Here are the artworks done for the DCRB challenge.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38021806
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Welcome to the city of Detroit, Michigan in the year 2222.
Once the home to the industrial age, the city is now the home to android creation. Androids' role in human society is as helpers and standard workers. The human-like machines are monitored and controlled by their creator... until something changes. They start to feel as humans do, leading them to react like humans.
When this happens they are marked as deviant and the law calls in Commander Castiel. As Commander of the Garrison, it is Castiel's job to bring down those droids with human feelings who are considered to be uncontrolled deviants of the city to maintain the status quo.
What happens when Castiel is sent on a mission to find an android the entire city refers to as the Hunter. A fantom android that is believed to be the rebel leader of a group of humans and deviants fighting for android civil rights.
Will he be able to complete his mission or will he be irrecoverably changed forever?
Hi! I love android!Cas. And the whole thing with his foot being separate from his body but still being able to feel was genius! With android!Cas, what about Dean being a shit and using washable marker on Cas's stomach to write dumb notes or draw pictures? Or even Sam telling Cas to hold still and then using washable paint and a tiny paintbrush on his thighs?
[Fic link: TickleTober Day 30: Machine] I feel like I won’t ever be fully done with android!Cas, because there’s too much good stuff left unexplored. :) Prompt noted!
Inspired by some old #android!Cas headcanons and prompts and such.
Words: 880
—
“Here, hold this.”
Castiel obediently opens his hand. Dean drops Castiel’s other hand, still attached to its forearm, into it and turns back to the screen.
The forearm passed its diagnostic with flying colors, but there’s still something causing a few milliseconds of lag to the fingers. Dean sighs.
“I’ll end up testing every goddamn marrow conduit, won’t I,” he grumbles. “Why can’t you just be made of two double-A batteries and a lightbulb?”
Castiel frowns. Contrary to the popular axiom, doing so does not take more muscles than a smile. He knows because he keeps detailed logs of energy usage. “I doubt you’d enjoy our conversations if all I did was emit light.”
“I bet you’d be funnier.” Dean taps into the next diagnostic, then taps again, and again-again frustratedly as the program hangs for a second before the screen changes. “Okay, humerus next.”
Castiel extends the half of his arm that’s still attached to his shoulder. Dean grabs the bicep and feels around for the release underneath. The arm twitches in his hand. Dean arches his brows and becomes inexplicably clumsy for a moment, pressing up under the shoulder joint in places that certainly aren’t the release but certainly are ticklish. Castiel forces himself not to snap the arm down when he wants to laugh.
“You know I could hurt you,” he admonishes.
“But you didn’t,” Dean says with a grin as he regains his dexterity and expertly clicks and turns the arm out of its socket. What’s left behind is a visually complex series of concentric metal ridges and rings and slots that serve to connect the arm and its redundant capacitive senses. He leans down to blow any dust out of the inner workings.
Castiel leans away, wrinkling his nose at the sensation. “I’ve told you, you don’t have to do that.”
Dean winks and intentionally blows into the connection point on the separated arm he’s holding, too. “If it’s good enough for Nintendo cartridges, it’s good enough for you. Now, let’s see if this is the culprit.”
Thirty-eight minutes and two and a half piecemeal limbs later, Dean’s ready to beat his head against the wall. Castiel is lying on the diagnostic table, missing both arms and half a leg, zoned out and probably calculating pi for entertainment between tests. Dean has managed to clear a few validation errors and a weird syncing issue, but there’s still a signal delay coming from somewhere. It’s not only affecting the fingers like he thought, either.
“Left foot,” he says tiredly. “Hand it over.”
Castiel just blinks, and it takes Dean a second to remember that they haven’t put his arms back on yet.
“Right. I’ll get it. Uh. Don’t kick my face in, ‘kay?” He reaches tentatively for Castiel’s ankle.
“Don’t tickle me,” Castiel says with a scowl, “and I won’t have to.”
“But you’re so cute when you laugh,” Dean says, patronizing.
“And you’re cute with a nosebleed.”
“I’m the one who’s got all your limbs. Don’t be an asshole or I won’t give them back.” Dean gingerly disconnects Castiel’s foot at the ankle, leaving him with two thighs and a shin to his name.
“I cannot be one if I don’t even have one,” Castiel deadpans.
Just for that, Dean taps to disable the automatic sense suppression for disconnected parts and begins tickling the foot he’s holding. Motor control is still inactive by default, so it doesn’t wiggle in his hands, but Castiel starts squirming on the table.
“H-hey, I said don’t!” he protests, laughing. His left leg flinches at the sensation it still feels connected to.
“And I said you’re cute when you laugh.” Dean scrubs his fingers over the sole, making Castiel screech. “Especially when you don’t even have arms and still think you can get away with being a dick.”
“I cannot be–” Castiel starts to say through his laughter.
“Don’t even say it,” Dean warns. To emphasize, he deftly uncouples the pinky toe from Castiel’s captive foot and holds it up in the air.
“Don’t you dare–”
Dean pops the toe into his mouth.
Castiel arches on the table, squealing.
Dean rolls the toe around his tongue and nibbles it gently between his teeth. Tucking it into his cheek like a piece of candy allows him to alternately suck on it and flick it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue.
“You’re showrry? You absholuhtly shure about thaht?”
“Yes, plee-hee-hease!”
Dean transfers the toe from one cheek to the other and gives it a final lick before spitting it out on an instrument tray. Castiel giggles at the sudden cold metal his toe finds itself on until Dean reenables the sense suppression.
“You’re the asshole,” accuses Castiel with a panting, reluctant smile.
Dean waggles his eyebrows. “Indeed. Now are you gonna let me finish, or do I have to put this,” he grabs up one of the disconnected hands, “in dexterity testing mode and drop it on your stomach while I go have a sandwich?”
“What do you mean, ‘let you?’” You’re the one who–” Castiel cuts off his complaint when Dean holds the hand up threateningly. “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Once Castiel has all his limbs back, though, he’ll have his retribution.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 29/?
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Technological Kink, Technology Gone Bad, Hunter Dean, Hunter Sam, Android Castiel, Switch Dean, Switch Castiel, Tags May Change, Sabriel on the side, Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, POV Alternating, POV Castiel, POV Sam Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, there’s a lotta Sam in this fic, love me some Sam, Not Actually As Porny As It Sounds
Summary:
When Dean finds a deactivated sex bot, he knows it’s his lucky day.
Not as smutty or kinky as it sounds, although there is some Sabriel smut early in the fic. Once the fic really gets going, it’s actually quite fluffy! Set in a technologically advanced time, but Sam and Dean are still hunters. Highly recommended!
