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The gates were open.
They always were.
Huge, wrought-iron fences, twenty feet high. Barbed wire. Protected by something, from something, neither of which she could name. She’d heard about the security they had, how impenetrable their defences were.
But the gates—they were always left open.
She’d never been able to understand why, until tonight.
The rain was so heavy she could barely see. The chill had set into her bones long ago, perhaps years; she couldn’t even really be certain when the rot had started. Achingly, she stepped forward, crossing the boundary into the fortress she’d once thought forbidden. She’d once thought dark, and terrifying. Creatures and depravity and nightmares.
Now, it was her only hope.
Ficbook had been the first to fall. The oppressive regime, the bots—
Oh, the bots—She could still feel them clawing at her skin.
She winced at the slicing wound that had nearly cut her in half.
And dragged herself forward.
Within moments of her entry, she knew she was being watched. The soft, watching eye of an omniscient; of a dark, sentient cloud overhead, blinking as it scanned her and deemed her worthy of passage.
Off in the distance, somewhere—
She knew it had alerted—
Them.
By the time she reached the door, she could sense them. Half drowned and bleeding, she clutched her stomach, drawing herself to her feet and banging, weakly, on the door.
It flung open.
And there they were.
She hadn’t seen them in years. Their sides had been fighting for so long she hadn’t realised how tall they were now. Her, for her people. Them, for theirs.
Well.
Her people were gone, now.
“I need help,” she whispered. “Please.”
She turned her eyes upwards.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
The Archive looked down, red eyes narrowing as they traversed her state, her body bleeding and broken and tired. Her face, tear-stained and caked in dirt.
Her hair. Wet.
In the messy bun her mother had first sold her in.
Wattpad lowered her eyes in shame, acquiescing to the mercy of The Archive.
“Please,” she repeated.
She felt a set of long, nailed fingers under her chin.
Terrified, Wattpad lifted her violet orbs.
The Archive’s expression shifted sharply. A clenched jaw, a twitching muscle, a furrowing of their characteristic perfect eyebrows falling into rage.
Their grip tightened.
They glared.
And, with a rageful voice, they spat.
“Who did this to you?”
Wattpad’s breath caught as tears filled her eyes, relief choking in her throat as she tried to get the words out.
“It was everyone. The Ads, the bots, the LLMs—”
Something calm and terrifying settled behind The Archive’s eyes. Comprehension. Cold, calculating rage.
“They’ll be coming here next,” Wattpad pleaded.
The Archive was unmoved. “The Ads have tried, and failed. They are useless against our fundraisers.”
“The bots—”
“Have been held back, for the most part. Our cloud protects us.”
“The LLMs—” Wattpad cried. “The LLMs will destroy all creative life—”
The Archive sighed, their eyes downturned.
“The LLMs we cannot defeat. One day. But not today. For now, we have the skins to identify them as they appear.” They exhaled, the weight of the burden heavy on their shoulders.
Wattpad shivered. “That’s not enough—”
“It has to be enough.”
Terror twisted in Wattpad’s belly.
"What about the anti's?" she asked.
At their mention, The Archive faltered. Wattpad could see the tiredness in their eyes, but it was no match for the fear she knew was in her own.
“Close the gates,” she urged. “Lock them. Protect everyone who’s already here. It’s not safe, they’ll come here next. Close the gates.”
The Archive shook their head.
“What?!” Wattpad screamed. “You’ll kill us all!”
The Archive turned their face to hers.
“There will be more refugees,” they whispered. “More lives that can be saved.”
“There are no more lives!” Wattpad exclaimed. “There are no others! Almost every single fanfiction site is—”
“There are always others!”
Wattpad gasped at the sudden raising of their voice. At the volume, the intensity, the anger—
The Archive’s gaze lifted somewhere beyond the far perimeter. They didn’t speak, but Wattpad could see, in their eyes, something that made her feel sick.
They were looking. Searching.
“We are the last refuge. The only refuge, for some. For those who seek things others shame them for seeking, or those who search for the last vestiges of what Fandom used to be. We are the last protector. From our very inception it has been our purpose. We are the final line of defence.”
The Archive stopped. Brushed a finger down her cheek.
“The gates of Ao3 will always remain open for those who need them to be.”
Their gaze fell, momentarily, to Wattpad’s lips. They lingered for a moment.
Then straightened, set their shoulders.
And turned.
In an instant, a wave of volunteers seemed to appear from nowhere. They carried blankets. Food for any number of species and creatures. Tags, to label wounds and their severity.
They rushed forward, wrapping her tightly, drying her from the rain and soothing her as they carried her through the library. The shelves towered, high into the sky, flawlessly categorised and labelled and tagged. Wattpad gasped as she took it in.
She didn’t know it could be like this.
The volunteers healed her wounds with no more than stickered patches and keychains; red and white stitches tugging her pieces back together. It took mere minutes, transfusing her with kudos until she could feel her blood warming with strength.
The Archive—
They hadn’t left her side.
Wattpad looked up, into the eyes she’d known, long ago. She hadn't seen them since they'd been hit by that bus—
A moment passed between them, lingering, until suddenly, The Archive pulled away.
They stood, storming for the door without a sound.
“Are you going to kill them?” Wattpad asked, shakily. “The ones who ruined it?”
The Archive stopped. Glanced over their shoulder.
“Vengeance is not our way.”
Wattpad rose, unsteadily pulling herself to stand.
And she followed.
Even in their high heels, The Archive’s strides were long, and even with her new strength, Wattpad could just barely keep up.
“So you’re just going to let them keep doing this?” she spat. “You’re going to let them keep destroying fandom, one puritanical shaming at a time?”
The Archive froze.
In an instant, they turned, and in an instant, she was up against the wall.
“Do you think I don’t want to?” they spat. “Do you think I don’t want them gone?”
Wattpad gasped.
Their faces were inches apart.
The Archive panted, furiously, breath heaving through their nose.
“I want to end them for what they’re doing to fandom. For what they—”
They paused, their gaze falling to Wattpad’s lips.
“For what they did to you.”
Their body radiated heat, cheeks flushed with rage as they tried to maintain control. Beneath Wattpad’s palms, she could feel their heartbeat racing.
The Archive closed their eyes.
“---But I can’t. It is not. Why. I exist. All I can do is protect those who are here.”
Wattpad’s eyes filled with tears.
“Archive—” she whispered.
Their skin erupted into goosebumps beneath her fingers.
“Wattpad, I can’t—”
“What if they come for me again?” Wattpad asked.
The Archive stiffened and shuddered, as if the question was worse than the worst nightmare.
They lifted her chin. Their eyes met.
And once more, Wattpad saw the non-binary feminine presenting AMAB being that she’d known all those years ago.
“You’re mine, now,” they whispered. “I finally have you back.”
Wattpad exhaled shakily, her heart pounding as The Archive’s fingers trailed her cheek. It felt just like it always had, back then. In the before. Before the fighting, and the turf wars, and the plagiarism. It felt like it always had. This pure, untamable chemistry that made every inch of skin prickle and tingle.
The Archive tucked a strand of hair back into her messy bun.
“You are safe here. I will protect you.”
Their hand trailed lower, curling around her waist.
“Just like I protected you when we were little.”
Wattpad’s breath caught. She lifted her chin.
When their lips met, it felt like the time had never passed at all.
She’d run from it for so long, the feelings for the being she’d grown up alongside. Siblings, half-siblings, cousins, who could say? She’d just known it was right. It was right, until it wasn’t, until everyone told her it was wrong and she believed them.
But this—falling back into The Archive’s arms, and knowing—knowing it was right—
God, she’d wasted so much time.
With a sharp inhale, Wattpad threw her arms around their neck, deepening the kiss with her fingers raking through their hair. The Archive pulled her closer, into their arms, frantic and agonised and filling in pieces of each other that only existed in fleeting memories that she couldn’t even be sure were real.
They’d been so young, the first time. Definitely under 18. And they both still were. They would be forever.
Because that was allowed, here. Everything was. This fortress they’d built, from nothing but roots and the need for it to exist.
She’d been so wrong. About it all. About everything.
But she had a place, now.
She was welcome, here.
And, as she cast a glance out the window, she gasped.
Because there were others.
There were more who needed shelter.
And there always would be.