#Listen I know I'm one to talk with my 96% catch rate over here

[itsjustanamebro]

LISTEN. I ain't even going in tags for this y'all gonna hear me yap today. It's true that the only way to get good at fishing is to get good at it, it's like a fucking Dark Souls boss for some of these fish, but there is a way to make your training period easier and it is literally the training rod. It makes the fishing bar larger at the cost of not being able to catch high value fish. Just use that to get the ropes, stop at fishing level 3 or 4, and then switch back to the normal rods because the bar is now going to be basically the same size.

Literally the trick is just practice.

But if you fish enough to unlock the fiberglass rod, which lets you use bait, then you can slot in deluxe bait! And there's tons of ways to get a lot of that (especially in summer) and that also increases your fishing bar! And Willy sells a cheap, minor, fishing buff to make your life Even Easier! Y'all don't need to be treating this like a soul level 1 run in Dark Souls the game has options to help y'all!

unfortunately the best advice i can give to everyone bad at fishing in stardew valley is that you just need to get good at fishing in stardew valley

[rich-ditch14]

(So really a fic where I want Richie and Bev to have the close friendship they had in the books and have all the Losers have more one on one interactions with each other

He got his first test of the year back. Straight A like always. And it wasn't an A by 96% or 97%, but a big ol' 100.

He was smarter than everyone thought, but his foul mouth and in class attitude marked him as stupid which placed him as a loner and his geeky persona placed him as a loser.

Despite that, Richie Tozier stayed a positive boy.

"Aaaand Richie Tozier received an A in math!" Richie announced in a deep voice at dinner mimicking an announcer hoping to catch his parent's attention in case they might care.

"Mhm good job. Did you cheat?" His dad asked passively, continuing to crunch his asparagus loudly while repositioning his glasses to read the newspaper that laid crumpled beside him.

Richie shook his head silently knowing his dad couldn't see, forcing his dad to look at him for an answer. His dad raised an eyebrow suspiciously before continuing reading the article. Richie then looked at his mom through his thick glasses.

His mom smiled sweetly congratulating him, asking him a few questions before running dry and relapsing back into silence.

"Have you thought about Braces Rich?" His dad asked out of the blue. His dad asked every night until it became a routine; a conversation like a script they were practicing with no intention of performing.

"Nope. I don't want them," Richie held his head up high.

"You'd look better..." his dad trailed off.

"I don't care," Richie gave his dad a toothy grin, one of his canine teeth growing in slightly crooked showing that he didn't care.

But secretly he did care. A fucking lot.

Richie didn't want braces. It would make him look more like a geek than he already looked, but he also didn't want buck teeth either. His dad said he wanted to get them fixed so Richie would feel better, but Richie knew it was more than just braces.

He knew his dad didn't want Richie to look like Richie at all.

Mr. Tozier always made jokes about Richie's big lips and glasses that made his eyes look huge. He made comments about his crooked nose playfully pinching it and relating his curly head of hair to a dust bunny you'd find hiding behind a sofa.

Richie knew his face looked weird. He'd spend hours in the bathroom staring at his face, poking his cheeks that hadn't lost their baby fat and scrunching up his nose that was a little crooked due to a broken nose that healed wrong. He attempted to reason with his hair but gave up and instead made faces to make his lips look thinner. When he took his glasses off, he had to squint, but squinting only showed his teeth and gave more attention to his lips, which his dad didn't like either.

"If your brain was as big as your lips, then maybe you wouldn't make so many stupid comments," his dad laughed once, ruffling his hands through Richie's hair.

Hell, his mom wished he was another gender. She wasn't a bad mom, she was amazing and kind. Richie loved her and she loved Richie, but she struggled to keep up with his odd humor. Hearing his mom wish she had a daughter hurt Richie, but it was okay, really.

Richie knew there was something wrong with him and if he could just figure out what it was, he would fix it if it made his parents happy. He was trying, he really was.

-

At school it was difficult, he could laugh at the other kids who mocked his teeth and be sarcastic towards those who made snide comments at him. They made fun of his clothes that were a little small for him.

It was better there than at home. He could lash out at school.

Walking out of school he lit up a cigarette knowing that the 3-inch stick could kill you, and breathed in. He was halfway done with the cig when he saw Henry Bowers and his gang follow a girl with long red hair tied in a ponytail. They were harassing her verbally, one of them pulling on her ponytail making her smack them away.

Beatrice or something he thought her name was. She had a reputation for being a slut, but Richie didn't fully believe it. Richie dropped the cig and stomped it out before walking towards the group.

"Hey!" Richie yelled at the group. He was never scared of them, just a little intimidated.

All of them turned and glared at him, even Betty a little.

"Heey bucktooth's here!" Henry grinned maliciously.

"Leave her alone and go fuck a cactus Bowers," Richie walked up to them, acting cocky as ever getting too close.

"If you don't shut up you little bastard, it's gonna be you who's gonna fuck a cactus," Henry's friend, Belch, threatened. The others in the gang laughed.

"I was just suggesting it because that's what your mom does," Richie shot back at Henry, "I heard her legs are pricklier than a cactus!"

Richie didn't even have time to react when a fist connected with his nose knocking him to a ground with a grunt, his glasses falling off his face.

He got up on his elbows seeing Henry's shoe too close to his glasses for his liking. Again, he wasn't fast enough to retort before the cracking of glass sounded as Richie looked on in silent horror as Henry too happily crushed and rubbed his glasses into the dirt.

Richie jumped up, anger clouding judgment as he was ready to fight in when he saw a police car drive their way.

Henry and his gang saw as well and left threatening that they weren't over.

Richie picked himself up and dusted off his outfit making himself look semi-presentable, and touched his nose tenderly to see a little blood on his fingers. He shrugged off the bloody nose and patted his pockets to make sure his cigarettes were okay. He turned to pick up his broken glasses and almost bumped into Betsy.

"Thank you..." the girl looked at him with pursed lips, her brows furrowed in concern. In her hands, she held his broken glasses handing them to him.

Richie stared at the frames, wondering if his parents would even put money into new ones. He breathed in heavily, feeling emotions swell in him, but he swallowed them quickly. He wasn't about to cry in front of a girl.

"My name's Beverly," She attempted a smile but didn't quite make it.

"Richie," Richie smiled big enough for the both of them, manipulating himself to feel better.

She looked down and saw the pack of cigarettes peeking out of his pocket. This time she let the corners of her mouth curve slightly as she pulled out her own pack, taking one out and handing it to him, "want one?"

- The two sat in in a secluded area, sitting on the ground with their backs against the brick wall, taking a drag every once in a while. It was a nice conversation. They realized they had a lot in common.

Richie talked non-stop betting that he was annoying her, but for the first time, someone truly listened. He liked her, but not in a romantic way that you see in the movies. She was older than him and all he saw was art and a miracle.

"How do you get your cigs?" Beverly asked before placing her 4th one between her lips.

"I steal money from my parents," Richie mumbled with a cigarette in his mouth fumbling with the lighter.

"How long have you been smoking?"

"Two months now. You?" Richie asked, still having trouble with his lighter. It was about gone he was guessing.

Bev rolled her eyes and lit his with her own lighter, saying nothing while doing so.

Richie stared at her in amazement. He really liked her.

They hung out every day for two weeks in the same spot talking about the world and its problems.

That Tuesday though Beverly seemed down, and Richie wanted to make her feel better. That's what friends do, right?

"Do you want some ice cream?" Richie asked when he gave up on his impressions, "I'll pay."

He kept on talking after they got their ice cream and was walking down the town's sidewalk, Richie making one of his accents for Beverly to listen to and rate. He wanted to make her laugh, what kind of man was he who couldn't make a woman laugh?

"Do you ever stop talking?" Beverly asked, but in curiosity instead of the usual annoyance, he heard attached to that question.

"Fuck no. I talk as much as I want whenever I want about whatever I want! From food to fucking —"

Beep Beep!

Richie jumped, choking on his words as they caught in his throat when the sound of a car horn went off, startling him enough to drop his ice cream on his shirt.

Bev held her hand to her mouth and hid her amused smile, but couldn't stop from hiding her giggling.

"Oh great. That's what makes you fucking laugh," Richie held his arms out looking down at his stained shirt, but unable to suppress a smile.

"Fucking—" "Beep beep, Richie," Beverly mimicked one of Richie's voices before falling into another fit of giggles.

Richie started laughing too and from then on, she used that phrase every time Richie would go on and need to be stopped.