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nightsidewrestling · 2 months

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D.U.D.E Bios: Ida McDougall

The Cyhyraeth Duchess of C.R.C Ida McDougall (2020)

The eldest daughter of Deirdre, and second eldest granddaughter of Naoise, Ida. An Irish-Catholic woman living in Wales and an attentive and sympathetic mother. Ida is one of Kirby's first cousins once removed.

"Some days I really could scream my scream lungs out."

Name

Full Legal Name: Ida Elain Ffion Briallen McDougall (Née Llewellyn)

First Name: Ida

Meaning: Derived from the Germanic element 'Id' possibly meaning 'Work, Labour'.

Pronunciation: IE-da

Origin: English, German, Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, Dutch, Italian, French, Polish, Finnish, Hungarian, Slovak, Slovene, Germanic

Middle Name(s): Elain, Ffion, Briallen

Meaning(s): Elain: Means 'Fawn' in Welsh. Ffion: Means 'Foxglove' in Welsh. Briallen: Derived from Welsh 'Briallu' meaning 'Primrose'.

Pronunciation(s): EH-lien. FEE-awn / FI-awn. bri-A-shehn

Origin(s): Welsh. Welsh. Welsh.

Surname: McDougall (Née Llewellyn)

Meaning: Variant of 'MacDougall', which means 'Son of Dougall' in Gaelic. (Llewellyn: Derived from the Welsh given name 'Llywelyn', which is probably a Welsh form of unattested Old Celtic name 'Lugubelinos', a combination of the names of the gods 'Lugus' and 'Belenus', or a compound of 'Lugus' and a Celtic root meaning 'Strong'.)

Pronunciation: mack-DO-gall (loo-EHL-in)

Origin: Scottish (Welsh)

Alias: Cyhyraeth Duchess, Ida McDougall

Reason: This is Ida's ring name

Nicknames: None

Titles: Mrs

Characteristics

Age: 27

Gender: Female. She/Her Pronouns

Race: Human

Nationality: Welsh

Ethnicity: White

Birth Date: November 5th 1993

Symbols: Banshees, Cyhyraeths, Ghosts, Crowns

Sexuality: Straight

Religion: Irish-Catholic

Native Language: Welsh

Spoken Languages: Welsh, Irish, Scottish (Scots Gaelic), English

Relationship Status: Married

Astrological Sign: Scorpio

Theme Song: 'The Dirty Glass' - Dropkick Murphys (2011-)

Voice Actor: Anna Thomas

Geographical Characteristics

Birthplace: Tullahought, Kilkenny, Ireland

Current Location: Llanfaethlu, Anglesey, Wales

Hometown: Llanfaethlu, Anglesey, Wales

Appearance

Height: 5'6" / 167 cm

Weight: 136 lbs / 61 kg

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Brown

Hair Dye: None

Body Hair: N/A

Facial Hair: N/A

Tattoos: (As of Jan 2020) 15

Piercings: Ear Lobe (Both), Tragus (Both), Eyebrow (Double, Both), Anti-Eyebrow (Both)

Scars: None

Health and Fitness

Allergies: None

Alcoholic, Smoker, Drug User: Smoker, Social Drinker

Illnesses/Disorders: Depression

Medications: Antidepressants

Any Specific Diet: None

Relationships

Allies: (As of Jan 2020) The Rhydderch Clan

Enemies: (As of Jan 2020) None

Friends: Matrona Volkov, Eira MacThaoig, Rachel MacGregor, Wanda Llewellyn, Vale Llewellyn, Cadence Llewellyn, Dacre Llewellyn

Colleagues: The C.R.C Locker Rooms / Too Many To List

Rivals: None

Closest Confidant: Desmond McDougall

Mentor: Deirdre Llewellyn

Significant Other: Desmond McDougall (28, Husband)

Previous Partners: None of Note

Parents: Ivan Llewellyn (48, Father), Deirdre Llewellyn (47, Mother, Née Rhydderch)

Parents-In-Law: Diarmaid McDougall (58, Father-In-Law), Fionnuala McDougall (59, Mother-In-Law, Née Babineux)

Siblings: Kevin Llewellyn (24, Brother), Padrig Llewellyn (21, Brother), Wanda Llewellyn (18, Sister), Vale Llewellyn (15, Sister), Aaron Llewellyn (12, Brother), Bada Llewellyn (9, Brother), Cadence Llewellyn (6, Sister), Dacre Llewellyn (3, Sister)

Siblings-In-Law: Mavourneen Llewellyn (25, Kevin's Wife, Née McEachern), Rathnait Llewellyn (11, Padrig's Wife, Née McTaggart), Aoide McPhee (25, Desmond's Sister, Née McDougall), Valentin McPhee (26, Aoide's Husband), Tihomir McDougall (22, Desmond's Brother), Astraea McDougal (23, Tihomir's Wife, Née Monroe), Arete McDougall (19, Desmond's Sister), Tomislav McDougall (16, Desmond's Brother), Arethusa McDougall (13, Desmond's Sister)

Nieces & Nephews: Muadhnait Llewellyn (4, Niece), Muire Llewellyn (1, Niece), Ceallach Llewellyn (1, Nephew), Valko McPhee (5, Nephew), Arke McPhee (2, Niece), Velichko McDougall (2, Nephew)

Children: Keelin McDougall (7, Daughter), Caomh McDougall (4, Son), Cathal McDougall (1, Son)

Children-In-Law: None

Grandkids: None

Great Grandkids: None

Wrestling

Billed From: Kilkenny, Ireland

Trainer: The C.R.C Wrestling School, Talulla Rhydderch, Deirdre Llewellyn

Managers: Desmond McDougall

Wrestlers Managed: Desmond McDougall

Debut: 2011

Debut Match: Ida Llewellyn VS Deirdre Llewellyn. Ida won via pinfall.

Retired: N/A

Retirement Match: N/A

Wrestling Style: Brawler / Hardcore

Stables: The Rhydderch Clan (2011-)

Teams: No Team Names

Regular Moves: Belly To Back Suplex, Bulldog, Figure-Four Leglock, Inverted Atomic Drop, Low Blow, Multiple Jabs, Poking / Raking Opponent’s Eyes, Running High Knee Strike, Big Boot, Atomic Drop, Backbreaker Rack, Diving Overhead Chop, High Knee, One-Armed Body Slam, Piledriver, Running Big Boot, Running Leg Drop, Vertical Suplex Slam

Finishers: Sleeper Hold, Jumping Knee Drop, Top Rope Jumping Knee Drop

Extras

Backstory: Ida McDougall (Née Llewellyn) of the C.R.C (Welsh Wrestling League / Cynghrair Reslo Cymru) owning Rhydderch family. When Deirdre dies Ida will have a 1/504th ownership of the promotion. Ida is a 'Cyhyraeth Style’ (Brawler / Hardcore) trainer. She’s mostly Welsh.

Trivia: Nothing of Note

#D.U.D.E #original character #Rhydderch #Llewellyn #McDougall #C.R.C Wrestling School #C.R.C Wrestling Promotion #C.R.C Wrestling Family #Rhydderch Clan

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smartpeoplearehot · 1 year

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Incorrect Quotes - Ducktales - Louie and Doofus

Doofus, with his back turned: I’ve been expecting you, Llewellyn Louie: How did you do that without turning around? Doofus: ...To be perfectly honest, the first couple of people I did that to were not you.

#Llewellyn #llewellyn duck #Louie #louie duck #Doofus #doofus drake #ducktales #incorrect quotes

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spookyspaghettisundae · 6 months

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Already Tried Screaming

Darkness surrounded me. Engulfed me.

Fear—I felt no fear. I refused to let it control me. Trapped like this for so long, I needed to keep telling myself the darkness was my friend.

All sense of time had abandoned me, just like the woman who held me captive here. I had no way of knowing when I had last seen candlelight, nor the gas lantern in her pale hand, nor the dim gloom from the cellar beyond the single only door to which my prison ever opened.

I had given up all hope of freedom. Whatever time I had spent here, trapped, it felt like an extension of eternity. It might as well have been. And the longer the darkness kept me in its embrace, and I filled the sanity-eroding silence with whispers in my head, the more I found a strange sense of… comfort.

Comfort in wondering what the world outside looked like. What it would feel, and sound, and taste like. So starved was I, deprived of everything in this dark cell of mine.

If the lady of the house came to me now, I would oblige her every demand.

How long had it been since her last visit?

I had no inkling.

In our very first meeting, I had been very hopeful. The candlelight around us then had lent it an almost romantic air. At the time, I had believed to have found a kindred soul in her heart. And that sweet smile of hers, which I would come to understand later was a cracked mask of grief and loss and madness.

Only when she had revealed her intent to keep me here till I did her bidding, had I understood what monster lurked behind her disguise.

Silken lips pursed to blow out candles, thus she bathed me in shadow once she knew me helpless here. Helpless as I was when I first found myself in this cell, and I screamed. I screamed till my voice no longer sounded human.

Oh, the profanities I hurled at her, first eliciting giggles of sadistic glee, and later falling upon deaf ears. How quiet the mansion above us, that House of Helmberg, empty of all life, but the lady of the house and her deranged butler, shuffling about and whiling away the days I spent here as their prisoner.

Oh, how beautiful her playing of the piano, even muffled through sturdy walls and floor. I enjoyed the sadness in the pieces she played, and they offered reprieve from the silence surrounding me.

The butler sometimes visited alone, just to mock me. What a depraved creature he was, giving me nothing but cellar’s gloom whenever he arrived, bathed in twilight. His wicked grin, a silver crescent, a mad moon sliced across his face; oh, that lesser demon. Had she made him thus, or had he been so deranged all along?

They rarely received guests, but when they did, I tried my best to win attention. Anything as to not give in, to not give up. The only way I could even attempt to fight for my freedom, as helpless as I was here.

Just as now, as they received two new guests. Two men, judging by their muffled voices. One chortled often, the other spoke with a quiet confidence. Without a doubt, the two men were foreigners to this land, for they spoke with strange accents. And together, their oblivious presence instilled me with a sliver of hope, that I may yet find my freedom, if only their meddling proved sufficient.

Alas, my fate was a twisted road, coiled with the serpent of darkness. I dared not hope so soon, and listened carefully.

I schemed with what few options I had at my disposal.

I had already tried screaming with the first visitors, and now their blood fed the soil of Helmberg’s grounds, and the magic circles the mistress of the house had drawn in her dark rituals.

I had already tried singing to those that came next, for I hoped to provoke a different response, and a different outcome, yet my singing sent them fleeing with dread, and I knew not what had become of them.

This was my third chance. Perhaps my last. Who knew what torments awaited me if I failed to escape now?

I knew I needed to be more clever this time. But how? What should I do?

The lady of the house once again played on the piano, this time to entertain her guests. My well of tears was empty, yet she touched me again with her music. Such melancholy, such beautiful sorrow in those melodies, like she yearned for something lost, someone I could never bring back to her but in illusions. Every note, every chorus, every bit and every piece she played, the piano always sang to the hole I could not fill, even if I were to do as she demanded.

As she played, her guests excused themselves, and shuffled through the mansion. Lurking, searching, as if they knew something was amiss. And the butler, he lurked behind them, following them.

That familiar sound, of weight being lifted from a corner in the kitchen, and metal scraping over wood, and I knew he had armed himself with his trusty wood axe, prepared to once again murder the lady’s guests, should they discover her darker secrets. Should they discover me.

Would I scream, they would likely rush to me, and the axe would kiss their skulls from behind, and their blood, too, would feed this fetid dungeon of mine.

Would I sing, and provoke them to ask about another person in the mansion, she and her butler would lull them into a false sense of security, and feed them poison, until the bodies dropped upon soft carpets in the salon. I knew she had such devilry in her.

Thus there was nothing I could do. Nothing I could do but wait, and hope that these two men had been the saviors I had been waiting for my eternity in this dark cellar.

Their hushed murmurs reached me, hissing beyond less and less barriers between us. They drew close, ever closer; they neared, and ignited the flames of my hope. My tortured heart started beating faster, ever faster, as I yearned to glimpse their faces, and find new freedom.

Oh, how fast my heart was beating as they explored the lady’s cellar.

Whatever they had hoped to find in the House of Helmberg, they were only steps away from finding me. Their footsteps drew nearer, and the bottom of the door to my prison glowed with a line of tiny light from a lantern in their hands. The butler, meanwhile, backed away from them, slinking off to his mistress like the craven predator he was, most likely to alarm her of the trespassers, who now stood on the verge of discovering me.

The men found my room locked, as the lady and the butler always left it, though I harbored no hopes of even getting close to that door and to welcoming them inside. One of the men rattled at the padlock, and they hissed at each other in argument. The chortling man urged the other to stop trespassing, lest she call the police upon them. The confident man reminded him of the lives on the line, and told him to step back.

Metal struck metal. Once, then twice, and thrice, with force, until that lock broke, yielding to the confident man’s axe, and they entered to finally see me, standing in the room, before me, face to face.

They stared at me in terror. They stared at my prison in terror.

The ritual symbols, painted in human blood upon the floor, lining a perfect circle all around me, such arcane designs struck fear into their hearts.

The confident man, tall, sullen, and darkly cloaked—he knew. He recognized and understood what these symbols meant, for the terror in his eyes was a different one than the professor’s next to him. The cloaked man’s terror was one of understanding, of knowing what I was, and why such symbols bound me to this prison of mine.

The chortling man who now chortled no longer, a professor of ginger beard and hair and gentlemanly appearance—he knew not. His inquisitive eyes did not recognize the symbols painted like spidery script. Though the arcane writing sparked curiosity in his heart, the terror in him was one of not knowing why I was here, or what the lady of the house may be truly capable of.

“They are coming, and they will murder you,” I warned them, in perfect tongues, in the professor’s own accent, so as to sound familiar enough for them to trust me.

Captivated by the strange hieroglyphs and markings upon all floors and walls outside my circle, the professor remained speechless. The axe-man in his cloak, however, stared at me with a mixture of reverence and dread.

He knew what I was, and I recognized him in turn. Shaman. Sorcerer. If he knew not how to summon me, as the Lady of Helmberg had, then he knew of me, and of my kind.

Both men, I captivated them with my beauty. The body of the fair and fragile woman I had chosen to look like. I could appear however I wanted to appear, and I wanted to look as innocent and helpless as I could. For who knew how long I would stay trapped here if they perished? Trapped until the Lady of Helmberg had persuaded me to do her bidding?

These two strangers now posed my only hope, and they had lived longer than any of the lady’s previous guests since my summoning.

The butler neared. I warned them of his arrival, and of his bloodthirsty axe. I warned them that the butler, like myself, was unlike them. That the butler, too, was not human.

The sorcerer slammed the door shut behind himself, and the professor helped him hold it shut with a single, slender hand. His lantern squeaked in the other, and the sweet, sweet light it cast bounced and bobbed through my prison.

Oh, how wicked my smile must have looked, despite my fragile demeanor, yet my saviors only had eyes for the axe that broke through the wood of the door betwixt, showering them with splinters when the butler struck it with his wood axe. They shouted and yelped in fear and fury.

“Free me, please! I will help you escape!” I begged of them.

They backed away from the door and the professor only shot me a fearful glare. The butler’s axe cleaved through more of the door, shedding new light through the cracks he widened with every strike.

The sorcerer readied his axe, prepared to face their foe, ignoring me as he knew I could not escape my circle.

The professor brandished the holy cross around his neck and held it far in front of himself, like a weapon to keep me at bay.

And at bay it kept me, and I screamed. His conviction shone greater than any divine symbol of this realm, and his purity and fury pained me. I could only back away so far from it, reaching the edge of my circle, feeling my very essence burn where I brushed against the threshold.

And as the door to the small cellar room broke apart, and the butler and the sorcerer engaged in combat, the professor’s grew ever greater. His confidence far outweighed his fear.

He smirked at me, and said, “Counteroffer, my dear. Return to whatever pit from whence you came!”

With that, he tossed the lantern at my feet, and the flames spread quickly.

I now shrieked. Not in agony any longer, but in shock. And in delight. Oh, what delight. Conviction and purity were no replacement for knowing. The oblivious professor screamed as I showed him my true form, my preferred form, my wings spreading wide, feathered black; my fangs long and white, my grin ready to rival the grinning death of the reaper’s skull, wide and merciless.

Oh, professor, how I thank thee for freeing me.

The flames from his broken lantern broke the circle that had entrapped me, and I was free, free at last. Free to explore this world of theirs, unshackled from that witch’s occult tethers.

In a torrent of liquid shadow, as a whirlwind of dark fog, I shot past all of them. With my unbridled fury, I knocked that innocent little professor down onto his rump, and he screamed in terror as I washed over him like a waterfall, even in the wake of me leaving him unharmed—oh, professor, how grateful I was for your meddling that day. I knocked that wretched butler down, ending the deadly struggle between him and the sorcerer and their locking axes.

The last I saw and heard, the sorcerer’s axe cracked the butler’s skull, and I now screamed a different scream, as I flooded the halls and walls and poured outside.

A cry for freedom, as I emerged from the bowels of the House of Helmberg, and rose. And rose. Oh, what a beautiful night sky, dark with clouds of a storm that welcomed me with its open arms, flashing with lightning.

I almost paused, to visit the lady of the house, though I reckoned my liberators and the people of her town would perform their own reckoning with her, and I could spectate when her time had finally come.

I rose, and my darkness poured out from the mansion.

Free at last.

Thank you, professor. I cannot wait till we meet again.

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majorarqueerna · 9 months

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I seem to have written an astrology book?! ♐

You know what’s awesome? Writing a book and getting it published.

Know what’s awesome-er? Getting the opportunity to write a book with one of your mentors.

I’ve had to hold in my squee about this for many months, but I’m super excited to finally tell you that I’m the second author on Sagittarius Witch, one of twelve books of the Witch’s Sun Sign Series written by Ivo Dominguez, Jr. and published by Llewellyn over the next year. The first few volumes are available now, and the Sagittarius volume will be released in April 2024.

Here’s the official description of the Sagittarius book:

Travel off the beaten path in both your daily life and magical practice with this book on maximizing the power of your Sun sign. Sharing numerous spells, exercises, recipes, and stories, Ivo Dominguez, Jr. and Enfys J. Book show you how to make your witchcraft greater than ever with Sagittarius energy. This book offers many ways to channel your natural tendencies into stronger magic, including Sagittarius correspondences, cleansing and shielding methods, self-care routines, and divination techniques.

When people ask what I wrote for the book, I basically sum it up as “Ivo wrote all the crunchy astrology bits, and I wrote several blog-style pieces about the lived experience of being a Sagittarius witch.” (Also, no pressure, but Ivo himself is a Sagittarius. So that wasn’t intimidating at all!)

About the Witch’s Sun Sign Series

The Witch’s Sun Sign Series, the brainchild of brilliant Llewellyn editor Elysia Gallo, is a unique and exciting project to be part of. Each book in the series is jointly written by Ivo Dominguez, Jr. and a witch of that particular sun sign, and includes several additional contributions from other witches of that sun sign. The Sagittarius volume includes contributions from Mama Gina, Donyelle Headington, Devin Hunter, Cosette Paneque, Michael G. Smith, Natalie Zaman, Dawn Aurora Hunt, and Sandra Kynes.

And these books are so pretty, too. The cover and interior design of each volume is lush, vibrant, and gorgeous, thanks to Llewellyn Art Director Shira Atakpu (who was also the cover designer for Queer Qabala!). Each book is accessibly-priced and presented in a friendly, giftable size. Consider getting one of these highly-personalized and extremely useful books for each of your witchy friends!

[Video description: A flip through “Aries Witch,” the first published volume in the Witch’s Sun Sign Series, showing its gorgeous cover and page design.]

I had a wonderful experience collaborating with Ivo and Elysia on this book, and am deeply honored to have been part of the project.

The book is available for pre-order, along with most of the other books in the series. Links are below!

Pre-order Sagittarius Witch

Bookshop.org (affiliate link)

Amazon (U.S.) (affiliate link)

Barnes & Noble

Llewellyn

Amazon (Canada)

Amazon (UK)

Request at your local library

Add to your Goodreads queue

#astrology #sagittarius #witch's sun sign series #llewellyn #astrology books

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