#upstartpoodle

[helbertinelli]

Anidala + haunt me for the fic ask meme please? :)

I didn't want to go the obvious route and have Padme haunt Anakin/Vader. This is set before ROTS and it was hard to write.

--

A few weeks had passed since Padme learned about the death of her husband during his rescue of Chancellor Palpatine. She remained locked in her apartment on Coruscant, having no desire to face the outside world. After all, since their relationship was kept a secret, no one would understand why the news of his death affected her like they did or how deeply did they affect her.

Most days she would lie on the couch, wrapped in Anakin's Jedi robe. It was one of the few objects she had from him. Sleeping in the bedroom was painful as she once shared it with Anakin and seeing his empty side of the bed, brought back bad memories and the thought that he would never share her bed again. She did not care much for food anymore, but only ate enough to support the child she was carrying. Anakin's child. Padme brought her hand to her stomach, tracing her fingers over her swollen baby and a small smile crept on her lips. She thought about how happy both of them would have been. Of course, she had been worried about telling him about the pregnancy because of how it might affect their lives, but she knew deep down that Anakin would have been happy to learn of their child. Her lips quivered and the smile turned into a frown as tears started streaming down her face.

"I can't..." She took a deep breath, between her sobs. "I can't do this without you Anakin." And saying his name proved painful still as she started crying even more. She got off the couch and sat on the floor. Her knees were pulled to her chest and she had her arms wrapped around herself as she continued crying. The hood of Anakin's robe fell over her head, obscuring most of her face.

As she cried, she felt someone next to her, holding her. Her first instinct was to pull away, but the touch was warm and familiar, and she looked up to see Anakin kneeled next to her, his arms enveloping her. He seemed ethereal, like a ghost, but more real than that.

"Ani?" She whispered, taking short breaths to steady her voice.

"I'm sorry I left you." Anakin moved his hands to cup her face. His voice sounding almost as shaken as hers as he tried to hold back tears. "I should have been more careful. But I can stay here with you, like this. I promise I'll never leave again."

Padme nodded. She did not want him to feel guilty at all about what happened. It was all out of his control. She did not understand why or how he was there right now but she was not going to question it. Maybe it was really him, maybe her mind started playing tricks on her because of all the pain she had gone through.

"I don't want you to ever leave. You have no idea..." She held her hand close to his and she could feel all the energy he gave out. "I never got to tell you. We never had any time together." Padme continued and the tears started again. She hated that he was seeing her cry, but she could not help herself this time around. "I'm pregnant, Ani." She said, looking into his deep blue eyes. How she loved his eyes. She wondered if he knew, if she had told him enough times how beautiful his eyes were.

Anakin smiled widely at the news, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks and wiping off her tears. He couldn't find the right words to say anything back to her. He was happy about the baby, but at the same time it hurt knowing he wouldn't physically be there for her and their child.

"I can't do this without you." She repeated, looking at him pleadingly, as if she was begging him to come back to her.

"You can. But I'll be here. Not as before, but still here in some form. I'll make sure you and the baby are safe and loved." Anakin assured. "You'll be a good mother, Padme." He gave her a soft smile, the same smile he always had for her and she knew he meant it. His words did give her hope and they took away some of the pain. Although he was gone part of him stayed with her. She did not have to let go of him just yet.

[harry-leroy]

For the sentence starters: Georgibeth + “I’ve been alone for so long I’m afraid I don’t know what it’s like not to be” or Warlenys + "I need you to trust me" please? :D

Oh my goodness, thank you so much for waiting. It has been wayyy too long since you sent this in, but I am finally (nearly) done with school, so I have time to actually catch up on fic prompts now. I ended up going to the Warlenys prompt, but I definitely want to write that Georgibeth prompt eventually. I hope you enjoy! Tagging my Warleggan family: @ticketybooser and @forcebros - love you guys <3 

The scene which Dwight found as he entered Trenwith was a troubling one, though not for the typical reasons that he had come to expect upon his many visits with George over the past few months. Dwight had just entered the house, but George looked ready to leave it. 

“Sir George,” Dwight stuttered as he spoke, still surprised at George’s well-fashioned appearance. “I was not expecting you to be…” 

“What?” George spoke with his old terseness, straightening his cravat in the mirror. “Can a man not go on an outing with his family?” 

Before Dwight managed to respond, Cary entered the room, appearing as though he were just finished with one errand before moving onto the next. The good doctor felt somewhat saved by Cary’s appearance. It was he after all who had called Dwight. 

“Ah, doctor,” Cary began, sounding cordial for George before pulling Dwight aside and speaking in a lower tone, “I do not trust my nephew to go out like this. He seems unusually out of temper this morning. I thought it would be best to um…” 

Dwight nodded, understanding his meaning. George did look nearly like his old self, as if none of the previous damage had even occurred, but there was the odd angle in the mirror that revealed dark circles under his eyes and the way his fingers trembled as he adjusted his clothes. By now, George was in good enough sense to understand the conversations his uncle had with Ralph Hanson through the door, but not enough to throw himself back into the endless workload he was wont to put on himself. He was impatient, itching to have his say in his own family business. It was only natural, after all. 

“I will have a word with him,” Dwight said to Cary, who nodded in understanding, his shoulders relaxing somewhat upon hearing that he had made the right decision to call a doctor. Cary decided to take a step back to allow the doctor to do his work, but stayed in the room in case George tried to do anything rash. It wouldn’t have been the first time that such a thing happened. 

“George,” Dwight began gently. “I am encouraged to see you motivated to make an outing. It is a great improvement from where we started, no doubt,” 

“And?” George did not turn away from the mirror, but instead stared Dwight’s reflection down with those piercing eyes of his. 

“Well,” the doctor began, not sure how to phrase his concern. “I believe this improvement is so great that it has caused your uncle a bit of concern. An outing to the church or perhaps even to Sawle village may be one matter, but anywhere else may be too much. You are still in recovery from considerable trauma, and as your doctor, I share your uncle’s concern,” 

“Damn it, man!” George stamped his foot and swiftly turned on his heel. “I am treated like a child in my own house and now I must suffer the same fate outside of it. I can hardly hold a butter knife without unusual vigilance on my every move. Will I never be trusted again? Or must I be kept in the house… like a… spinster! Or a madman…” 

It discouraged Dwight considerably to have George call himself a madman, and it was probably rather constricting to have Cary keep a hawk’s eye on him ever since he nearly fell off of the Nampara cliffs. He sighed. 

“I understand your frustration, but you are not a madman. The mind may betray us in mysterious ways and your uncle only wants to keep you safe. I have no opposition to a small outing, but I should ask that I come with you,” Dwight said calmly. 

George looked very nearly about to cry. 

“Do you have any idea what this is like?” He asked, nearly losing his voice by the end of his question, pointing to his own head upon the word ‘this’. “I hardly feel like myself anymore and you’re not helping,” 

“How might I be of help?” Dwight asked. He had expected some frustration from George given the nature of his illness, but by now even Dwight had to admit that he might have been a little frustrated too if in George’s position. He thought of Caroline in that moment, though wished he hadn’t. 

“I need you to trust me,” George said. “I think I have enough sense now to tell when I am feeling alright and when I am not. I am feeling fine and would like to take a walk with my family. Is that too much to ask?” 

“No, it is not,” Dwight said cautiously. “But I also need you to trust me. I have treated many such cases like yours and can tell you with confidence that it is unwise to go as far as you wish to go given the nature of your illness. So we shall make a compromise. I propose that we take a walk to Sawle village. Bring Valentine and Ursula along if you like,” 

George relaxed a little. So did Cary, who had been watching this entire time. 

“But, George,” the doctor reminded himself. “Now that you are on the mend, and I do truly believe you are on the mend, I must tell you that this will continue to be a battle you face for the rest of your life, and you must know when to take breaks. You cannot continue to push yourself to the brink of exhaustion. I understand your impatience to return to the world, but you must give yourself more time,” 

His patient nodded. He knew it all too well. Some days he felt just as he had before, but in seconds it could all come back to him and he would fall into a frantic state for days on end. He still had a hard time controlling it, which is why he had Dwight to help him. Perhaps it would always be like that. It frustrated him, but for the moment, he let it go. 

“Well,” Dwight said. “Shall we go? We’re fast losing light. I believe we shall be caught in the rain all the way out there,” 

George nodded. “There are worse things than a little rain,”

[boromirswife]

George for the multi-shipping ask thing please? :D

Elizabeth (of course ❤️)

Dwight (again, of course)

Tankard (I mostly see it as Tankard pining after George, though)

Maybe Francis? (In a better world where they don’t end up hating each other. There’s one particular interaction with them that is really sweet, just after Geoffrey Charles is born)

Caroline (only in the context of the Dwight/George/Caroline ot3)

Send me a character and i’ll tell you at least two characters I ship them with

[moviestorian]

37 for the handwriting asks please? :D

37. Favourite Animal(s)?

Handwriting Asks

[blu-b]

upstartpoodle replied to your post: Great answers! I totally agree with you re how the script treats George. The way that Francis giving the names of the shareholders was treated by the narrative in s2 does bug me - it’s kind of like none of the characters can actually remember how that part of the plot went down in s1

That’s exactly what I mean. And it’s not only the characters that can’t remember, it’s the audience as well (and not only with that scene, but with others as well). Like, people are accusing George of this and that and I’m sitting there like, no, that’s not how it happened?? It’s in the film, just go and watch and see for yourself that you’re wrong?! And you can throw actual quotes at these people or link them to a vid of the scene and they will still find a way to blame George for everything.

[helbertinelli]

10, 20 & 24 for the star wars ask meme please? :D

10. hottest character?

Anakin. There’s no contest here.

20. which character deserves more material?

My girl, Padme!!!

24. favorite theme in the star wars story?

Love. SW is the best when there’s love involved. Anakin and Padme’s romance is what made the prequels perfect. And Luke’s love for his family + HanLeia was what made the OT perfect. Without those relationships, SW would have been boring. Love is at the core of everything in SW.

[helbertinelli]

1, 5 and 11 for the salty asks please? :D

Gonna go with SW for this one.

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

Anakin shipped with anyone other than Padme or Padme shipped with anyone other than Anakin. It just makes no sense to me and you'd have to drastically alter their characters to make it so that they suddenly don't want to be a couple or they want to be in a relationship with someone else.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

Not really.... but they did ruin Sabe for me.

11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

Anakin and Padme? Lol... uhh... I'm not sure who the fandom hates... I see a lot of hate for Anakin, but a lot of people also love him so he doesn't count. And Padme isn't really unpopular in the sense that people dislike her, but she's forgotten so I guess she doesn't count either.

Mace Windu? Is he unpopular in the fandom? I think he's really cool and there's more to him that him being strict all the time.

[harry-leroy]

For the two sentence thingy: When George awoke, it was to a bone-deep tiredness aching in his limbs, and the sight of a familiar man dozing in the chair beside his bed. He frowned, wracking his brain for a reason why Dr Enys might have been there.

Thank you so much for this! (It’s a bit angsty at first but then it got much cuter later because I need more George/Valentine moments in my life). Tagging @forcebros and @ticketybooser because the Warleggan gang is forever xoxo 

When George awoke, it was to a bone-deep tiredness aching in his limbs, and the sight of a familiar man dozing in the chair beside his bed. He frowned, wracking his brain for a reason why Dr. Enys might have been there. He could only remember voices, all of them shouting at once in the pitch dark winter. 

Get back here, George! 

It’s alright, George. We won’t hurt you. 

Won’t you join me, my dear? 

That’s no way to look after your son. 

George! 

He sighed, shaking his head a little to rid himself of the noise. As tiring as it was, he decided to reach an arm out to shake the good doctor awake. It was rather selfish of him, he thought later, to disturb Enys from his rest, but it would do neither of them good to have his patient clueless without answers. 

Dwight opened his eyes, at first slightly unsure of where he was himself. It had been a long night, and in his short sleep he had dreamt of being home in Caroline’s arms. The dream was much more pleasant than the reality. However, the sight of George’s wide and terrified eyes soon brought him back into action. 

“Oh, Sir George,” Dwight began. 

“Why are you in my house?” George’s voice was shaky. 

“It’s alright,” Dwight rose from the chair and urged his patient to relax with a gesture of his hand. He then pointed his head to George’s wrist, “May I?” 

George did not move, still timid and somewhat groggy himself. 

“I need to take your pulse, if you don’t mind,” Dwight said patiently. 

The man in the bed then relaxed a little, and held out his wrist, which Dwight took carefully. 

“You had a rough evening, I’m afraid,” Dwight continued. “But it’s alright now. We got you back home in one piece,” 

“Home?” George interrupted, and Dwight could feel his patient’s pulse jump. “Where did I go?” 

“You took one of the horses and made a dash towards Nampara,” Dwight said, knowing now so far into their sessions together that it was best to be upfront with George. “The path was flooded, so you didn’t go far,” 

Dwight paused, still holding George’s wrist but not measuring the pulse anymore. Instead, he looked into his patient’s gaze, which was directed not at the doctor, but at the opposite end of the room. He was lost. 

“You don’t recall?” he asked. 

George blinked and shook his head slightly, exhaling a breath he must have been holding in. Dwight dropped the wrist gently back onto the bed, worrying that in his own exhaustion he might have been too upfront with the man. 

“George,” the doctor began. “These occurrences, while they are frightening, are normal for someone recovering -” 

“That’s the second time,” George said, almost under his breath. 

“The second time what?” Dwight took the chair, pushed it closer to the bed, and sat down. 

With those terrified eyes back on Dwight, “Nampara. That’s the second time I’ve been to Nampara,” 

“Well, you didn’t quite get there the second time,” the doctor said, trying to keep George’s spirits up. 

“No,” George said, and frowned. “She told me to - she told me to go there,” 

He suddenly took hold of Dwight’s sleeve, and began to breathe heavily, his eyes turning paranoid, darting from corner to corner of the room. Dwight quickly took control and held George’s hand to keep him somewhat grounded. 

“Oh, I’m a lunatic, aren’t I?” George got out between gasps. He was shivering. 

“George, look at me,” Dwight said. “I wish as much as you do that she were here, or that these waves of delusion did not come over you, and for grief so deep I fear that this pain may never go away. But, look at me, you must learn to accept whatever you feel, and I will help you to recognize it. You are not mad. You are grieving. Whatever happened last night has passed. You were not injured, just a little worse for the wear,” 

George was nodding to everything Dwight was saying, but found himself agreeing with none of it. 

“Now,” the doctor continued, more gentle than before. “Why would she take you there?” 

“I don’t know,” George buried his head between his shoulders, growing quiet, defeated. “I don’t know,” 

“What did she say to you?” Dwight pushed a little, knowing that George would find it eventually, whatever it was. 

The doctor gave George some time, during which the man began to cry in his panic. He rubbed his eyes with a rough, trembling hand. 

“Shh…” Dwight took hold of his patient’s other hand. “It’s alright,” 

After a few moments where the two sat together, George finally managed a quiet, yet brilliantly strong answer. 

“Valentine,” He said, without looking up. “He was in the house, but I thought he was…” 

“With Ross,” Dwight finished. 

George nodded. 

“I’ve been so awful to him,” he said. “I know I was unfair, and look what it’s done,” He lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes deeply pained. “She would want us together. But I haven’t been there. He’s had no one. Believe me, I know what it’s like…” 

“What?” Dwight picked up, urging him to keep talking when his patient turned his head again. 

“To be neglected,” George finished soberly. 

Before Dwight had a chance to respond, the door opened then to reveal a concerned Cary. 

“What’s going on here?” he rushed in, and Dwight let go of his patient’s hand. “Oh, doctor. Forgive me,” 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Dwight nodded, still mentally trying to swallow what George had said. “Sir George will be just fine. Rest has done him quite well,” 

In the doorway, Dwight caught sight of another figure, quite smaller than Cary, darting into the room. 

“Papa!” Valentine ran right up to the bed, nearly knocking into Dwight on the way. Without a second thought, George wrapped the boy tightly in his arms and took a much needed deep breath. Valentine seemed somewhat surprised at the embrace, then, characteristically of his age, tried to squirm away. 

“Papa, too tight,” he said. Dwight, standing with Cary, couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m sorry,” George managed a small laugh, and let go a little. 

“Look what Bessie and I made for you,” Valentine said, and from his coat pulled out a small bouquet of somewhat squished flowers. “Ursula helped,” 

George took them with his still shaky hand and began to cry again. This bewildered Valentine a little, who then looked to Dr. Enys and Cary for they would surely tell him what to do. 

“It’s alright,” Dwight assured him. “What is the occasion for such lovely flowers?” 

“Uncle Cary said that Papa was ill again, so I thought that they would cheer him up,” Valentine said, after hesitating in the midst of his father’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

“Thank you,” George finally managed. “I think I will have a vase brought up and keep them right here so that when I see them, I’ll think of you,” 

While Valentine was beaming, Cary leaned his head in towards Dwight. 

“I didn’t pay you to soften him up,” He said, his voice low. 

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Warleggan, that Sir George is anything but soft. He grows stronger every day. The loss of a wife like Elizabeth would puncture a hole through any man’s heart, but such wounds can only be repaired by a love for his children. It’s an education we get at the worst of times, but in the end, it makes us better men,” 

Cary exhaled, and probably retorted, but Dwight didn’t listen. Instead, he was taken with the sight of a father and his child and at first smiled, but then frowned at a feeling of his own grief.