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[watchwhatyounodto]

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@josejamesmusic #imyours #loveinatimeofmadness #oursoundtrack #3rdtimelive (at The Independent)

[spark24]

Da qui all'eternità tu non ti arrendere, amore mio portami via #us #spacchiamo #love #wearediamondstakingshape #sohappytogether #winter #february2017 #barlassina #homesweethome #oursoundtrack (presso Barlassina)

[spark24]

Ci vuole un gran coraggio ad essere felici, a me capita con te ❤️ #us #spacchiamo #love #wearediamondstakingshape #sohappytogether #winter #february2017 #barlassina #homesweethome #oursoundtrack (presso Barlassina)

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(Novak)

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(Novak)

[farhantariq]

(Saavn)

[juleswritesallwrongs]

Songs not made for love (Our Soundtrack) - Track eleven

11. Better living through chemistry (Queens of the Stone Age) Normally waking up was followed by getting up. Back on the island Oliver had learned that sleep did nothing more than leave you defenseless. It was best to get up and get moving as quickly as possible. It had turned into a habit that he hadn't broken since he was back in Starling City – until today. The light of the day was creeping into the room that was still unfamiliar to him, revealing the colors around him, the light yellow walls, the mint carpet, the pink clock on the nightstand. It should be a bit much for his taste, but it wasn't. It felt just right. It felt just right that this was Felicity's bedroom, it felt right to be here and it felt right to, for once, not get up quickly, but to stay in bed and watch her sleep.

She was resting on her side, her blond hair spread out over her pillow. He had never seen her like this, but it was a sight he could get used to. It was just her. Her face was free of all make-up and so relaxed. She looked so beautiful, he thought. The comforter had slipped down a little, revealing her naked shoulder to him. He felt like tracing her skin with his fingertips, but he kept from touching her. This time it weren't self-erected barriers holding him back, he simply didn't want to wake her up. There was no need to hold back – and as last night had proven, now that he had torn all barriers down, he really couldn't do that anymore. Oliver hadn't planned for this to happen. He had planned to do this right, to start this slowly with a nice date and to then go from there. Sex had been supposed to be kept for later. That had been the plan. It had gone right out of the window, when his lips had touched hers and she then deepened the kiss. It triggered something that just couldn't be stopped even if he had wanted to – which he hadn't. Last night, months – many, many months – of sexual tension had finally found an outlet. There was no way to open the lid just a little bit. She had felt so good, her skin was so soft and inviting. And she had smelled so good. He now knew that it had been the flowery scent of her shampoo that had reached him in the midst of pure panic and pulled him back to reality a bit more. And she had looked so good, under him and on top of him, with a spark in her eyes he had never seen before. Last night had been the first time he had heard Felicity gasp in a way that wasn't bad news. It must be one of the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard. The only thing that rivaled that gasp what the way she had whispered his name when her tension had peaked. That had been music to his ears. Oliver allowed himself this private moment and dared to feel happy. Really happy. Right then he was just a guy laying in bed with the girl he cared about more than anything. The pure happiness didn't last long, of course, because no matter how much he wanted to, Oliver could never forget that he wasn't just some guy in bed with a girl. He knew he was putting her at risk. He knew she wasn't a fighter. Diggle had tried to teach her some basic self-defense moves several times already, but each time Felicity was in a situation to exercise any of them the training went right out of the window. Oliver knew he should feel like he needed to teach her and train her harder so that she was able to do more than hiding and screaming. But he really didn't. Not being able to fight wasn't a flaw, it was who Felicity was. She wasn't a fighter, she was a thinker and a talker, and he wanted to keep it that way. Which meant that he would make sure she stayed in the lair from now on. If she ever pulled a stunt like she had with Tockman again, he would kill her. Last night, his fingertips had traced the scar she had gotten that night when she had pushed Sara away from the bullet and been hit herself. It was the only scar marking her body. He needed it to stay like this, he needed her to stay unmarked, well, mostly unmarked. He had enough scars for the both of them. “What's with the worry face?” Felicity's voice brought Oliver back to the here and now. This also proved that this wasn't a normal morning. Oliver rarely let himself get caught deep in thought. He placed his eyes on her and brought his hand to her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Good morning.” “Good morning,” she answered and let her eyes trace his face carefully as she repeated, “What's with the worry face?” He should have known that Felicity was a person who was willing to have a long discussion directly after waking up. And then he couldn't help but think that it was her looking worried, when she quickly added, “Oh God, you're having second thoughts. You don't want to take it back, do you?” His thumb was still brushing her cheek, “No,” he reassured her. “not at all. I just thought that we need to set up some ground rules.” “And here I was thinking that we were done sticking to the rules.” “These are new rules. And they are non-negotiable.” “Seriously, you're using your Arrow-voice on me?” He knew what Felicity sounded like when she was annoyed or angry. Her voice showed that she was neither. Instead, it showed dim traces of teasing. “Fine,” she sat up, “I should have known not to expect any sweet talk in the morning,” her eyes settled on him, “hit me.” “There will be no more solo missions. You will never go out there again without us knowing, having a plan and backing you up.” “I did that one time! Okay... Maybe, twice.” “It was stupid both times!” He looked at her sternly, because he was NOT kidding. “So because we're together now you think you can tell me what to do?” She crossed her arms over her chest, “because you really can't! If I-” She stopped right there and looked stunned suddenly. He sat up, too, “What?” “I said we're together.” Worry was replaced with amusement, “We both said we wanted to be last night.” “That's weird,” her eyes grew wide in the next moment, “not weird bad, but weird unfamiliar. I mean I was convinced you'd still been hung up on Laurel 'til last night.” Her face twisted, “It probably isn't smart to bring up your ex right now. I really kinda wish I hadn't. But I just thought I had this whole unrequited crush-thing going on and you can stop me from talking any time you want...” He must have been better with keeping his feelings from her than he had believed. And she was right, it was unfamiliar, but at the same time it was just like it had always been. He smiled and scooted closer to her. “Felicity, there never was an unrequited crush-thing going on. It has been pretty mutual for some time.” “Oh.” “I told you I was a coward. I was afraid to let you in.” He stopped there, but only for a moment, because if there was one person to tell, it was her. “I‘ve lost many people. Most to death, some to something even darker. And I couldn't bare the thought of loosing one more person I cared deeply about...” He saw understanding on her face. He didn't know what she had witnessed exactly when he had been under the influence of Crane's Vertigo, but he knew she was thinking about it now and probably piecing things together. He nodded to her unspoken understanding, “Crane made me realize that keeping my distance hadn't stopped me from already caring. It was probably the last few weeks with the blurred lines, but there's no going back, it's done. And it doesn't matter, if we're officially together or if I deny myself something I really want. I cannot lose you.” Felicity swallowed, “You said that. When we found you at the docks, you said that.” “I still mean it, Felicity. And I know it's not smart to admit that when there's a madman with a fear-gas out there. It's not the best time, but-” “Oliver, there's always some madman out there. There will never be a good time.” “And that's why we need rules. I don't mean to tell you what to do – I have absolutely NO illusions about that. But when it comes to what we do at the Foundry, I call the shots. You need to promise me that.” She looked at him. “Do you know what you're like when you're in Arrow-mode? There's no arguing with you then anyway.” “Promise me.” “I promise.” He nodded, satisfied. Suddenly a smile showed on her face, “I have a rule, too.” Suspicious, he looked at her, silently telling her to go on, and she did. “The official Queen-functions need to be reduced. To maybe two a month. I cannot stand forced small-talk with strangers three times a week. And we need to keep your mom and Thea from planning a wedding. I think we should get used to being together for now.” “Deal.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I can get used to this." He smiled. “Good. 'Cause you'll have to,” the smile disappeared again, “but first we'll need to find Crane and deal with him.” “No,” Felicity objected. Stunned, Oliver looked at her. “No?” “No. Because first we need to have breakfast.” Felicity pushed the comforter off, “we can't skip the most important meal of the day. We should go ahead and make this a rule.” Oliver watched her walk through the room, letting his eyes glide over the curves of her naked body, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He could really get used to having this every day, starting with this view and continuing with breakfast.

 *******

 It was as it had always been in the Foundry. Felicity was sitting at her desk, working on finding Crane. She had said something about checking security cameras near the empty warehouse, and then she turned to her screens and since then she was lost in whatever she was doing there. Meanwhile, Oliver and Diggle were sparring in their training area. They were using stakes tonight as Diggle felt like he needed to improve his technique there. The constant clacking of the wooden rods hitting against each other mixed with their occasional grunts. Diggle was really getting better at this, he was challenging Oliver more and more – just the way he liked it. He needed to improve his skills, he needed to be kept on his toes, he needed to get better to not be bested. Because he knew that as much as he needed Felicity to be safe, Felicity needed him to come out of fights as uninjured as possible. They hadn't discussed it this morning, but he knew that worry wasn't a one-way street. As much as everything was as it had always been nothing was the same anymore. It wasn't visible, but he could feel it. It wasn't a bad feeling, much to the opposite, but it was still there. “Got'cha!” Felicity's sudden outburst caused both men to stop their fighting and look toward her desk. “You have Crane?” Oliver asked and was already heading toward her. Not taking her eyes off her computer, Felicity answered, “I do.” Her fingers still flew over the keyboard, “but I can't help but feel like he wanted me to find him. He was much better with covering his tracks before. He's practically holding up a sign saying come and get me. And it's so very cliché, but I guess psychiatrists are not known for their originality. Did you know that they really ask you how stuff makes you feel?” Oliver didn't answer. He had a question of his own, “Where is he?” “At Starling City Asylum, or rather at what is left of it after the fire,” now she looked at him for the first time, “do you want to know how I feel about this; it feels like a trap to me.” “Felicity's right,” Diggle said and crossed his arms over his chest. The black tank-top he wore for their training left his arms bare, showing off his flexing muscles. Tension was also visible in his face. “This is a trap. He wants you to come so he can finish what he started.” “I'm better prepared this time.” “How? Are you planning to take a gas-mask?” Felicity frowned at her own words, “that might actually be a good idea.” “No, it isn't,” Oliver objected, “that would be limiting my view.” “Oliver,” Diggle said in that reasonable way of his, “going there unprepared again won't end well. I don't want a repeat of your last run-in with Crane.” “Neither do I. But the doctors told me that they believe that the antidote Star Labs came up with might make me immune. Like a vaccine.” “That's nothing but a theory.” Oliver nodded to Diggle's words. “It is. And I'm going to test it.” He felt Felicity's eyes on him. It was another reminder that things had changed, but that wouldn't change his mind. He looked at her and said, his voice all business, “I AM going to test it.” Felicity huffily crossed her arms over her chest, but thankfully said nothing. “Well, I'm going, too,” Diggle decided, “and I'll take a gas-mask.” Oliver looked at his partner for a few moments, before he nodded, “Okay.” It was time to get ready. He hesitated for a second, but then he leaned down and kissed Felicity gently. “I'll be careful,” he promised. The look on her face stated clearly that she seriously doubted it, but before she could also voice these doubts, Diggle spoke up from next to them, “finally! I thought I'd never see the day. I should have known that it would take a near-death-experience for you to finally come to your senses.”

 *******

 The smell of fire was still in the air, even though the fire had been extinguished days ago. Maybe it was just Oliver's imagination, his memory of what this place had smelled like when he had been here surrounded by fire searching for a woman who had called him for help. He remembered what it had felt like to inhale nothing but foul smoke. Felicity was right, this was a very clichéd place for a psychiatrist getting off on other people's phobias to be. It could be the perfect setting for a nightmare. Oliver knew it was stupid to allow his mind to go there. This was not the time, because this was the time to end it. His steps were determined as he walked through the burnt ruin. He knew where Crane would be, because it fit the cliché too. Crane wanted him where Count Vertigo had once been held by Dr. Webb. It was going full circle, Crane was the kind of person to appreciate things like that. Crane was lucky that this room lay in the basement, the fire had completely destroyed the upper floors, but it had only left his traces down here. Oliver walked past blacked walls and over grime covered floors, not even trying to be quiet. He knew that his opponent was expecting him. But Oliver was expecting him also; his bow was drawn, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He would not let himself get distracted by idle chitchat this time. His bow entered first as he pushed through the swing-door. Scanning the room he let his eyes wander over the familiar outlay which the fire had altered into something more bare. There wasn't any more foil or chemical equipment, there weren't any tables, all that was gone. But there still was the chair and it was occupied by a man whose head was covered by a burlap sack. It wasn't Crane. Oliver saw that instantly, this man was much bulkier than Crane was and smaller. This man was a distraction that Oliver wouldn't fall for. His knees bent, he went through the room in a wide circle, instead of heading straight ahead toward the chair. Oliver's eyes were still moving over blacked walls and the pillars that held up what was left of the ceiling. The floor was covered with rubble, which forced Oliver to take careful steps. Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. Instantly, he turned to it and his face hardened. Orange gas was shooting out of a grenade that was rolling over the floor. A second followed and more gas, which was thick like dry ice fog. It didn't only limit Oliver's view, it was spreading quick, bringing something with him that Oliver wasn't willing to think about now. A third grenade rolled over the floor, directly toward the chair and the man sitting in it. With quick steps Oliver walked to the chair and to the man whose arms and legs, as Oliver now saw, were tied to it. With a quick movement Oliver pulled the burlap sack off his head. Immediately, his mouth tightened as he saw who was under the hood. Roy. How, the hell, did he always end up in situations like this? The younger man blinked, then his eyes settled on Oliver. Before Roy could say anything – because there really was NO time to loose – Oliver reached toward his quiver, where the gas mask Felicity had forced him to bring was dangling. He grabbed it and strapped it in front of Roy's face. “What the-” was Roy's reaction, but Oliver really didn't have time for this. He cut the straps binding his arms and legs and ordered the younger man to, “Get out of here! NOW!” “But I can help you,” came Roy's objection dimmed by the mask. Annoyance was collecting inside Oliver. That kid could never do as he was TOLD! This wasn't the time to have a discussion. This was a dangerous situation and Roy, and his dumb-ass behavior, only increased the danger! Oliver couldn't deal with this now, he had to deal with Crane. The thick fog was surrounding them by now. There was no way to see – and unlike the last time Crane didn't feel much like talking. Indicating for Roy to be quiet with an unmistakable gesture, Oliver closed his eyes and listened. He heard the sough of the gas as it sprayed out of the grenades; the sound came from all around him. But then he heard something else, he heard the sound of somebody walking while trying not to make a sound coming from – directly behind him. In one swift movement, Oliver turned around. He needed to take three steps before he could make out the shadow in the midst. It was Crane. The top hat gave him a very unique silhouette. Oliver attacked it instantly. He brought his fist toward where he knew Crane's face was, but the other man moved out of his way in what seemed like an uncoordinated stumble. Like a drunken man he faltered out of his reach while bringing his own clenched fist to Oliver's face with so much force that Oliver nearly lost his balance. Anger was growing inside Oliver. Anger at himself for once again being caught by surprise. Anger at Crane for being so damn DIFFICULT! He jumped at Crane again, this time with more determination. His feet connected with Crane's chest in the next moment, knocking him back. Oliver followed and brought his fist up. He felt Crane's nose break as he brought it down onto his face. This should have distracted Crane, should have slowed him down, but it did neither. Instead, it made Crane laugh. Blood was running from his nose in a steady flow, dropping from his chin onto his cheap suit. In the mist that was still all around Oliver couldn't make out details, but he saw Crane straighten up and grin his teeth-baring smile, which was even more horrible now that his face and teeth were all bloody. “What demons are you fighting against, Mister Arrow? Who am I to you?” “Just a psychopath whose time is up, Mister Crane.” Crane's silhouette stilled as he heard that. Oliver didn't give the realization that his toxin wasn't working anymore time to really sink in. He attacked the skinny man again, who roared with anger and used his clumsy looking drunken boxing to kick Oliver's legs away. “It's Doctor Crane!” he spat. Oliver rolled around and jumped back to his feet. Crane was coming for him already, but he blocked the other man's jabs before he added hits of his own. The fight was fast and aggressive, a staccato of thrown fists, some connecting, some blocked. Crane fought like the mad-man that he was, showing a skill that Oliver would have never expected, as he managed to kick Oliver into the nearest wall. His back connected painfully with it, pain shooting through his spine. Oliver ignored it and moved to the right, causing Crane to slam his fist against the wall, hitting the solid surface at full force. He heard bones break, turned around and reached for Crane's head to slam it into the wall, forcefully, once, twice – and a third time for good measure. He let go of his opponent, who sank to the ground, unconscious. It was done. Breathing heavily, Oliver stood there. It was then that he realized that the adrenaline combined with the exertion of the fight weren't the only reasons why his heart was beating so heavily. The fog of the gas was still billowing in the room, but it had dissolved somewhat. This allowed Oliver to scan the room and see a figure laying by the chair. Oliver felt his heart beat even faster. His worry was somehow enhanced, stronger than usual. He had to get out of there, as fast as possible. He grabbed Crane by the collar of his dirty suit and dragged him over to where Roy lay. The kid hadn't taken the gas mask off, but still he was spread out on the floor, unmoving. Giving in to the increasing worry, Oliver reached for Roy's pulse and found it, beating strong and unnaturally fast. Damn it! He lifted Crane up to the chair and tied him there. “Oliver?” It was Diggle's voice coming through his ear-piece. “It's done.” He informed him. “Felicity, tell Lance where he can find Crane and tell him to bring chemical experts and full body suits.” He lifted Roy up, “gas masks are not enough.“ He headed toward the door, “I have to get Roy to hospital. And we need Star Lab to get us some of that cure to store at the Foundry.” “Why?” “I think I could use a top up.” With that he kicked the door open, leaving Crane for SCPD to find. It was really done.