#sapphicweekcoe33

[princessesaphi]

That one night, on the croocked tower...

First day of @sapphicweekcoe33 : Lumière & First Kiss

[sapphicweekcoe33]

 🌹 PROMPTS

We are so excited to reveal the officials prompts for the Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 Sapphic Week ! :D

The event will start the 23rd march and end the 29th !!

Text version :

Day 1 — Lumière | First Kiss Day 2 — Chroma | Discovery Day 3 — Petals | Declaration Day 4 — Harp&Guitar | Identity Day 5 — Paintress(es) | Memories Day 6 — Healing | Mischief Day 7 — Stars | FREE

For more informations :

Rules

F.A.Q.

AO3 collection

Bsky thread

Form to submit (if you're not on tumblr)

[madebydun]

COE33 Sapphic Week day 7. Drawing based on Antonio Canova's "The Three Graces". As usual, the full pic is on bsky and twt

@sapphicweekcoe33

this print is available in my ko-fi shop (the not censored version ofc XD)

[carriejack03van]

Expedition 33Sapphic Week Day 5 'Memories' @sapphicweekcoe33

[realtalk127]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lune/Sciel (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33) Characters: Lune (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33), Sciel (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33) Additional Tags: First Kiss, Love Confessions, slightly au maelle ending, i just think lune deserves to process her shit, and be comforted about it, and i also think the hauler would make her Feel Some Things, so this is that fic, COE33 Sapphic week, Prompt: Identity Summary:

At last, Lune gave up on sleep and crept away from camp — to a familiar rocky outcropping where she could look over the valley and see… her.

Of all the terrible things she’d seen during Expedition 33, somehow the Hauler haunted her the most.

—

OR: One year after the expedition, Lune sees The Hauler again and some painful emotions resurface. Luckily, Sciel is there to help.

[cassiefisherdrake]

A Sciel/Lune drabble for @sapphicweekcoe33 Day 3: Petals / Declaration Cross-posted to AO3 - 535 words

They can hear the arguing through the portal as though through a pane of glass, the sounds of the ensuing argument and each clash of their weapons becoming distorted almost beyond recognition. Almost.

"They're fighting? Why are they fighting?" Sciel asks her, making Lune blink through her concentration. She can only get her ear so close to the portal before it begins to burn her.

"It's hard to make out," Lune answers, then closes her eyes to take in a deep breath. "They're fighting about us. About the Canvas. Verso's saying something about you, about grief making you see only walls."

Sciel turns wide eyes on her. "He's what? That's not… this isn't what I meant!"

"I think…" Lune has to gulp down rising bile to get the words out. "I think Verso is winning."

"He'll kill her," Sciel gasps. "He'll kill her. He'll kill all of us."

"I think that's the goal."

For a moment, the only response is an audible gasp.

Slowly, haltingly, Sciel begins, "Verso, he– he Gommaged her. Maelle. Maelle, he—"

Lune can't look, not when she sees Sciel's hand fly up to her mouth to hold in more sounds of fear. Her eyes are only for Sciel, watching as she steps back, seeing the expression on her face morph from horrified to angry to accepting in real time.

"We're going to be erased," Lune tells her, voice trembling. "Gommaged. After all this, after all the fighting and pushing and the…"

But she can't finish the sentence, not when Sciel's green eyes turn and meet hers. They're flashing, bright and brilliant and as lush as the plants she used to tend, the gardens and farms and greenhouses she will tend no more. They look wet but there are no tears yet, just wide-eyed understanding. Acceptance.

In an instant, without warning, Sciel's mouth is on hers, kissing her. It lasts just long enough for Lune to register it happening. As soon as she does, Sciel is pulling away again, the only remaining connection between them being their laced fingers. Lune isn't even sure when they got that way. She's too stunned to remember.

Their foreheads are almost touching when Sciel says to her, "I always had room in my heart for you and Pierre."

Then, faster than Lune can respond, the connection of their fingers breaks. Sciel disappears inside the portal, leaving Lune alone and barely breathing.

The Gommage begins for Sciel faster than it does for Lune, inside the portal. In the Heart of the Canvas, the petals that announce the woman's inevitable departure begin almost immediately. They finish soon after she reaches Verso. In less than a minute, there is no trace of her existence save the longing ache in Lune's heart.

When Verso's eyes turn her way apologetically, she sits to watch her own rose red petals begin to form and thinks only of how she didn't even get to tell Sciel I love you. She has since they met years ago, since they shared a quiet kiss in the dark of the night that both frightened and exhilarated Lune more than she could put into words.

There is nothing left to say now. There is only the waiting.

[lordtubprivateeye]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My little contribution for sapphic week for expedition 33.

Pairing: Clea/Lune if you squint hard enough but mostly Clea.

Rating: M

One day I'll finish writing the fic I actually want to post with the three of them.

[timid-hound]

COE33 Sapphic week

Day 4- Harp & Guitar / Identity

On Repainting (ft. Clea & My expeditioner OC Vivienne)

I could only find time to do a drabble for one prompt but I intend to keep working on all of them even after the official week is over!

Vivienne looks down at the fingers dipping into her chest (not resting on, dipping into) and finds that she feels surprisingly… nothing about it. She probably would have been alarmed, had this happened before the Paintress. Before… everything. She thought the weight of the knowledge might crush her at first, but she's gotten used to it. How much has really changed? She still feels mostly the same, other than the haunting memories of how it feels to dissolve into nothing. The afterlife, death, the end, whatever you want to call it, had been going to sleep, at least. She was gone, and then what felt like seconds later she was back.

She looks back up at the woman who the fingers belong to, the stern face hardly acknowledging her. Maelle’s sister. Not Emma. Her “real” one apparently. This is not the first time she's seen the woman known as Clea, who seems to have some kind of fascination with her, but it is the first time since they learned the truth… and since they saw what this woman had done to her painted counterpart. 

Likely why Clea is being so bold with her. She was never particularly subtle about the fact that none of this is real to her, now that Vivienne looks back, but she didn’t have any of the context for her strange statements and so didn’t think too much about it. Whatever veneer of strange dynamics they had has been stripped away, neither of them can be bothered to pretend they don’t know. She takes a careful hold of Clea’s wrist. She can somehow feel how her chroma is drawn towards the woman’s fingers, the entire matter reminding her of the… unreality of her existence. Vivienne hums, a low and contemplative noise. Tipping her head to the side while she looks at Clea, who has finally bothered to look her in the eyes, “We found the other you. Saw what you did to her. Are you going to do the same to me? Repaint me?”

“… No. Repainting is not something I do for fun. That was an exception. An abomination that needed to be dealt with.” 

“What makes me any different? I’m just as ‘not real’ as anything else here.”

Clea doesn’t respond, just meets her own bright blue eyes with cold, grey-blue ones. The woman presses her lips into a thin line, expression severe. She doesn’t seem to have an answer, or at least not one that would be sufficient. Vivienne sighs, pulling Clea’s wrist backwards and her fingers out of her chest as a result. She half expects her to resist, but she doesn’t, averting her eyes instead. Really she should be more afraid, being so close to a woman who can undo everything she is before she could so much as scream. A woman who can rewrite everything she is and she would never be able to stop it.

The latter is the one that makes her heart start to beat just that little bit faster. She’s placing a great deal of trust in a woman who has made it very clear how little she cares for anything in this world. She runs her hand up Clea’s wrist, tangles their fingers together. Those fingers that hold an unimaginable amount of power, Vivienne almost wonders if she took them in her mouth, would she be able to taste that power? A thought for another time. For now, she has other questions, “Would it hurt though? If you did repaint me?”

“Only if I wanted it to.” Clea’s tone is cold, almost dismissive.

“Did you make it hurt for her?”

A muscle in Clea’s cheek twitches, irritation creeping into her usually deadpan expression, “We’re not discussing this.”

Vivienne concedes, “Fine. We’re not discussing this today.”

“That is not what I said a-”

Vivienne cuts her off with a gentle kiss, and Clea, in spite of all of her posturing, kisses back.