#He's gotta tell Stan the cost of defeating bill

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

When will the chapter 7 be out? :3 also could you maybe give us a little sneak peak? It's ok if ya don't want to. Have a great day ^3^

Thanks so much for reading and for the excitement for chapter 7!(For anyone who’s interested, this is referencing the Gravity Falls Fic, Heroism is Subjective.)@themadcapmathematician and I are pretty happy with how things are turning out and tying together.  The battle scenes have been super fun to write and the unexpected dive into Fiddleford’s mind and memories was an interesting turn.  As much as I’d like to say that there will be another update this coming Saturday, I can’t be sure because chapter 7 is literally the only chapter we have not a single word written for yet.  I’ll be out of town all next week as well so it depends on how much we can weave together this week.  If there is no update this Saturday, it won’t be until May 20.  As for a preview, I can give you something from what will probably be in chapter 8 (maybe 9?) if that’s alright:

“First,” Ford began, “Dipper, where are my journals?  We’ll need them to take my place in the zodiac circle so I can focus on…  Bill’s defeat.”“Um…  Great Uncle Ford…” Dipper hesitated, his gaze directed at the frayed ends of his shoelaces, “I’m sorry but, Bill destroyed them.”Ford fought to keep his fists from clenching, to keep the fiery anger from erupting through venomous words for fear that Dipper would believe they were directed at him instead of Bill.  He breathed deeply, calculating his words to reflect his thoughts.“Grunkle Ford I’m so sorry,” Dipper rambled, “you gave them to me to keep them safe and I-””Dipper, you needn’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.  I have nothing but pride for you and all you have done, my boy.  Any anger I have is directed toward Bill.  He must have known that I could use them as a replacement.  They were me…  They contained my thoughts, life’s work, and passion, my fears, frustrations, and madness…  This…  complicates things.“

“Uh.  Maaaybe not.” Stan said, rubbing his bushier than usual stubble, “Hang on a minute.”  He disappeared down into the basement, leaving Ford and his family mildly confused.  After a few moments, the elevator rattled back up to ground level and he emerged with three binders clutched in his arms.  "Will this work?“  He unloaded them into Ford’s arms.  Ford looked down at the cover of the first, plain red with a crudely cut out six fingered hand inserted behind its clear plastic cover, a number 3 scrawled in its center.  He balanced them on one arm, propped against his stomach as he flipped through photocopied pages of his journals marked with Stan’s notes, scribbled through or whited out and revised, and often times, covered in colorful sticky notes.  Every so often a photo of the kids, a sticker from Mabel, or a “just saying hi” note from Dipper was pasted to a page.“Stan…  you…?  Yes,” Ford said with a fond smile, a warmth welling up from his chest to his pink tinted cheeks.  "Yes, This will be even better.“  In his struggle to restrain his sentimental joy, it hit him that the journals Bill destroyed were obsolete.  They were written by a version of himself who was bitter, hurt, angry, and scared, a version of himself who had faded shortly after he returned to his home dimension.  "These…” he said with a mildly sloppy grin, “these are more accurate.  Thank you.”Stan froze, “What…  what’s with you and the sudden gratitude?  Not that I’m complainin’ or nothin but it just seems…  somethin’s fishy about it.”Ford’s moment of bliss deflated, his soaring heart dropping to the pit of his stomach and despair defeating his smile.  Hugging the binders to his chest he asked in a downtrodden whisper, “…Is there someplace where we could speak to each other alone for a moment?”“Uh.  Yeah,”  Stan answered, suppressing a shiver as if he could feel the tension radiating from his twin, “sure, yeah, of course”