ThunderDique
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When everyone thrives in their designations, Shauna Shipman flounders as a late bloomer.
Jackie Taylor, on the other hand, has everything she could ever want. She is the shining example of the perfect omega.
Shauna never had a chance, did she?
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Shauna Shipman was a hunter, a butcher, and a scavenger. And what is a scavenger, if not opportunistic?
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Shauna Shipman has been a butcher long enough to know every cut on a body, but lately all she can think about is how Jackie Taylor’s skin would give under the blade… and how much she wants to taste her.
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27 May 2026
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When Nat fucks up in her first game at Rutgers, she has some making up to do with a couple of upperclassman teammates.
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09 May 2026
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A year had passed since the plane crash, and all of them decided to bury the past forever. Shauna had been accepted into Brown and is starting her first year as a psychology student. Everything starts crashing and burning when she lays her eyes on someone who continued to haunt her after that night.
Jackie? Jackie Taylor? It can't be...
But her name is Jacqueline, and her friends all call her Jackie. Her surname is not Taylor but Blackwood. Two syllables. Similar in a way. And she's popular. She's dating an attractive guy. She's the captain of Brown's women's soccer team. Once again, Shauna continues to live in her shadow.
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"You gutted and ate her?" Jackie—No, Jacqueline—scrunched her brows in disgust. "That's fucking gross."
"Um." Shauna shifted with discomfort.
"Well?" Jacqueline circled her slowly. Her laughter rang in Shauna's ears. "Did she taste good?"
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30 Apr 2026
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Shauna hasn’t even started her new job as a journalist before she starts hallucinating Jackie again. But she realizes quickly that British Ghost Jackie is actually a real person named Rhiannon.
If only the other Jackie hallucination would stop judging her for trying to trick Rhiannon into falling in love with her.
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16 Apr 2026
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“You have to come here right now,” she hissed the second Van picked up.
“Hello to you, too, Nat.” A pause, then: “Why?”
“Jackie is in my apartment.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Jackie. Jackie Taylor. In my kitchen. Making actual eggs:”
“Like…fried?”
“Like whisked. In a bowl. There’s salt involved, Van.”
There was a pause. Then the dry scrape of Van’s voice: “Yeah. The Jackie that we ate and then shat out is making eggs in your kitchen, sure.”
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Or, Nat copes with her trauma through journaling, a suggestion from her mandated therapy. But instead of writing about the wilderness, her thoughts spiral back to Jackie– what could have been if the crash never happened and if Jackie were still alive. It starts as harmless fiction. Healing, even. Until Jackie shows up in her apartment, alive and seemingly pulled straight from the pages Nat had been writing. Inspired by the movie, Ruby Sparks.
Bookmarked by ThunderDique
11 Apr 2026