kilted man

Okay I know canonically Allen is an Englishman, but hear me out! I actually believe that Allen is Scottish! 

So first there is his name: Allen, it was historical a more common name in Scotland than in England. Second there is the fact that Mana Walker (his adoptive father) was raised as a Campbell in his early life, and Campbell is definitely a Scottish surname. So that means that Mana spoke with a Scottish accent and since Allen speaks exactly like Mana then that means that Allen speaks in an Scottish accent as well. (I’m in love with this idea btw) There is also the fact that Walker is a common Scottish Surname as well! Plus Allen’s clown outfit looks like it was inspired by kilts. 

Headcanon: Allen Walker is Scottish! and he looks boss in a kilt! 

quite-right-two  asked:

Anni, you need to draw the new lumberjack!David to complete the set. Collect them all!

…I don’t even know what this turned into.

  • Justin: Um don't- please don't trip, I'm wearing a skirt. Don't even BUG on that.
  • Griffin: Like a-
  • Justin: Like of COURSE I'm wearing a-
  • Clint: A kilt!
  • Justin: Not a kilt.
  • Griffin: Like a man kilt?
  • Clint: Not a kilt?
  • Justin: Not a kilt.
  • Clint: You don't wanna go with a-
  • Travis: No, MERLE would have a utila-kilt. That's a fact.
  • Justin: No, like a skirt! But like, a magical one.
  • Clint: Ah, okay.
  • Griffin: Okay!
A Life Unseen - Continuation of the Frank Cheats Story

Oh my goodness! I get home from work and the gym to find so much love on my blog! I’m blowing kisses to all of you and virtually hugging you all for your support, likes, reblogs, comments and messages! I really cannot express how grateful I am for each and every single one of you that reads my stories. I hope you enjoy this continuation of last nights story, it’s dedicated to all of you incredible readers. 

     I awoke jostling astride a horse with an unknown captor or savior— I did not know which yet— who reeked of odors too foul to distinguish between. We were heading in a direction that took me away from the stones, for that alone I was grateful.
    The body behind me was solid and warm rumbling from the deep burr of his voice as he spoke to another kilted man riding alongside us. They spoke in a language I was not fluent in, being in Scotland and the way these two men were dressed, I assume Gaelic is the language they are speaking.
    “Awake are ye lass?”
    “Bout time too, we canna keep this slow pace much longer unless you want the lobster backs or MacKenzie’s to find us.”
    “Aye. Can ye bare to ride at a faster pace till we get to safe grounds?” the man behind me asked.
    “I- yes. I believe I can handle that.”
    “A sassenach!” A string of unintelligible words— at least to my ears erupted from the man beside us.
    “We’re no leavin’ her behind Murtagh! If ye had seen… I said no and that’s the end of it. The lass, sassenach or no, is comin’ wi’ us!” I was taken aback by the man behind me who said these words with such fervency, as if he could not stand to have me taken away. Murtagh glared at his companion.
    “And just how do ye expect to explain her to yer sister? It is Lallybroch you intend to head for are you no?”
    “She will be my guest and I’ll have no more word of it being said otherwise. Are ye so heartless ye’d allow a lass to wander the wilderness in no but her shift, Murtagh? What if it were Jenny abandoned, tortured and nearly raped?” I wondered if Jenny were this man’s wife or perhaps my captor’s wife?
    “Jenny wouldna let her self be tortured or relieved of her clothing.” Murtagh sneered at me as he spoke.
    “If ye are gonna do this without seeing reason then I canna stop ye.”
    Murtagh trotted ahead of us shaking his head and muttering exasperatedly to himself as he went.
    “Dinna mind Murtagh, he may seem gruff and uncaring but he’s a good man.”
    “Well it’s nice to know at least one of your names.”
    “Aye well I dinna really have an opportunity to introduce myself between savin’ ye from that mad bastard Captain Randall and ye swooning before my eyes.”
    Randall. My eyes widened, Frank. Could they be related? Of course they are, Beauchamp they were identical! Rather than give my savior my married name—a name I will hopefully soon be eradicated of— I gave him my maiden name.
    “My name is Claire, Claire Beauchamp.”
    “Nice to meet ye Claire, Jamie McTavish.” Smiling I took the proffered hand that released, what I now noticed, a plaid engulfing me into his warmth. Turning back I got my first look at his face.
    Incredibly handsome striking features gazing back at me, brilliant blue slanted eyes, wide sweeping forehead, straight nose, high cheekbones, stubble of gold and read framed by short red curls. He was strikingly handsome, his wife is a very lucky woman.
    “I didn’t get a chance to thank-you properly earlier. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could have stayed quiet with Randall—you said? Cutting me open also not knowing but imagining the things he was about to do to me.” I shuddered, “Thank-you for saving me. I don’t know what I can ever do to repay you.”
    “Ach, it was nothing at all Mistress Beauchamp. Randall canna be trusted and I’d no sooner let my hounds near him, let alone a lady like yerself.”
    “All the same, thank you. You wouldn’t by chance happen to have a first aid kit so I can tend to my wounds?”
     His eyebrows ruffled in confusion, “First aid kit?”
    “Yes, clean cloth, bandages and solution for cleansing the wounds.”
    “Oh, no I dinna have a kit like that wi’ me, but I’m sure we can find ye what ye need when we get out of MacKenzie territory. I’ll feel better once we’ve hit Fraser lands.”
    “How far until we reach where we are going?”
    “Oh a reckon, two no three days at best, but we’ll reach Fraser lands come midnight.”
    Nothing more was said while we galloped faster to catch up with Murtagh.
    Our journey from the stones, Captain Randall, and out of the MacKenzie lands gave Jamie and I time to talk. He told me of his family, his sister—Jenny and her misfortunate encounter with Captain Randall— which explained why he so eagerly saved a stranger from that vile man’s clutches. Wistfully he spoke of his mother and lost brothers, his father— though he did not say how he died only that it was a few years ago. I in turn told him of my upbringing with Uncle Lamb; Jamie was fascinated by the stories of Africa, particularly meeting and riding elephants. I did not mention Frank, nor that I was still technically married. This man made me feel free, I didn’t have to put on a face to please him, nor did I have to curb my tongue.
    “We’ll make camp here for the night. Can ye get down without help, Sassenach?”
    “Maybe.” I attempted to toss my leg over the side of the horse and instead slid off in a tumbling flail of limbs. The wind was knocked out of me and I stayed curled on the ground staring up at the night’s sky not wanting to move. With a laugh Jamie gracefully jumped off his horse, picked me up, then carried me over to where Murtagh had started building a fire.
    “Here lass, I reckon ye’re hungry.” Surprisingly Murtagh thrust a piece of bread of some sort into my hand. “It’s no much but it’ll keep ye from starvin’. Lad, one o’ us will have to hunt if we want to stay fed.”
    Nodding his head Jamie said, “Aye. I’ll go.” Sweeping out of the encampment Jamie left with nothing but his sword and knife in hand.
    “I dinna ken what ye’ve done to the lad, but I’ve no seen him smile this much in many a year.”
    Looking up at Murtagh I smiled and simply nodded.
    “If ye’re an English spy and cause harm to the lad ye’ll be facing consequences not even the can save ye from.” Murtagh said in a steely cold voice.
    “Well it’s a good thing I’m not a spy, isn’t it?” I replied back with force.
    “How could I hurt Jamie? He—”
    “The lad can tell ye his own story if he wishes but he’s no so impenetrable as ye may think.”
    Murtagh’s words shocked me. What could have possibly happened to this man to make him so cynical? I understand not trusting strangers, but why would he not trust Jamie to take care of himself?
    In uncomfortable silence we waited by the fire for Jamie to return. Sick of doing nothing I walked around the campsite searching the sky for signs of modern life. No telephone poles, wires, or lights. No grumbling rumble of planes passing overhead or cars traveling in the distance. I knew, yet dreaded the answer that was undoubtably true, I was no longer in the 20th century.
    Jamie arrived back at camp carrying three good sized rabbits that had already been skinned and cleaned, ready for the fire. 
     After eating Jamie sat beside me for a while in silence then said, “Sleep while ye can, Sassenach. We willna be breaking camp until this time tomorrow.”
    Curling up in the plaid borrowed from Jamie I struggled to clear my mind and relax. When was I? From the state of Murtagh and Jamie’s dress along with the uniform of Captain Randall, I could roughly estimate sometime between 1700 and 1800, but when and how? How did I get here?
    I drifted off to the sound of the wilderness, a soft snoring from Jamie, and my mind not fully able to comprehend what was happening.

Part 3