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(coming from a procrastinator that often gets bored during attempts and STILL shifts anyway)
HI SHIFTBLR! I'm back with a big post.
So, I've been on tiktok lately and i've been seeing a lot a lot a LOT of people talking about how to awake shift and it really inspired me to speak on my experience because i don't really see that many people share their awake shifting experiences in detail.
Just for context, I use my own method to awake shift. It's fairly easy. All it takes is patience and some free time, that's all.
There's this girl on tiktok named Kas who PERFECTLY encapsulated my METHOD in a video but in way better words. She defined shifting as DISCONNECTION, IDENTIFICATION, AND RECONNECTION! That is exactly it! Most people get stuck on Disconnection and give up. I often get really bored before this part but trust me that's just your ego trying to stop you! Don't ever listen! You could live your dream life rn babes why would you quit?!?
So, THIS IS HOW IT FEELS TO SHIFT WHILE AWAKE:
I meditate by breathing in like 2-5 times, sometimes i do it for longer but i find that if i do it for too long, i end up falling asleep. This step is important but it shouldn't be overdone because your body isn't even needed to shift.
i immediately start on DISCONNECTION. I tell myself "I am disconnected from my current reality. I am not this body / vessel" until i start to feel a little floaty.
After feeling floaty, i'm still feeling connected to my CR but i kinda ignore it and just skip straight to connecting to my DR SELF via identity affirmations.
Usually at this point i start to visualize where i'll wake up and sometimes i get so deep in it that i dont even have to do CONNECTION because i'll start hearing stuff from my DR or feeling stuff. Like if i'm petting my cat, i'll subtly feel her fur but like in my CR if that makes sense?? It's like i can FEEL it as my DR self but my CR self is feeling the sensations. I actually hate this because it feels like a game of cat n fucking mouse. Like whats the point of that "phantom" ass feeling? Just shift and feel it for real lmaoo!!
I'm going to try to explain this as best i can: When I shift while awake, it's lik the reality fades in. Like, I'm in my CR doing affs, and then all of a sudden i'm in my DR. . . there is no distinction of travel between the two. i'm just here one moment and then the next im in my DR. I can never predict the exact moment because it just happens and im not even really paying attention when it does. I just notice that i'm there, yk?
lately i've been getting bored after the feelings stop, so i just kinda give up :/ but i still hear stuff from my DR so i count that as a partial shift, aka shifting regardless!!!
thank ya for reading and prepare to hear me talk about this again as i continue to shift later today :) feel free to hit my ask box with questions!!!!!
I am unsure if i’ve posted my shifting method before, and if I have it most likely has changed since then. Of course a method isn’t necessary, and this is probably like every other method you see too.
I honestly do this when I literally am to tired but wanna shift 😭
step one - just like every method get comfortable, personally I also can’t sleep anymore without some sort of like ambience so I listen to this deep sleep hypnosis type thing, and to be honest it does help me, so I make sure all the tools I need to sleep in general I have, such like my snoopy teddy.
step two - breathing, just breathe, allow yourself to think, thinking is NORMAL!! don’t let it frustrate you, your intention is to shift after all and you can and will still be able to shift even if your thinking about an event that happened when you were five.
step three - for me this is where the shift really begins, usually if i wanna go full out i will count to 100, but i don’t have effort for that usually, so I tell myself by the time I have counted to 10, 20 or even 30. It’s usually 10, I have shifted no matter what. In all my methods, I won't force myself or push myself to do stuff, as I feel like that defeats the purpose for me methods are all about relaxing and assuming.
step four - this is sort of where I "visualise" and affirm, for me I never know if im visualising correctly LOL and I can't care less if it works it works you know, so what I do is now I have told myself I am in my chosen reality, if I think of something from this reality, it doesn't matter as I am in my chosen reality - sort of like if you think of your chosen reality here you know, it is the same to me. So what I start to do, is just think, think about where I am, what I will be doing that week or day, events happening, like if I am shifting to my fame dr I think about the fact im going on my first ever tour soon and I am currently preparing for that and so on, this to me doesn't need to be extreme, it can be a simple "oh, and I'm doing this.."
I will simply do this until I fall asleep or shift either way you know, I can't with forcing myself anymore, or frustrations. If I think about this reality, so what? I know my intention, I know where my assumption lays, I think about my drs constantly in this reality and I will most likely in my other realities. I also work a lot with my assumptions through out the day, if I say I am a master shifter I am, if I tell myself I can shift when I want wherever I want I can. I don't want to limit myself either so if I am unsure where to shift to I just do universal assumptions like the two I put previous.
anyways, happy shifting to all of you and happy pride months my lovelies - I know its 5 days late but its been one hell of a week ;-;.
(p.s. my goal is to try and post much more now this summer - I finished my last exam today so I have so much free time now, unless I do get hired for a job.)
The first time you saw Ronin's work, you didn't look away.
That was the thing. That was always the thing.
[ Slaughterhouse-Losers ]
goreboy: [image attached]
hitmeuppp: I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THAT WHILE EATING CEREAL -_-
goreboy: lighten up i dressed it up Special. added a little heart around the neck hole. for Valentines.
goreboy: [image attached]
Angelic: ANOTHER ONE???
goreboy: this one's for you Specifically angel. notice the Absence of eyes. figured you'd Relate <3
Angelic: I hate you <3
You'd stared at the second photo longer than you should have. Not out of horror (though there was plenty of that) but because you'd noticed something in the composition. The way the body was positioned. The deliberate staging. The dark, twisted artistry of it.
You: The lighting in the second one is interesting. How'd you get it like that?
The chat went quiet for exactly twelve seconds.
goreboy: ?
goreboy: you serious?
You: Yeah. Looks like you used a single overhead source. Creates that spotlight effect. Dramatic.
goreboy: oh
goreboy: OH
goreboy: well well Well
goreboy: looks like we have a fan
Angelic: PLEASE do not encourage him
goreboy: shush angel the adults are Talking
goreboy: and yeah. Single overhead. work light from a hardware store. $12.99. i'm a bargain Butcher
You: It works. The shadows are clean.
goreboy: i like you
That was the start.
---
Part Two:
He DM'ed you that same night.
goreboy: so you're not Scared of me
It wasn't a question the way he wrote it. More like a hypothesis he was testing.
You: Should I be?
goreboy: Most people are
goreboy: you asked about my Lighting
You: It was a good question.
goreboy: you're weird
You: Takes one to know one.
goreboy: HA
goreboy: ok
goreboy: guess i'm Not making you my 667th
You: Generous
goreboy: i Know
And then, almost as an afterthought—
goreboy: what else do you notice
That question became a ritual. Every time he posted something new—and he posted often—he'd DM you afterward.
goreboy: [image attached]
goreboy: what do you see
You: The angle's different this time. Lower. Almost like you're looking up at them.
goreboy: getting on my Knees for my art 🧎♂️
You: It changes the power dynamic. The subject looks monumental. Like a monument to itself.
goreboy: ...
goreboy: god you're Strange
You: You're the one making monument corpses
goreboy: Touché
---
Weeks passed. The conversations drifted.
goreboy: what's your favorite color
You: Red
You: wbu?
goreboy: mine's the Color of arterial spray
You: So red😭
goreboy: a Specific red
You: You're such an edgelord
goreboy: takes one to flick the bic, baby
You: Did you just call me baby?
goreboy: ...
goreboy: i call everyone That
You: Mhmm sure you do
goreboy: SHUT
goreboy: UP
---
Part Three:
It happened slowly, then all at once.
He started texting you first. Not about the photos—not anymore—but about everything else. Music, movies, the idiot things the others on the server said, whether hot dogs counted as sandwiches (his stance: "they count as a CRIME") and whether ghosts were real.
---
[ Slaughterhouse-Losers ]
goreboy: [image attached] (slightly blurry photo of a convenience store at 3am)
Angelic: is this... a normal photo?
K9: I'm confused. Where's the gore?
goreboy: not everything i post is Gore you absolute Vultures
goreboy: sometimes i Just like the way Places look when the world's asleep
goreboy: the fluorescent Buzzing. the emptiness. the one tired guy behind the counter who's seen Too much to care about anything anymore
goreboy: it's romantic actually
Angelic: You and I have very different definitions of romantic
goreboy: obviously. mine are Correct
You smiled at your phone. Then decided to DM the asshole.
You: That photo was beautiful
goreboy: yeah?
You: Yeah. The glow on the wet pavement. The loneliness of it.
goreboy: god
goreboy: you always
goreboy: you always See it
You: See what?
goreboy: whatever i'm trying to show you
---
Part Four:
He called you at 2am. You picked up on the second ring.
"Couldn't sleep?" you asked.
"Didn't try." His voice was rougher than you expected. Lower. It scraped across the phone line like something with teeth. "Had a job tonight."
"Oh?"
"Mm. Didn't take photos."
"Why not?"
Silence. Then a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. "Didn't feel right. Without—"
He stopped.
"Without what?"
"Without asking you about the lighting first." A pause. "Isn't that fucked up? I've been doing this for years and now I'm second-guessing my composition because some girl on the internet has good taste."
"I'm not some girl."
"No," he agreed, and his voice went soft in a way you'd never heard from him. Not in the chat. Not in the DMs. Not anywhere. "No, you're not."
"Ronin—"
"Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you mean it. I won't— I can't—" A sharp exhale. "I don't do this. I don't feel this. I'm the Butcher. I'm the demon in the dark. I don't—"
"Get scared?"
"I'm never scared."
"Liar."
The silence stretched so long you thought he'd hung up.
"Come over," he said finally.
"What?"
"Not— I'm not going to do anything. I just... I need to see you. In person. I need to know if you're real."
---
Part Five:
He was exactly as dramatic as you'd imagined.
Black leather jacket with scissors punched through the shoulder. Safety pins catching the streetlight. The devil-horn beanie casting shadows across sharp cheekbones. Black lipstick slightly smudged, like he'd been biting his lips. Dark eyes—void-dark, just like they'd described—staring at you from the doorway of an apartment that smelled like incense and iron.
"You came," he said. Not surprised. Not relieved. More like a scientist confirming a theory.
"You asked."
He stepped aside. The apartment was exactly what you'd expect and somehow nothing like it. Candles everywhere. Band posters on every wall. A couch that looked like it had been rescued from three different dumpsters. And books, stacks upon stacks of books, spines cracked and worn.
Poetry, you noticed. Lots of poetry.
"Looking for the murder dungeon?" he asked, watching you take it in. "It's in the basement. Very atmospheric. Very cliché."
"I was looking at your books."
"Of course you were."
You turned to face him. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an expression you couldn't quite read. He looked like a cornered animal that had decided to bare its teeth for the time being, but its teeth were trembling.
"You're not afraid," he said. It was the same way he'd texted it that first night. A hypothesis.
"You keep saying that like you're waiting for it to change."
"It always changes."
"I'm not 'always.'"
He pushed off the doorframe and moved toward you. Not slowly—Ronin didn't do anything slowly—but deliberately, each step placed with intention. He stopped close enough that you could see the scars visible above his collar. Not random. Patterns. Words, maybe, if you looked long enough.
"Let me get this straight," he said, voice low. "You know what I am. You know what I do. You've seen the photos. You've heard me talk about it. You've looked at my lighting choices for my murder scenes." He tilted his head. "And you're standing in my apartment. At three in the morning. Alone."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you asked me to come."
"That's not a reason."
"It's enough of one."
He stared at you. Those black-hole eyes searching your face for— what? Fear? Disgust? The thing that always came eventually?
He wasn't going to find it.
"Say something," he whispered.
"You have a poem scarred into your collarbone."
His hand came up instinctively—not to hide it, but to touch it. Like he'd forgotten it was visible. "It's Poe."
"'The desire of the moth for the star'?"
His breath caught. "You— How did you—"
"It's one of my favorites."
He made a sound. Not a laugh—not quite. Something rawer. Something that had been locked in his chest for a very long time and had just discovered the key.
"You're going to destroy me," he said. "You know that? Some girl with her Poe and her lighting critiques and her complete refusal to be afraid. You're going to take me apart like one of my own jobs."
"Maybe you want to be taken apart."
"Maybe I—" He stopped. Swallowed. His hand was still on his collar, over the scarred words, and you reached up and moved it away. He flinched—not from fear, but from the tenderness of the gesture. Like physical gentleness was something his body didn't know how to process.
You traced the scarred letters with your fingertip. Light. Careful. Not because he was fragile—he was anything but—but because the words deserved it.
"'Of the night for the morrow,'" you read. "'The devotion to something afar—'"
"'From the sphere of our sorrow,'" he finished, and his voice cracked on the last word like glass breaking.
He kissed you.
Not gently. Not softly. Ronin kissed the same way he killed—desperate, deliberate, consuming. His black lipstick smeared against your mouth and his scarred hands grabbed your face and he kissed you like he was trying to swallow you whole, like he wanted to climb inside your chest and live there, like he'd been starving for years and you were the first thing that tasted real.
And you kissed him back. Just as hard. Just as hungry.
He pulled away gasping, forehead pressed to yours, breathing like he'd run a marathon.
"I'm not going to be normal about this," he said. "I need you to know that. I'm going to be INSANE about this. I'm going to be obsessive and possessive and terrible. I'm going to text you at 4am and send you things that would make normal people vomit and I am not going to apologize for any of it."
"I don't want you to apologize."
"I'm going to want to know where you are all the time."
"I know."
"I'm going to treat you like you're mine."
"I am."
He pulled back to look at you. His eyes were wild. His lipstick was ruined. He looked like something unholy and gorgeous and completely, catastrophically undone.
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