As promised...the Beyond Gravesen trailer. This just barely scratches the surface of what I have planned. Like the Endgame trailer, I've only chosen snippets from the very beginning. The story is at 140k words and counting, still no estimate on when it will be finished. However long it takes, I promise it will be worth the wait.
Drop your craziest theories here, whether they're based on this trailer or not. Maybe you'll end up giving me extra inspiration :)
Winnifred awoke to her phone ringing. She glanced at the time. It was five thirty in the morning. She glanced at the phone. It was Bucky calling. She glanced at George. He was wide awake, staring at her expectantly. She picked up and held her breath.
"It's going to be today," Bucky told her.
~0~
This despair had been creeping up on him for months now. Guilt mixed with existential dread mixed with profound sorrow. Tony had been working on this project for years, and now that it had finally reached completion, he doubted whether he should've been working on it at all. Steve's death sent everybody reeling, but on top of the loss of a dear friend, Tony became consumed with wondering how he let his own selfishness drive his every move for so many years.
If he'd spent all that time and effort working with lungs instead of hearts, maybe he could've saved Steve.
~0~
Natasha hadn't cried once. That was probably unhealthy, but she didn't know what to do about it. She couldn't force herself to cry, short of staring ahead without blinking for a long time or purposefully introducing a foreign body. Instead, she chose a different—arguably more dangerous—outlet. Natasha moved the coffee table in her apartment's living room aside, threw on music, and started dancing.
~0~
Each time he lost someone, he'd despaired and convinced himself, "This is gonna be the one that finally breaks me once and for all," but every time he'd proved himself wrong. After everything and everyone he'd had to say goodbye to, he was still here and relatively in one piece. But this one hurt differently. Every joy that his daughter brought him was one he'd never get to relay to Steve, who'd wanted to know her probably even more than Parker and MJ did. Parker had watched him fight like hell just for the chance to hold her once, and he did it, but that encompassed the entirety of their relationship. It might've been everything to Steve, but to the baby it was nothing. He and MJ would raise this kid and, instead of sending cute pictures of her to Steve, they'd show her old pictures of him because it was the only way she'd ever remember his face.
Sometimes, when he thought about it long enough, his throat swelled with grief and the words refused to come. And it wasn't just the words abandoning ship. His appetite fled too. His and MJ's lives revolved around Carol May's eating schedule, not their own, so he figured it was common for new parents to struggle to get three square meals in every day, but even when they found time to sit down and eat, he couldn't bring himself to do more than graze. Food didn't trigger him anymore, but all the thoughts and emotions whirling about in his head and in his gut made everything taste sour. The only thing he could reliably finish off was a glass of chocolate milk.
~0~
Bucky's hand trembled so badly he could barely read the note. Another piece of paper poked out from the big yellow envelope, and he almost didn't want to look at it. But he didn't have much time before he had to get dressed for the funeral, and he knew if he didn't open it now, he never would. Bucky laid the envelope on his lap and gently eased the second piece of paper out. It was thicker than the first, a higher quality paper. It was also blank. Disappointment washed over him until—he could have kicked himself—he thought to flip it over. His silent tears turned to gut-wrenching sobs when he laid eyes on the drawing, instantly recognizable as one of Steve's.