Drain You Chapter 2: Sliver, a south park fanfic

Yes my lovers it is Chapter 1! Not the longest thing ever but you kind of get an introduction to how pessimistic Star is. If anyone's confused Star is Craig and Ruby's half sister, she doesn't take Ruby's place, I just haven't featured the other Tucker sister yet! Anywho I hope you enjoy this first chapter of Drain You, and no I didn't put any OC's in this chapter, I'm going to be introducing them slowly. But next chapter I'm thinking you're probably gonna see Bugs, Theo and Verg! No worries, all the OC's will get crammed in sooner or later. [=

~~Peace, Love, Flowers, Puppies, Candy, Nirvana~~

~~Mick~~!

Disclaimer: Nope, South Park & the amazing song Sliver by Nirvana are sadly NOT mine!

Sliver

Mom and Dad went to a show

Dropped me off at grandpa Joe's

I kicked and screamed, said please, oh no

Grandma take me home

Had to eat my dinner there

Mashed potatos and stuff like that

Couldn't chew my meat too good

Grandma take me home

Said why don't you stop your crying

Go outside and ride your bike

That's what I did, I killed my toe

"What the fuck Star." That was the first thing that popped out of my half brother's mouth when he got into the car with us. After talking to him for years through only phone and email I forgot how much of a dick Craig is.

"What Craig?" I snap right back at him. I guess I should explain who I am, not that you give a shit. Honestly I don't blame anyone for not-caring, I mean who wants to read about another stupid teenage girl? Not me. Anyways my name's Star Tucker, well Starla Renee Tucker actually but I will sac you if you call me that. It's just Star. I was a 'love child' or so my dad says, but when he says 'love' he really means 'mistake child' trust me, I know this shit. Pretty much I'm the result of an affair Thomas Tucker had with a Canadian woman while on a business trip in the 90's. That Canadian woman is my mother obviously; Rachelle LeClaire, yeah…she's French Canadian, a true Quebecer through and through. It's disgusting. Especially because even after living in Quebec Canada with her for ten years I still can't speak a word of French. Recently my mom lost her job as an exotic dancer—yes, an exotic dancer—and we got evicted. So what did she do? Pawned me off to my father of course. I don't hold it against her; I mean I'd rather live in Colorado in an actual house than in Montreal on the street.

"Dude…" A corner of Craig's full lips curls up. "You're Goth"

"You still wear the same toque you did in grade 3!" I send him a scowl. I guess I have changed, last time he saw me I was all bouncy black pigtails and freckles. But he looks different too. Fucking different. He's probably 6'1 now, his hair—the same pitch black as mine used to be—is down to his shoulders and stick straight with long bangs, but his eyes are still that icy blue that just stabs at you subconsciously even when you're not looking at him. That's Craig Tucker for you. I wish I would have inherited the blue eyes from my dad but no I had to get my mom's boring honey brown, what's even worse is when that whole Twilight fad started I was asked numerous times if I was a vampire because of their goldish hue. Fucking conformists.

"I like my toque!" Craig proclaims, another thing I have that my brother has—the ability to keep a monotone voice even when I'm yelling—I don't know how either of us does it but we do.

"You've got everything Star?" Dad leans against the passenger-side door of his bland Dodge Caravan and gives me a fake-smile, his once fiery red hair is fading to grey. I never want to fade like that, but don't we all eventually? It's inevitable.

"Yeah" I reply halfheartedly, it's obvious that dad doesn't want me here. Eh, I don't blame him; I wouldn't want me here either. Life's fucking swell. I hope you caught the sarcasm. "I've got everything"

"Bye hon." I roll down the back window to let mom give me a peck on the forehead. Mom in all of her fried-straight-dyed-auburn hair glory. What can I say, I'll miss her. "I'll call you every weekend Starla sweetie" She gives me a smile—a Thomas Tucker fake smile—and then sends a melancholy look towards my dad. I know she wishes he woulda chose her over the homey blonde he did marry. But he didn't. Of course not.

"See ya mom" The words come out as one long sigh. We're outside the airport in Denver right now. Mom was nice enough to come on the flight to Colorado with me—but I know she didn't really wanna. Oh well. It's not like I'm ever gonna see her again.

"Bye my little Star" Mom gives me one last one-armed hug before leaving. She's such a sensitive person I'm surprised she didn't break down crying. But, again, I don't blame her…it's just me after all.

Craig leans over to roll up my window, dad gets in the drivers seat and we're off. After driving for awhile a blotchy, splintery wooden sign comes into view. Hello South Park.

I think there's a Nirvana song that could describe every day of my life. I think this as I tack a corner of my favorite Kurt Cobain poster up above my bed. I may be Goth but I go weak at the knees when I hear that mans voice. I worship the King of Grunge. Sue me. The pounding drums, the long low bass line, the heavy guitar and that voice…I absentmindedly clutch my Voodoo doll teddy to my chest and sigh dreamily. Nirvana is the one and only thing I'm a total fan girl for, I won't even deny it. I own every book, CD, poster and merchandise possible for that band. They're seriously my life…which is intensely sad when you think about it. Shut up, I'm a pessimist. I have done wonders with this room though. What was once the violet-walled guest bedroom is now half-covered in posters—mostly of Nirvana and Kurt, but there are a few Skinny Puppy and Sex Pistols ones thrown around in there—and I bought dark purple paint back in Montreal to redo the walls.

Good work so far Starla Renee—only I can call myself by my full name, if anyone else says it I get seriously pissed. I toss a black pillow onto my bed and low and behold out falls a half smoked cigarette. Beautiful. I light the bitch up and take a long drag. Nothing like a smoke at—what time is it…12:45 on a Sunday. Hell cigarettes are good anytime, and coffee. Coffee, smokes, bright red hair dye and Nirvana…the story of my life. Pathetic.

Suddenly there's a heavy knock on my bedroom door—what the fuck? "Who is it?" I call dully, pressing the final tack into the wall to keep Kurt's beautiful face forever immortalized over my bed.

"You have a visitor Starla!" I hear dad's muffled voice from down the hall somewhere.

A visitor? Me? Who in their right mind would be visiting me? Frowning and killing the cigarette I stride over to the door and slowly creak it open. "Uh…hi?"

"Hi" The boy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his other hand is cupping something familiar—a piece of clay?

But then I recognize the tiny sculpture and I gasp, I turn on my heel and whip the other half of the long-dried clay out from my dresser drawer. "Ike!"

"Star" It's all coming back to me now. The days when I didn't spend hours moping around and listening to downer music. "You look so different"

I can almost feel tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. "So do you" I exclaim, and I can't help myself, I throw my arms around his neck and press my face into his warm, comforting shoulder. He smells like home. And just like Craig he looks so different. I remember Ike Broflovski as the petite, raven haired, genius-kid. Now he's long and lanky, but his skin is the same snow-pale and he still has that delicate dusting of freckles along his cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. His hair is it's natural flat-black although now it's down a little past his shoulders at the back and his bangs have grown out so much that they cover one eye—he doesn't look like an emo poseur though. He's wearing a faded Dead Kennedy's t-shirt with the neckline hanging low over his bony shoulders along with a pair of wrecked cream white Converse and torn up blue jeans. Can you believe me and this kid used to be best friends?

Neither can I.

"Holy fuck Star" Ike nuzzles his head into my hair—it's greasy but it smells like flowers—and sighs deeply. This is like the reunion of the century. I dunno why he's so happy to see me though. "I missed you Star Girl"

"Fuck" My mind's still processing everything. I haven't seen this boy since we were both five years old. Ten years ago man. I wish we could catch up…but we've been apart for so long there's no way we'll ever be as close as we once were. Bummer. Eh, it's not like I ever have any good luck anyways. "I missed you too Ikey" Yeah I'm Goth. But there's an exception for my first best-friend, my first kiss, my first love…Ike Broflovski. We shared a lot of firsts me and that kid. Maybe we can get it all back. Because I never had a better friend than him. I'm crying. Oh fuck no I'm crying. I dig my glossy black fingernails into the fabric of Ike's t-shirt and sob lightly. He holds onto me like it's the end of the world. And maybe it fucking is.

Grandma take me home

After dinner, I had ice cream

I fell asleep, and watched tv

Woke up in my Mother's arms

Grandma take me home

I wanna be alone

Right O, so far these are the OC's I've gotten:

Bugs Montgomery

Theo Sykes

Vergil Day

Isabelle Layke

Laura McCarthy

Kuran Montri

Emilie Griffiths

Christy Morejon, oh ChristyCullen101 I'm just wondering, are you submitting Christy as a younger character or as Kyle and everyone's age? And also, can I use Nathan too?

Alrighty so a bit of info about how OC's will be used. Older OC's won't be featured much, also most of the older characters already have pairings. Actually I'm not really sure if this story's gonna have many pairings, it may just be teenagers screwing around with eachother for the most part. I STILL haven't decided on a pairing for Star, she'll probably end up being with Ike, Georgie, Evan, Derek and maybe even Tweek once and then hafta pick who she wants, no she's not a slut. Oh, ALSO, Star probably WON'T be friendly to most of the OC's. There are a few exceptions like her childhood friends Bugs, Ike, Theo and Verg but for the most part she plays the bitchy-Goth, she might later realize how stupid she acts sometimes. So, no one take offence if your OC gets bashed a little because you all know that I adore your characters but to write this in Star's POV I hafta be a bit mean. Because whereas my hippie Jude loves everyone my Goth Star hates. So yeah. LOVE TO EVERYONE. I'll be accepting about 6-7 more OC's max. R&R MY BEAUTIES! The more you review the more your OC gets featured ;D