#shifting to hogwarts

[hrrtshape]

loooove a good dose of hogwarts dr motivation

[kerryshifting]

EXCLUSIVE: princess daenys on fashion, royal duties, and hogwarts life.

1995, DAILY PROPHET. by the daily prophet’s correspondence, colette morvain.

PART I: A FASHION DIVE.

we have celebrities. and then we have stars. it is not every day that one has the honor to sit down with royalty, let alone a princess who, despite having to be in different countries for various purposes, still graces the halls of hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry (to learn more about albus dumbledore, go to page 12). today, i bring you a rare, intimate interview with none other than princess daenys, full–time heir to the throne and best student of her year, whose fashion sense has bewitched the entire wizarding world. one can’t help but be amazed at her exquisite style, which has raised questions far and wide: where does the princess shop? how does she decide what to wear each day?

let me assure you, i left no question unasked. and as you can imagine, princess daenys answered with all the grace and poise of a future monarch.

“it’s no secret that i adore fashion,” the princess began with a soft smile, her voice as enchanting as her wardrobe. “for me, clothing is more than just fabric — it’s a statement. who am i, what i stand for. my mother, the queen consort, used this technique during the war against you–know–who. even if you are denied of words, the clothing you wear will speak for you. my mother taught me everything about this”

indeed, the dresses queen rose wore are still studied at the wizarding academy of arts. the princess seemed to not only have taken her mother's eyes, after all! teenagers love to speak, and it is hard to deny the profound sense of elegance that follows the princess wherever she goes, be it in the great hall for dinner or during one of professor mcgonagall’s transfiguration lessons. every ensemble seems perfectly curated, as if it tells a story of ancient royal lineage and modern wizarding sophistication.

and where does such an icon of style shop? princess daenys laughed lightly at the question. “i’m often asked that. i prefer bespoke designs from artisans both magical and, even if a certain demographic of people wouldn’t agree, non-magical. some of my favorite robes come from small wizarding boutiques that handcraft each piece with the utmost care.” she pauses, her eyes sparkling. “but i also adore muggle fashion. there’s something enchanting about the blend of both worlds, don’t you think?”

readers, the princess is a woman of many worlds—hers is not a wardrobe restricted by the boundaries of her crown or the limitations of magical design. “i like to shop in paris, milan, even new york when I have the chance,” she continued, twirling a strand of her silver-gold hair as she spoke. “there’s a certain thrill in exploring fashion beyond our magical world, where i can mix couture with traditional wizarding wear. my stylist helps me blend them together to create something entirely unique.”

but how, we all wonder, does a busy princess—who, let us not forget, has classes, royal duties, and a throne to inherit—find the time to meticulously select her outfit each day?

“mornings can be tricky,” she admits with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “it depends on my mood. some days, i wake up feeling like i should wear something regal, the classic red and black of my family. other times, i prefer something more understated but still elegant for classes—or just walking around hogwarts. something practical yet beautiful.”

and practical she must be, for her schedule is as demanding as any head of state. balancing the responsibilities of royal life with the rigorous academic standards of hogwarts is no small feat, and yet princess daenys carries it all with remarkable ease. “it’s about balance,” she reveals. “i might spend my morning in a defense against the dark arts class, but in the afternoon, i have to attend to royal correspondence or meet with my advisors. what i wear must reflect my role in both worlds.”

for those of you wondering what the princess wears wherever she rides her dragons in the skies, the answer is far more down-to-earth than one might expect. “mainly robes that do not make me freeze in the sky,” she confesses with a laugh. “you see, when i was claimed by meleys, my first dragon (of three—i want to add) i was seven. back then i only wore things that would protect me if i had accidentally fallen from my dragon. but now,” her eyes seem to have a warm light “it’s a second nature. i feel free in the sky with all three of my dragons. i usually use my dragons to go to meetings with other nations, and i wear my house colours”

even in her royal stature, the princess remains refreshingly grounded. when i pressed her on whether there were ever fashion faux pas (after all, even the greatest of us have had them), she gave me a laugh that was nothing short of charming. “oh, absolutely! haven’t we all had one or two questionable looks in our past? but that’s part of the fun of fashion—it evolves as you do. i try to embrace each stage of my style journey. at the end of the day,” the princess said, her voice filled with wisdom beyond her years, “fashion should make you feel like the best version of yourself, whether you’re sitting in the royal court or in a classroom at hogwarts. it’s a way to carry your heritage with you while embracing the present.”

the enigma of princess daenys’s fashion choices, laid bare in this exclusive interview. a royal who has enchanted the world not only with her clothes, but with her heart.

PART II: THE ROYAL DUTIES.

it’s clear that her fashion sense is only part of her mystique. behind the silk robes and perfectly tailored ensembles lies a young woman with a weighty responsibility—heir to the throne of a powerful kingdom. as if being a student at hogwarts wasn’t challenging enough, princess daenys is also the future queen, destined to rule her realm. how does she balance such monumental royal duties with the pressures of academic life? well, i got all the answers straight from the princess herself!

“it’s certainly a challenge,” princess daenys began with a serene smile, her composure flawless despite the whirlwind of responsibilities she faces. “my duties as heir to the throne are not something i take lightly. my kingdom expects the best from me, and rightfully so. i’ve spent my whole life preparing for the day when i will eventually take the crown.”

ah, the crown. few of us can comprehend what it means to be born with such a weight on our heads, but for princess daenys, it has been her reality since birth. between classes on transfiguration and studying for O.W.L.s, she is also in constant communication with her advisors, ambassadors, and the ministry. one has to wonder, how does she manage to balance these two very different worlds?

“i’ve always believed that my time at hogwarts is as crucial to my royal training as anything i’d learn back home,” she explained. “the people at hogwarts are the people i want to protect during my reign. and, magic is not only a part of my family’s heritage but also an essential tool in governing. i’ll need to understand how both the magical and non-magical communities interact and co-exist. hogwarts provides the perfect environment for that.”

her duties, however, extend far beyond the walls of the school. as the princess revealed, her days often begin before sunrise, reviewing important documents, attending meetings with council members, and making decisions about state affairs. and, if you can believe it, she still finds time to attend classes and participate in hogwarts life.

“i have a dedicated team of advisors who assist me in my duties,” princess daenys shared. “but at the end of the day, the responsibility is mine. i need to understand what’s happening, and understand how i would act once i’ll be queen. sometimes that means spending my free period reading economic reports with notes made by my father, instead of studying for my next charms exam!”

imagine the pressure of not only studying for your N.E.W.T.s but also dealing with diplomatic tensions and state decisions! but princess daenys, composed, insists that both roles strengthen each other.

“there are days when the balance is hard to maintain,” she admitted with refreshing honesty. “i might have an urgent issue that requires immediate attention, but i also have a potions exam the next day. in those moments, i rely on time management and prioritization. being near other slytherins helped me a lot, in this. i learned quickly that both realms require your full attention, and you can’t neglect one for the other.”

of course, one wonders how much pressure comes with knowing that one day, she will no longer be just a princess, but a queen. i pressed the princess on whether she ever feels overwhelmed by the looming reality of the throne.

“it’s not something i lodge on constantly,” she replied. “i’ve been prepared for this my entire life, but i also understand that i need to experience life as a fifteen years old. being at hogwarts gives me the chance to grow and learn without the immediate responsibility of ruling. it’s important to enjoy this time while also keeping in mind what’s ahead.”

her diplomatic answers were filled with grace and wisdom far beyond her years. princess daenys is nothing short of remarkable—a young woman already well-versed in statecraft, diplomacy, and leadership. yet she still finds joy in the little things—studying in the hogwarts library, chatting with friends in the slytherin common room, and, yes, enjoying quidditch matches.

“i mastered the art of being patient and resilient, thanks to my father,” she reflected with a laugh. “it’s a unique position to be in, he always says. but it also teaches you to think critically, to consider every possible outcome before making a decision. whether it’s a decision about the kingdom or about which club to join at hogwarts, both require a steady hand.”

but don’t think that this princess is always business. there’s still a lighthearted, playful side to her, one that enjoys the magical pranks her friends pull in the hallways or the thrill of learning new spells. “i think that everyone loves spending time in their dormitory, hearing about the newest singer or french fashion magazine”

and when i asked her about her plans for the future as queen, she smiled softly. “i want to ensure that my kingdom is a place of peace and prosperity,” she said. “that has always been my goal. but for now, i am focused on learning as much as i can. there’s no rush to the throne. when the time comes, i’ll be ready.”

a princess who is not only fashionable but formidable, blending her royal duties with the everyday challenges of being a hogwarts student. one thing is certain: the future of her kingdom is in capable hands.

but what other secrets does princess daenys have? could there be more to uncover?

PART III: HOGWARTS LIFE.

inow, we dive into the chapter we’ve all been eagerly awaiting—the princess’s life at hogwarts, particularly her place in the most cunning and ambitious house of all: slytherin. yes, you heard that right! princess daenys, heir of the throne, is part of the green and silver house.

“hogwarts is my second home,” princess daenys begins. “slytherin may have a bad eputation for its ambition and pureblood ideals, but there’s so much more to the house. it’s about loyalty, strategy, and understanding one’s own strengths.”

it’s clear that the princess feels perfectly at home in slytherin, but one can’t help but wonder how she navigates the house’s complex social dynamics. after all, this is no ordinary school year—not until harry potter (to read more about the boy-who-lived check page 27) is walking the halls, and allegiances are being tested in ways unseen for generations.

“i was sorted into slytherin because i value ambition, cleverness, and strategic thinking,” princess daenys says, her tone measured but confident. “but that doesn’t mean i share the same views as everyone in my house. like any hogwarts student, i have my own opinions, my own path to walk.”

indeed, rumors have swirled about the princess’s neutrality in the brewing conflict between dumbledore and you-know-who. is she a supporter of harry potter’s cause? does she sympathize with the headmaster of hogwarts, or perhaps—merlin forbid—has she aligned herself with darker forces?

“i have great respect for harry potter,” daenys says, with a glint in her eyes that betrays her diplomatic nature. “he’s extraordinarily brave, and what he’s doing takes incredible courage. especially, with his past. but i’ve always believed that you can’t rush to take sides without fully understanding the bigger picture. my position, as both a student and a future ruler, requires me to see beyond immediate conflicts and think about the long-term effects.”

a masterful response, wouldn’t you agree? it seems the princess is not one to let herself be drawn into the chaos of teenage rivalries, no matter how heated the rivalry between harry potter and her house members may become. that said, i couldn’t resist asking about her relationship with the more infamous members of slytherin, particularly the malfoys.

“draco and i get along well enough,” she says. “but my circle at hogwarts extends beyond just slytherins. i believe in getting to know everyone for who they are, regardless of which house they’re in.”

and this is where the true brilliance of princess daenys shines through. unlike so many others, she refuses to be confined by the traditional house rivalries. she has been seen speaking with students from all four houses—yes, even gryffindors! but don’t let her friendliness fool you; the princess is nobody’s pawn. as a future queen, daenys has learned the art of diplomacy and strategy. her actions speak of careful calculation, not unlike the cunning slytherin traits she embodies.

“it’s important to stay grounded in who you are,” daenys continues when i ask her how she deals with the rising tension in the slytherin house. “i know what i stand for. i understand my values. that’s what guides me, not peer pressure or the politics of the moment.”

of course, it’s not all serious politics and diplomacy at hogwarts. even a princess needs time to relax. so how does the future ruler of an entire kingdom spend her free time?

“the classic answer should be spending time with my friends, but when they have their things to do, i enjoy reading by the black lake,” daenys reveals, her eyes brightening with the admission. “there’s something incredibly cozy about it. books and poems are, of course, integral part of me; but staying in nature and hearing other students practicing for quidditch, it’s something that relaxes me”

ah! yes, the princess herself is an avid supporter of slytherin’s quidditch team, though she seems to prefer keeping a low profile in the stands rather than soaring through the air with a quaffle in hand. she’s also, of course, a frequent visitor to the library, often spotted reading advanced tomes on magical history.

“hogwarts has given me the opportunity to learn in ways i could never have imagined,” she says, her voice softening as she reflects. “it’s not just about magic—it’s about understanding people, cultures, and how the world works”

when i inquire about her favorite subjects, her answer comes without hesitation. “history of magic and ancient runes,” she says with a grin. “i love history and reading about people who once stepped in the same places where i am today, and i love ancient runes because of the concept of each rune, and their significance. understanding ancient magic helps me understand the foundations of our world”

it’s hard not to be captivated by the sheer depth of wisdom that flows from this young royal. while many students at hogwarts are concerned with passing exams or navigating social hierarchies, princess daenys is preparing for a future that goes far beyond the walls of the castle. she remains grounded in the present, balancing her time between her duties and her academic life.

ALSO READ harry potter, targaryen prophet, min…

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ does the future queen have a future king consort? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ how daenys targaryen became the mother of dragons. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ministry of magic vs. targaryen dynasty: is it war? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ a day in a life of princess daenys targaryen. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ TARGARYEN PROPAGANDA OR TRUTH? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ will we-know-who get the targaryen’s throne? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ inside the house of the royal family! ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ LUCERYS TARGARYEN FOR HIS SISTER’S THRONE? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ DAENYS TARGARYEN SPEAKS ABOUT ‘THIRD SIDE’ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ daenys: realm's delight or whore?⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ EXCLUSIVE: KING DEAD. DAENYS AS QUEEN.

[malfoysanctuary]

In the Palm of Your Hands

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: He had never been one for softness, never let himself crave the warmth of another—not until you. And now, with your fingers tracing constellations along his skin, he realizes just how starved he is for a touch that doesn't wound but soothes.

Continue reading below ⬇

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The first time you touch him, really touch him, he stiffens.

It's subtle—the way his shoulders lock, the sharp intake of breath that never quite makes it out as an exhale—but you feel it beneath your fingertips. A reaction so ingrained in him, so deeply embedded, that you can almost hear the unspoken thought running through his mind: Bracing. Preparing. Waiting.

For what? You don’t want to know.

But what you do know is this: he isn’t used to being touched gently. He isn’t used to fingers that soothe rather than strike, to warmth that doesn’t burn.

Your fingers ghost down his forearm, slow and deliberate, barely there. You give him time—to pull away, to stop you, to tell you this is something he doesn’t want.

But he doesn’t move.

He only stares down at where your hand meets his skin, as if the sensation is foreign, unreal. His breath is shallow, controlled, but you feel the tremor beneath his skin. Not fear. Not discomfort. Something else.

Need.

Hunger.

A quiet, aching sort of yearning, as if he wants nothing more than to lean into the warmth of your touch but doesn’t know how.

You thread your fingers through his, locking your hands together fully. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m not.”

You squeeze his hand once. “Then why do you look like you’re about to bolt?”

His laugh is hollow, humorless. “Because I don’t—” He stops himself, as if realizing the weight of his own words. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You soften, running your thumb over his knuckles. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me be here.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. But then, just as you think he might pull away, he exhales, his body sagging ever so slightly. Not much. But enough.

And it’s a start.

It doesn’t happen all at once.

At first, it’s just the small things. Your hand resting briefly on his arm as you pass in the corridors. Your fingers skimming over his when you hand him a book in the library. The way your thigh presses against his beneath the table in the Great Hall.

He never stops you.

But he never asks for it, either.

Until one night, when something shifts.

It’s late. The fire in the common room burns low, the castle silent save for the distant howl of the wind outside. You find him by the window, his silhouette outlined by moonlight, his expression distant.

You hesitate for only a moment before walking up behind him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He shakes.

The tremor is slight, barely there, but you feel it.

“Hey,” you murmur, stepping around to face him fully. “You okay?”

His gaze flickers to yours, something unreadable behind his eyes. He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he reaches out, hesitant but deliberate, his fingers brushing against your wrist. A silent question. A plea.

You answer by taking his hand and guiding him back to the couch. He lets you, lets you pull him down beside you, lets you wrap your arms around him as he tenses—just for a moment—before melting against you.

And Merlin, does he melt.

His head falls against your shoulder, his body pressing into yours, like he’s trying to crawl into your skin, like he can’t get close enough. His breath is warm against your neck, ragged and uneven. You feel the way his hands tighten around the fabric of your sweater, the way his fingers dig in like he’s afraid you’ll let go.

You don’t.

Instead, you shift so he can press his face into the crook of your neck, your fingers threading into his hair, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, lips brushing against his temple. “I promise.”

His exhale is shaky. “I—” His voice cracks. He swallows. “I don’t know why this is so—”

“Hard?” you finish for him.

A small nod against your skin.

You sigh softly, tightening your hold. “Because no one ever taught you it could be easy.”

He stills.

And then, after a long pause, he whispers, “No.”

Your heart clenches.

You pull back just enough to cup his face in your hands, tilting his chin so he has to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, guarded, but there’s something raw beneath the surface. Something vulnerable.

You stroke your thumb along his cheekbone, softer than anything he’s ever known. “It can be easy,” you murmur. “With me, it will be.”

His breath catches, and for the first time, he doesn’t just let you hold him.

He leans into it.

And he doesn’t let go.

[nicoleshifting]

winter at hogwarts university

in honor of it snowing in my cr all day today

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ making hot chocolate on freezing cold days to fight the chill of the castle

having thick snowflakes stick to my hair as I hurriedly make my way to class across the courtyard ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ the roar of the common room fireplace lulling me to sleep on long nights studying

the great hall being decorated with lights and a falling snow enchantment ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ trips to hogsmeade filled with stops at the three broomsticks and honeydukes, my ravenclaw scarf and earmuffs desperately trying to keep me warm as we dash in and out of stores, snow clinging to my eyelashes

scouring the library for any long forgotten spells to keep warm (most failing despite our best efforts) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ the period of excitement between the annual christmas and valentine's balls

drinking warm mulled wine in the astronomy tower with my friends, laughing as we watch the snow fall for as long as we can stand the biting cold ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

divider can be found here

[koifishstick]

hogwarts university DR - meet DESTINY "DES" GOLDSTEIN ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hi! i'm des. short for destiny goldstein— but seriously, please just des. i’m 24, a fourth year, and i’m currently on the hogwarts express, making my way toward the prestigious hogwarts university. i’m transferring from ilvermorny— the american school. not the typical route, but here i am! i was recruited to transfer to hogwarts because of my… particular skillset in magizoology. i have an odd way with magical creatures. i can understand them in a way that feels almost instinctive. when it comes to magical creatures, i just get it. i’m planning to major in magizoology and minor in herbology. plants and creatures: i fucking love that shit.

now, lets go back in time for a minute. i was born to angela goldstein, a powerful seer, and a muggle man. my dad died when i was just a baby, and my mom never really told me who he was. it’s not that she didn’t love him—no, she was obsessed with him. i’ve heard her talk about him in the quietest moments, when she thought i wasn’t listening. "he was a kind, good man. the love of my life." that's it. that’s all i’ve ever gotten. his name? she refuses to say. i’ve asked. i’ve begged! but she just gives me that smile—the one she always wears when she’s not telling me something important—and changes the subject.

here’s the kicker. when my father died, he left behind a vault at gringotts—completely full. i’m talking galleons, sickles, and knuts to the brim. it wasn’t just a little vault. it was… well, let’s just say it was more than a small fortune. no one can explain it how a muggle—my dad, of all people—had such a large stash of wizarding wealth. the goblins at gringotts? they act like they’re too scared to even try and figure it out. my mom won’t say anything, either. she just gets this look on her face when the vault is mentioned—like she knows something, but won’t say it out loud. it’s like there’s a part of my dad's life that is being kept hidden away, just like his identity. where did he come from? why was he involved in the wizard world at all? all i know is that he left me something—something i’m meant to have—but it feels bigger than just a fat stack of cash.

growing up, it was just me and mom. we live in a cozy little apartment above kowalski’s bakery in brooklyn. it’s not too glamorous, but its home. and the bakery? well, it has its own kind of magic. my granddad, jacob kowalski, started it all, and my mom took over after he, and my grandmother queenie goldstein, were both lost during the first wizarding war. it’s not just any bakery—it serves muggles and wizards alike. the sweet scent of fresh bread and pastries mingles with a more subtle, magical aroma, and in the back of the shop, behind a hidden door, are magical treats carefully curated for the wizarding folk, who know exactly where to find them. muggles never get the full picture, of course. it’s a delicate and delicious balance—keeping things secret while still serving both worlds. mom never talks much about her seer abilities, but i have learned to trust her quiet warnings. it’s a comfort, knowing she can see things others can’t.

and now, here i am, sitting in a compartment on the hogwarts express, looking out the window as the landscape blurs into rolling hills and forests. a part of me can’t help but wonder: why am i here? why did i get recruited? what’s waiting for me at this school, where everything is so… different from what i’m used to? is it just a coincidence that i’m here now, or is it something more? i’m still trying to figure it all out. but whatever happens, i’ll make my own way, like i always have. I can’t let the past hold me back forever. there’s too much to discover, too much to learn. magical creatures, rare herbs, and maybe—just maybe—uncovering the secrets that were buried with my father.

[jadeshifting]

me bored as hell because every time i shift or manifest it happens instantly and there’s absolutely zero resistance between me and my desires

[maeshift]

I shifted I shift holy shit I fucking shifted

I SHIFTED! I shifted to my hp dr and let me tell you. it is real. it is REAL. IT IS REAL. it’s more real than ever it is so real it’s insane.

[esotericesther]

‼️shifting proof

please read everything that’s on here.

i have more if you want it!

i hope this motivates you to another try.

[ilovecatfr]

Demonstration of how to shut your brain up

Brain: hey so you can't actually shift realities

You: yes I can

Brain: no idiot you can't, that's just stupid

You: maybe you are just stupid because I already shifted

Brain: (side eye) no you didn't

You: yes I did

Brain: prove it

You: I'm in my dr right now

Brain: no you are no-

You: (slaps brain) yes I am, open your eyes

Brain: I can't open my eyes I don't have any

You: that the whole point, IM IN MY DRR. I already shifted

I shifted I shifted I shifted I shifted I shifted I shifted I shifted

Brain: OKAY OKAYY you are in your dr

You:I'm literally a master shifter I can do whatever I want because it so easy for me 🤭

Notice one consistent thing through the whole thing? Persistence. The only reason why your brain doesn't wanna believe you can shift is because you almost engraved it in by your own thoughts.

You don't need to be constantly fighting with your brain, but do hype yourself up. You are not some helpless and powerless loser who can't shift. Please give yourself some credit you shift everyday, every second.

[itscamile222]

HOW SHIFTING WORKS- scientifically based thesis

“we´are infinite beings destined to explore the infinite universe”

NOTE: i´m not a scientist nor a physicist. This essay is based on self interpretation of information and things i´ve learned about consciousness, quantum physics, nature of reality, etc.

We´re four dimensional beings, meaning we´re composed of both physical and non physical (intangible) things. We have three layers: body, psyche (alias consciousness) and soul. Our bodies are just the envelope, the vehicle our consciousness occupies in order to live a human experience. Accordingly, our true self is not our body, but the consciousness that occupies it. Having that in mind, we´re able to move to the next point.

Everything — and this is scientifically proven — is made of energy. Vibrating energy makes matter, and consequently both matter and energy have frequencies. Every single thing has a different frequency: objects, sounds, emotions, etc. Therefore, reality as a whole, with all of its elements combined, vibrates at its own frequency.

Thanks to quantum physics, we know particles of energy can be in different states and multiple places at the same time in superposition when there isn't a conscious observer. While being observed, energy/particles behave differently, being perceived at one state and place. This experiment shows the same particle can and does exist in many states/places at once, but we´re only able to perceive one state/place at a time.

ENERGY → MATTER → REALITY

We can only perceive one reality (state of energy/matter as a whole) at a time for the reason the human experience we're living limits us to do so. Although, like energy is coexisting in many places/states at once, and we know for certain that energy composes matter, which makes the (physical) reality, we can affirm there are many other realities besides this one, but we´re not able neither to perceive nor interact with them.

ENERGY → MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

+∞

PINK: what we percieve

BLUE: what coexists but we don’t perceive

Summing things up, there are many other realities coexisting in the very same space as this one, but each reality exists in different frequencies, so realities never interact with each other. That said, we are able to introduce the main character: shifting.

Shifting doesn't happen in your consciousness, shifting happens with — and thanks to— your consciousness. Your body is trapped in this reality because it's part of this reality, for the reason bodies are physical things that can only exist in one state. Your consciousness, on the other hand, contrary to your body, can shift because it's not something physical, it's not made of matter. Consciousness doesn't belong to any reality, it just experiences them. Consciousness cannot die, so when your body faces death, your consciousness continues existing in other realities. This can explain both reincarnation and heaven, since your consciousness shifts to a reality that fits what you expect/believe you´ll experience after death.

With shifting, we´re doing the same but intentionally, choosing the reality we want to experience,with the difference our Cr body is still alive, so we can come back.

By shifting, we´re changing the frequency of our consciousness — which is the same as our Cr— to match the frequency of the reality we want to become aware of. You have to shift your inner world in order to shift the outer physical world (the 4d and the 3d).

[sossolei]

things I learned after shifting to Hogwarts ‧₊ ᵎᵎ⋅ ˚ △⃒⃘

SIDENOTE: hogwarts was not the first reality I shifted to ! this is a uni reality ! there is no war ! ask any questions you want !

.☘︎ ݁˖ BATHROOM. I’ve genuinely never seen anyone talk about this but ( at least in my reality ) there’s a bathroom on the Hogwarts Express and holy fuck??? On the outside it looks tiny asf but I went in there to change into my robes and it’s wayyy bigger than it looks on the outside. It works like the tents in Goblet of Fire basically. The toilets and everything look relatively new so I’m assuming they change it every couple years just to keep in good condition.

.☘︎ ݁˖ MUGGLES. Have you ever wondered exactly how the muggles don’t notice wizardry, or at least at the platform? In my personal experience, unless it’s magic very intentionally and obviously done in front of muggles, there will usually be a moment distraction where they don’t see the magic happening. In the sense of platform nine and three quarters, there’s usually a couple trains that arrive around the same time and blare the horn so everyone usually gets distracted by that. But a personal example of this happens when I was standing in front of the barrier getting ready to cross through the wall, a young child was watching me from afar and as soon as started walking forward, he tripped over the wheel of his mothers luggage and didn’t see me go through the wall.

.☘︎ ݁˖ THE GREAT HALL. The candles are never ending. They don’t drip. They don’t melt in any way. I just had to say that cause I legit stared at them for almost an hour trying to see if it would melt. You have to talk pretty loud to be heard at the front where Dumbledore usually gives his lil speeches, which means the students who sing have lungs for DAYSSSS it’s actually so impressive. The benches are uncomfortable, not unbearable but not recommended for sitting for a long time lol. There’s no menu or anything, the food rlly does just appear there but there’s always something for everybody. Some people even walk up and down the table looking for what they want.

.☘︎ ݁˖ OTHER SCHOOLS. I didn’t stay in this reality for very long but I was always asking questions ( sorry mcgonnagall ). Ilvermorny is currently trying to admit more Native American wizards into their school but Native American wizards (as far as I know) have their own kind of magic and legit do not want anything to do with Ilvermorny. Kind of similar issue in Australia and Aboriginals I’m pretty sure. There’s a lot of, like a fuck ton of wizarding schools in Africa. I know JK Rowling has like one wizarding school in Africa but geographically speaking, that never made sense to begin with and I wasn’t surprised when I found out there were different/smaller wizarding schools around Africa.

.☘︎ ݁˖ STUDENTS. I don’t know how many students are in Hogwarts but I do know that it’s never a surprise who comes to Hogwarts. The ministry genuinely keeps track of every single wizard who has children, and even hold records of wizards who have families without wizarding abilities, just in case someone pops out with it. Easiest way to think of it is that families like Ron’s are always kept track of as well as Hermione’s, so it’s never usually a surprise when someone turns up muggleborn cause they’re usually expecting it.

.☘︎ ݁˖ PROFESSORS. The professors are not as silly goofy as they are in the movies guy :( They’re not miserable or anything but they all just remind me of the standing emoji LMAOOO. But seriously, someone like Mcgonnagall is not as welcoming or “chill” as she is in the movies or towards Harry. But some definitely are more chill, especially the younger ones. Slughorn is my silly king but even he has his moments.

Since this is a uni, Snape isn’t as uh…violent (?) as he is in the movies. Neville is a grown ass man, Snape is def not his biggest fear but Neville in general has a strong urge to prove himself and it reflects in his relationship with Snape. Snape isn’t scary, he just demands lots of respect and has respect for people that have proven they are “worthy” of it, i.e., high marks, put together, confidence, strong willed, etc.

.☘︎ ݁˖ DIVINATION. Did you guys know that being a witch/wizard doesn’t automatically make you good at all forms of divination? I scripted Mattheo Riddle into this reality and me and him are soooo good at other forms of divination like tarot, coffee grounds, and even the the crystal ball, but Theodore Nott fucking sucksss at it. Hermione also didn’t do as well in the class as I know she could’ve done, but according to Treylawney, all forms of divination require open mindedness towards something you can’t understand. Someone like hermione, for example, wants to know everything all the time and doesn’t beat around the bush, so tarot isn’t her cup of tea because she doesn’t think it’s giving her exactly what she wants.

.☘︎ ݁˖ HOMEWORK. Homework can either be really fun or really time consuming. It’s just like regular homework where you recall everything you learned in class but homework isn’t very common the more you move up in classes, mainly because the magic you start to do becomes more hands on rather than memorizing. This doesn’t apply to Snape though. He loves homework.

.☘︎ ݁˖ UNIFORMS. THE ROBES ARE INSULATED. It’s very thick, good quality fabric and keeps you real warm during the winter but during the later hot months like September, it’s not uncommon to walk around with the robes open or in your hands, but you have to wear them in your body during class, no exceptions. They absorb stains??? This is one I wasn’t expecting but it’s a magical robe so…okay! I dropped cranberry juice on the sleeve and it just completely absorbed and it didn’t stink or anything. This doesn’t apply to the tie or anything else, those have to washed for sure.

.☘︎ ݁˖ REALITY. If you haven’t shifted yet, you’ll often hear people say “it’ll feel natural because you’ve already lived there your whole life” and while that is true, it’s also not because how am I supposed to be natural walking past Robert fucking Pattinson to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts???? In my mind, he’s always been Edward from Twilight and seeing him in the hogwarts robes just made me stop in my tracks and stare. Some things come natural and some things don’t but I embrace everything with open arms.

.☘︎ ݁˖ EXTRA. Draco is blonde as hell! Like Targaryen level blonde. I do think it’s natural tho cause Luna has the same platinum type of blonde going on. Harry’s scar is soooo much cooler in this reality, it’s thin but branches out on the side of his face and it’s much more noticeable than the one in the movie. Hermione has curly curly hair! I don’t know if she straightens it in the books but I know she does in the movie, in this reality she literally just got a better curl routine. She has a ton of products and really cares for her hair and she’s lowkey embarrassed cause it’s the one thing she considers “vain.”

There’s a “club” of sorts where a bunch of students get together and run around the castle at the crack ass of Dawn for exercise ( best believe they have NEVER seen the likes of me ). I was told there are wizards who are famous in muggle spaces, typically for music or art. The painting will warn people when the stairs are about to move lol. That whole house discrimination stuff doesn’t happen as often as it does in the movies/books, most people don’t actually care and Slytherins get along with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs well—however, Gryffindor does have the tendency to poke fun and Slytherins respond with dry sarcasm so sometimes it’s not a perfect fit! House discrimination was bigger in our parents age but as the years have gone by, the current gen doesn’t care fr.

That’s all I can think of atm, thank you for reading and yes I will be doing this with other places I’ve shifted to!

[jadesshiftingjourney]

me everynight

(Img made by me<3)

[kerryshifting]

going over your 'blockages' in order to shift it’s a myth. thinking that you have to wait the right moment in order to shift it’s also a myth. shifting ≠ journey where you have to make progress. you are not creating your drs, you are just thinking of them. you don’t need anything to make you shift, but if you think that doing something will help you then it will. shifting symptoms are a myth. shifting doesn’t take time. stop over complicating it !!!!!!

[malfoysanctuary]

If Only You Knew

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You were always Mattheo’s weakness, the one thing he could never seem to conquer—until now, when it might not even matter anymore. Because while he took too long to tell you, someone else has been whispering the words he never had the courage to say.

Continue reading below ⬇

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The Great Hall buzzed with its usual midday energy, students huddled together, some laughing, some half-asleep over their pumpkin juice. But Mattheo Riddle wasn’t paying attention to any of them. His dark eyes were fixed on you.

You sat at the Slytherin table, a soft laugh leaving your lips as Theodore Nott leaned in, whispering something in your ear. Whatever it was, it had you smiling—your real smile. The one that made Mattheo’s chest tighten in a way he hated to acknowledge.

His fingers curled into fists under the table.

It wasn’t as if he had the right to be jealous. He wasn’t yours. Not officially, not in the way he wanted. But Merlin, if he didn’t wish he had done something about it sooner.

“Mate, you keep looking at her like that, you’re going to set her on fire,” Enzo said beside him, smirking as he shoveled food onto his plate.

Mattheo barely heard him.

Because then you turned, your eyes catching his across the Great Hall. For the briefest moment, something flickered there, something he used to think was just for him. But then Theodore nudged you, reclaiming your attention, and just like that, the moment was gone.

And Mattheo knew.

He was running out of time.

───────────────

You and Mattheo had always been… complicated.

For as long as you could remember, he was there—brooding, teasing, aggravating. Always just close enough to make your heart trip over itself, but never close enough to call yours.

You used to think it was enough. That stolen moments, fleeting glances, and whispered conversations under the moonlight would eventually lead somewhere. But they never did. And now, with Theo standing beside you, fingers brushing against yours as he spoke in that quiet, knowing way of his, you wondered if you had just been a fool.

Mattheo had his chances. He had so many of them.

And yet, he had never said the words.

So why, after all this time, did he look at you like you were slipping through his fingers?

───────────────

"Tell me it’s not too late."

The party in the common room had long since dwindled, but you lingered by the fire, exhaustion settling into your bones. Theo had kissed your cheek before heading to bed, his eyes warm, understanding. He never pushed, never demanded anything of you.

Which was more than you could say for the boy standing behind you now.

“Y/n.”

Mattheo’s voice was rough, frayed at the edges. You didn’t turn immediately, but when you did, your breath hitched. He looked… wrecked. Shadows clung to his sharp cheekbones, his usually confident stance uncertain, hands stuffed in his pockets like he was trying to hold himself together.

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Mattheo?”

For a moment, he just stared at you. And then, he took a step closer.

“I want to know if I’ve lost you.”

Your stomach twisted. “You never had me.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not true.”

You shook your head, swallowing the ache in your throat. “You had every chance. Every single chance to say something, to—” You broke off, inhaling sharply. “And you never did.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, the words almost a whisper. “I was an idiot. I thought—” He let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his curls. “I thought you’d wait for me.”

Something in you cracked.

Wait for him?

You had waited. You had waited through every smirk, every lingering touch, every moment where it felt like he was on the verge of saying something real, only to pull back at the last second.

“I can’t be the only one fighting for this,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo’s gaze darkened. “You’re not.”

His hands found your waist, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to push him away. But you didn’t. Even now, with all the anger, the hurt, the ache of knowing he had waited too long, your body still reacted to his touch, melting into him like it had always belonged there.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, forehead pressing against yours. “But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. Of Theo—” His breath hitched. “Of him getting to have you when I—”

“You what?” you challenged, voice trembling.

He swallowed hard. “When I love you.”

Your heart stuttered.

Mattheo Riddle—the boy who had spent years driving you mad, who had never once let his walls fully crack—was standing here, hands on your waist, saying the words you had waited so damn long to hear.

But was it too late?

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mattheo.”

Desperation flickered across his face. “Just tell me you still feel something.”

You closed your eyes.

Because that was the problem.

You still felt everything.

Because Mattheo Riddle was finally saying all the right words.

You just weren’t sure if they were enough.

You pulled away first.

It was barely a step, but it was enough to have Mattheo’s fingers twitching at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you, to anchor you back to him. But he didn’t. He just stood there, waiting—something you weren’t sure he had ever done before.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “You don’t get to do this now.”

“Y/n—”

“No.” Your voice wavered, but you kept going. “You don’t get to act like you suddenly can’t live without me when for years, I wasn’t enough to make you stay. You had so many chances, Mattheo.” Your hands clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms. “Do you know how many nights I spent wondering if you’d ever just say it?”

Regret flashed in his dark eyes. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have waited until someone else was standing beside me to realize it.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his curls. “You think I didn’t want to say it?” His voice was raw now, lower, edged with something that made your chest tighten. “You think I didn’t lie awake every night hating myself for keeping my mouth shut? I—” He broke off, jaw clenching. “You were the only thing I wanted, Y/n. But I was so fucking scared that if I said it out loud, I’d lose you.”

Your breath hitched.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I thought if I never said the words, you couldn’t leave.”

Something inside you cracked wide open. “So instead, you left me waiting.”

The truth hung between you, raw and bleeding.

Mattheo took a step closer, slow, hesitant. “Tell me what to do,” he murmured. “Tell me how to fix this.”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “You can’t just fix this with words, Mattheo.”

“Then tell me what to do,” he repeated, voice breaking at the edges. “Tell me how to prove to you that I won’t lose you again.”

You inhaled, the weight of everything pressing against your ribs.

And the worst part? You wanted to believe him. Because it was Mattheo. Because despite everything, he had always been the one person you could never seem to let go of.

But what if you let yourself fall—again—only for him to walk away when things got too real?

What if he broke you this time?

You shook your head, stepping back again. “I don’t know if you can.”

Mattheo’s expression twisted, his breathing uneven. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t beg. He just watched you with those dark, desperate eyes, as if he already knew he had finally run out of time.

You turned before you could change your mind, before your heart could convince you to stay, and walked away.

And Mattheo Riddle—who always got what he wanted—was left standing in the dim firelight, watching the only thing he had ever truly cared about slip through his fingers.

Again.

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Mattheo wasn’t handling this well.

In fact, he was handling this so badly that even Enzo and Draco—two people who had never hesitated to call him an idiot—were actively avoiding him.

He barely slept. Barely ate. Barely did anything besides replay that night in his head over and over again, trying to figure out the exact moment he had truly lost you.

At first, he thought you were just giving yourself space. That maybe you needed a few days before you’d come back to him. But then a week passed. Then two. And nothing.

No stolen glances. No lingering moments. Not even a single sarcastic remark thrown his way.

You were done.

And the worst part? You looked happy.

You smiled at Theo, you laughed at Pansy’s jokes, and when Mattheo walked into a room, you didn’t tense up or look away—you just… didn’t look at him at all.

Like he didn’t exist.

And it was killing him.

───────────────

“You’re miserable to be around.”

Mattheo scowled, glaring at Enzo, who had just shoved a book at his chest. “Fuck off.”

“I would, but you look two seconds away from setting the common room on fire, and frankly, I don’t want to die tonight.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and slumped back against the couch, his head pounding. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was, how his hands were still curled into fists at his sides.

Enzo crossed his arms. “You need to do something, man. Either let her go or actually do something to get her back.”

Mattheo let out a low, humorless laugh. “She’s already gone.”

“Then make her not be.”

His jaw clenched.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? He had spent years waiting—waiting—for the perfect moment to tell you. And in the end, he had just waited himself right out of your life.

But no.

No.

He wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

So, he made you listen.

It started small. A lingering touch when he brushed past you in the hallways. A hushed “Morning, Y/n” when he passed your table in the Great Hall, even though you ignored him every single time.

But then it got worse.

Because Mattheo Riddle had never been good at subtlety.

He started showing up where he knew you’d be—outside the library, in the corridors between classes, at breakfast before you even got there, waiting, watching.

And you tried to act like you didn’t notice, like he wasn’t there.

But then one night, he snapped.

───────────────

It was late, the castle mostly empty, when he found you slipping out of the common room, probably heading for the Astronomy Tower. You barely made it past the door before his hand was wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n, please.”

You inhaled sharply, looking down at where he touched you before slowly, carefully, pulling your arm away.

“What do you want, Mattheo?”

His throat bobbed. “You.”

Something flickered in your expression—something too fast for him to catch. Then you shook your head.

“You don’t get to say that now.”

“Why?” His voice was hoarse. “Because it took me too long? Because I fucked up?” He let out a breath, stepping closer. “You’re right, I did. I fucked up. I should have told you years ago. I should have never let you doubt for a second that I—” His voice cracked. “That I love you.”

You inhaled sharply, but your face stayed unreadable.

Mattheo ran a hand through his curls, his usual cocky confidence shattered. “I don’t know how to be good at this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to say all the right things. But I know what I feel, and I know that the idea of you with anyone else makes me fucking insane.” His voice dropped, raw and aching. “But the idea of losing you completely? That kills me, Y/n.”

Your lips parted, but you didn’t say anything.

For the first time, Mattheo felt helpless. Because this wasn’t something he could fight his way out of, wasn’t something he could win just by wanting it badly enough.

This was you.

And you had all the power now.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispered. “But I’m asking for one anyway.”

The silence stretched, suffocating.

And then—finally—you spoke.

“Prove it.”

Mattheo’s breath caught. “How?”

You tilted your chin up, eyes steady, unyielding. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if you really want this, if you really want me, then you’ll figure it out.”

And with that, you turned and walked away.

But this time, Mattheo didn’t let the moment slip through his fingers.

Because this time, he was going to prove to you that he wasn’t just saying the right words—

He was finally ready to mean them.

───────────────

Mattheo Riddle didn’t know how to grovel.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to bring you flowers or write you love letters. He wasn’t soft, wasn’t the kind of person who laid his feelings bare for the world to see. But for you?

For you, he would figure it out.

Because you had told him to prove it.

So he would.

Step One: Show Up.

Mattheo had spent years standing on the sidelines of his own feelings, watching, waiting, always assuming he had more time. But not anymore.

Now, he was there. Everywhere.

You didn’t make it easy for him.

You ignored him in the halls. You turned away when he walked into a room. You pretended not to notice when he waited for you after class, leaning against the stone walls like it was effortless—like he wasn’t two seconds away from begging you to just look at him.

But Mattheo was nothing if not stubborn.

So he kept showing up.

And eventually, you stopped pretending you didn’t notice.

Step Two: Say It. Mean It. Make It Unmistakable.

The night he told you how he felt, you had said something that had kept him up at night.

"You can’t just fix this with words, Mattheo."

And maybe you were right.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop saying them.

“You look beautiful today.” “Did you sleep well?” “I miss you.”

They were small things, quiet words murmured in passing, but he meant every single one. And when you finally—finally—let yourself meet his eyes one day in the Great Hall, something in his chest thundered.

Because there it was.

That flicker of something, that maybe.

And he would take it.

Step Three: Don’t Let Go.

The turning point came on a cold, rainy night.

You were coming back from the library, arms full of books, looking exhausted. And Mattheo? He had been waiting outside the common room for hours, hoping—praying—you’d talk to him.

And then you dropped your books.

A low curse left your lips as parchment scattered across the floor. Before you could kneel to grab them, Mattheo was already there, gathering them into a messy pile.

You stared at him, frozen.

He swallowed hard, holding the books out to you. “Here.”

You didn’t take them. Not immediately. Your fingers twitched, your lips parting, like there was something you wanted to say but weren’t sure if you should.

And then, finally—finally—you sighed.

“Why are you still trying?”

Mattheo exhaled slowly, his hands tightening around the books. “Because I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t trying to charm his way out of this.

He was just looking at you, pleading, his voice raw. “Because I don’t want to spend another second pretending like I don’t.”

You swallowed. “Mattheo…”

“I know I messed up.” He took a step closer. “I know I took too long. I know I hurt you, and I will spend every day proving to you that I won’t do it again.” His voice softened, but the desperation still bled through. “Just… tell me I still have a chance.”

The hallway was silent except for the crackling of the torches and the rain tapping against the windows.

Then—so quietly he almost didn’t hear it—you whispered, “You do.”

Something in Mattheo’s chest cracked wide open.

And then your hands were on his.

Fingers curling over his knuckles, warm, solid, real.

His breath stuttered as you took the books from his grip and, instead of stepping away, you stayed there. Right in front of him.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then you inhaled deeply. “You have to mean it, Mattheo.”

“I do,” he promised, voice fierce.

You held his gaze for a long, torturous moment—then, so softly he thought he imagined it, you whispered, “Okay.”

And for the first time in years, Mattheo let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t lost you after all.

Step Four: Love Her.

The first time you let him touch you again—really touch you—was on a quiet evening in the Astronomy Tower.

You had been sitting beside him, the two of you bathed in silver moonlight, your head tipped back as you looked at the stars.

And then, slowly, carefully, you reached for his hand.

Fingers sliding between his, warm and steady.

Mattheo swore he stopped breathing.

Because it wasn’t just a touch.

It was a promise.

And when you turned to look at him, eyes soft, lips curling in the smallest, most devastating smile—he knew.

He had finally done it.

He had finally gotten you.

And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

[nicoleshifting]

well just saw out my window on the hogwarts express again AND saw my black cat midnight run over to me from the seat across from me and could literally like feel her walking next to me?

trust i will not be getting stuck in this loop of half shifting like i was with my twd dr... gonna pull some cards and see what's up bc let's get to being fully on this damn train. the ride is long enough as is damn i wanna eat at the great hall cmon!