[WP] You’ve always dreamt of being a top selling novelist, but just cannot find that spark. You see a WP on this Reddit and turn it into a novel and make millions. The OP shows up at your first book signing demanding royalties.

"Can you wait over there?" I asked the man standing before me.

The line was growing restless, and these books weren't going to sign themselves. So far, the man was quiet and calm, but he was a thunderhead waiting for the barometric pressure to drop just a little more before releasing his deluge. I wanted no part of the flood that would follow.

He rested his hands on the table and leaned in close. "I'll give you ten minutes."

His immense body trembled as he walked to a corner of the bookstore. The next fan stepped up and I absentmindedly scrawled a few lines and my signature. The happy fan moved off, replaced by another, then another. Most of the man's ten minutes had passed, and the way he kept watching his phone, I knew he wasn't going to give me one second longer than promised.

"Hey folks," I said, standing up. "I'm going to take a quick break, please be patient and I'll be right back."

"Steve," I said, extending a hand to the bear disguised as a human.

He reached out a paw and crushed my fingers. "James. Now, I want my motherfucking royalties."

"Okay, James," I said. "What makes you think you're entitled to royalties off my book?"

The guy was still holding my hand when he responded. "That book was my idea. You can't just go on Reddit and steal someone's idea without paying them."

It took some doing, but I finally wrested my hand away from him. It gave me time to think. Sure, the idea for my book came /rWritingPromts, but my story was definitely unique. Besides, you can't copyright an idea, right?

"I didn't steal your idea," I said. "I responded to a prompt, then turned it into a novel. That doesn't entitle you to money."

"It was my idea, dammit," James said. "now are you going to give me my money, or do I need to persuade you?"

First rule for fighting a bear—don't.

Turning on my heel, I walked back to the table. James followed. Just as I was taking my seat, he slapped his hand on my shoulder hard enough to knock me to the floor. I tried to catch myself on the chair which folded in on itself, trapping my arm. The pain forced a scream from my lips as me and the chair came to rest.

"Don't make me do this," James shouted.

"I'm not making you do anything," I groaned. "You can't copyright an idea, man. Look it up."

The crowd was backing up by this time. Everyone except a man at least three inches taller and ten miles wider than James. He stepped between me and James, his fists clenched and glee sparkling in his oddly beautiful green eyes.

Second rule for fighting a bear—get a bigger bear.

James wasn't prepared to be physically challenged, but he wasn't a coward either. The look of shock on his face shifted to rage. James rushed the bigger man who stood his ground as James's shoulder impacted his stomach. The newcomer let out a slight grunt, then dropped a heavy fist onto the top of James's head.

The sight of James dropping to the floor, eyes fluttering closed, and mouth agape was something I'd always treasure. The big man dragged him a few feet away, and I heard several customers on their phones talking to 911. I sat up and untangled my arm from the chair. Flexing a few times, I made sure everything was where it should be.

"Sorry folks," I said, my voice querulous. "Just give a minute to clean up and we can continue."

The big man righted the table which I didn't remember getting knocked over. A few patrons helped stack books, and when all was put right, they let him cut to the front. James groaned and stirred, but was smart enough to stay down. The cops would be here soon, but I didn't see any reason not to start signing books again.

"Can you make this out to Annie?" the big man asked.

His voice was soft and high pitched, completely at odds with the muscles pushing his veins to the surface. It wasn't Mike Tyson annoying soft, though. It was almost feminine. This was a man who must have gotten teased a lot.

"Of course," I said. "Let me give you an extra copy, and I'll autograph it for you. What's your name?"

The man's green eyes sparkled even more. "Most people call me Dom."

Okay, I was getting a definite vibe from Dom. But, I couldn't act on it, could I? The guy was a mountain, and if I was wrong, he'd probably kick my ass. At best. At worst, I'd be adding to the daily shit he probably caught. I signed the book for Annie and grabbed one for Dom. I scrawled my number and a short invitation to dinner. If he got pissed, fuck it.

Dom read the inscription and smiled. Goddamn those eyes, they belonged on Olympus not Earth.

"Mind if I hang out here? We can go when you're done," he said, his voice a musical instrument.

The cops took James away and I scribbled as fast as I could. I had a dinner date.

"Aw come on Uncle Steve," the toddler on my lap said. "You made that up!"

I looked into my nephew's eyes. "You wanted to know how I met your Grandpa Dom, that's how it happened."

Third rule for fighting a bear—make it a teddy bear.

Dom put an arm around me. It was thinner than on that day, but its weight never felt better on my shoulder.