"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE KRIFF, ANAKIN!" The newly christened Darth Vader cringed back from the spectacle of his heavily pregnant wife waddling down the ramp from her ship, her face red and contorted with more fury than he'd ever seen her sport. "WHAT – THE – ABSOLUTE – KRIFF!" she shrieked in his face. "You killed younglings? You came here to kill the Separatist leadership instead of arresting them so they could stand trial? You turned on the Jedi? ARE YOU KRIFFING INSANE?"

Anakin's eyes slid past her to the top of the ramp, where Obi-Wan stood looking equally shocked by the normally genteel Senator's diatribe. A sharp poke in the abdomen returned the tall man's attention to his short, ferocious wife. Padmé's eyes blazed with outrage as she glared up at him. "What in all the nine Corellian hells do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded, before holding up an incensed palm. "No. Don't answer that. There is no acceptable answer to that. I'm assuming you also helped Palpatine take over. Well you can just get your scrawny butt back into your starfighter and get your butt back to Coruscant, where you will help me make him un-takeover. Or so help me Shiraya, I will make you regret it for the rest of your days."

"Padmé-" Anakin began, but was cut off.

"No. Absolutely not. I don't want to hear it. You have no idea how much trouble you're in. Nothing you could say right now would make this better." She turned a fierce glare on him. "And when all this is over, Anakin, you and I are going to counseling!" Her gimlet stare turned away from him to skewer his loyal droid. "Artoo, please make sure this kriffing idiot makes it back to Coruscant in one piece. We'll see you there." Giving her husband one final disgusted look, the Nabooian Senator turned and stomped back to her ship. "Obi-Wan! Stop standing there like a blubberfish and get the engines fired up! If we're going to stop this whole Empire nonsense, we don't have a lot of time!"

Anakin swallowed hard as the Naboo yacht lifted smoothly from the landing pad before shooting towards orbit. A caustic whistle beside him had him swallowing hard again. "Yeah, I think I really screwed up this time."

Ya think, Ani?

So this is the first part of a multi-part series (I don't know yet how long it will be.) The rest of it will be published in a separate story, in compliance with my "no continuity" rule for Toss. It was inspired by a prompt gathered from Tumblr via YouTube in which someone said "... the most unbelievable thing about RotS was Padmé gracefully prancing while heavily pregnant with twins and tearfully begging Anakin to reconsider instead of waddling down the ramp and screaming 'WHAT THE **** ANAKIN'." So, thank you unknown Tumblr user for kickstarting my own recently-pregnant imagination.

(Further edit: Due to space limitations, the full chapter title is: In Which Padmé Is So Done With Anakin's Poodoo)