Title: Dear Natasha
Word Count: ~3000
Read it here
It’s Comic Con week, which means that The Collective team is on a strict diet of Marvel and DC until further notice.
While I am unfortunately unable to attend the San Diego event this year [insert righteous anger here], I am going with the nerd spirit and reccing an Avengers fanfic this week.
I do not ship anyone in this fandom, much to my own surprise, but that may be because I’ve read Avengers comics since I was a kid and making someone like Bruce Banner sexy gives me serious ick factor. Yet I digress.
“Dear Natasha” broke my heart. Not quite as thoroughly as “Alone on the Water,” but it’s got serious angst just the same. It’s in epistolary form; Clint Barton is writing letters to a comatose Natasha. I had to read this one a couple times before I was on board with it. At first, I didn’t buy into Hawkeye writing letters to a comatose woman who would never read them. He’s a bad ass spy; why would he get all touchy feely? And then, maybe the third time I read it, I realized that the epistolary form was used quite brilliantly here. It allows Barton to be touchy feely in a way that he can’t actually be in the real world because he is a bad ass spy.
And all us angst-loving fanfic readers just eat these kind of feels up as if they were the last batch of Twinkies on planet Earth.
So yeah, “Dear Natasha” is angsty; it’s not particularly related to anything in the Avengers canon other than Clintasha; and the author unashamedly uses pathetic fallacy to get us to weep in the rain with Barton at the end.
I’m giving this one a solid B because I felt that the characterization was off enough to be unsettling for a first read-through. But that last letter? That one is 100% A+ angst.
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