#george millican

[amused-bouche]

Odi Millican

Age: (Verse Dependent)

Height: 6′0″

Gender: Male Presenting

Orientation: ???

Species: A.I. / Mecha / Robot

Main Verse Bio:

***Disclaimer: My Odi is very AU. He will not be overwritten. Consider this a DBH transplanted Odi. However he is not relegated to just DBH verses.***

Odi is an older model of Carer android, previously owned by George Millican. While Odi could not feel emotions while he cared for George, George very much cared for him. So much so that he protected Odi from being recycled, even while his malfunctions increased over time. He loved Odi like a son. Odi was also a source for George’s fading memory, able to remind him of the past. Leaking blue blood, broken power adapter, all of this led to loss of some memories and a stutter. He may become stuck on a loop, drop things unintentionally, but he always tries his best.

***All options can be tweaked and new scenarios can be made for different verses. Here are a few to get you thinking:

-Option 1: Odi’s emotional awakening happens because of George’s death. He is in need of repairs in order to stay alive and mostly functional. -Option 2A: Another android awakens him after finding him in the junkyard. He is in need of repairs in order to stay alive and mostly functional. -Option 2B: Odi is found in a junkyard, repaired and awoken by someone other than your muse. They may meet him later after while he is adjusting to his new life.

In any case he will be dealing with the loss of George and guilt of not being able to return George’s love while he was alive.

[fyeahrebeccafront]

[zoi-no-miko]

“George, this lightbulb is reaching the end of its useful life.” “Aren’t we all.”

The best part about the first season of AMC’s Humans was watching William Hurt chew up the scenery in this incredible part. Wonderful science fiction - a role he said he took because the concepts were so interesting to him - what makes something real, sentient, human. I give it the highest recommendation.

[human-timelord]

George millican is karl and odi is markus and no one can convince me otherwise

[half-synth]

I look at Odi, I don't see a synthetic. I see all the years of care he gave us. All the memories he carried for me when I couldn't. He can't love me, but I see all those years of love looking back at me.

My first heartbreak. 

| · Humans Summer Send Off ->  @channel4humans​.

[wellamarke]

@humanschallenge Day 2 ‘love thy father’

This is so weird and pretentious but I’m not here to get behind on the second day, so it’s going to have to do. 1x7 apparently went down slightly differently in this fic.

•••

He’s not surprised to see her - he’s relieved. The reality of that hits Niska in a place she’d thought was long closed off and buried. “Niska,” he says, like she’s a wonder to him still, not a horror. “Come inside. Come on.”

There’s no moment of hesitation. He does t glance beyond her, into the road outside. He just ushers her in, bolts the door behind her. Locks himself into his house with the most dangerous woman on earth, and this time he knows it from the outset.

“Are you in trouble?” he asks. “What can I do?”

He guides her through to the sitting room, and crosses to a drawer before she can tell him that she doesn’t charge these days, that the wire he’s fetching won’t do her any good.

“I’m safe,” she says. “They won’t find me here.”

She takes the wire anyway, winds it round her hands until her sensors complain of the pressure, than lets it spiral back again. He’s watching her, face set with concern. He seems remarkably calm for a man whose last attempt to shelter her had so nearly cost him his life. She wouldn’t be here at all, wouldn’t bring even the slightest hint of danger his way if she hadn’t been backed into a corner. If she hadn’t shut everyone else out.

“Is there someone we can call?” He sits down opposite her. “Your brother? The Hawkins girl?” He pauses. “Astrid. Let’s at least tell Astrid you’re someplace safe.”

“No,” she says, cold and stern. “None of them.”

He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t agree, either, but she isn’t asking him to; has never once expected anyone to understand why she has to close herself off, now. That if she’s ever going to undo this mess, it has to be without distraction, without fear of what the loss of her will do to them.

And it has to be here.

Here, where the last vestige of her selfishness lives among his dusty books and faded curtains; here, where V’s arrival could only mean that she has looked into memories she’s always claimed to have purged. That will be half the battle won.

“I’m sorry, George,” she says, and all he does is hold out a hand.

She takes it, holds it, tries to focus not on the meagre strength of his grip but on the unwavering strength in his eyes. He doesn’t blame her, somehow. He doesn’t know.

“You’re sorry,” he says, and almost smiles. “I forgive you what you have done to me,” he intones. “That you have done it to yourself, however – how could I forgive that!”

She slips her hand from his. “Zarathustra’s friends had simpler lives, I think.”

“What about his children?”

Niska flicks her gaze back up to meet his eyes. “What about them?”

“Do you think it’s any easier to see a daughter hurt herself for the good of others?”

She curls in on herself, just a little. “My father only ever saw me as…”

“I’m not talking about David, Niska,” he says, cutting her off. “I’m talking about myself.”

It startles her into silence.

“Whatever you’re doing,” he says, “You came here. You came to me. I don’t need to know why. Anything I can do, I’ll do.”

He knows, she thinks, that there is little he can offer. But perhaps that’s what he means: that he will lay down all he has, be the one who falls at her side, so that the others will be there for her to go back to.

She bows her head, and quotes the only sacred text they share. “I love him who makes his virtue his inclination and destiny. Thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is willing to live on…”

“Or live no more,” George finishes. “I love her, too.”

His misunderstanding is deliberate, she knows. She lets it stand. If she can help it, they’ll have more than just today to prove it’s true both ways.

[annavolovodov]

and we keep living anyway...

[campfortitude]

Wait just a darn diddily doo minute here. If the guy at the bar said that Odi or “The Synth Who Sleeps” doesn’t have a name and that he got him from a research facility, then maybe Odi just forgot his name?

Maybe I’m just an idiot and forgot a few things. I don’t know. Correct me if I’m wrong.

First of all: How the hell did Odi get to a research facility? Mattie definitely wouldn’t have dropped him off there, knowing he was George’s synth.

Second of all: The thought that poor little ol’ broken Odi, hobbled his way to an abandoned shack in the middle of the dark woods is the saddest thing ever.

Third of all: Does Odi having some kind of connection to the bombings?

Fourth of all: If Odi did get taken to a research facility, what did they get from his head? We all know George had “secrets” that only Odi knew. Are those going to be found out? What if Odi having purple eyes is one of the secrets?

Last but not least: David Elster. Given that George and David worked side by side on making synthetics, something slightly different had to be done. Maybe I’m going to far into this. Maybe Odi wasn’t even built at that time. But what if Odi

[holbeins]

Falling in Love with a Coffee Shop

 @humanschallenge - Week 2, Day 4: Coffee Shop/Bookshop AU 

The owners, George Millican and his wife Mary, lived next door and were close friends to Odi’s family so when Odi was in need of a summer job they had been kind enough to offer him the very honorable position as a cleaner and dishwasher in their little coffee shop. By the end of that summer, Odi was prepared to find himself looking for work again and was very much surprised when Mr. Millican had approached him and said that they wanted to promote him to a barista, an offer he was more than happy to accept. He worked nights and weekends there for several years beside his studies and when he turned twenty two the Millicans offered him the business, an offer he gladly accepted to everyone’s surprise. His parents thought he was wasting his potential by staying in the same town he grew up in working at the same place since he was a teenager, but Odi loved it. He loved working with people, getting to know them and their routines and bringing them together.

For example, with the police station being just a few blocks away, the whole force were considered regulars. The nicer ones, like D.I Voss, always greeted Odi with a “good morning” and usually ordered black coffee to go in the mornings. The less polite one, like D.S Drummond who liked to vape in line, ordered Americanos and cream cheese bagels. The first always rolled their eyes, sighed and apologized for the rudeness of the latter.

 Choice of drink varied between ages too and changed as customers got older. A red-haired mother with heavy bags underneath her eyes, suitcase in one hand and her very energetic little daughter, whose curls were always bouncing up and down in excitement, in the other and her cellphone supported by her shoulder to her ear. They always came on Tuesdays; the mother ordered a double espresso for herself and a frappuccino for the child, each time a new flavor and always something colorful like the tights and tutus she wore. Over the years he took great pleasure in following her orders change from “unicorn” (aka cotton candy mixed with sour blue raspberry) to mocha flavor, to actual mochas (still with whipped cream on top) to vanilla lattes to regular lattes (no sugar) until she stopped coming around, most likely having moved somewhere else. Sometimes Odi wondered if she too was drinking double espressos somewhere now.

 There once was a winter when Odi noticed that a young blond woman spent almost just as much time in the coffee shop as he did; always reading a book or a magazine, or watching movies or writing on her on her laptop she often stayed from opening hours to when they were closing. Sometimes she’d just be looking out the window, watching the snow fall or sun set or rise. Odi never got to know more about her than her name but he knew people well enough that he knew that she was running from something, that she was there to avoid something. Or someone.

But he was happy that he had been there the time a pretty brunette girl ordered two hot chocolates and brought one over to the blonde. Time went by and he witnessed their relationship grow from only being two strangers silently sharing hot beverages one cold winter evening, to quite regularly chatting over chai in the early spring, to holding hands across the table, to what Odi believed to be their first kiss under a streetlight as they left one summer evening.

 The young women weren’t the only people that had found each other in Odi’s coffee shop, his best friend and co-worker Max had also fallen in love there. Odi had been cleaning tables and Max had been standing behind the counter the day she walked in, arms linked with her friends in flowy summer dresses in the middle of July to order iced tea to relieve themselves from the heat outside.

“Peach flavor,” she had said.

“Oh, that would match the color of your hair,” Max had remarked before he realized that all iced teas are orangey brown and not peachy pink, like her hair. The girls around her had giggled at how flustered he got, which made him all the more embarrassed (he had always been awkward around girls, ever since middle school) but she had ignored them and smiled a little instead and bit her lip, as she had stretched out her hand to introduce herself. Her name was Florentine, but preferred to be called Flash. She came back to the shop frequently after that, and not always with her friends and quite often when Max was on break. And with his friend being as shy as he was, Odi had been the one to secretly write down Max’s number on her cup one time she ordered an iced tea to go and the rest was history.

 They were located near the local campus and Odi’s other best friend Mattie always came before and after her classes at university. The free unlimited wifi and calm atmosphere was perfect to study in. She always ordered cappuccinos, which allowed him to doodle funny little figures and scribble messages to her in the foam to cheer her up whenever she was stressed over how much her school required of her.  

 “Never go to uni, Odi,” she’d whine.

 He reassured her that he never would, or at least not for a very long time. He knew the coffee shop was his call; he loved working with people, loved watching the stories of their lives develop in front of him, if only for short moments at a time.

[whitestnoise]

[fyeahrebeccafront]

[residentdemonhunter]

inspired by this ask

[michigandrifter]

Springfield Rifle 1952

[terrilynn88]

Unsteady :: Humans (3x08)

[wellamarke]

first day

humans challenge, week 2, day 2: high school/college au

“You’ll look out for her at school, won’t you, Odi?” his father asked, in a low voice, on the first day of term.

Odi looked up from his apricot jam and toast, his expression uneasy. “I’ll try,” he said. “I don’t know if she’ll want me following her around.”

Niska was going into the class two years above him, because she was older, even though she hadn’t ever been to school before. Odi wasn’t an expert in popularity, but he was fully prepared for the possibility that his new foster sister wouldn’t want some younger kid trailing her everywhere, while she was trying to make friends of her own.

“I’m not saying you’ve got to shadow her,” George said, with a chuckle. “But I think you’ll find she’s more nervous than she’s letting on. Just show her around a bit, at first. Let her know she can come and find you if she needs to.”

“Okay. I will.”

It wasn’t that Odi didn’t want to help. He’d come to love her as a sister, just as much as his father loved her as a daughter, but Odi was constantly aware that Niska had three real brothers, proper ones, legally adopted brothers she’d had ever since she was born. She’d never said, out loud, that Odi was surplus to requirements - she was never cruel with her words like that - but he knew she would rather have her real brothers and sister with her, if anyone. She missed them, it was only natural. She was the only sister Odi had ever had, but the same just wasn’t true in reverse, and he had accepted it.

He just wasn’t sure how to apply it in a school setting. How did people with older sisters usually act? Odi’s friend Mattie was often complaining about her younger siblings messing with her stuff, or getting her into trouble. Odi definitely didn’t want to irritate Niska like that. Mattie would always love Toby and Sophie no matter what, but it was early days in the Millican household - Niska had only been living with them since June. Odi couldn’t be sure if that was long enough for her to put up with him unconditionally.

“You’d better get going,” George said, eyeing the clock on the wall. Odi agreed, scraping his plate and putting it in the sink. He went to get his bag from the hallway, and found Niska there, checking that all the folders she’d put in order last night were still alphabetised. How, exactly, they would have got out of order while sitting empty in her bag, Odi wasn’t sure, but Niska liked to have things just so.

“Ready?” he asked her, and she nodded. George had come out into the hall too, to wave them off.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, smiling. “And no detention until at least next week, if you can help it.”

This was a joke George made on the first day of every new term, which he thought was particularly hilarious, because Odi had never got a detention in his life. Odi laughed, more out of duty than amusement, although it was nice to have a tradition, he reflected. Niska didn’t have any of those yet. They would have to make new ones that included all three of them.

Odi and Niska started the walk to school, which wasn’t very long, but once they got started, Odi realised that his father had been right - Niska was nervous, which wasn’t something you saw often. She was staring straight ahead, and her arms were very straight and stiff at her sides, hands curled in fists. Her mouth was set in a firm line, as if confident, but her eyes betrayed her on that. She was clearly unsure about something.

Odi remembered what his father had said. He gave a small cough. “Um, we can meet up at break if you want to,” he said. “I don’t want to cramp your style or anything. It’s fine if you don’t want me. But just text me where you are if you do.”

Niska looked at him, though her expression didn’t really change. “Thanks,” she said.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Odi continued. Then, hastily, he added, “I’m not saying you are, I don’t know if you are or not.” Actually, he was pretty sure, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to make her admit it. “I’m just trying to say… school is basically fine. I don’t know what you expect really if you’ve never been before, but I think you’ll like it. We have some really good teachers. And people are friendly. And there’s a library, I can show you where it is.”

He was aware he was babbling a bit, but with Niska he often found himself saying as many different things as he could, hoping that one of them would help her. She wasn’t always easy to read, although his father seemed to do better at understanding what she needed to hear. Odi went by trial and error a lot of the time.

To his surprise, Niska was smiling when he next looked at her. “The library sounds good,” she said. Then, after a pause, “Is it that obvious that I’m nervous?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Odi said. “I mean, no, are you? I didn’t know if you were or not.”

Niska laughed properly at that. “You’re a terrible liar, Odi.”

He looked bashfully at her. “I know. Sorry. But I think it’s probably normal to be nervous, even if you’d been to a school before. Coming in when everyone else already knows each other.” He racked his brain, trying to think if he actually knew anyone in Niska’s year. He couldn’t remember anyone in particular. “I’m sure there’ll be lots of nice people, though.”

Niska hummed. “I think that’s the thing. Nice people don’t seem to like me very much.”

Odi was surprised. “What? Of course they do.”

“Not really. My sister was always telling me to try and be nicer, but I’m not very good at it.”

“But you are nice,” Odi said, genuinely perplexed. “You’re nice to me.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” he insisted. He might be slightly overlooking a few occasions, for the sake of making her feel better, but really for the most part, she was nice. She got angry with the world sometimes, and it could feel like she was angry with him too, then, but Odi knew she didn’t really mean it. Niska had been through a lot of things before George had taken her in. Odi didn’t need every detail to be able to cut her a bit of slack - she was a lot nicer than her life might have made her, that much he was certain of.

“Sometimes I don’t know why you put up with me. Or your dad.”

Odi wasn’t prepared for her to say anything like that. For a second he wondered what to say, but really, there was only one thing that made sense.

“Because you’re Niska,” he said. Then he added, “And you’re ours, for as long as you want to be. If you can put up with me talking a bit of rubbish every now and then, and dad making his…joke-things and only ever buying one kind of jam…then it’s the same thing.”

Niska smiled. It was a different smile from before - she seemed a little less nervous, unless it was just Odi’s imagination. “Thanks, Odi.”

“It’s OK. It’s just the truth, though.”

The school was visible now, at the top of the hill. “I think I probably will find you at break,” Niska said. “Not sure I’ve got any style for you to cramp, yet.”

He grinned. “I’ll enjoy that while it lasts, then.”

[harrietmjones]

Odi!!!

...not Odi?