#man am i struggling with working butters' accent into his dialogue in a non-obnoxious way

[betaot4]

first lines in 2024

i love you forever & ever @foursaints <3 my sister from another mister, and by “mister” i mean fandom. (?) (i don’t know) thank you for tagging me omg i'm honored

share the first thing you have written in the new year once you get there (however long it takes & however brief!)

naturally, it's south park, no one is surprised.

Butters’ parents always warned him never to play near the train tracks.  He’d be leaning his head against the window of the car as they sped into town, watching trees flicker in and then out of view as if they were never there, but the train tracks, which ran along the highway, stayed put, almost like they were alive and following him.  Sometimes, when he was a kid, they would show up in his dreams. Lush yellow sunflowers sprouted from the otherwise parched and brittle brush. He’d run across to try and pick one, and he’d get hit by a barreling freight train. The imaginary howl of its whistle startled him awake. Then, the guilt would wreck his chest as he heaved for breath, feeling sorry to his parents that he perished in such an idiotic accident, and apologetic to the train for dirtying its nose with his bloodied and torn-apart cadaver.  Thus, naturally, Butters was a bit trepid when Kenny led him there one summer afternoon when they were both fifteen.  There were no sunflowers. Garbage and broken bottles littered the ground, cemented into the dirt after all the snow melted away. But Kenny was there, and he was holding Butters’ hand, and when he turned around and flashed Butters his gap-toothed smile, Butters thought it as seductive as the beauty he dreamed about in his youth. Feeling newly grown-up and unafraid, Butters supposed he would lie down on the tracks and let Kenny take him right then and there if Kenny asked him to. “Why'd you bring me here?” A piece of glass snapped under Butters’ heel. “I dunno, it’s peaceful. Quiet. I hang out here a lot. Have been since I was a kid.” Leave it to Kenny to be the one who dared to get up to all of the mischief Butters could only fantasize about. “Weren’t you scared? Y’know, of gettin’ hit? Dying?” “Nah,” Kenny huffed, laughing, with a cigarette from his jacket pocket perched between his teeth. It was just the two of them, the screaming of crickets in their angry cacophony, and a long steel road beckoning them out of South Park and into the rest of their lives. Kenny was frowning when Butters turned to look at him, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing: that it was a damn shame they both had to stay, and that a lukewarm summer night was a cruel tease in a town where winter seemed everlasting.  - (ending) Most of Butters’ summers were quiet, spent alone in the prison his parents called a bedroom. Right now, Kenny was breathing softly beside him, one arm around his lower stomach. Butters thinks would do anything to hold onto this security forever. 

super rough but here! i hardly have any of my lovely sp friends on here omg... but given that this is a butters/kenny snippet i can't help but tag @delivish the bunny queen... no pressure ofc. i love you all! anyone who wishes to can and should participate.

#man am i struggling with working butters' accent into his dialogue in a non-obnoxious way #my writing