Okay, I'm hoping this will be some kind of a comeback. I feel like I haven't been here in far too long, I've lost any presence I ever had, I've lost touch with some lovely people, and I've let so many fics pass me by.

So, the first thing I wanna do is a massive apology. I know I've done one on the Femme Boosh forum, but not everyone will have seen that. So:

First of all, I am sorry to anyone who subscribed to the Femme Boosh only for your terrible mod to leave it to rot for a few months. I've gone through the archive to add any new femfic, tho I only found two, and I'm gonna do my best now to get on top of this. Also, if I've missed any fics, can people let me know? Also, there's a fic I'm not sure about- link is on the forum (w w w . fanfiction .net/topic/52783/9935177/1/), so can anyone who has opinion drop me a line there please?

Secondly, I'm sorry to anyone who sent me a review that I didn't reply to. I am so so sorry- all my reviews mean a hell of a lot to me, and I'm so thankful for each one. So thank you very much, and sorry for failing to reply. I'll try not to let it get to that point again.

Thirdly, I'm sorry for promising a big Femme Boosh challenge and it not happening.

But it is happening now! A post has been set up within the Femme Boosh forum here- w w w . fanfiction .net/topic/52783/12760001/1/ (or just use the link on the archive page, might be easier, lol). Anyone is welcome to play, rules and how-to on the post. So if you feel that way inclined, get on down there and put yer name down!

Right, if I carry on at this rate, my A/N will be longer than the fic itself. This is a drabble taken from another drabble123 challenge, this time using the Angst table, for Anthrax/Ebola. It links into the fairly detailed backstory I've created for them, which I'm keeping mysterious for now, but I will at some point write a Secret History fic about them.
They're quite young in this fic- Anthrax at least is still in her teens.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Boosh. I do not own Dee Plume or Sue Denim. I do not own these beautiful, beautiful women. I can only dream.

Hope you enjoy.

From the prompt 'forsaken'.

The Death of Paulette

The look on his face is a picture of shock, and Anthrax's eyes are drawn to every sag of skin, every stretched wrinkle, the way the mouth hangs open like it's on a slack string, the way his eyes are dulled, but with one little glint left, a glimmer of hope that, maybe, she might be lying.

"The phone has been disconnected. We do not use the internet. Anything that arrives by post will be burned."

Ebola savours the last word, pronouncing it with a hiss of spite. There's a delight in it, a thrill of malice, and Anthrax shivers.

"Darling, surely… you don't mean this?"

He's trying to smile, but Anthrax hears it catch. It's a false hope. He knows she means it very well.

"Tell me why I wouldn't mean it. Why would I joke about this?"

There's a strain on Ebola's voice, and it's so unusual that Anthrax almost fancies she feels nervous.

"Do I look like a person who jokes?!"

Ebola is shouting now, practically screaming. Anthrax has never even heard her raise her voice before, and it's shrill and hysterical and strange. That quiet subdued control that Ebola exudes is gone. This almost-nervous feeling is gnawing at Anthrax's insides.

"I won't-"

"If you come near us, we will not call the police. We have… other allies." She's calmer now already, getting back her control, but she's breathless, and not as calm as she should be.

She turns abruptly, takes Anthrax by the hand and pulls her toward the door.

"Paulette, please!"

Ebola stops and turns back. Not a full-body turn, just a disdainful incline of the head.

"Paulette is gone," she says.

And Ebola leads Anthrax away, while her father slumps and endlessly repeats "Paulette, Paulette…" as though it might bring the dead girl back.