#lucien holiday

[hime-bee]

going off from the last ask abt lucien, would he and his wife ever approve of mc dating leumin though?

His wife? Nope. No one has ever been good enough for him in her eyes. The first girl Leu had a crush on was run off by his mother because she thought the girl was ugly/fat and not a good fit for Leumin.

Lucien is a toss up, really. He has his own opinions and whatnot, but if MC makes his son happy at the end of the day, then that's fine. He would definitely keep a closer eye on things, though, and would look you up to make sure you're not a criminal or something-

Even if they didn't approve, that certainly wouldn't have any effect on Leumin. If he's head over heels, madly in love with you, then nothing anyone says or does is going to change that. He wouldn't care less what his parents have to say. He'd recommend eloping anyway.

[copypastus]

More for our acotar secret santa exchange. Combining @taymartiart's love for fae with her love for wrestling.

[clockwork-ashes]

i imagine eris and helion will love annoying each other

[kingofsummer93]

Once Cursed, Twice Shy

Part 1 of my gift to @velidewrites for @acotargiftexchange!

Summary:

Don't mix vodka and magic, they said. It will end badly, they said.

Elain's never been particularly superstitious, but when a ghost from her past comes crashing back into her life, she realizes that the old saying might have been true after all.

And that she might have (accidentally and definitely not on purpose) cursed her ex-boyfriend.

Inspired by the Ex Hex by Rachel Hawkins.

Chapter 1: A Fateful Spark, an Ill-Timed Blaze

Ao3

Ten years previously

A clap of thunder rang out over the town of Maple Glen, followed by a torrential downpour so sudden it seemed as though the sky had singled out their little village to bear the brunt of its ire.

Elain sighed, burrowing further into the couch under her nest of blankets and pillows. She envied the storm, at that moment. What she wouldn’t give to be able to dump her hurt and anger into the world for a couple hours before being reborn, fresh and dewy, her broken heart melded back together by sunshine as her memories faded like a clearing sky.

She sighed, and the storm raged on as if in answer.

“Do you ever wish you were born as something else?” she asked, swirling the dregs of her bright blue cocktail around in her glass. “Like, a bird, or a tree, or, or…”

Vassa let out a noise that was halfway between a snort and a hiccup. “There it is.”

“There is what?”

“The philosophical stage of your drunk journey. I thought we passed it two drinks ago. First we have affectionate Elain, then loud Elain, followed with a brief appearance by pensive Elain, and then-”

Elain grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at her friend, who nearly toppled off her end of the couch as she ducked to avoid it. Perhaps they were a bit drunk.

“I mean it,” Elain pressed, draining her glass. “Trees don’t have to worry about dumb boys, or school, or finding a job. They just…” She held out her arms and lifted her head to the ceiling, wriggling her fingers around like leaves in the wind. “Hang out and bask in the sunshine.”

“Babe,” Vassa said drily, “trees get cut down and then get sawed up into building materials or burned or whatever. Dumb boys are the least of their worries.”

Perhaps it was the vodka’s fault, but for some reason this seemed incredibly sad to Elain. Her throat closed up, her eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears.

“Oh no.” Vassa flapped her hands around in a panic, her mirth gone. “Oh shit, what did I say?”

“Lucien had a tree house growing up.” The words bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “He told me his oldest brother helped him build it. And then one day he went out to the forest and discovered that the section of the woods with his tree house had been cut down. Something about tree rot.”

“See,” Vassa said wisely as she refilled both their glasses from a pitcher. “And that’s why you don’t want to be a tree.”

Elain snorted, wiping the tears from her face with an already damp corner of her blanket. She’d shed so many tears in the past two days that she was shocked she hadn’t dried up like a raisin yet.

“Fuck him,” Vassa continued. “He doesn’t deserve a treehouse- or any house, for that matter. He can live on the streets for all I care.”

Elain pictured it for a moment; Lucien’s long fiery hair grown even longer from years of living as a vagabond, a scraggly beard not quite covering his devilish grin. Perhaps he’d live in the woods, in a little cave with a mattress made of leaves and moss. The image didn’t repulse her as much as it should have.

Suddenly she was enraged.

This had been her refrain for the past three days, ever since she had so unceremoniously thrown him out of her apartment. Moments of deep grief when it seemed like she’d never stop crying were followed by rage so intense it felt like her blood was on fire.

The same fire that ran through his veins, the flame that she had found so utterly irresistible.

Her gaze moved against her will, landing on the box sitting in a corner near the door. She’d been studiously avoiding it, torn between the satisfaction she’d get at throwing it out, and the desire to keep a piece of him close, if only for a little while longer.

It was irrational, but that box of stuff had somehow become a physical reminder of him, and getting rid of it would be like cutting the final thread that tethered him to her. Not to mention that a small part of her brain still hoped that he would come back, that somehow it would turn out to all be a misunderstanding.

That he would choose her, against all odds, in defiance of the path that had been laid out for him.

Perhaps even more humiliating than the rejection itself had been the deception. Because he had known- for the entirety of the summer he had spent tangled up in bed with her, whispering that she was the one, making her burn in a way she had never even dreamed possible, he had known it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last, because by the end of the summer he was due back in England, where his betrothed waited for him.

The fucker had been engaged the entire time and hadn’t bothered sharing that information with her.

But the worst thing of all had been the way she’d so thoroughly fallen for him. Every touch, every whispered word had seemed so sincere that she’d never once questioned his devotion. What a fool she’d been. Perhaps if he had been honest with her from the start she would have allowed him to fall into her bed, but not into her heart.

Or better yet, she would have steered clear of Lucien Vanserra altogether.

**

Elain could still picture the moment she’d first laid eyes on him during the Summer Solstice festival. Vassa had bullied her into setting up a kissing booth (a venture that had turned out to be quite lucrative) and they’d had a steady stream of customers all morning. Around midday the energy in the crowd had shifted, like a ripple in a pond. And then the crowd had shifted, parting like the sea.

And he had appeared. Tall, his golden skin practically glowing in the summer sun, his shoulder-length hair so vividly red she immediately knew he was a witch. No human could ever look like that. He had locked eyes with her from a distance, and it had felt to Elain like she was being set on fire.

“Who is that?” she stage-whispered to Vassa, who had just given their elementary school math teacher a wholesome peck on the cheek for the sum of five dollars.

“Who?” Vassa followed her gaze, and her eyes went wide, her hand clamping painfully around Elain’s wrist.

“Ow!”

“I think he’s one of the Vanserras,” Vassa whispered, slightly awed. “He’s got to be, look at that hair.”

A smile quirked up the corner of the handsome stranger’s mouth, and Elain wondered absurdly if he had somehow heard. The Vanserras were a powerful magical family, and nobody knew the true depth of their power. She wouldn’t be surprised if they had unnaturally powerful hearing.

“I’ve never seen him before,” Elain said, stupidly. She felt slightly dazed as she continued to stare into his eyes, as if she was physically incapable of looking away.

In truth she had never seen any of them before.

Hundreds of years ago, a man called Thelor Vanserra had founded Maple Glen and tied his magic to the village. Magic ran strong here- for those who knew where to look, that is. Tourists simply assumed they had stumbled upon a particularly charming village, where commerce always boomed and disaster never struck.

But the truly odd thing about Maple Glen was the fact that it never snowed, despite being far enough north that it should by all reason get buried under snow every winter. It was like the town was stuck in perpetual autumn, with only a few weeks of balmier weather in the spring and summer. Nobody questioned it, assuming Maple Glen simply existed in a peculiar micro-climate.

It was a wonder how far people would go to avoid seeing magic, even when it existed right under their noses.

Twice a year, on Summer Solstice and Winter Solstice, a member of the Vanserra bloodline would come to town in order to regenerate the magic for the coming season before disappearing back to England. They were notoriously reclusive and haughty, and were rarely seen around town- much less strolling through a crowded festival.

“I always pictured them scrawny and inbred,” Vassa had said, surreptitiously fixing her hair.

The crooked grin on the stranger’s face widened, and Elain’s stomach dropped. He had definitely heard that.

And then he started walking towards them.

Elain froze, her stomach roiling with equal parts thrill and fear. Would he curse them? It didn’t seem likely, judging from the amusement on his face, but she squirmed nonetheless.

When he was a few paces away from their booth he paused, his eyes still fixed on her. From this close Elain could make out the color of his eyes- a warm brown, tinged russet, as if kissed by the flame his bloodline was rumored to wield. His features were sharp and elegant, his wide jaw covered with the barest hint of auburn stubble. There was a thin, crooked scar running down the left side of his face that, combined with the devilish gleam in his eyes, gave him an aura of danger. It sent a shiver down Elain’s spine, and she felt momentarily struck dumb, as if by magic.

“My lady,” he said, inclining his head. The motion made a strand of his vibrant hair fall over his face, and Elain’s fingers itched to brush it back.

Vassa giggled beside her. Elain had never, in her nineteen years of life, heard her friend make such a sound. She bit her lip hard to prevent herself from doing the same.

“If I walked through fire for you, could I get a kiss too?”

Vassa made a choked sound that sounded as though she was holding in another giggle. Elain could only stare for a moment, before realizing that she was staring at him with her mouth hanging wide open.

“I- sorry, what?”

With a casual wave of his hand a wall of flame had burst to life out of thin air. Elain jumped to her feet, scanning the crowd for signs of anyone having noticed the blatant display of magic. But oddly enough, nobody at all was looking at them. It was almost as if some force was making the crowd look away.

She glanced back at the flames just in time to see him walk through them. Surrounded by flames, with that troublesome grin on his face and his eyes twinkling with mirth, it almost seemed like she was being bewitched by the devil himself.

In the end it turned out to be not too far from the truth.

The summer romance that had followed had completely knocked her off her feet. Lucien was nothing like the boys she’d dated before. There was something charmingly old-fashioned about the way he spoke, his impeccable manners and posh accent so at odds with his serpentine tongue and devilish humour. He had felt like a drug, something decadent and rare that left her buoyant and giddy. She’d been hooked from her first taste, her fate sealed the moment he’d walked through those flames and pressed a feather-soft kiss directly to her lips. She’d let those flames consume her.

But the thing with fire, she’d learned, was that it could be doused in an instant.

Elain wondered if he ever would have said anything at all, had that vision not infiltrated her dreams. Would he simply have left her apartment and gotten on a plane back to Yorkshire without so much as a goodbye, never to be heard from again?

They had been lying in bed when the vision had swarmed her senses, limbs tangled together, a lazily swirling fan doing little to cool their heated skin. There was never any logic or reason to what triggered her visions, but something about that hazy veil between consciousness and sleep seemed to make her prone to them. One unclear reality being replaced by another, images fogging her mind so that sometimes she wasn’t sure if they were visions, dreams, or nothing at all.

But that night, as she’d laid there happy and content, blissfully uncaring about anything but the present, the future had decided to make itself known to her anyway. At first she thought she was simply drifting off into dreams of him, and she had sighed, grateful to be with him even in sleep.

Her blood had grown cold as she’d realized the Lucien in her mind was not alone, and nor was his soft smile aimed at her. There was someone else, someone with long rosewood-colored tresses and hazel eyes that shone almost golden, like a cat’s. Someone who was wearing a white dress, wrapped in the arms of the man currently in her bed.

Someone who was decidedly not her.

At first she’d chosen to ignore it. Perhaps it wasn’t a vision at all, but simply her lust-addled brain playing tricks on her. But then Lucien had announced that he needed to fly back home for a while, to take care of some business.

“I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone,” he assured her, his mouth pressed to her ear. “You won’t even miss me.”

In the span of a few seconds he had managed to rip her heart out and rip it to shreds. She’d been so stunned that at first she didn’t know how ro react.

“I’m sorry, Love,” he murmured, misunderstanding her shock as displeasure. “There’s some things with…my family, that I need to handle in person.”

Something about his choice of words had made Elain want to laugh, even as she was fighting rising tides of panic and heartbreak.

“Who is she?” had been the only words she’d been able to formulate.

Lucien stared at her in shock, the color draining from his skin until she knew for certain she hadn’t miscalculated.

Then had come the accusations, the excuses, the explanations, followed by more accusations.

He was engaged.

Betrothed had been the word he’d used, like something out of those romance novels her sister liked. He was betrothed to a stranger he’d never even met, someone he allegedly had no intention of marrying. He was going back to end it, he claimed. He wanted her, he assured.

“I didn’t want to say anything at first because I didn’t know what this thing was between us, and then when it became serious it felt like it was too late, and I didn’t know what to do, and please, Elain, just look at me…”

She had, and something about seeing him like this, his usual smooth exterior replaced by rambling words and eyes wide with panic, almost made her break. But then she’d remembered the woman in her vision, the one with such unusual colouring that she could only be a witch- and a powerful one, if she had been betrothed to a Vanserra. And most of all, she remembered the joy on Lucien’s face in that vision, the way his eyes had crinkled around the edges like they did when he was happy.

In retrospect, throwing his clothes out the window had perhaps been a tad immature, but it had been effective in getting him to shut up and leave her apartment.

**

Elain shook her head, clearing away the memories that refused to leave her alone.

“You know what,” she declared, slamming her glass on the coffee table with a clang, “let’s burn his stuff.”

Vassa whooped, jumping to her feet before Elain could second guess her decision. Fuck him. Fuck him and his beautiful fiancé (bethrothed) who no doubt had the perfect pedigree and wielded some powerful brand of magic to match the Vanserra’s. Something respectable, like elemental magic, or a knack for spell work. Not something weird and impossible to understand like her Sight.

“Fuck him,” she said again, getting to her feet. “Fuck her!”

“That’s the spirit!”

Vassa upended the box into their fireplace, lifting up a cloud of dust, ash, and various herbs from an ill-advised cleaning spell they’d tried to cast the week before. “Care to do the honors?” she asked, extending a box of matches towards Elain.

Elain took a shuddering breath as she looked at the sad little pile of ashy belongings. Clothes, a few books, thin leather straps Lucien had used to tie his hair back. Straps he’d once used to bind her wrists together as he-

Elain struck the match so aggressively that it snapped clean in half. The second one lit, the little flame seeming to mock her as it danced near the tips of her fingers.

The fire was slow to catch, smoking pathetically as it tried to crawl along the pile of fabric and books. And then it grew, until their faces warmed by the heat of the flames. Elain very pointedly ignored the fact that Lucien could summon flames ten times this size without so much as blinking.

“We curse you, Lucien Vanserra!” Vassa declared, stirring the flames with a poker.

“I hope you burn in hell,” Elain mumbled.

Vassa cackled. “He’d probably be happy there. Let him rot somewhere his flame can’t catch.”

Elain might have imagined it, but just for a moment the fire seemed to grow brighter in the hearth.

“And may his betrothed be frigid in bed!” Vassa added with another cackling laugh. Once again the flames flashed hotter, almost blue.

“And may she break his heart, just like he did mine,” Elain added sadly.

It seemed like she was speaking directly to the flames themselves, and for a second they appeared to wink in response. She blinked, and shook her head against a wave of disorientation. Merlin, she was drunk.

A flash of lightning lit up the night sky outside, followed by another rumble of thunder that made them both jump. With a mechanical groaning the lights inside the apartment blinked off, leaving them sitting there in the dark.

Vassa groaned. “Damn it, power’s out again.”

But Elain’s attention was still on the fire- or, more accurately, on the space where it should have been. In the space where moments before flames had danced merrily, there was now only a fine layer of ash, all traces of Lucien’s belongings having vanished, like the flames, into thin air.

Elain gulped. “Vassa? I think we might have done something bad.”

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #NationalMothWeek:

“#Moth" Pendant, c. 1900

Designer: Lucien Gaillard (French, 1861–1942 )

Gold, champlevé enamel, citrines, carved horn

3 in. × 3 5/8 in. (7.6 × 9.2 cm)

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 2000.176

[yanny-77]

Happy Holidays!

@azrielshadowssing, I am so excited to finally share my @acotargiftexchange gift with you! It has been so much fun getting to know you over the past couple months. I tried to incorporate the things we talked about into the fic—which was more challenging than I thought it would be—and to write a cute story that showcased all my favorite things about Elain and Lucien.

We Could Follow the Sparks

After defeating the dark sorcerer Koschei, Elain and Lucien decide to try. Four months into their courtship, an invitation arrives from Helion Spell-Cleaver, asking Elain to attend the Day Court Winter Solstice Ball as his personal guest. As she gets ready for the night, doubts creep in and Elain wonders if she made a mistake in coming. How can she ever compare to all the fiery women in her mate's life? Throughout the evening, Elain and Lucien find common ground and consider their choices for the future. Will they or won't they choose each other?

I've never written Elucien before, so this was a fun, albeit a little stressful, experience. I hope you love it!

With love, Yams

Special thanks to @korrinamoe, @poisonivy206, @headcanonheadcase and @fieldofdaisiies who talked me off the ledge when I wanted to start over from scratch earlier this week. Your edits and advice were invaluable.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Nature Fun

ship: Elucien type: smutty drabble warning(s): explicit description, minors DNI word count: ~600 words summary: I saw the picture on Pinterest and thought it screams Elucien, so here we go; some nature smut

-all rights reserved-

His hands slide up Elain’s arms as he moves inside of her, his low groans the most erotic sounds the middle Archeron sister has ever heard.

She relishes in them, in the feel of his hot skin against hers, the bright sun of the Day Court warming their bodies, the soft press of the grass underneath her. Lucien’s cock is deep inside of, touching the spot that makes her arch and cry out in pleasure.

"Gods!" Elain moans, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. The blissful stretch of Lucien’s thick lenght is nearly overwhelming, nearly too much, but so good, so absolutely damn perfect.

Lucien holds her by her wrists, an amused grin spreading over his whole face at the position they are in. He loves how his lovely mate falls apart beneath him, how her back arches, making her press further into him, hips pressing against his pelvis.

"Harder," Elain breathes through gritted teeth and Lucien’s gives her exactly this, pounding her harder into the soft mossy grass beneath her, their bodies only shielded by large trees and the fields of sunflowers around them.

Lucien keeps a steady hold on her wrists, his dick sliding in and out of her in a relentless and merciless pace, damp skin slapping against damp skin.

She moans and mewls, hands above her head, her body shaking with pleasure and the tidal waves of satisfaction that are nearing.

"My lady, are you close?" Lucien rasps. He leans in and nips at her lower lip before kissing her deeply.

Elain can only as much as moan, shifting her hips to urge him even deeper.

But Lucien wants to hear an answer, wants to hear her breathy voice, telling him she is about to come. She is deliriously lost in passion and love, Lucien imprinted in every fibre of her body, the only thing on her mind, and he knows finding the right words in this moment is not easy, but still he wants to hear her answer.

"Elain, use you words."

Lucien tuts at her mewling, the little pout on her lip, as she wreathes beneath him, groaning in frustration. "I-I am c-cl-close. Please, let me come."

"You know, you never have to beg with me, dove. I just want you to use your words." The Day Court heir grins.

"I know you are close, dove. I can feel how your tight cunt is squeezing my cock, milking me."

He knows that Elain is gone everytime he uses filthy wording on her, it is always her undoing — the always so modest and pure Elain loves dirty talk, especially when it is spoken by her mate.

"I am close!"

Elain explodes in bliss and passion, the fire in her mate’s veins sweeping into hers, filling every fibre of her body and she comes with a scream.

The growl that parts Lucien’s lips when he spills himself into her, rattles the trees around them and makes birds fly away.

"Cauldron and Mother, you are my end, dove."

An exhausted smile spreads over Elain’s face, her lids opening and closing quickly as she tries to hold Lucien’s gaze. Her legs still spasm, he moves into her woth sloppy thrusts, kissing her gently. "No, you are," she hums, beaming up at him.

Lucien‘s skin glows, kissed by the lowering sun behind him.

"I love you." Lucien slides out of her and pulls his pants back up before helping Elain get up, smoothing out her dress. "So damn much."

Leaning in, he kisses her forehead amd Elain wraps her arms around his broad chest.

"More than words can describe."

~~~~~~~~

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[grimweaver]

Happy "Heart's Day"! ❤️‍🔥🤪

[sugarysketches]

.:Originally made November 13th, 2023:.

Sukusuku Hakutaku.........

[goforth-ladymidnight]

For @woahpip, for the @acotargiftexchange 2022

The Third Night of Solstice, Part 1

Pairing: Elain x Lucien

Rating: Teen and Up

Contains: Angst and Fluff

Summary: The second night of Winter Solstice has come and gone, and neither Elain nor Lucien got what they were hoping for. Only one night remains before the dawn of a new year, and this is their last chance to give each other the one thing each of them truly wants. Or so they think... Set during the events of A Court of Silver Flames, this is one Solstice that neither of them will ever forget.

Read on AO3

[mystical-blaise]

Sorry it took so long, but...

Heart of the Matter Elucien Bonus Scene is finally up!

[hime-bee]

if lucien were to bump into leumin and mc in a date together, how'd it go? 👀

LOL SO HEAR ME OUT-

Lucien is actually a fucking cringe fail man??? He's very good at hiding it though Leu got it from somewhere lmao because he's successful and a stoic man by most people's standards. He really cares for his children, though, and he wants nothing more than to be in Leu's life, which is exactly why he keeps trying to get him to come home. Lucien's issue is that... He doesn't really know how to approach Leu, now that he's become an adult. He feels like he doesn't really know what his son likes anymore. If he saw Leu on a date with MC, he'd definitely follow y'all for... A bit, y'know, nothing too extreme- he just wants to see if his son is happy with you. The genuine smile on Leu's face would be more than enough, and he would go on his way then

[separatist-apologist]

i was just rereading the acotar next gen fics and prompts and like... all of tamlin's children are so unhinged, i'm sure that man aged a hundred years in the 20something-ish years he's spent raising them. i bet he begged the mother for just one normal one and the mother was like "lol nope. here's another one that is mated to an inner circle kid, good luck bitch"

elucien's children are not as insane but funnily enough lucien has become progressively unhinged with each child. i guess there always has to be a balance...

also, i will pray for whoever is the poor fucker that ends up mated to erina's child, because i know no one would ever be good enough for their baby xD

Eris has been loudly proclaiming that Vanserra's don't get mates because no one is their equal...while Arina quietly sharpens a knife in the background

[avery-alpha-varcolac]

This holiday was just as fun as Halloween. Everyone dressed up. The puns that could be used. Plus he liked the lights that were placed almost everywhere. It added a special something that Halloween was missing. As he walked through the rooms, checking all the ones that were decorated for each holiday depending on one’s choice of believe, he finally found the one for Yule. A smile made its way to his lips as his eyes scanned the different Yule logs that were placed around. It was nice to see all the variations. In his hands was his own. In honor of his mother he did one every year. Used her favorites as she had. It was one of the small things that Avery got to do for himself. It always helped seeing it when he missed her. Finding a spot he placed it down. It was something he’d have to do more often now that he was embracing the witch side to him. The master planned to do as much as he could to connect with the magic. Yule was one of those things.

His outfit was a simple red suit. He didn’t want anything extreme. He liked to look his best, especially for something as important as his mother’s favorite holiday. As he stood there a scent caught him. “In here kitten.” He called softly. Avery knew Lucien would hear and it would be most amusing for him to come when called. “I’m surprised you came out. I didn’t think you’d enjoy all the lights. Then again I hear cats have a thing for bright red lights that move.” His body slightly turned to smile at the man. The white a stark contrast to his own outfit. Lucien in white. “So you have decided to marry me. I didn’t think you’d want to do it on a holiday, but I won’t object.” The younger turning fully now to face the councilman. “You think the council will kind of we steal the show from their grand party?”

@drluciengaudet​

[lmaverick123]

Lucien Maverick's The Nutcracker (Concept)

For the holiday season this year, and since I’m feeling under the weather, I thought I would talk about one of my favorite suites of classical music, and the ballet of it.  My cousin and I used to go see The Nutcracker every year when it would come to Anchorage.  It was an event, and always fun.  I got to thinking about the concept of a film about it.  Not the one we got, but instead something…

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #WorldFrogDay: Picasso’s #Frogs 🐸

Pablo Ruiz y Picasso (Spanish, 1881–1973)

1. The Toad (Le Crapaud), 1949

Lithograph on zinc; image: 19 5/8 x 25 1/4" (49.9 x 64.1 cm)

2. The Frogs (Les Grenouilles), from Eaux-fortes originale pour des textes de Buffon (Histoire naturelle), 1936, published 1942

Aquatint & drypoint; image: 10 9/16 x 8 5/16 in (26.9 x 21.1 cm)

3. The Toad (Le Crapaud), from Eaux-fortes originales pour des textes de Buffon (Histoire Naturelle), 1936, published 1942

Aquatint & drypoint; image: 10 7/16 x 8 1/4 in (26.5 x 20.9 cm)

4. Lucien Clergue (French, 1934-2014)

Picasso Discovering a Toad, 1968

Gelatin-silver print; image: 10 7/8 × 7 3/16 in (27.62 × 18.26 cm)

1. MOMA, 2. MOMA, 3. PMA, 4. LACMA

1-3 © Estate of Pablo Picasso / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York [educational use]

4 © Lucien Clergue / DACS, London [educational use]