trying to, you know… bake them for you.”

You feel your heart soften at his words, beaming up at him as you enter the kitchen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he smiles bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “But um…” he gestures at the state of the kitchen.

You turn away from him to look around, your exhale coming out on a giggle. The place was a mess. A few batches of burnt cookies on the counter, flour here and there, broken egg shells scattered all over the floor. You can’t wipe the smile off your face. “You did this for me.”

He laughs quietly. “Mess the kitchen up? Sure, I —“

“Fuck the mess, Rem. We’ll deal with that later,” you grin, lovestruck. Suddenly it feels like the first time you're meeting Remus, and you're falling in love with his softness all over again.

“You're such a sweetheart. Thank you," you gush, leaning over to peck his cheek. He smiles like the mess was all worth it for a kiss.

“Well, I tried.”

“And you tried spectacularly,” you smile encouragingly as you go over to inspect the burnt batch. “They’re actually not that bad, just a little burnt is all.”

“You’re an awful liar, do you know that?” Remus huffs as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

You giggle. “Better than you anyway,” you tilt your face to nuzzle his nose. “Why don’t we clean this up, and tomorrow we can bake the cookies together? I’ll even let you tell James you made them yourself so he feels jealous.”

He laughs and rubs your hips adoringly. “Sure thing, dove. Just let me obliviate you tomorrow, so I can surprise you too.”

“That is not happening!”

Remus assures you that he was not going to wipe your memory. You shrug your blanket off, and the two of you get to cleaning the kitchen in between kisses, laughter, and handfuls of flour hurled at each other. It was the perfect start to Christmas.

san’s christmas sleepover

[starbvrryhwa]

BANGING MY FIST ON THE TABLE FUCK HES SO PRETTY I NEED TO KISS HIM

jongho 🌶️ MBC radio fm4u