Here's the most recent chapter, I hope there's a visible difference. Also, pretend there was a several year wait for this one, it helps the effect.
AN: Soooo sorry for the long delay, lol. I lost interest in IZ for a while, but now it's back with a vengeance! I'm so glad that ppl still likey this ficcy, especially since I worked so hard on it. All the reviews are really nice and sweet, and give me a lady boner.
However! One was really rude! The spelling and grammar are bad!? Bite me, nobodies perfect! I was only seventeen when I wrote this! Also, I don't explain things enough? I don't use enough description? Fine, you want description? I'll show you description!
Purple was cold and alone in the dungeon on the Vortian ship. The once magnificent tallest huddled in the corner of the lonely room, water dripped from the ceiling, the dampness chilling him to the bone. The tallest looked towards the single dim bulb in the room, then looked back to the dirty floor, a single tear running from his beautiful violet eye. Purple was sad.
The Vortians had locked him up without any company, laughing at him as they locked him away. During the past hour, Purple's spirit had been broken. Would they feed him, or just let him starve? They hadn't told him what they were planning on doing with him. Were they going to hack into the Galactic TV network and execute him on a live broadcast? Maybe they would use him for ransom! Or... what if they knew Purple's secret! That he was really a half angel demigod for the ninth dimension!
The thought of them knowing his secret made him tremble. He had never told anyone that secret, not even Red. You know, since Red was so dumb he'd probably tell everyone, including ZIM. The only person Purple had told was ZIM, his best, most closest friend, and once lover. ZIM understood the gravity of the situation, and promised not to tell anyone. Then him and Purple made hot, passionate love to each other. Purple wept, wishing that ZIM was there with him.
There were footsteps, and the large metal door was opened, revealing a Vortian guard. Purple cried out in terror as the guard approached him. It slammed a tray down on the ground in front of the cowering Tallest, turned and left. Watching the vile creature leave, the Irken turned his attention to the tray. Purple flinched back at what he saw, pressing his back against the wet stone of the wall. He knew they were vile creatures, but Purple had over estimated them. That came with seeing the best in everyone, and being half angel. Still, even half angels and saints had their limits.
Purple looked back at the tray, forcing himself to look upon the disgusting insult. The tray was simple, made of a rubbery, plastic substance, so he couldn't break it and fashion it into a shank, even though he would never do such a thing. It was also a very drab color of grey, like the flesh of the over lord of the Resisty. That insult was bad enough, but it was only the prelude to the horror.
On the tray was a glass of water! Not soda, a milk shake, wine, or even juice! There was also a small loaf of fresh baked bread, sans dipping oil, or even butter! The final affront was the centerpiece of the meal; a lone steak, cooked to perfection, without any seasoning!
"Why would they do this?" Purple wept, "There's not even salt!"
He fell to his knees sobbing, but finally decided to eat the meal anyways, because he was bored. Taking the fork and knife, he cut in the steak, finding it to be medium rare, it looked like New York strip. Those cheap Vortians couldn't even leave him a T bone.
Taking a small piece, he put it in his mouth and chewed. Even without the seasoning, it still had lovely flavor, and the texture was sublime. It made it worse. How perfect would it have been with some salt and a little garlic? Purple continued to eat the steak, alternating between it and the bread, until there was nothing but a strip of fat and some bread crust on his plate. He took the napkin left for him, and dabbed at his mouth daintily.
Now that he had eaten, there was nothing to do, but wait. He looked off into the distance plaintively, willing for a wistful image of ZIM to be superimposed onto the scene in front of him. His ZIM would save him, he knew he would.
AN: Oh god, poor Purple ;_; He's my favorite! The poor dear!
Wanna know what's really sad? I'm still not done with chapter five. Man I'm lame. It'll be done and beta's in a new days though, but I probably should have had the other chapters beta'ed. I'm all for stylistic suck, but when it just sounds like a bad copy of My Immortal, than it loses it's fun.