I JUST DID SOME BULLSHIITT
Dw they're fineee
For now..
HEAR ME OUT— sunnyblue yuri, artist x muse au.
Sunstreaker is a full-time artist who specializes in various areas BUT she's burned out. She can't seem to find the inspiration nor the motivation to create. Lifting a pencil feels heavy on her hand, every brush stroke feels wrong, her sculptures lack... something.
With her world falling down, Sunstreaker meets a (rather talkative) woman in one of her usual spots to try and search for inspiration. Little did she know that this woman would become the main inspiration and new motivation for her artistic talent.
Bluestreak is just a passer by, visiting the city for medical reasons. Tired of the hospital view, she thought she should actually take a look at the city she was staying for a while. That's when she came across a quite intimidating woman, who's face seemed to be standardized in a frow. Already used to intimidating frowning faces (thanks to her sister) she thought she would really need a friend so she striked for conversation.
Surprisingly both women agreed on getting to know each other, and so they did, daily hangouts where Sunstreaker took Bluestreak to new spots every day to get to know the city. To truly get to know the city. Not the usual touristic places, no. She took Bluestreak to places where she could genuinely appreciate the beauty of her hometown.
Before Sunstreaker could realize, Bluestreak unknowingly became her muse. She also became the reason her heart beat a little faster everytime she was near, but she didn't need to know that last bit.
Now here it becomes angsty whoops
Bluestreak motives to be in the city were because she had a terminal disease and was trying a new treatment, she didn't have much time left but she would make sure to appreciate all the time she could.
Before y'all ask, yes. Bluestreak dies in the end. Sunstreaker knew about Blue's disease, she told her at some point. Sunny's way to cope with it, both before and after Bluestreak death was through art. She wanted to try and capture Blue's beauty in any way she could, and she knew her memory wouldn't be enough. She knew that, at some point, she would slowly forget Bluestreak voice, her face, her essence.
.
.
I suppose it's a little (bit too much) cliché on my part but I don't know, maybe because I'm an artist myself but there's an inexplicable type of love, adoration that comes when drawing someone you love whether it be romantic or platonic. Art is that, love: emotions and feelings portrayed in the most vulnerable way. It's also a way to remember or be remembered.
