Thunder's bedroom looked like a place where time had given up.
Clothes were piled in uneven drifts across the floor, notebooks lay open with half written ideas bleeding into crossed out paragraphs, and empty cups crowded the desk like abandoned sentries. The only thing that felt alive in the room was the glow of the monitor and the frantic tapping of keys beneath Thunder's fingers.
Thunder was sixteen, thin, hunched, and restless. His hair stuck up in places he never bothered to fix, and his eyes carried the tired shine of someone who lived more in their head than in the world around them. He sat cross legged in his chair, leaning forward like the screen might swallow him if he let it.
On the screen was another fantasy novel draft. Another failure.
He scrolled upward, rereading what he had written with a growing knot in his chest.
A chosen hero. A magic academy. A dark lord. He had written it all before. Different names. Different settings. Same emptiness.
Thunder groaned and slammed his forehead gently against the desk.
"This sucks," he muttered.
He had been writing since he was ten. Stories, comics he could never draw, worlds filled with magic and power. Worlds where people mattered because they were special. Worlds where someone like him could be more than a weird kid who talked too much and stared at the ceiling during class.
Thunder wanted powers. Not in a childish way. Not just to shoot fire or fly. He wanted significance. He wanted to feel like the universe had picked him for something important.
Writing was how he scratched that itch.
But lately, no matter what he wrote, nothing felt right.
He deleted the document.
The blank screen stared back at him.
Thunder leaned back and stared at the ceiling. His posters fluttered slightly as the air from the old fan stirred the room. Dragons. Anime heroes. Furry characters he had printed from the internet and taped up when he thought no one was looking.
He smiled faintly at one of them.
"Why can't I just write something good," he said.
His eyes drifted back to the keyboard.
Maybe the problem was that he kept trying to be clever. Or safe. Or normal. He was always writing what he thought people expected. What stories were supposed to be.
Thunder cracked his knuckles.
"Okay," he said quietly. "New rule. I write what I actually want."
He opened a new document.
The cursor blinked.
Thunder didn't hesitate.
Title: Star Grind.
The name came to him fully formed, like it had been waiting.
He started typing.
He wrote about a world ruled by canine furries. A world in trouble. A dying world where something fundamental had gone wrong. Birth rates were collapsing. Packs were shrinking. The future was thinning like air at high altitude.
He wrote about power and scarcity. About rare males born with overwhelming magic. About packs forming around them not out of cruelty, but necessity.
And then he wrote the main character.
His name was Thunder.
Thunder grinned when he typed it. He didn't even pretend otherwise.
Thunder was a canine. Strong. Confident. Loud. Everything real Thunder was not. He was a packless wanderer at first, carrying strange magic in his core. Magic that resonated with the stars themselves.
The Zodiac Stars.
Twelve ancient relics scattered across the world. Each tied to a cosmic symbol. Each capable of reshaping reality when united.
Thunder Dash, he called him now, believed that if he could gather all twelve Zodiac Stars, he could fix everything. He could save the Canine population. He could rewrite fate.
Thunder's fingers flew.
He wrote about Thunder Dash standing before broken packs and promising hope. About him challenging powerful enemies and surviving through sheer will. About him being watched by councils, feared by rivals, and whispered about like a prophecy come alive.
And then he wrote the dragon.
An ancient beast older than history. Scales like continents. Fire that could erase cities. A creature that saw the world as nothing more than fuel.
Thunder Dash would face it with the power of the Zodiac Stars blazing around him, light cutting through fire, destiny colliding with extinction.
Thunder leaned closer to the screen, heart pounding.
This was it.
This was the story he had been trying to write his whole life.
For the first time, he didn't stop to second guess himself. He didn't pause to reread. He just kept going, pouring everything he wanted to be onto the page.
Hours passed without him noticing.
By the time he leaned back, his wrists ached and his eyes burned, but he was smiling wider than he had in months.
He scrolled back to the beginning and read it all.
It was rough. Messy. Full of holes.
But it was alive.
Thunder laughed softly, a breathless sound that surprised him.
"I actually like this," he said.
That almost never happened.
He saved the file. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he opened a browser tab. He had done this before. Posted stories. Watched them sink without a ripple.
Still, something felt different.
He created a post. Copied the opening chapter. Tagged it under fantasy, furry fiction, original work.
Thunder stared at the publish button.
"What's the worst that could happen," he whispered.
He clicked it.
The page refreshed.
And that was it.
Thunder leaned back in his chair, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. The adrenaline drained away, leaving behind a hollow, buzzing quiet.
He checked the page again.
No comments. No likes. No messages.
Of course.
Thunder closed the browser and flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling again. The fan hummed above him.
Still, something had changed.
Even if no one else ever read it, he had finally written a story that felt like it mattered.
Thunder rolled onto his side and hugged a pillow, staring at the faint glow leaking under his door.
Somewhere out there, in the endless noise of the internet, Star Grind existed now.
Waiting.
And Thunder had no idea that someone was about to find it.
Thunder woke up to sunlight stabbing him directly in the eyes.
He groaned, rolled onto his side, and buried his face in a pillow that smelled faintly of old fabric softener and dust. His alarm was buzzing somewhere under the bed, muffled but persistent. He ignored it.
School.
The word barely registered anymore.
Thunder had been skipping school a lot. Not just once or twice, but enough times that he sometimes wondered how no one had shown up at his door yet. He wasn't failing. That was probably the only thing saving him. His grades hovered right in the middle. Not impressive. Not alarming. Just average enough to avoid attention.
He stared at the wall, blinking sleep from his eyes.
"Today's not happening," he muttered.
He slapped the alarm off and sat up, hair a mess, shirt twisted from sleep. His room looked exactly how he left it. Chaotic, lived in, frozen in time. It felt safer than the outside world.
Thunder reached for his laptop.
Before brushing his teeth. Before changing clothes. Before thinking twice.
He opened the website.
Star Grind.
The page loaded.
Thunder leaned forward.
The numbers were higher.
Not by much. Not anything that would make someone famous. But higher than anything he had ever posted before. More views. More bookmarks. More engagement.
His heart skipped.
"…oh," he said quietly.
He refreshed the page. Same numbers.
Thunder scrolled.
There were comments.
Actual comments.
He read the first one.
"Yo this is actually sick. Love the Zodiac Star concept."
He grinned.
Another.
"The canine pack system is dark but interesting. Curious where this goes."
His grin widened.
Another.
"Thunder Dash is kind of full of himself but I think that's intentional lol."
Thunder scoffed.
"They just don't get it yet," he said to the empty room.
Still, he kept reading.
Most of the comments were positive. Not overwhelmingly so, but enough to make his chest feel warm. People were talking about his ideas. Quoting lines. Asking questions. Saying they wanted more.
That feeling. That rush.
It fed something deep inside him.
Thunder scrolled further.
And then he saw it.
A longer comment.
Not hateful. Not even rude.
Just criticism.
"I like the concept but the pacing feels rushed in places. Maybe slow down and let the world breathe more?"
Thunder's smile vanished.
His jaw tightened.
"What do you know," he muttered.
He reread the comment, irritation creeping up his spine. Fair. Calm. Not attacking him at all.
Still, it felt wrong.
Thunder had never taken criticism well. Even constructive criticism felt like an insult. Like someone reaching into his head and telling him his imagination was flawed.
He closed the comment section.
"They think watching a few episodes makes them experts," he said, pacing his room. "I've watched thousands. I know how stories work."
Anime. Manga. Web novels. He had consumed them endlessly. He believed that gave him an instinct. A sense for what made a story good. What worked and what didn't.
Suggestions felt unnecessary.
He stopped pacing when a small icon caught his eye.
A notification.
Private message.
Thunder froze.
His heart thudded louder than it should have.
He clicked it.
The message loaded.
"I liked your novel a lot. I have started making fan arts of some of your characters. It has been helping me through some tough times. Your novel has really lighten my mood. thx!"
Thunder stared at the screen.
He read it again.
And again.
His chest felt tight in a way he didn't recognize at first. Not anxiety. Not ego. Something softer. Warmer.
Someone had read his story.
And it helped them.
Not because it was impressive. Not because it was popular. But because it made their day a little better.
Thunder swallowed.
"Oh," he whispered.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to do. He clicked on the user's profile instead.
Artwork filled the page.
His breath caught.
It was incredible.
Canine characters rendered with confident lines and expressive poses. Thunder Dash stood tall in one piece, Zodiac symbols glowing faintly around him. Another showed a pack scene he had only vaguely described, yet she captured it perfectly. The emotions. The energy. The exact way Thunder saw it in his head.
"How," he breathed.
This was it.
This was what his stories were missing.
Art.
Real art.
Thunder felt electricity run through him. Ideas crashed into each other. Panels. Pages. Covers. A full comic. A real one. Not just words on a screen.
His hands started shaking.
He clicked back to the message.
He typed fast.
"Hey. Thank you so much. Seriously. That means a lot to me."
He paused.
Then kept typing.
"I saw your artwork. It's amazing. Like… exactly how I imagined them."
He stopped again, heart racing.
This was risky. Personal. Big.
He didn't care.
"I've always wanted to make a comic. Like a real one. I have the story and the world planned out but I can't draw at all. Would you maybe want to work together?"
He leaned back, staring at the message.
He wasn't done.
"I know this is sudden but I really believe Star Grind could be something special. I have big plans for it. And your art fits it perfectly."
He reread it three times.
It sounded desperate.
It sounded honest.
He sent it.
The message disappeared into the void.
Thunder closed the laptop slowly and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling again. The fan hummed above him, steady and indifferent.
His heart wouldn't slow down.
He didn't know her name yet. He didn't know where she lived. He didn't know anything about her.
But for the first time, someone else had stepped into his world and seen it the same way he did.
Thunder smiled to himself.
And he waited.