#ttiva

[severusnpe]

tagged by @frdweasleys thank you clari <3 

rules: post 5 of your celebrity crushes

alan rickman

helen mccrory

tove lo 

william fichtner

and (maybe) diletta leotta 

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instructions: answer the questions and tag 10 followers you’d like to get to know better

name: Martina

gender: female

star sign: scorpio

height: 1,67 i think ahahhaha

sexuality: sapiosexual (but i prefer women absolutely)

favorite book: the picture of dorian gray - oscar wilde

current time: 10:05am

average amount of sleep: 6 hours

dogs or cats: dogs 

# of blankets you sleep with: oneee

dream job: videogame programming yop

blog established: 2015! 

favourite animal: SLOTHH OMG

# of followers: 188 (and bless all of them ty)

reason for url: oh well dat buuuuuutttt

something I’m grateful for: my family and the fact that i was adopted and came to italy

i did both the tag games in one post so i can tag the people on one post :33 @ttiva @jynesro @humanveil @notations @hermeys @biancas-diangelos @mollyweasly

[tonyandzivauk]

@ttiva

replied to your

post

:

*cough* Hmmmmm

good lord, i nearly forgot all the pauley drama haha

I remember she shared my video that i made on twitter and said how much she loved it THEN FUCKING BLOCKED ME minutes after. I had never once tweeted her or about her. It was fucking strange.

[drashleighreid]

coffeedepablo replied to your post “me laying in bed playing an app on my phone where u do nothing but...”

This is me lying in bed the whole day, knowing full well that i could be using my time to study for my remaining exams

ttiva replied to your post “me laying in bed playing an app on my phone where u do nothing but...”

mood . i literally have one more assignment that's only 1,500 words left due on sunday then i've completely finished university forever yet i keep playing fucking picture cross instead cba

ziva returned just to give us the power to make it through the end of the semester, we cant disappoint her ! 

[tiffanymaxwels]

Do you think prostitutes get bored? I mean, the same work, day in, day out. Day in, day out...

[harmandmac]

ttiva replied to your post: i’m watchinf Aliyah this is not a drill 

y tho

I don’t even know but the thing is, I’m dying

[loudlooks]

No Survivors

Thanks @ttiva​ for replying to my request with the prompts “i died when she did” & “maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

I realize people might expect a Family First related fic with those prompts, but considering I’m six feet deep in denial about anything post season ten, my brain automatically jumped to the Damocles.

I should’ve stopped trying to rewrite and edit this four hours ago, and I definitely shouldn’t be posting this in the dead of night, yet here we are...

Tiva angst, though really just Tony angst seeing as Ziva’s dead as far as he knows, takes place during the flashbacks in Truth or Consequences. Lots of self-flagellation on Tony’s part. There’s no happiness here, -3/10 recommend reading.

Also on FanFiction and AO3

Word count: 1137

No survivors.

Another swig of bourbon.

No survivors.

The smooth, oaky liquor leaves an unexpected foul taste in his mouth.

No survivors.

The last words he remembers leaving Gibbs’ mouth. The last words that registered, period.

No survivors.

He remembers uttering those words once, back in Philly, a lifetime ago; the mother sinking to the ground sobbing, the father staring straight through him, straight through the mangled wreck of their son’s car behind him, as the light faded from his eyes.

He wonders if anyone saw the light fade from his eyes, down in Abby’s lab.

The bottle tips back against his lips, the bourbon burns down his throat, anger suddenly burns and spreads inside of him.

No survivors.

His inebriated mind plays tricks on him; the smell of bourbon mingles with that of saw dust. The combination used to bring him comfort, a sense of stability. All it brings him now is anger.

If it wasn’t for Gibbs she’d still be here.

Muscles quiver as his pulse races, the urge to throw the bottle against the wall is strong. The urge to scream his lungs out, his heart out, at Gibbs is stronger. To blame him for everything. To blame him for a rule that offered the perfect excuse to hide from the woman that held his heart.

Even in his intoxicated state he knows he has no one to blame but himself. The what-ifs always come too late. And “no survivors” is so much past too late he’s not sure if he ever wants to be sober again.

Another gulp of bourbon, the bottom now clearly in sight.

A knock on the door.

Glaring silently is ineffective; McGee threatens to pick the lock. His chest tightens and he takes another drink. Ziva could pick locks like a pro.

In another world he might have arrested her for burglary.

In another world they might have never met.

In another world she might not be dead.

McGee walking in and sitting down beside him barely registers; he’s halfway across the world, bobbing in the ocean like flotsam. There are no survivors.

“Tony.”

Judging by the look on Tim’s face this wasn’t the first time he tried to get his attention.

McGee opens and closes his mouth, before his eyes focus on the almost empty bottle of bourbon. “That won’t bring her back.”

Tony scoffs, the last thing he needs right now is McGoody Two-Shoes stating the obvious. “But it will make me forget her.”

“Is that what you want, to forget her?”

Does he?

No, not really. He does want to forget the words “no survivors”.

Another swig of bourbon, another glance at McGee. Flashes of Ziva encouraging him to make tough decisions float through his mind. He places the bottle on the coffee table and leans his head back on the couch.

Closing his eyes at the onslaught of memories and emotions, he runs both hands over his face, and says, “Nothing is inevitable.” He presses the heel of his hands into his eyes, swirly lines blurring his vision like whitecaps on the water surface. If she had truly believed that then why was she dead.

“Ziva’s kind of hard to forget, Tony.”

Startled, he drops his hands and glances around aimlessly, wondering how he went from wanting to get drunk with her in autopsy a year ago, to being drunk and mourning her in his apartment.

He stares at McGee, his stomach clenches. Maybe it’s the bourbon, or maybe it’s the memory of how easily Tim and Ziva had become good friends.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so angry and hurt by Kate’s death and Mossad’s indirect involvement, maybe if he had put all of that beside him, accepted her as his new partner from the get-go, maybe he wouldn’t be sitting here, drunk off his ass, wishing he’d never heard those two words.

McGee’s brows draw closer and he looks down briefly before looking him square in the eye. “This will be a lot harder on you, won’t it?”

The alcohol is doing a fine job of clouding his mind, and it takes him a full five seconds before he scoffs and strings together the words, “What are you talking about?”

He knows what he doesn’t want to talk about. What he doesn’t want to think about. He also knows that if McGee pushes, the alcohol will make him say things he doesn’t want to say out loud. Saying words out loud makes them real, like...

No survivors.

“I just thought…the two of you seemed…close.”

While his mind considers kicking his unwanted guest out, his mouth betrays him. “Maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

Hands ball into fists, resentment mingles with regret. Regret for admitting his feelings to Tim, for not admitting them to Ziva.

Would that have made a difference?

The bottle beckons him once more and he wonders if regret is what Gibbs tastes every time he downs a mason jar of the brown liquor.

“How much was in that bottle when you started drinking?”

The concern in the probie’s voice makes his blood boil.

He doesn’t require sympathy, and he certainly doesn’t deserve it. She’s dead because of him, because of what he did and didn’t do, because he waited too long, because Rivkin died and he didn’t.

No survivors.“None of your business.”

“Drinking yourself to death isn’t going to bring her back.”

He scoffs, empties the bottle and slams it on the coffee table. Tripping over his discarded shoes on the way to the get more liquor, he mutters, “I died when she did.”

The bottle of tequila seems to mock him, so he heads for the freezer instead. The cold, wet droplets forming on the vodka bottle chill the memory of Ziva’s laughter after she beat him in a tequila drinking contest.

“Tony.”

McGee’s voice, full of empathy, yet tinged with reproach, drifts through the fog.

It dawns on him, then; he’ll never hear her say his name again. His hand tightens around the bottle, the cold spreads to his very core.

He looks at McGee blankly, places the vodka back in its cold, wet grave—no, that wasn’t right—and closes the freezer. No amount of drinking will thaw him now.

He puts his game face on as best as possible, a skill that had been second nature since childhood. A skill Ziva could see through with far too much ease. He clenches his jaw, thanks McGee for stopping by with minimal slurring and a tight-lipped smile, before showing him out and locking the door.

The leather of his couch somehow feels colder than usual as he stretches out on his back, and stares at the ceiling in the moonlit room. Everything would be cold and dark from now on, like the deep blue sea.

There really were no survivors.

[gingerstorm101]

Gasp!

I feel so honoured

[ardnaxelx]

brilliant, sweater, 1975

Brilliant: what celebrity do people say you look like?I honestly don’t know! People never associated me with any celebrity before lmao

Sweater: do you prefer loose or baggy clothes?Uhmm, loose clothes I guess

1975: if you could time travel to any time period, what would it be and why?Wow, I actually never thought about this before but if I could I think I would go back to the 90’s to reminisce my childhood

Thanks darling xx

[wombatsqueak]

@ttiva

Fyi, I finished with the first two iBooks you gave me lmao

[aksannyi]

  ttiva

tbh i always forget there's an age gap

I really think it’s because Tony acts like he’s 12 sometimes and Ziva feels like she’s either right his age or even older. Plus, as adults over 30 it really stops mattering that much. I dated this one guy who was 13 years older than I am and the only thing was reminiscing about the past and “this song came out when I was in high school” “oh I was like in kindergarten” was like the main thing that came up with the age gap.

But it is important to remember that most of the bad shit happened to Ziva before she even hit 30 so I guess that milestone is a big deal. Though she should be 35 this year, if I remember correctly. (Cote is 1 year older than me, Ziva is 1 year younger. I think.)

[severusnpe]

*warm hug 💓* pass it on to spread some love

[tonyandzivauk]

@ttiva replied to your post: @ttiva replied to your post : ...

what in the world

My point exactly but it gives you a good picture of that womans heads space.... up and fucking down.

[drashleighreid]

tony & ziva, that soulmate au where your world is black and white until you meet your soulmate 🙃

“What can I do for you, Miss David?”

“Nothing.”

It’s at the first brush of their hands moments later, rightthere in the bullpen which is suddenly bleeding and flickering with colourspreviously unknown to her (she’s particularly fond of the vibrancy of thewalls), that she realises those words were a lie; he could do everything forher.  

[tiffanymaxwels]

I’m tired of pretending. 

[delicatefalice]

evanglienlilly replied to your post: LOOKS LIKE I WILL BE ABLE TO WATCH COTE’S RETURN…

!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[loudlooks]

ttiva reblogged your post:Wear Sunscreen

#yesssss love this one#ncis#tony x ziva#tony x ziva au#fanfiction#you're so creative how tf do you come up with a new one every single day

@ttiva Thank you! So glad you liked the drabble.

And the answer is prompts - though it was probably a rhetorical question LOL

I’m not working with one list like with the winter challenge, so I just copy pasted a bunch of prompts in a text file, scroll through it in the morning and see what jumps out at me. If nothing truly stands out, I’ll choose a couple and casually run them through my head while doing something else, to see what I can come up with. And then I decide which story to write based on how much/which genre I want to write, which is how I ended up writing the sunscreen one, because the other idea would’ve been a lot longer.