The Teenage Hermit

Author's Note: Hello, friends! If you are new to my stories, (which you should be because I suck at being consistent), then I am Blaze Titanium! I have been taught that ANs are a bit loathed, so I'll just keep things contained in this one right here so I don't go sticking one in every chapter. So, for some background, I am relatively new to the Gravity Falls fandom. I haven't even watched the whole series yet, but am doing so currently so I don't completely get everything yet! Don't worry, though, I do research beforehand to make sure I get things at least a little bit accurate. Anyway, this is based around my OC, Terrance, and it's my mission to make sure I get him assimilated in this universe the best I can. I won't disclose what I have planned for this story quite yet, and am actually open for suggestions for some possible story arcs. Also note that this takes place after episode four of season one and will continue with other episodes that are slightly altered while having new content as well. Reviews are my utter existence on this site, so do please tell me if I'm doing well! If you have any questions, PM me, too. I love chatting with people on this site. Ah, one more thing: the rating issue. So, Terrance likes to swear and I love to write some good, ol' violent action scenes. I'm posting this as a rated "T" story so that it'll get more attention, so I'll be inconsistent with my little impulses as much as I can, but if you think I'm going too far with what I write, please let me know. Now, without further ado, please enjoy yourself! -Blaze

The worst way to wake up in the morning is to not wake up at all. Terrance wished it was one of those days.

It was early in the first week of June when Terrance felt the cooking rays of the rising sun bearing down on his face. Several mosquitoes skipped across his body, marking him with their infuriating bites. Terrance was so exhausted, he didn't even realize where he was until he turned over in his drowsy stupor, a particularly long blade of grass sliding right into his nose. He awoke with a jerk, snapping up into a sitting position as he instinctively slammed his hands down in front of him. Recoiling in pain, Terrance found that he had just punched himself in the groin. Squirming about on the forest floor, he felt a sharp rock poke into his shoulder, realizing that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Forcing his weary eyes open, Terrance was instantly assaulted by a pure beam of sunlight that struck his corneas. Grunting, he kept his eyes shut for a moment and gradually opened them again to adjust. When he saw the condition he was in, he moaned like an animal stuck in a trap.

He always hated waking up naked.

It took Terrance a full minute to stand up, the bones in his legs put up quite the argument with heavy, aching pains. Completely in the nude, he stumbled through the brush towards a building about forty yards away. For once, he had woken up near his home, as he soon discovered, and that was a rare blessing. One time, he had awoken in the marshes about ten miles to the south, he had gotten the nastiest case of a yeast infection he had ever heard of. That took about a month to go away and was quite unsightly to behold. As he stumbled across the thick patches of grass on the west end of his property, he failed to notice the police car sitting on the other end of his cabin. It wasn't until he rounded the corner when he came face-to-face with two very unwanted guests. Conveniently, a pile of old oil drums blocked the view from below his waist.

"Mornin', Terr-" Sheriff Blubs began before noticing Terrance wasn't wearing a shirt, "Are you naked!?" His partner, Deputy Durland, immediately covered his eyes, shrieked, and ran off. Terrance found himself grinning slowly, his dried up lips peeling away to give sight to his yellow, faded teeth. As he exhaled, he felt the rank stench of something particularly horrendous wafting back up from his stomach.

"Just enjoying the sun." He joked dryly, simply standing there as Blubs looked away.

"Don't you have any decency!? Put some clothes on, boy!" Blubs scolded.

"Hey, you're the one, ugh," Terrance countered before releasing a big burp, "Trespassing." Terrance's face screwed up as the smell of rotten meat hit his nose, that certainly wasn't good.

"The Beast of the Backwoods is back," The sheriff explained, "Durland and I are supposed to be looking into it."

"Oh, wow, that's new." Terrance yawned as he casually walked out from behind the barrels and went past the sheriff, "I didn't know you guys actually did your job."

"Well, as much as we don't wanna, there's a big reward for whoever catches it." Blubs explained.

"Haven't seen a thing," Terrance said, climbing the steps up to his front door, "So you can go now."

"I told you this wouldn't work!" Deputy Durland called from behind the squad car, "Manly Dan'll catch the darn thing anyway!" Terrance snarled, mustering up the biggest loogie he could before spitting it out. It was a bit concerning that it was tinged red.

"I hear you say his name again, I swear I'll report you two for looking at an underage kid while he's got no clothes on! Now get out!" Terrance shouted. The Corduroy name was not something Terrance took too fondly in hearing.

"Alright, alright, we're going." Sheriff Blubs responded, trotting back over to the car, "We'll see you at the first of the month, Terry!"

"The bank'll get there damn money!" Terrance shouted, "Tell Dan to stick it when you see him, yeah?" He didn't even wait for a response from the officer as he opened his front door and slammed it behind him. With his hands on hips, Terrance stared at his dingy home. The one couch in his living room was covered in old, dirty clothes. Terrance walked over to the rickety, wooden coffee table and picked up a big jar full of clear liquid.

"Good thing those two didn't come in," Terrance thought to himself, "Left the jar out again…" He casually took the container over behind the couch where a chest sat against the back wall. With a swift kick, the chest was knocked several feet back to reveal a small trapdoor set into the floor. Terrance bent down and opened it, stashing the jar inside before shutting the hatch and pulling the chest over it again. For a sixteen-year-old kid, Terrance was pretty decent at finding moonshine in such a dry county. It was worth having the connections. Then again, it's not like he ever shared it. Turning away, he felt the urge to retrieve the jar and take a swig, he was sure it was early enough for him to enjoy a slight buzz before the day could fully begin. Resisting the thought, he walked into his bedroom to regard his bed.

"Let's see how long I have to sleep." Terrance mused aloud as he grabbed the old-fashioned alarm clock on his nightstand. It informed him that it was only eight in the morning, giving him about two hours to rest before his next job. He grabbed the ancient dial in the back and set the alarm to go off at ten o'clock. Unceremoniously jumping into his bed, Terrance covered his bare body with the numerous animal skin pelts that he used as blankets. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, already wanting to forget the troubles of the waking world.

When the alarm clock went off, it's worn gears nearly snapped as the ancient device shook itself, sounding off its trademark, shrill cry. Another thing about the clock was that one of its tiny legs were shorter because it had gradually retreated inside of the frame over time. This being said, Terrance, who was a very deep sleeper, wasn't jostled awake until the misshapen alarm clock clattered off of the nightstand and right onto Terrance's head. The teen woke with a start, instinctively sitting up and swinging his fist downwards to once again hit himself in the crotch. Cursing loudly, Terrance rolled out of bed and got to his feet, groggily grabbing the alarm clock and putting it back on his nightstand. Turning around, he stared at the mirror hanging on the wall right next to the doorway.

It was one of those mirrors that were long enough so that people could check out their entire body. It hung at an angle because of the single rusty nail set into the wall behind was slowly coming apart. If Terrance had OCD, he would've adjusted the mirror. Then again, if he wasn't so lazy, he would've cleaned out the entire cabin to look, and smell, nicer, too. Well, if Terrance did care about the state of his things, he would've changed out the mirror completely. After all, the giant smashed section in the corner made it hard for him to inspect his face. Speaking of looks, Terrance walked up to the mirror to check out his bare body before he got dressed. His father had always told him that he was an attractive young man, having the body of some sort of model.

"It's because of all of that hard work you do, Terry. Strong like a lumberjack, tan like a farmer, and especially as smart as a blacksmith." His father had told him several years ago. Though it had been five years since he had anything close to a proper educational lesson, if there was anything that Terrance could handle with the level equivalent to a doctorate, it was smithing. He didn't need anymore education, he was set for life with his current set of skills.

He had only been twelve when his father had started teaching him the basics of smithing. It had been, thankfully, an excuse for him to not do any academic work. Though his father did not really approve of Terrance only wanting to learn how to smith, he did get immensely proud that his son wanted to follow in his footsteps. This was how it went for the next five years, Terrance simply found excuses to avoid his studies and pushed to work in the forge whenever he could. Now it was simply a matter of survival for Terrance, he didn't give much of a thought towards education anymore.

"Where are you, dad?" Terrance asked internally, reaching up to carefully feel the fractured cracks that stretched across the top of the mirror. As they were uneven, Terrance's face was distorted in different sections by the shifted glass. For some reason, he averted his gaze after a moment, something was making him uncomfortable. He knew that it had some overlying meaning but he couldn't really think of it, or wanted to. It had been two months now since his father had disappeared, Terrance had been busting his ass off to make ends meet alone. He knew that after a few months time, he'd grow more and more tired of it, and soon, he would have to give up. His eyes shifted slightly to look at his most prominent feature.

Three distinctive scars had been dug into his chest from who knows what. They were claw marks, Terrance knew that much, but from what, he wasn't sure. The only logical thing would be a bear, no other animal had claws big enough to cleave such large marks into Terrance's chest. He had awoken in the forest like he had for a while now just after his dad had left, finding the scars on his chest. It was strange, the night before, there was nothing. The next thing Terrance remembered was finding the marks on his chest, but they had healed somewhat, as if he had had them for many years before. He couldn't explain it, he had even went to see a doctor about it, who had simply theorized that it had been a bear like Terrance had originally thought. It was just another mystery in his life he couldn't put together, everything was like pieces of a big puzzle scattered around, too hidden for Terrance to find them and put them together. Shaking his head, Terrance took a moment to check out the rest of his body.

Though the scars were an ugly brown, the rest of his body was deeply tanned. He had glimpsed photos of celebrities posing on magazine covers at a store, their skin were just about as tan as his, but more of a sickly, unnatural orange. In a way, Terrance had earned his tan, it was about standing out in the sun and working in the forge for hours on end. To those snobby celebrities, it was about paying to get sprayed by some liquid. For Terrance, it was about staying natural and doing things through old-fashioned labor. His hair, too, was another feature that he took pride in, as it was something he had naturally as well, no artificial tampering whatsoever. Brown like coffee, Terrance's hair was shaggy, kept long enough in the back to sweep up the nape of his neck but short in the front to not fall into his eyes. His eyes were darker, like the bark of an evergreen tree, but were light enough to make his pupils stand out. There was a tendency, Terrance's father had told him, that his pupils would flare when Terrance got mad, usually when he wasn't allowed to work in the forge. Internally, this made Terrance laugh, but he rarely smiled on the outside anymore, just had this passive, tired look on his face along with the heavy bags under his eyes. The grin he had given Sheriff Blubs had been a rare one, having more disdain than enjoyment in all honesty. It was with this same expression that he grabbed his work clothes.

Since he hadn't bothered cleaning himself off from all of the dirt smeared all over his body from his night out in the woods, Terrance decided to put on these worn clothes so he wouldn't ruin his "nice" clothes. This was for various reasons, of course, as Terrance didn't have any running water in his cabin, and if he wanted to shower, he would have to either drive across town to the truck stop and use their grimy shower stalls or go down to the lake and risk getting in trouble for exposing himself again. Seriously, who goes fishing in the outskirts in the northwest end of the lake? Like mind your own damn business and fish out in the open waters. It bothered Terrance immensely and he had stopped going there. Plus, it was about a mile from his home, and he got lazy with walking that far after working. The other reason he didn't want to dress "nice" was because it made his clients feel uncomfortable with some "regular joe" working for them. Terrance didn't particularly give two shits, but he needed all of the money he could get, so he put the extra time to put his work clothes on. Finally, these were his nice clothes, which was just what he casually wore, not like a suit or anything. Especially not like those college kids who came to mess around last summer in their flashy polos and pink shorts. What a bunch of losers…

So, as Terrance dressed himself in a pair of rain boots, heavy construction overalls, a thick white sweatshirt, and a pair of working gloves, he snatched some jerky and prepared to leave. Jerky was Terrance's favorite food, it was basically the only thing he ate because it tasty, it was practical, it didn't spoil, and it was pretty damn cheap. He was exclusively carnivorous, he never ate any kind of fruits or vegetables anymore because they didn't really appeal to him nor did they help with his appetite. Terrance couldn't really buy much other meat or sweets either, as they were either too expensive or Terrance didn't trust them to be good enough to eat. He knew he was picky, but he didn't really have a choice, he was living in a more "barebones" manner compared to most. That being said, this was deer jerky, his favorite, and he bit into it with delight as he walked out from his cabin and towards his truck, making sure to have his "nice" clothes in hand to put on later.

The truck, much like Terrance's life at the moment, was complete shit. It was a 1982 Chevy C-10, and it used to be dark red, but the rust had degraded it so heavily that it was the ugliest shade of mottled brown. The front fender was about to fall off, its once chrome finish now a dull gray. Coupled with the shattered right headlight and the missing mirror on the same side, it was repulsive just to glance at, let alone drive. Terrance tried ignoring everything else that he hated about the truck as he wrenched the door open, hearing the earsplitting screech as the hinges swung open. No, oil did not help with this piece of trash of a truck, but Terrance wished it would. Using his upper body strength, Terrance pulled himself nimbly into the driver's seat, patted his pocket to make sure his wallet was there, slammed the door closed, and started the engine. As the engine coughed and then abruptly started, Terrance felt the need to mutter off a string of curses as he got himself situated in the horribly uncomfortable seat, glancing in the back window to check if his toolbox and ladder were in the bed. Once he was done, Terrance ripped the shift knob into drive and slammed on the gas, eager to get the day over with so he could sleep the night away, that is, if he was allowed to.

Three hours later went by before Terrance could finally take a breather. He had driven into town to a small home two blocks from downtown. His job, though sounding simple, was to weld over a fracture in the frame of a furnace. Along with working in a forge with metals, Terrance's father had taught him to weld and perform basic maintenance on a variety of objects. That was Terrance's primary source of income, fixing and maintaining people's machines whenever needed. Though he preferred being a blacksmith, like his father had been, Terrance was forced to do all of this work as a "handyman" in order to make ends meet. Turning off his welder, Terrance lifted up his welding helmet to see elderly Mrs. Forrester coming down to greet him.

"I made you some ice tea, dear, you looked exhausted when you arrived." She informed Terrance, handing him a glass filled with a brown liquid and ice cubes. Though Terrance had had regular tea before, which he really didn't mind, he hadn't had this kind before.

"Thank you." Terrance said, giving her a polite smile as he gulped down the tea. To be honest, he wasn't really fond of it, it had this striking, bitter taste that made his tongue recoil in disgust as he drank.

"Anything left to do, then?" Mrs. Forrester asked, looking past Terrance to inspect his work.

"Nope, that should be about it. When your husband gets home, just have him start it up as normal, the weld will have cooled by then." Terrance explained. He was surprised, shocked even, to feel his jaw ache slightly from saying that sentence. Guess he didn't really talk much anymore.

Mrs. Forrester rolled her eyes, "Oh, who knows when he'll be back. He's always at that place on the edge of town, the 'Mystery Shack'. I think it's a waste of time and money, but he adores it."

"A tourist trap, huh?" Terrance responded, gathering up his tools, making sure to gently hand the empty glass back to Mrs. Forrester.

"Yes, I suppose you could call it that. It's been in such disrepair lately, I'm surprised it hasn't been shut down." Mrs. Forrester mused as Terrance only half-listened, trying to gather up his stuff as quickly as possible.

"Yeah…" Terrance murmured, making it sound like he was still caring, he just needed his reward.

"I'm surprised old Stan Pines hasn't contacted you yet, he needs to get that ramshackle hut of his in shape." Mrs. Forrester stated, causing Terrance to look up with sudden interest, "You're really the only handyman in town that I've heard of, surely he needs your help."

"Hmm," Terrance pondered, standing up as he rubbed his chin, "Where is this place?"

"You say you're from town and you haven't heard of the place?" Mrs. Forrester questioned.

"I live a couple miles out in the woods," Terrance told her, "I don't really get involved with what the town does."

"So you haven't been part of that wild goose chase for the 'Beast of the Backwoods', then?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at Terrance as if he had done something wrong.

"Of course not," Terrance scoffed, "I'm not stupid." Contrary to his claim, Terrance was considerably stupid for his age. He thanked that no one in the county was very educated, because he hated being talked down to by people who thought they were better in some way than him. Once again, it wasn't Terrance's fault he couldn't attend school, he had no choice.

Mrs. Forrester laughed as she lead Terrance upstairs, "The town can get into such an uproar about anything these days. It's like the summer heat shakes up their brains a little."

"Kinda like sheep…" Terrance found himself saying quietly.

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but I guess that would make sense." Mrs. Forrester commented, opening the front door for Terrance, "But if you would like to visit the Mystery Shack, it's just a little northwest from here. There are signs for it everywhere, you can't miss it!"

"Thank you," Terrance said, walking out onto the front porch, "I'll head over there right now."

"Oh, here is your pay." Mrs. Forrester said, handing Terrance a wad of several twenty dollar bills, "That's two hundred and forty dollars for you."

Terrance flashed her a genuine smile, "Thank you very much, ma'am. Means a lot."

Mrs. Forrester beamed, "Of course, you seemed to get things done correctly. You need some sleep, dear, those bags don't look good on you!" Terrance found himself smirking, as if he was getting scolded by his grandmother for something. Then again, Terrance never knew any of his other relatives other than his father. Regrettably, Terrance never even knew much about his mother, either. She was only an enigma Terrance's father would briefly mention.

Terrance chuckled lightly, "I get it where I can. Thank you for the tea, I'll be heading by the Mystery Shack as I said, hopefully there's some kind of opportunity there."

Mrs. Forrester waved as Terrance walked to his truck, "Take care now, dear!" Smiling extra big for the sake of her generosity, Terrance gave a wave back and climbed into his truck. He triple checked to make sure the money was secure in his wallet before starting the engine and peeling away from the Forrester home.

Twenty minutes later, Terrance arrived at the supposed Mystery Shack, stepping out of his truck to stretch as he regarded the building with a sense of disbelief. It was about three times the size of Terrance's cabin, sporting a tall, slanted roof with "Mystery Shack" in giant letters down the side. The "S" had fallen loose, now spelling "Hack" instead. Terrance chuckled, that was probably what it was anyway: a total joke. Like Mrs. Forrester had said, the place definitely seemed to be in disappear.

He could see some of the gutters gathering rust in large majorities. The shingles on the roof had started coming loose in large clumps, making way for some serious flooding if it wasn't fixed soon. He could see that some of the ground around the foundation had started to erode away, something Terrance wasn't even sure he could help with at all. Along with that, he saw cracked windows, large amounts of weeds sticking out around the edges of the building, as well as peeling paint on the "Gift Shop" sign. Though his speciality was metalworking, Terrance could seriously fix up the place. If he played his cards right, he'd get some good money out of it. All Terrance had to do is was smooth talk the owner, hopefully he was gullible.

With a stiff, awkward walk, Terrance waltzed right up to the entrance to the Mystery Shack and paused, wondering if he should knock or not. Deciding against it, he slowly opened the door and took a ridiculously big, weird lunge inside. Thankfully, no one was around, allowing Terrance to stand next to the gift shop counter, bobbing on his feet with anxiety. His eyes flitted around, spotting shirts, mugs, keychains, bumper stickers, hats, and even bobbleheads.

The thing about Terrance was that, due to his large lack of sleep, every aspect of his personality, senses, even his thought process, was out of whack. He knew he was more bitter, mean, and unfriendly, as well ignorant and slow. The sad part was that he didn't even remember what it was like to be fully rested. He had gone several days at a time without sleep in the past. Right now, however, his nervousness had leaked through, and he wasn't doing very well at hiding it. This wasn't even something to get worried about, Terrance was practically like a small child at times, too impatient or nervous to wait. He hated himself for being like that.

"Stop being stupid!" Terrance mentally scolded himself, "You look like a little kid right now, Terrance!"

"Uh, can I help you, man?" A voice asked. Terrance spun to his right, his face contorting into a sneer, all of his teeth glinted in the sunlight as he let out a deep growl. The owner of the voice stumbled back into the postcard rack he had stepped out from behind. He was quite young, only about half of Terrance's size.

"Aw, jeez, my bad…" Terrance murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as his face relaxed, "You scared me."

"Yeah, sorry about that." The kid said, scrambling to get the rack back up. He had messy brown hair, just like Terrance, just not as grown out. As he bent over to pick up some fallen postcards, Terrance could see the kid wore a blue vest paired with a red shirt and gray shorts along with black shoes.

"Here, lemme help." Terrance muttered, jogging over to help collect the postcards even though the kid was nearly done. Grabbing the last two, he handed them over as the kid thanked him.

"So did my Grunkle Stan hire you?" The kid asked as he organized the postcards.

"Hell's a 'Grunkle'?" Terrance blurted without any thought, regarding the kid's blue and white hat with a pine tree on it. He kinda wanted one.

"Whoa, dude, you gotta swear? That's a bit uncalled for." The kid scolded.

"My bad…" Terrance grumbled.

"And 'Grunkle' is just 'Granduncle'." The kid explained, "I'm his grandnephew, Dipper. Dipper Pines." He extended his hand, which Terrance took, his hand easily wrapping around Dipper's.

"Is that your actual name?" Terrance asked.

"Well, no, I just go by that." Dipper responded, "And you are?"

"Terrance." The older one replied simply, as if it were nothing special.

"Terrance what?" Dipper probed.

"White." Terrance said curtly.

"Are you, uh, from here?" Dipper asked, visibly starting to get uncomfortable.

"Born and raised," Terrance said, "Unfortunately…"

"What's wrong with Gravity Falls?" Dipper asked.

Terrance let out a barking laugh, "You obviously haven't heard of me, kid."

"I'm not a kid…" Dipper muttered, crossing his arms.

"How old are you?" Terrance asked.

"Twelve." Dipper replied, "Only two more months until I'm a teen. How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Terrance replied before adding, "Don't ever grow up." His voice coming out as a dangerous hiss. Dipper's blood ran cold as he saw Terrance's face contort into that terrifying snarl again, those teeth of his showing once again, yellow and surprisingly long. Then, Dipper saw something shift in Terrance's eyes, a color shift for a brief moment.

"Did his eyes just turn yellow?" Dipper asked in shock, "There's something off about this guy for sure." Terrance quickly composed himself.

"I'm really sorry, that came out of nowhere." Terrance said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're telling me." Dipper murmured.

"Dipper!" A voice called out from deeper in the Mystery Shack, "You'd better be working out there!"

"Actually, Grunkle Stan," Dipper yelled back, "There's someone here to see you!" A moment later, the owner of the Mystery Shack came trudging into view.

"What is it?" He snapped. Terrance shifted towards him, his eyebrows lifting in slight surprise. Stan certainly was old, he was wearing a suit with a fez on his head. He tossed his cane back and forth between each hand as he grumpily looked at Terrance and Dipper standing there. Terrance had to sympathize with the old man, the scowl on his face was just like his: utterly tired with life.

"You the owner?" Terrance asked.

"I ain't interested!" Stan shouted, waving for Terrance to leave.

Terrance shrugged, "Shit, you got me."

"Hey, dude…" Dipper murmured sensitively again.

"Oh, sorry, uh, again…" Terrance muttered, "I don't mean to be invasive, but your place is coming apart, sir. I thought I could maybe help."

"Unless you want to do it for free, then no." Stan said firmly, "I already have my own handyman, Soos." Right on cue, a portly man with a green shirt stylized with a question mark popped out from around the corner.

"Sorry, dude, been holding this job for like, ten years." Soos explained. Terrance was gritting his teeth, unsure what to offer.

"I'll do it for cheap." Terrance said, "I need something, you know?"

Stan seemed to consider this, "Fifty bucks for the whole thing." Terrance probably would have laughed if he was fully rested, maybe, but it sure wasn't funny right now.

"You're screwing with me, right?" Terrance replied, his face dead serious.

"Well, how much do you want?" Stan asked impatiently.

"A grand." Terrance stated firmly, crossing his arms.

"Alright, get out, I don't need you, kid!" Stan said replying, waving for Terrance to leave. Terrance bit his lip in both nervousness and anger. He could be losing some serious money if he didn't say anything.

"I'll do it for five hundred, come on, please, Mr. Pines." Terrance begged.

Stan raised an eyebrow, "Why do you need money so much?" Terrance was a bit shocked.

"Don't you know know who I am?" He asked, almost sounding hurt.

"Uh, no, unless my eyesight's getting worse. Almost thought that Soos was one of my exhibits the other day." Stan told him.

"I always knew I'd be a good exhibit." Soos agreed.

"I'm Terrance White, the blacksmith?" Terrance offered, only getting blank stares as a response, "You know, the hermit everybody is suspicious of? The sixteen-year-old guy living on his own out in the woods?"

Stan and Soos exchanged looks, "Nope."

"I got a list of nicknames people call me, but with Dipper here, eh…" Terrance looked at the young teen with uncertainty.

"I'd rather not hear them." Dipper said with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, I know who you are now!" Stan suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers, "You're the punk who set off that forest fire a month ago!" Terrance turned to Dipper, who was gaping in surprise.

"Before I renovated the wall surrounding my forge, there was a large hole that let some embers fly out into the forest. One thing led to another, and that's a major reason people hate me." Terrance explained.

"Why didn't you just bring that up first?" Dipper asked.

Terrance sighed, "Because it's one of the earlier things I've done. People just kinda spin lies about me now. Pretty sure the Northwests do it a lot at their fancy parties and whatnot. Fu-" He began before stopping himself, "Whoops, sorry…"

"Look, kid, I'm sorry that people hate you, but I don't need you here." Stan said simply. Terrance grit his teeth even more tightly, but kept his composure.

"Fine, I'll do it for fifty." Terrance muttered quietly. Stan stood there, his arms crossed.

"What do you think, Soos? Wanna split your pay with this guy?" Stan asked his employee.

Soos seemed to think this over, "Sounds good with me, Mr. Pines. I'd work here for free!"

"If only I could work that out without the IRS kicking the door down…" Stan muttered to himself.

Terrance grinned wildly, "Thanks a lot, guys! I promise I'll make place look great!"

"You start tomorrow, kid, uh, what was your name again?" Stan asked.

"Terrance." The blacksmith said.

"Terry it is!" Soos announced, "Welcome to the crew, dude!"

"Hey, hey, he isn't full on crew, so no free gift shop stuff!" Stan warned, pointing threateningly at Terrance.

"Uh, that's okay…" Terrance responded, "I don't really need that kind of stuff anyway."

"Alright, Terry!" Dipper exclaimed, offering a high five. Terrance gave a slight smile as he slowly rested his hand on Dipper's with a puzzled look.

"What?" Dipper asked.

"I don't know what you're doing." Terrance told him, "Sorry…"

Dipper was shocked, "Have you seriously never seen a high five before?" Terrance pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Yeah, I've been out in the woods all of my life with my dad," Terrance explained, "He home schooled me and all that, but I've never really done stuff like this." Dipper thought about this for a moment.

"Hey, man, you doing anything later? Usually we all, you know, hang out after work." Dipper offered.

Terrance raised a brow, "You three?" He gestured over to Soos and Stan.

"Well, not Grunkle Stan, but me, Soos, my sister Mabel, and our friend Wendy usually do something." Dipper clarified. Terrance pondered this carefully. Truth be told, he had never "hung out" with someone before, and he was quite excited about it.

"Yeah, I'd love to." Terrance said, "I've got two more places I gotta go work at first, then I'll shower and be back around nine. Sound good?"

"Perfect. We'll just be here at the Shack, so just knock when you get here." Dipper told him.

"Alright," Terrance said, looking over at his temporarily new boss, "I'll be by at noon tomorrow, Mr. Pines."

Stan scoffed, "Don't get so excited, kid, I won't need you until four or later." Terrance was overjoyed, he could get a decent night of rest!

"Yes, sir." Terrance said teasingly, giving a salute, "See you guys soon!" He gave a small wave as he left the Mystery Shack, smiling the whole way back to his truck. It wasn't much, but he had secured a way to help gradually pay the bank for the next month or so. Sure he'd have to find something else afterwards, but for now, he could somewhat unwind, just for a little bit…

Nearly seven hours later, Terrance drove on the winding road towards the Mystery Shack as dusk settled over Gravity Falls. After handling the two jobs he had to take care of, as well as getting paid for them, he was ready to see what "hanging out" was all about. He had showered at the truck stop on the south outskirts of town like he always did, having changed into his "nice" clothes. He wore faded jeans, brown hiking boots, a plain black t-shirt, and finally a brown coat to top it off. His shaggy brown hair was slicked back from being wet, giving Terrance a more "cool" look.

"Let's see how this goes." Terrance thought to himself with a sly grin. He was about a half mile from the Shack when he hit the brakes, pulling over onto the side of the road.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Terrance cursed, killing the engine of his truck, knocking off his shoes as he practically fell out of the driver seat. Within seconds, he was sprinting into the woods, his coat abandoned in the undergrowth. He could feel his heart racing as he ran, taking one more deep breath before the clouds parted and everything disappeared into darkness...