#Tasha's Tasty Tarts

[davenweenie]

a self indulgent post of headcanons to comfort me during a chronic pain flare up

Lab Rats Headcanons

Leo has an obsession with lemons for some reason, he gets so many lemons at the shop(store) and makes random stuff with them

Leo makes the most amazing lemon curd and makes very tasty tarts with them

Leo’s baking is the only sweet things Chase will eat because it’s the only sweet food he trusts

Adam devours all of Leo’s baking, they have to hide the sweet treats from him because he will just stand in the kitchen and eat it all

Bree literally guards Leo’s baking from everyone else because it’s so tasty, nobody is allowed to touch her food (growing up with an older brother that will steal your food does that to you, I know from personal experience)

Douglas is the designated chef when they have big family meals

Douglas’s love language is cooking tasty dishes for people

Similarly, Leo’s love language is baking for people

Donald does not have a love language because he is an evil little man

Chase’s love language is fixing things for people or making things that they need (fixing broken watches, phones, laptops etc or making people random little gadgets that they want)

Adam’s love language is definitely physical touch. He hugs people all the time, he loves cuddling up on the sofa(couch) with his loved ones and watching a movie and being all cozy.

Bree’s love language is getting people gifts. She will find something in a shop and buy it for someone. (“Here’s a *insert random object*, it reminded me of you.”)

Tasha’s love language is affirmations. She’s constantly telling her loved ones how amazing they’ve done or how brilliant something is. (“You’re doing amazing, sweetie!” “Oh wow, that looks really good!” etc)

It takes Daniel a while to warm up to everyone and get comfortable being himself around his family.

Once he gets used to the dynamics, his real golden retriever personality starts to shine through. He’s very bouncy and full of energy, they all love it.

Naomi is the most spoilt sibling in the world. She gets loads of gifts from her siblings every time they come to visit.

AB&C give her so much love because they want to give her what they never got growing up

sorry that ended so sadly, I didn’t mean for it to end so sadly lmao, anyway, I hope you all enjoyed that.

[halfcupofcoffee-blog]

14)

Time to learn about my alter ego Natasha Pavlova and how she came about.

I go the name from an episode of this old TV from the 60s called The Monkees. The episode was one of the few were Peter got the girl. The girl, who was Natasha, was a Russian ballerina inadvertently aiding the delivery of a secret Micro-film which was hidden in her red ballet shoes. 

Peter was my favorite out of the four Monkees, so I took a liking to her. NatashaPavlova was my pen name on a Fanfiction website because of it. At some point in my writing, I found I needed a restaurant for characters to eat at, so Tasha’s Tasty Tarts was born. It started as a cafe where people got coffee and doughnuts for quick dates and whatnot, but then I needed someone to run it, to be a small character that wasn’t important to the plot.

Thus Tasha, manager, and owner or Tasha’s Tasty Tarts, was born. When I started writing more for her character, she turned into something I never expected, but even now she’s not even that anymore. 

I was very into the Beatles at the time, and mainly she was a love interest to George Harrison in most of my stories. The story went that Natasha lived with her mother in Liverpool next door to George Harrison where the cliche story of growing up as best friends took place. Tasha was a ballerina where she met a lot of her friends who I had literally forgotten until now.

In order to keep the Beatle History intact, I only had Tasha and George date and fall in love until around 1964 right before George met Patti Boyd and all that. I know quite a lot of Beatle History. 

After that I didn’t do much with her character other than random little stories or drawings. I’ve had a layout of Tasha’s restaurant and her upstairs apartment forever. 

What she is now is a very different character with a much bigger background now. Her parents split when she was young and she and her mother moved to London. Her mother opened up Tasha’s Tasty Tarts, named after her daughter as a bakery. They lived above in the apartment upstairs together. 

When he mother died, she inherited the bakery and turned it into a cafe. She basically spent her whole life working in the cafe and married a guy called Marvin who played in th band she hired. 

I’m planning to eventully write a book about her and her life. I’ve started it a couple times, but haven’t gotten very far with it. The last shot was a plot about a secret oganization that turned her inot a super spy. Clearly I couldn’t figure out a way to make that work. 

Anyway, there’s some stuff about Natasha for you. Hope it wasn’t too boring for you.

[halfcupofcoffee-blog]

Tasha’s Tasty Tarts 2.0

I saw Marvin sitting in his usual booth with Draper. I didn’t know what to do. Babs had made me call him and invite him to have dinner with us last night, but he said he had other plans. I knew he was just hurt I hadn’t called him sooner. Now he was sitting with his brother eating from a plate of doughnuts like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Tasha, just go talk to him.” Babs said after spending the last ten minutes watching me watch Marvin. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is too!” I groaned, “He told me to call him if I needed him.” 

“But you didn’t need him.” Baby frowned and I let my head fall onto the counter dramatically.

“Yeah, but him saying to call him if I needed him meant that I should call him to let him feel like I needed him.” I whined and felt like I should just give up and go back to bed. Babs was more than capable of running the bakery by herself and with Desmond in the kitchen, nothing would go wrong. I could avoid Marvin and the rest of the world and be perfectly fine under my covers. 

“Just go over there and talk to him.” Babs suggested again. I shook my head and she picked me up from the counter. “At least go offer him some coffee.” She handed me the coffee pot. I took it over to Marvin’s table and I tried to pretend I was fine with the whole situation. 

“Hey Tasha.” Draper grinned at me. “How are you?” It didn’t sound like the ‘how are you’ I was getting a lot of recently. It sounded like a regular ‘how are you’ like you would get after seeing a person you haven’t seen in a while. 

“I’m doing okay.” I tried to smile. “Do you guys want some coffee?” I held up the pot and Draper nodded quickly. He was always in a good mood, and I envied him. I gestured for Marvin to pass me his cup and he handed it to me with a smile. I thought for a second maybe I was overthinking everything, that maybe he knew I just didn’t think to call him.

“I was hoping you would open the bakery back up soon.” Draper said, drawing my attention away from his brother, “I missed your Lemon Meringue Pies.” 

“Well we have some fresh made this morning. I’ll bring you a slice on the house.” I smiled genuinely now and Draper cheered before nudging Marvin. 

“I get free pie.” He waggled his eyebrows and Marvin looked at me like he couldn’t believe his brother was actually excited over pie. 

“I’ll be right back.” I promised before hurrying away. Babs grinned at me like that short interaction fixed everything between Marvin and me. 

“So?” She prodded as I grabbed a clean plate for Draper’s pie. I cut a slice and carefully set it in the center of the plate. I poured some powdered sugar over it and set a fork on the edge of the plate. 

“So?” I asked back, reaching for some napkins. 

“Marvin?” She raised her eyebrows at me and I rolled my eyes at her. She was just being annoying now. 

“Would barely even look at me.” I said before I walked back over to Draper and Marvin’s table. I set the pie in front of Draper. “Can I get anything else for you guys?” 

“Yes,” Draper said, surprising me. Usually they got their doughnuts and coffee and that was all. “Please, sit.” He gestured to the seat next to him. I glanced at Marvin and he frowned at Draper. 

“Draper?” I asked slowly. I couldn’t really use the excuse that I would get into trouble if I sat down with them. Not only was I the one in charge, but Babs only cares about drama. 

“I request that you two talk because clearly its awkward and I can’t deal with this.” Draper then dug into his pie and Marvin sighed. 

“We can talk if you want.” I said, taking the seat beside Draper. “I don’t really know what we’d talk about.” I tried to act casual, but honestly I wasn’t sure.

“Well it’s awkward.” Draper said again, his mouth full of pie. Marvin frowned once more and I wondered if Draper was just picking up on my awkwardness. 

“I’m not awkward.” Marvin protested. 

“I am.” I shrugged and Draper laughed. I nudged him with my elbow and Marvin rolled his eyes. 

“Why do you feel awkward, Natasha?” Marvin asked, because he genuinely cared and not because Draper wanted us to talk. 

“Well, I didn’t call you after you told me to at my mom’s funeral.” I shrugged and lowered my gaze. Marvin chuckled and reached over and grabbed the last of Draper’s pie. His brother protested quickly.

“Tasha, I told you to call me if you needed me.” He said seriously. “I know you’re going through a lot. It’s fine.” 

I was honestly amazed by this new information. I was jumping to great conclusions for no reason. I met Marvin’s gaze and he smiled at me. I tried to smile back even though I was embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

“Okay, awkwardness evaded.” Draper said, pulling my gaze from his brother. “Can I have another slice of pie to go?” I laughed and got up from the table.

“No problem,” I looked at Marvin for anything he might want and he shook his head. I headed back to the counter and Babs and she raised her eyebrows at me. 

“So?” She asked, tapping the counter anxiously. I glanced back at Marvin before turning my back completely so there was no chance of him knowing we were talking about him. 

“So, everything is fine. He didn’t even care I didn’t call him.” I rolled my eyes and Babs grinned obnoxiously. 

“That’s good!” She said nudging my shoulder. I shrugged and grabbed a to-go box for Draper’s pie.

“I guess.” I said closing up the pie with a little fancy napkin with Tasha’s Tasty Tarts printed on it. I briefly wondered when the last time the logo had an update was. Babs handed me a bag and I poured a to-go cup of coffee the way Marvin liked it. I knew he wanted it whether he said so or not. 

“So you two are back to normal then?” Babs asked. I nodded before going back to Marvin and Draper. 

“To-go Lemon Meringue Pie for Draper.” I handed him the bag and then the cup to Marvin, “And a cup of coffee for Marvin.” 

They got up from the table and I took a step back to give them room. “See you, Babs!” Draper called and waved, making Babs grin and wave enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes at them as Marvin took my hand and kissed my cheek quickly. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He asked lightly. I smiled and nodded before he followed Draper out into the street. 

Crisis averted.

[halfcupofcoffee-blog]

Tasha’s Tasty Tarts 1.2

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but before I realized it I was jolted awake by the sound of breaking glass. The sun was pouring through my window now, and the memories of Babs being home were slowly flooding back to me as I tried to talk myself out of a panic. 

No one was breaking into my house. 

I got out of bed and went to investigate. Hopefully it was just Babs making her usual mess. I had missed it since she had been gone, but I wouldn’t ever tell her that since all I did was complain about her stuff always lying around. My mother always told me not to get so worked up over it, which only made how I felt about it worse. 

I was surprised to find not Babs, but Desmond cleaning up a combination of water and glass from the floor. I stood in front of him and looked at him, feeling sleepy and slightly annoyed he had woken me up. 

“What are you doing?” I grumbled. He looked at me briefly before he stacked the largest shards of glass and took them to the trash. 

“I knocked a glass of water off the coffee table.” He said, “Why did you leave a glass of water on the edge of the table?” 

I frowned, unable to recall the last time I drank a glass of water. “I didn’t.” I sighed crouching down and scooping up some smaller pieces of glass. Desmond returned with a towel and the broom. “But I was more referring to why you were here?” We finished cleaning the mess form the floor. 

“Oh, I came to see how you were doing.” He tossed the remaining glass into the trash and I set the towel aside for the wash later. 

“Did Babs let you in?” I hated that my friends felt like they needed to check up on me, but in this situation I realized I was more secluded than usual. 

“No, the door was unlocked, so I figured you were already up.” He shrugged and I felt the brief panic I felt last night worrying about the locks. Someone could have broken in. But no one did. I hated that I had to keep reassuring myself that I was safe. “I thought Babs was in Italy.” 

“She was, but she showed up early this morning.” I decided it was time for breakfast. Desmond followed me and I got the carton of eggs from the fridge and the bread from the breadbox. Babs had left the bread open when she made herself a sandwich. I offered Desmond some eggs and he shrugged, so I made enough for three and hoped Desmond didn’t actually ask how I was doing. He and I both knew I wasn’t actually going to tell him the truth. 

I heard him clear his throat and I knew it was coming, but Babs appeared, for once right when she was needed. 

“You made me breakfast?” She asked grinning, like if didn’t always make her breakfast. “What would I do without you, Natasha?”

“Starve.” I mumbled. 

“True.” She grabbed a plate and put some eggs on it. Toast followed and then she sat down at the table to eat. I remember at that moment that I hadn’t made any coffee, and I was regretting it. I was feeling the lack of sleep draining my energy. I put on some coffee and took a seat with Babs. I had lost my appetite, but Desmond and Babs seemed to enjoy their meals. 

I could hear them talking amongst themselves, but I found myself staring off into space. I couldn’t stop thinking about the door being unlocked all night. I replayed the whole evening in my head, knowing for sure I had locked the door and checked it once before I had gotten up and found Babs. I shut off the television, checked the locks on the windows - laughing at myself since they were second story windows - and then I checked the lock on the door. I remembered turning the deadbolt and hearing the satisfying thud as it secured the door. I had gotten out of bed an hour later to check again. It was locked the way I had left it. 

But Babs came home. She must have left the door unlocked. 

Of course she hadn’t realized I had developed a problem with leaving the door unlocked. How could she? She went on vacation. She missed all the awful things that happened in the last few weeks. 

I zoned back in at the sound of my name and I found Desmond and Babs looking at me with those worried faces I hated seeing. “I’m fine.” I said quickly. I decided to distract them by getting up and getting a cup of coffee. 

“Okay, good, but Des asked if you’ve seen Marvin recently.” Babs glanced sideways at Desmond and I sighed. I hadn’t seen Marvin in weeks. Not since my mother’s funeral. The last thing he had said to me was how sorry he was and how he hoped I would call him if I needed him. I didn’t even think about calling him. 

“Why would I have seen him?” I asked, trying to keep my back turned from them. They knew how I felt about him, and how he felt about me, but part of me thought maybe that was all over now. 

“Well you were practically head over heels in love with him when I left.” Babs said frowning. “Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“No!” I said quickly. We never fought about anything except how many cups of surge actually went into a batch of brownies (three). “No, we haven’t had any fights.” I turned to them and saw them looking at each other. They were having one of those silent conversations. I hated when they did that. 

“Then why haven’t you seen him?” Desmond got up from the table and placed his dishes in the sink. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms seriously. I couldn’t raise my gaze from the floor. I heard Babs come over to join Desmond. I felt like I was being interrogated, like I had done something wrong.

“He said to call him if I needed him, and I didn’t so I didn’t call. It’s not my fault he didn’t want to come over.” I shrugged and the crushing realization that Marvin didn’t care enough to come knock on my door even though I didn’t call him washed over me.

There was a silence that settled over the three of us as they realized I was about to panic over not calling Marvin. Desmond jumped to change the subject before it could happen. 

“Are you gonna open the bakery tomorrow?” He asked. I hadn’t thought about opening the bakery at all. Part of me wanted to let it die with my mother, but I knew she wouldn’t want that. It had been closed up since she died because I didn’t know what to do with it. I gave him a shrug and Babs groaned. 

“Tasha, you’re depressing me.” She whined, “You’re opening the bakery tomorrow, you’re gonna go call Marvin and invite him to dinner tonight, and you’re gonna get out of this apartment because I honestly don’t think you’ve been outside in two weeks.” After that she walked away and Desmond laughed. I knew I was depressing. My mother died. I had a right to be depressing. She was all I had, and now suddenly she’s gone. Desmond moved over to me and wrapped me in one of his warm hugs. He was always the one to call when you needed some kind of comfort. 

“She’s right.” He said as I buried my face into his shoulder. “You need to get out. Also I will be sorely disappointed if you never get together with Marvin.” I laughed for the first time in what felt like years and stepped away from him. 

I nodded and decided it was time to get the day started.

[halfcupofcoffee-blog]

32

Hello! So I've been thinking a lot about this book I've been planning to write, and starting and restarting and deleting and leaving for months before I start all over again, and I can't figure out what my deal is with finishing a novel. I have so many ideas and I am literally thinking about three different book plots. Maybe I'll tell you about them in a minute.

But anyway, I was watching Vlogbrothers videos while I did the dishes and John was talking about...I don't even remember now – I've watched too many consecutively now – and I was thinking about his books and how he and Hank both have written books and how good they are at what they do. I haven't read Hank's book(s?) but I've read all but like one of John's and he's a really good writer. I seriously recommend any of his books. Well, any of the ones I've read. I can't vouch for any others obviously.

But I was thinking about his books and the way he writes and how his stories are funny and deep and sad and happy all while being well written and I get both jealous and determined.

 Jealous because I wish I could write that way and Determined because I know I can write my own book with all of those things! But then I have this doubt that creeps in. Usually, the thought is something like “I want to add this subtle thing in but it's an important plot point.” so I put it in and then my brain goes, “But what if it's too subtle? What if the reader doesn't get that this is a major plot point and you're throwing out this hint at what's supposed to happen later?”

And I think this way because when I read a book or watch a movie/TV show, I am sitting in my seat trying to figure out what's going to happen before it happens. This is why my favorite shows are the likes of Criminal Minds.

But anyway, this doubt crosses my mind and I have to sit back and think really hard about what I want my book to say. Do I want people to sit here and think about what's about to happen or do I want people to read the book and find out what happens?

Something that I really liked in John Green's Paper Towns was that I was getting information to figure out what was going to happen as Q (The main Bro) was finding it all out. Also, I read it in the wee hours of the morning so I was probably too sleep deprived to figure it out properly anyway. But I remember talking to my mom about it (Because I made her read it too) and comparing John's writing and the way he wrote Q to J.K. Rowling and how she wrote Harry Potter. If you know anything about me, you know that I hate how stupid Harry Potter is as a character. Don't get me wrong, I love Harry Potter. I read and own all the books, seen and own all the movies. I have a few Harry Potter Pop! Figurines. I saw Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them like the day it came out. I plastered HP posters all over my walls when I was 14. I am a Ravenclaw and I am no doubt a fan of Harry Potter, but Harry Potter is a freaking stupid character.

My point is, Q is a smart character and John wrote the book in such a way that everybody figures out everything all together whereas Harry Potter is was written in such a way that you get all this information in subtle (Or not so subtle) hints and you figure it out before Harry and he just ends up looking unintelligent and that is my biggest fear while writing.

I want my characters to be smart and I want them to figure everything out but I also want my readers to be able to figure it out. And I just don't think I can have an intelligent character like Q and let my readers figure out the plot.

And then there's the other side of the spectrum where I make my hints way too obvious. Like I have a lot of plot twists in mind, but installing them and planting them is so hard to do without giving it away, and that's just something I haven't mastered.

So maybe you guys can help me. I've got three books I'm working on – which I realize is not a good idea but what can you do?

1-- Crazy=Genius: A story about a girl named Opal who's mother is kidnapped by the government and Opal and the conspiracy theorist from school go across the world to find her. Also, there are Dragons.

Also, can you use a song title as a book title? No one will actually give me a straight answer on this.

2--   NO TITLE: This one doesn't have a title at the moment, because I'm bad at titles in general, but it's a plot that I wrote like four years ago, but it's a pretty cliché princess story but it's set in this steampunk sort of dystopia and it's really great.

3-- ALSO NO TITLE-- I think I used to have a title, but I don' remember it. Anyway this is my restart for Natasha. It's about her great granddaughter (Grand Niece?) who inherits Tasha's Tasty Tarts but has no idea how to run a business and she falls in love with the cute baker boy who works in the bakery. I haven't really done a lot of work on this one but that's the idea.

Those are my ideas right now. I've been mainly focusing on Crazy = Genius recently. I've got an outline and everything so maybe it'll come to something good.

I'm sure none of this made any sense, but if you got anything out of this, leave me a reply or leave something in my inbox.

[halfcupofcoffee-blog]

Tasha’s Tasty Tarts 1.0

It was becoming ridiculous how hard it was to sleep. I had lived in this apartment above this bakery on this street for most of my life, and now since my mother was gone, it was a struggle to sleep in my own bed. 

Darkness poured in from the night sky outside my window. All I could think about was the fact that I was all alone in this place. If someone was to break through the huge window downstairs I was the one who would have to defend the bakery. If they made it all the way upstairs to the apartment, I would be the one to defend all my mother’s belongings. And what if I wasn’t even aware someone was inside the apartment? Then everything was vulnerable. I could lose even more than I already had. 

A creepy feeling settled over me. I had to get out of bed and check the locks one more time. I made my way through the dark and into the hall. I stopped there, realizing the kitchen light was on. I thought back to a few hours ago when I had made my way to bed. 

I remembered turning the television off, walking to the light switch and turning off the light in the living room before doing the same in the kitchen. But did I really flip the switch? 

I thought about the chips I’d been eating and how I had put them in the cupboard. I thought about the cup I set in the sink. I remembered glancing at the switch, thinking to remember to turn it off, but the next thing I remember is knocking a pile of mail off the counter. After I picked it all up, I couldn’t remember if I’d flipped the switch. 

 But I’d also gotten up once before to check the locks. My paranoia was getting worse, I wasn’t denying that. I couldn’t remember if the light had been on. I took a small step toward the doorway, hoping no one was there, hoping someone hadn’t jimmied the lock on the door and helped themselves to all of the things in my kitchen. 

 I was telling myself I was being silly, that no one even realized there was an apartment above the bakery, so no one was in my house, that I had just left the light on by mistake, when I heard something. It was the district sound of the refrigerator door opening. You know the sound. The fresh whoosh of the air tight seal. 

Someone was inside my house. 

I took a few brave steps without thinking, and I was suddenly standing in the middle of the doorway. I could see into the kitchen. The light was indeed on, the refrigerator was indeed open, and there was a person leaning over to peer inside. I felt my throat closing up, and I knew I was on the verge of a panic attack. 

 But then Babs and all her glory peaked over the door at me and grinned and I thought I was going to faint from relief. I found myself leaning against the door frame, unable to hold my own weight, as she closed the fridge and set an armload of food on the counter. 

 “What are you doing here?” I finally found my voice. Babs didn’t even glance at me as she opened up the bread box and found an unopened loaf for her consumption. 

 “I live here, Tasha.” She said with a sigh. She began to put together a sandwich, and I began to regain my sense of security. 

 “Of course!” I said, now feeling annoyed with her. She had scared me, and I was not one who enjoyed the feeling, “Babs, you’ve been gone for months.”

“Okay, well I’m back now.” She gave a shrug like it was no big deal. “Oh! So I was staying with my cousin in Italy, who may or may not have been excommunicated by the Pope, and we were at this huge party and-”

“Babs!” I shouted, my hands clutching onto my hair. “Please, it’s three in the morning. I only got up because I was paranoid and checking the lock! I really don’t want to stand here and talk about your fabulous trip to Italy.” 

 Babs stared at me like I had lost my mind while she was gone. Maybe I had, who could really say? I stared back at her, waiting for her to express her offense, but she stayed silent. 

 Eventually I turned and went back to bed. I didn’t care what Babs did in the kitchen, I didn’t care if the Pope actually excommunicated her cousin or not, and I didn’t care that she was probably eating all my food. What I did care about was the fact that I forgot to check the locks.