Calling on the Tiva Nation for help! Does anyone know where I can find piano sheet music for Tony and Ziva's theme from the original NCIS?

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@man-your-canon
Calling on the Tiva Nation for help! Does anyone know where I can find piano sheet music for Tony and Ziva's theme from the original NCIS?
EVERYONE STAY CLAM
When Tali was around 6,Tony showed her "the sound of music",when Tali started humming the songs immediately, Tony cried
*runs in *drops this *runs out
Tony stifled a yawn as he put his car in reverse, backing out of the small parking lane and onto the street. It was only three in the afternoon, but the day seemed to drag on minute by minute.
That’s the last time we have a late-night movie marathon on a school night, Tony thought ruefully, looking in the rearview mirror to see the person in the backseat. Tali stared out the window, watching the other cars on the road and kicking her legs back and forth. And certainly not looking as tired as he felt.
“Kids,” he huffed under his breath, though he couldn’t help smiling. Despite his exhaustion, the cinema-fest last night had been fun, even when Tali had insisted they watch several musicals. Late-night movies had long been a tradition for Tony DiNozzo, though he never imagined he would someday share that tradition with his own daughter.
His daughter.
Tony’s chest tightened, and he briefly closed his eyes. Even after nearly four years spent raising Tali, he wasn’t quite over the fact that he was a father. He glanced in the rearview mirror again to find Tali watching him.
“Are you sleepy, Abba?” she asked, tilting her head. A snippet of memory flashed through Tony’s mind of another beautiful, brown-haired girl who would tilt her head at him just like that. Ziva.
He pushed the thought away, settling instead for a wide, theatrical yawn that earned him a giggle from Tali. “Yeah, I’m sleepy,” he said. “New house rule: No more TV after midnight.”
“I’m not tired,” Tali replied with an air of self-importance, though the smile never left her face. “And I like watching TV after bedtime. You picked funny movies last night.”
“Did I?” Tony feigned offence. “I’ll have you know, young lady, Despicable Me is a cinematic masterpiece of the 2010s.”
Tali giggled again. “I liked the ones with singing bits best. Like Mary Poppins. Oh! And The Noise of Music!”
“That’s The Sound of Music,” Tony corrected, rolling his eyes. “I knew showing you that movie was a mistake.”
Tali didn’t seem to hear him, as she was now peering out the window at a motorbike that was driving alongside them. Tony returned his gaze to the road, though he could feel his attention slipping, drifting on to all that was left to do that day.
It took a moment for his mind to register that he was hearing music. In the rearview mirror, Tali was still looking out the window, but now she was humming to herself.
“I have confidence in sunshine,” she sang softly, almost pensively, as if she hadn’t realized she was speaking aloud as her thoughts wandered. “I have confidence in rain.” She broke off and hummed a few bars when she ran out of lyrics, then started again.
Emotion hit Tony in the chest so hard he nearly gasped. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as images poured into his mind. Ziva stepping out of the elevator and into the bull pen, distractedly humming that song as she walked. The two of them sprawled out across her couch, watching The Sound of Music for the fourth time, Ziva singing along to the songs just to annoy him.
The road blurred before Tony’s eyes, turning the Paris streets into a swirling mess of color. He blinked, sending two trails of hot liquid down his face.
“Abba, what are we doing when we get home?”
Tali’s voice pulled him back to the present, and Tony swallowed hard, working past the tightness in his throat before replying. “You’re going to do your homework,” he said. “And I have a few phone calls for work.”
“Then can we play a game?”
Tony let out a short laugh, though it sounded a bit more strangled than he would have liked. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”
Tali shifted in her seat, craning her neck in an attempt to see his face. Her eyebrows drew together in the most serious expression a six-year-old can manage. “Are you sad, Abba?”
“I’m okay, Tali,” he replied, giving her as reassuring a smile as he could manage. “Just thinking.” And missing your Ima. He almost said that last part out loud but stopped himself. There would come a time when he would talk to Tali seriously about Ziva, maybe even explain where she was and what she was doing, but after a long night and with work still left to do, now was not the time.
Tali sat back, satisfied with his answer, and after a heartbeat of silence, she resumed humming. Tony inhaled a shaky breath through his nose, though it did little to ease the empty, squeezing, clutching sensation in his chest.
Someday this will be over, he told himself, forcing the tears away for Tali’s sake as much as his own. He would not think about where Ziva was right then. Maybe running again, scared, from one place to another. Being shot at. Laying in a pool of her own blood in some back alley halfway across the world. Tony blinked to clear away the thoughts. That won’t happen, he told himself. We’ll get to be a family someday.
“I have confidence,” Tali murmured to herself, then started another string of contented humming.
Tony smiled, a quiet laugh breaking through as he did so. Yeah, he thought. Me, too.
I have confidence.
reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something
Save School of Dragons
School of Dragons (SoD) is closing down! It will be shut on 30/6/23 due to money issues and probable gem strikes. Sign this petition to help save School of Dragons from closure and deletion! Sign the petition and reblog to save this game!!!
Doing what I can to spread the word. I love this game and really don’t want to lose it.
Unofficial request from @man-your-canon cause I was gonna do it anyway so there’s no time like the present 💝 (plus I was supposed to work on a Jacsee fanfic while on break but I became addicted to procreate instead 😬)
They look amazing! Thanks for the unofficial request:)
Josée as Genevieve from Barbie and the Twelve Dancing Princesses, cause you know what else ✨shines✨? GOLD. (feat. intact Bun-Bun as Twyla)
I love this! Now we just need Jacques as Prince Derek!
More ice dancer fanart! They’re so much fun to draw:)
This is the evening after the race ended. They’re somewhere at the hotel, hence the railing behind them:)
*singe teardrop* I just want them to be happy
im laughing
This is so perfect!!! Already had this song on my Jacsee playlist, and now it’s 1000% better
Somebody to Lean on
Becoming a champion is difficult; Josée knows that better than anyone. It isn't her place to question her mother's techniques, even when they seem to cause more harm than good. But champions aren't always strong enough, and it's when the mask of perfection cracks that one needs a good friend.
It didn’t matter how hard she tried; she simply couldn’t do it. Josée dug her fingernails into her upper arm, silver flecks sparkling in front of her eyes as she fought to take a breath, just one, short breath. But talons had encompassed her lungs, squeezing out all the air and making each heaving attempt to breathe painful and tight.
She briefly shut her eyes, but it did nothing to chase away the shadows of the closet. Walls surrounded her on all sides, barely visible in the light that dared to sneak in through the crack under the door. Josée’s gaze was magnetically pulled toward the sliver, but it only mocked her with the thought of far-off freedom. She could only sit there, sobbing as loudly as she dared until her punishment was over.
It had been a Saturday morning just like any other. Josée, accompanied by her best friend and ice dancing partner Jacques, had gone to the skating rink. They practiced their new routine for an hour or two, dancing and laughing together in a way that always made Josée completely forget about time. But it never lasted as long as she wished it would.
All too soon, Josée’s mother, Mariette Voland, had arrived to take her home. Josée had been so focused on trying to impress Jacques with a new move that she didn’t notice her mother at first. She had poured as much speed into her skating as she could, air rushing past her, muscles tensed in excitement as she dove into a flying leap, ready to amaze her imagined audience and win Jacques’s praise.
But as her skates left the ice, she had spotted her mother by the rink’s edge, arms crossed impatiently as she watched in a way that Josée knew meant she had done something wrong. Had it been her take-off? Maybe it was her leap position? Or perhaps her mother was simply irritated that she was showing off for Jacques.
Whatever it was, Josée’s stomach had seized, her breath had left her, and before she knew what was happening, she had hit the ice again, slipped, and skidded across a good portion of the rink.
It wasn’t that bad of a fall. If her mother hadn’t been there, she would only have been embarrassed and irritated with herself for losing focus. But she knew what was coming, the punishment that always accompanied any fall.
Josée bared her teeth against a sob, pressing herself further into the closet corner. She squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to recall the comforting, concerned things Jacques had said to her as he had helped her to her feet. More tears poured down her face; she couldn’t remember. All her mind had room for was the closet.
Read More
Second before First
Second was an unpleasant word. Even though time had passed since their first failure at the Winter Olympics, that word kept bringing up unwanted memories for both Jacques and Josée. But what about second chances? Just because they got silver before doesn't mean it has to happen again…right?
The room wasn't any different than it had been the night before. A bed sat in the corner with a squat wardrobe positioned nearby. A decent sized window hovered between them. But something about the stark familiarity added a layer of tension.
Josée paced the length of her room in the Olympic Village, twisting her fingers until they cracked. It's not like last time, she tried to convince herself. Not at all.
But it was. That day had been the first ice dancing event, the short dance. Josée and Jacques had performed with all their practiced perfection, scoring 82.05 points. Josée wasn't sure what she had been expecting; of course she wanted a high score, but everything was mirroring last time so closely.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memories. It had been quite some time since their previous performance at the Olympics. So what if the first part of their event was similar to last time? That only meant they were good at the short dance.
But the free dance is tomorrow, her mind prattled on. That's the one that made us lose the gold last time.
It doesn't have to this time, Josée shot back fiercely, quickening her step as she paced. We know what to expect. We know our routine. Jacques would never drop me a second time.
She abruptly paused as her partner's face flashed through her mind. Slowly, Josée sat down on the edge of her bed. Jacques had never seemed as angry about losing the gold as she was—Used to be, she instinctively corrected herself. He seemed more distressed over the fact that he had dropped her.
But that won't happen again, she thought, staring down at her hands in her lap. This is our second chance.
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That was cold, Cody...
Not Alone
According to Josée, there were a lot of things ice dancers didn't do. They didn't get sick. They didn't take days off. They certainly didn't need their partner coming over to check on them. But maybe the most important thing ice dancers didn't do…was stay alone.
Sunlight poured through the window, pale and watery-yellow as dawn lit the sky. Josée groaned, pulling her covers over her head and reducing the offending light to a muffled gray. It couldn't be morning already; she had only just fallen asleep!
I shouldn't have stayed awake so long last night, she scolded herself. Her mother, Mariette Voland, had been out late at a work meeting, and Josée had stayed up well past midnight texting her ice dancing partner and best friend Jacques.
Josée sighed heavily, her lungs aching as they pressed against her ribs. She knew better than to stay up so late before a dance practice day. If Jacques was anywhere near as tired as her, they would both be completely useless on the ice.
Too bad, she thought, forcing her eyes open. We still have to practice, and Mama will be upset if I oversleep.
Not waiting for her tired mind to talk her out of it, Josée threw off her blanket to greet the violently cold air of morning. Muscles straining in objection, she pushed herself into a sitting position and cast a squinting glance out the window. Surely it shouldn't be this cold already? Yes, it was autumn, but there wasn't even any morning frost on the ground.
It probably just got colder last night, she thought, yawning to distract herself from the frigid air pressing in on her. She blinked hard, trying to force her mind into alertness, then slid off her bed.
For a moment, Josée wasn't sure her legs would hold her upright. She put a hand on the edge of her bed for balance, glaring as the room spun around her. She had stayed up late, but not that late! She couldn't afford to be so tired.
However, despite how hard she tried to fight it, by the time she made it to the kitchen for breakfast, she was even more exhausted than when she first woke up. She scowled at her reflection in the toaster, attempting to scare her lethargic body into obedience.
"Come on, Josée, snap out of it," she commanded herself. The Josée in the toaster merely scowled back with an equally stubborn expression. Her muscles continued to ache and shiver; she just wanted to sit down.
Maybe if I hurry, I can take a nap before leaving for practice, she thought, though in the back of her mind, she knew that was pointless. It was going to take longer than a thirty minute nap to catch up on the sleep she had missed.
The clattering sound of high heels on wood floor interrupted her thoughts, and Josée instinctively straightened. Hoping she didn't look as awful as she felt, she turned around just as her mother entered the kitchen.
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The Right Place at the Wrong Time
Jacques learned a lot of things on the day of the lamp incident. He had never before realized that being late could warrant such a reaction, or that a common piece of household furniture was considered a weapon. But what surprised him the most was what he afterward learned about Josée.
Gravel crunched beneath wheels as a small, blue car rolled to a stop in front of the skating rink. Jacques scanned the parking lot, but aside from a few sparrows flitting across the asphalt, there was no sign of other cars or other people.
Come on, Josée, still be here! he thought anxiously, turning off the car and bounding outside. He was greeted by the brisk chill of an autumn wind, and instantly shoved his hands into his pockets. I should not have taken so many detours. Maybe her mother already picked her up.
He quickened his pace, hoping that wasn't true. He had been waiting so long for this day; it seemed unfair for Josée to leave before he even got there. Jacques's fingers brushed against the small, plastic card in his pocket, and a thread of pride trickled through his tense thoughts. It had been almost two whole days since he had earned his driver's license, and the thrill of this accomplishment had yet to wear off. Which was exactly why, when Josée had told him that her mother was dropping her off at the rink that day, he had offered to drive her home. It would be the first time he had driven her anywhere, just the two of them.
Unless she has already left, an annoying voice in his mind pointed out. I was supposed to have been here fifteen minutes ago. Jacques winced; that was true. The lure of driving longer had been more than he could ignore, and it wasn't until his fifth side-street that he noticed how much time had passed.
He was so focused on these thoughts that he didn't notice the glass doors open in front of him and collided head-on with the person coming out.
"Oof—Jacques!"
Looking up, Jacques came face-to-face with the very person he wanted to see. "Josée!" he exclaimed, his heartbeat speeding up in a way that had nothing to do with the excitement of driving. "You have not left yet!"
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Broken Ice
With the Ridonculous Race finally finished, the former contestants have gathered for one final hurrah before going home. But aftermaths aren't always fun, especially for the losers. Jacques knows that the failure weighs heavy on Josée, and that it's up to him to help her see past their loss to what perhaps can be the start of something better.
A gentle breeze was blowing, whispering through the short, thin trees that bordered the hotel's rooftop terrace. City lights twinkled alongside the stars, spreading a silvery sheen across the night sky. Several stories below, traffic weaved in and out of narrow streets, car horns blaring every few seconds.
Jacques leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and listening to the sounds of the New York night. If he strained his ears, he could just barely hear the music floating up from the hotel's first floor. He frowned, trying to block it out.
The Ridonculous Race had ended earlier that day, with the Police Cadets, Sanders and MacArthur, taking the gold…or million dollars. All the previous teams, who had conglomerated in the New York hotel as they were cut from the competition, were now all reunited. Which, apparently, some had taken as an invitation to throw a massive party before everyone went home the next day.
In an attempt to pull his mind from the downstairs celebration, Jacques focused his attention on the person across from him. Josée, his partner in both the race and his ice dancing career, was slumped over in a heap of misery. Most of her face was buried in her arms, so Jacques could only see her half-closed eyes as she stared through the tabletop.
He was upset about placing third, too, but she seemed to be taking it particularly hard. She had scarcely said a word since they sat down, ignoring, or quite possibly not hearing, his scattered attempts at conversation. A warning bell had been subtly ringing in his mind for several minutes now, trying to convince him to speak to her.
You cannot let her sit like that all night. DO something!
But what? Jacques silently countered, frowning at his partner. What could I possibly say that will make her accept our placing?
Nothing; nothing at all. Josée hated bronze as much as he hated silver, and nothing he said would change that. Jacques was thankful she had at least had her tantrum already; her temper had ruined more after-event parties than he cared to remember. But something about seeing her like this was just as bad.
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