Rev. Alcyone Daze
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facilitatrix.bsky.social
Rev. Alcyone Daze
@facilitatrix.bsky.social
450 followers 410 following 3.2K posts
3 aeons in a trenchcoat.

Accused of the Devil's work & praised for the LORD's work with roughly equal frequency; for legal & safety reasons it's just me on the business cards.

Hedge priest, raconteur, bioethicist, part-time psychopomp. 🔞. (Ey/em/eir)
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facilitatrix.bsky.social
FORTY-TWO FAHRENHEIT IN OAKLAND; LET’S GO COLD MISERS
It’s 42F in Oakland Feet in flip-flops standing in snow, not in Oakland, but they’re perfectly acceptable and comfortable for short trips outside Hanging out on a snowy patio in a tank top while my mom yells at me to come back inside.
December 8, 2025 at 4:01 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Life is just one damnable thing after the next :)
An untitled goose game meme generator by Foone, reading “solve one problem” (crossed out) and then “solve all of the remaining problems” (still to do)
December 7, 2025 at 8:17 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
She is an absolute *paragon* of A Good Familiar, so the “uncannily good at dowsing the location of missing items” and “met a friend at the door and guided her to where I had passed out waiting for a ride to the ER” gets balanced by “hyperfixated on trying to eat lit candles.”
You gotta propitiate your familiars or they start, like, slowly dragging every single pair of underwear you own into the crawlspace so they can loaf atop their ill-gotten throne. Image is of a “hot rod” tabby cat absolutely locked onto finishing the Churu being offered to her. Excited ears, tongue out, slightly cross-eyed from how close the Churu is to her face.
December 6, 2025 at 6:23 AM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
My dearest Phoebe had her annual check-up and I regret timing it with Flat Fuck Friday because she was *extra* tragic.

(She’s fine, but appears to have a heart murmur lately; it’s not too scary at present but something I need to keep an eye on.)
A brown and white tabby at the vet’s office looking Extra Sad about it. (She didn’t even get shots or blood work today!) That same extra tragic tabby cat, offered her favorite turkey Temptations, but refusing them and instead sniffing morosely at them and then laying her head on them and yowling.
December 6, 2025 at 5:14 AM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Working on props for next weekend and feeling pretty chuffed about my painting skills :)
Plotting shenanigans for the murder mystery I’m hosting next week; I spray painted a lockbox gold and painted a logo for the North Pole Post Office.
December 6, 2025 at 5:07 AM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Still weirdly proud of an older woman crossing herself at the sight of me at a renaissance festival.
A very bedazzled elastomeric respirator
December 4, 2025 at 7:28 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
PEPPERIDGE FARM REMEMBERS
Nessa is saved in my phone with the note that they are my best friend and that they also hit me with a car. (The first is on purpose, the second probably was not.)
December 3, 2025 at 5:20 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
But for the sake of keeping myself humble, that’s for patchwork quilts. If anything happens to my knit goods my coping skills go from “another opportunity for growth!” to “outsource repair to an expert and then hunt the offender for sport.”
A heptagram blanket I made this fall; there’s a bunch of Occult Bullshit in the stitch count and it is extremely snuggly.
December 3, 2025 at 3:41 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
My favorite (mobility device, not kink) cane place started selling canes with extremely powerful lights in the base and I *love* the visibility after dark but y’all I cannot carry this without immediately becoming Miss Frizzle’s carnival barker ex-lover with dubious medical ethics.
The glow looks a little like piss in this pic but it’s more an Old Gods amber/orange ombré in person. I didn’t need to work to get the ominous shadows, they just happen naturally.
December 3, 2025 at 3:26 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
I don’t really vibe with the hypno aspect of drone shit—I mostly enjoy not having to worry about how other folks parse my facial expressions—but: my kingdom for more diverse bodies in latex.
A rubbery creature blocking an emergency exit.
November 27, 2025 at 3:15 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Pleased to report that the Zoomers on my flight thought my respirator was cool and were asking how to make their own.
Alc in a black leather jacket and a white respirator bedazzled in purple and gold crystals for LSU tailgating
November 25, 2025 at 9:02 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
If you’re a “loves manicures but basically can’t grow your nails out for hobby/anxiety/butch reasons” HeyHae makes gel nails that cure by being out in the sunshine for 5-10 minutes and they last for a couple of weeks. They’re having a pretty decent sale right now:
heyhae.co
Manicured fingers with a brown to slate blue ombré Manicured fingers with a sky blue ombré at the tips to natural at the base
November 23, 2025 at 7:09 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
My Phoebe would like to make the acquaintance of your Phoebe!
A toothless brown and white tabby cat finding g-d at the bottom of a tube of Churu
November 23, 2025 at 7:00 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Without downloading any new pics, what’s it like to date you?
A gengar patting the bed it’s already lying in; impossible to tell if it’s leering or if this is just its face. Wheatpaste of two people in full latex kissing with a thorny font reading YOU CANNOT HURT US IN A WAY THAT MATTERS The “this is fine” meme but it’s biblical Greek Some Netflix comedy special with the caption reading Before, it would not have been possible for me to go to a sex party. What I bring to a social setting is humor. And nobody wants an ironic blowjob. “How was the orgy?” So witty. So witty.
November 23, 2025 at 4:38 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
The Centre for Useless Splendour
November 20, 2025 at 1:53 AM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
I’m suddenly forming an alternate hypothesis:
A closeup of a brown and white tabby cat with her dumb, adorable little face wedged inside a water glass. Her tongue is captured mid-slurp.
November 18, 2025 at 7:30 AM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Love learning that Daughter From California syndrome has regional variants.
"Daughter from California" syndrome is a phrase used in the American medical profession to describe a situation in which a hitherto disengaged relative challenges the care a dying elderly patient is being given, or insists that the medical team pursue aggressive measures to prolong the patient's life. In California, the "Daughter from California" is known as the "Daughter from New York";[1] the "Daughter from Ontario" is a Canadian variant.[2]: 396: Editor's note to the title.  The "Daughter from California" is often described as angry, articulate, and uninformed.[3] The phrase was first documented by a collective of gerontologists in a 1991 case report published in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society, titled "Decision Making in the Incompetent Elderly: 'The Daughter from California Syndrome'".[2] In the paper, David Molloy and colleagues presented strategies intended to help medical staff deal with the difficult family members of mentally incompetent patients.[4] Medical professionals say that because the "Daughter from California" has been absent from the life and care of the elderly patient, they are frequently surprised by the scale of the patient's deterioration, and may have unrealistic expectations about what is medically feasible. They may feel guilty about having been absent, and may therefore feel motivated to reassert their role as an involved caregiver.[5] In his 2015 book The Conversation: A Revolutionary Plan for End-of-Life Care, American physician Angelo Volandes ascribes this to "guilt and denial" rather than "necessarily what is best for the patient".[6]
November 8, 2025 at 5:18 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
(Part 2 of 2)
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives. And you'll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they'll be comforted to know your energy's still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you're just less orderly. Amen.
November 1, 2025 at 8:45 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
And wrapping up #DIYandDie for the year, one last bit of irreverence for All Saint's Day. (1 of 2)
[images throughout these posts are of 50s retro illustrations of the solar system, with sort of retrofuturistic sci-fi fonts] PLANNING AHEAD CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THE END By: Aaron Freeman Transcribed by A. Daze, DIYandDie, 2025 You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got. And at one point you'd hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
November 1, 2025 at 8:45 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
I didn’t intend for us to coordinate, but we still need the other five deadly sins…
Alc, looking tired as hell in a sloth kigurumi, because ey were the only person on a 30-coworker “show us your Halloween costume” zoom call to actually be in costume. The Santa Muerte ey painted is in the background, with a festive marigold flower crown. Phoebe, a brown and white mackerel tabby, is frantically licking a Churu while wearing a little rainbow bandana that says WRATH.
October 31, 2025 at 11:05 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
(4 of 4)
Happy Halloween, everyone.
Keep the fires lit. Keep the porch lights on.
Walk each other home.
May we do our best to make you proud. May you be with us as we strive, close as seed to fruit, breath to bone. Welcome home, beloved living. [Image is a black and white photo of headstones that are weathered enough that several have begun to tilt and sink back into the earth.] There will be a reckoning, and when you are an ancestor your story will be told. May it be brave, worth telling. Nothing is done. Nothing is gone. Nothing is over. [Image is of sidewalk chalk spiderwebs, one of which has a spider dangling from it.] May the door be open to the best things that the truth could mean, and not the worst. Put a little light out for those lost out there on the roads of night. Light the fires that need to burn. Let's all get home together. [Image is of a lit jack-o-lantern crowned with a spiky halo of green light] And at the monster hour, when the dead come knocking, please friends, offer them something sweet. You'll be joining them soon enough. [Image is of sidewalk-chalk jack-o-lanterns and assorted bones.]
October 31, 2025 at 4:22 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
(Part 3 of 4)
That leaves us with work (and joy yet to be found) in our lifetimes, and with more work (and more joy) for whoever (and whatever) comes after it.
Find the strength that made you. May the insight, courage, power, and hope of our beloved dead be with us as we fight, especially here in the hour when they are so very close. [Image is a sketch of a witch's hat resting against a broom.] For all for which they wish to atone, let that reparation be fulfilled and justice made. For all their brave victories, let them be increased. [Image is a dark background with two twisted trees mirroring one another to frame the bright green text.] May we the living, here in the shadow of those who preceded us in life and death, honor them by using our lives well, and meet them proudly. [Image is of two people dressed as sheet ghosts playing on a swingset. One is waving and holding a bucket of candy under their arm. The other is pointing at the camera.] For our families, those gone, and here, and yet to come— For the families of those who shame them by serving evil ideologies— For living hope— Welcome home, beloved dead. [Image is the text wrapped in an ectoplasm green speech bubble, being spoken by a little sidewalk-chalk sketch of a sheet ghost.]
October 31, 2025 at 4:22 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
(2 of 4)
According to my notes this was written in 2018.
It feels like it could've been written yesterday.
It feels like it's always been true, though.
It feels like it always will be.
When you meet the dead out walking, offer them hospitality and honor. And ask, politely, for help getting the living free. They still care. [Image of a cartoon headstone with green light radiating from it like a halo.] Imagine having to watch your descendants go through this era. You'd want to help your living family, too. They work through us. Welcome them. [Image is a faded photograph of a full moon through tree branches.] Our work while we live is us, as ancestors, aiding our future descendants. Feeding them. Making their lives possible. As it was done for us. [Image is a pseudo-vintage photo of kids in costume—a Maleficent-looking witch, a devil with a pitchfork, and an angel.] What we are will be in the care of those left to come. What the dead were, good and bad, is in our care now. [Image is of an old cemetery in winter; there's a green tinge to the photo and several weathered headstones make interesting shadows.]
October 31, 2025 at 4:22 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Today's #DIYandDie is a graphic adaptation of a thread @burnlittlelight.bsky.social put on Twitter years ago and which I have been carrying around in the closest approximation I have to a grimoire for years.
HALLOWEEN PRAYER By: Rev. Elena Rose, @burnlittlelight.bsky.social Wrestled into graphic form by Rev. Alcyone Daze, @facilitatrix.bsky.social [Note: Almost all of the graphics here are a mix of pseudo-vintage photographs and sidewalk-chalk-esque drawings in shades of neon green, white, and dappled charcoal, and black. This features a little sketch of a skull with a spiky neon green halo of light emanating from its brow.]
October 31, 2025 at 4:22 PM
facilitatrix.bsky.social
Part 4 of 4.
So where do we find our comfort and strength in times of mourning? We want our comfort to be evidence-based and scientific. Grieving parents may be comforted by knowledge from a 2012 study published in Scientific American that showed that cells from a child live on in their mother’s brain. Similarly, while often delivered tongue-in-cheek, the law of conservation of energy means that “not a bit of our [loved ones are] gone, [they’re] just less orderly.” We want our comfort to be true as well as kind. We want to remember and share the very real ways in which our loved ones’ lives continue to impact the world around us. Honoring our loved ones through actions, particularly actions which give ongoing benefit to others, provide grieving nonbelievers with a sense that their loved ones’ lives mattered and continue to matter, despite the totality and finality of their loss. We want to be able to share the stories and memories of the ones we loved. Storytelling and the sharing of photos and mementos is another form comfort common in our community. To show a picture of a loved one and hear it praised and remarked on just plain feels good. Often, grieving people have been made to feel uncomfortable when they continue to talk about someone who has died when others want to move on or change the subject. Being among those similarly situated frees them to share memories and feelings for as long as they need to. While this comfort is also common among believers, nonbelievers appreciate a place to engage in mourning and celebrating a loved one without risking religious or spiritual commentary. Finally, we appreciate the collective acknowledgement that grief just plain sucks. We don’t want to be cheered up or encouraged to heal, get over it, or move on. We want to express our pain and have it witnessed with compassion and kindness.
October 30, 2025 at 4:37 PM