Okay, Hi! I'm Not Sure If You're Taking Requests At The Moment But Is It Okay That I Ask For A Lil Something?

Okay, Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests at the moment but is it okay that I ask for a lil something? So, I've been looking for Vincent Van Gogh x Readers FOR EVER and can never find any. If I can, can I request a Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High) x Reader? Maybe a clone of a great artist (made up haha) and is struggling with living up to their legacy? Good make for some good Angst/Fluff 😶

I gotchu! It's in my bio if anything 😉 Before I write this, here you have other amazing blogs that have written/are writing for Vin from Clone high:

@tearsofaclonehighfan

@clone-high-imagines

@thesfwwildsophia

Perfect in his eyes

Pairing: Vincent van Gogh x reader

Summary: Your art teacher is a mean prick who definktely shouldn't teach art. When he startd to compare you to the famous artist, which you are a clone of, you can't take it. Luckilly, Vincent won't let you suffer alone.

Warnings: insecurities, panic attack, bullying by teacher

A/N: (O/N) - original person's name, I hope this isn't too long for you 😅

Let happy Vinny bring you comfort 😌

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Being an artist was...nice, most of the time. Most of your lessons were pretty chill and you could really use your imagination and come up with new, interesting ideas and test your skills with each new piece.

Yeah, being an artist was pretty cool...

Until you got an assignment that is.

Most of your classmates never had any problems with assignments, some of them even preferred being given a topic for a drawing or a painting, but not you.

You hated being given a track that your piece had to follow. You loved to be creative with what you do and so the mundane topics like 'nature' 'city' 'a portrait' felt more like handcuffs than something to spike inspiration in you.

So naturally, you tried to push these boundaries as far as you could, just to see how much you could deviate from the original task.

The teachers, of course, didn't like that at all.

Another assignment turned in, another time period of waiting for the results. Another art class and yet another scolding...

"I would like for our dear (Y/N) to stand up, but only, of course, if that doesn't restrain their creativity." those were the teasing words of your teacher, dripping eith venom.

Not trying to agitate the man even more, you slowly stood up, looking him right in the eye with defiance. "I don't know how standing up would restrain my creativity." you said lowly, trying to match his venomous tone "But I know a thing that would." you finished with a smirk.

Your teacher sighed, trying to stay calm "As you all know" he adressed the class "the theme of your work was 'lovers'." he turned his attention back to you "Would you be so kind, (Y/N), and explain what is this?!" he held up your piece of three skeletons, dressed in elegant robes, dancing the night away while gazing lovingly at each other. Well...as much as they could...

"Those are lovers who even death didn't do apart." you calmly explained. "And why exactly are there three of them?" your teacher raised his eyebrows. You just shrugged "Why wouldn't there be?"

The man just huffed from the comfort of his chair and shook his head "When I said the theme was 'lovers', I meant it as real lovers. As if a realistic piece! Real people! I'm grading this work an F."

Now that made you angry. Not only did he interrogate you every time you handed in a new piece, but now he wants to grade it poorly even though you worked your ass off to create this? Seriously?? Does he know how many allnighters you had to pull to make it perfect?? "You told us to get creative!" You complained, done with this mans bullshit.

Your teacher looked apalled. How dare you raise your voice at him?! "I didn't mean-" But you wouldn't give him the chance to finish "Like that. You wanted us to get creative, but no, not like that. That's too much. Too creative. You're too close to being original and open minded individuals!" you mocked him, fake fright in your voice.

Your teacher, sensing you had him cornered, but refusing to let a teenager win, tried to blabber out "Well, if I'd let everyone do as they please, I wouldn't have to bother setting a theme!" "And maybe that would be for the better!"

Suddenly, a dark look set in his face. Your teacher abruptly stood up and slammed his hands on his desk "I am very dissapointed by your attitude! Do you know where will your disobedience get you? Do you?! Out on the street, that's where!"

His shouting made you flinch. When your teacher saw that, he smiled triumphantly. He was getting to you. With an almost sadistic satisfaction, he decided to push on "What do you think (O/N) would think of you, huh? Just think about how dissapointed she'd be in you. You've been given such a great talent and instead of pursuing (O/N)'s legacy you only do what you want. Do you think that's really necessary (Y/N)?"

You couldn't stand it. The fake honey like tone in his voice, the fake interest in you as a person. How he compared you to (O/N), as if tou weren't your own fucking person, but just a clone.

Your stomach twisted at the feeling of all of your classmates' eyes on you, waiting for a smart rebuttal, but you couldn't form a coherent sentence.

Everybody was still looking at you! Couldn't the teacher just tell you to sit already? Breathing was becoming harder by the second, you could feel cold sweat sprout on you forhead, your throat was dry like a desert and everybody was still. Looking. At. You.

And so you ran.

You bolted out of your seat, forgetting all about your stuff, and rushed out of the classroom.

You couldn't see it, but your teacher had a smile on his face, too drunk on his victory to see the tears streaming down your face or the obvious signs of an oncoming panic attack.

Meanwhile you made it around the corner, before your legs gave up. Luckily, you could fit yourself under the school staircase leading to another floor.

You huddled up next to the wall and hugged your knees to your chest, finally letting the tears freely flow.

You remained in the same position even after the bell rang and the halls were swarmed with students. You managed to calm down a little bit, but the lesson was playing in your head over and over and every time it did, new flow of tears came out.

Before you could start panicking about next lessons and how you were going to mask that you've been crying, let alone face your classmates, a familiar shy voice softly called out to you "Hey, uh, are you ok?" the voice said as you felt a tiny body slide next to you.

You rubbed your eyes to see more clearly over the tears and saw your tiny classmate, Vincent.

He looked worried as he scanned you over with those adorable blue eyes of his, his lips pursed into a thin line, his orange hair sticking out fromhis bandages.

"What are you doing here, Vinc? You'll be late for class." you hiccupped and turned your head away from him, facing the wall.

Vincent only shook his head "Doesn't matter, I just want to make sure you're ok." he searched for more words "That was pretty terrible back there."

As if on cue, at the mention of the incident in class, a new flow of tears made their way out of your eyes. "Please don't talk about it." you croaked, voice choked by your tears. The tiny redhead rapidly shook his head.

For a while, both of you were silent. You were desperately trying not to break down against Vincent and he was wrecking his brain, trying to find a way to soothe you at least a little bit.

"Do you...wanna talk about it?" he asked uncertainly, afraid to worsen your state. You sniffed for a bit and burried your head in your knees "I overreacted I guess..." you sighed "I just...He was right. I'll never be like them. I never was even remotely like them, not personality-wise, not even artistically-wise. I'm really not doing them any justice Vinc." you forced it out of yourself before sobbing again.

You felt the tiny painter lean against you and then he muttered "That doesn't have to be a bad thing, y'know?" You turned your head to look at him, one eyebrow quizzicaly raised. "I mean, look at me." Vincent chuckled and gestured to himself "I'm probably too much like the original van Gogh..." suddenly, Vincent slouched a little "Sometimes I wish I could be someone else. Maybe life wouldn't be as hard as it is."

You couldn't help but hug him. Vincent made a startled sound at that unexpected contact, but relaxed after a second and snuggled more into you. "Don't say shit like that, Vin. You're perfect the way you are. And I wouldn't want you any different." You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"That applies to you too, y'know?" he mumbled into your chest, looking up at your face.

You giggled, your tearstained cheeks turning apple like red. And at that moment you two decided to ditch school and just stay there.

Just two teens, perfect for each other.

I'm so glad I don't recieve any hate (then again, I'm basically unknown XD)

Well, it IS a post apocalyptic world... XD

STOP! 🤚🏻🛑

YOU HAVE ENTERED F/O COURT

Reblog ONLY with a picture of your f/o and I’ll tell you if they’re guilty or not guilty just by looking at them.

I guess I’m a mix of chaoscore, voidpunk, cryptidcore, eldritchcore... all that fun stuff >:D

So what is y'alls fashion style/asthetic?

I'll start I'm Cottagecore

Beautiful things

Pairing: Vincent van Gogh x reader

Summary: A walk with your favourite classmate turns into a confession.

Warnings: fluff that may rot your teeth

A/N: I know very well that oc fics are amazing, but we all need some reader inserts with this tiny dood. And I am here to satiate your hunger. Requests are open!

An artist hungry for revenge. What crimes will he commit?

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Vincent van Gogh. The man who owned your heart. No, not the original van Gogh, but rather his clone and coincidentally your classmate.

Your friends often asked you just why did you like him and you could offer them only a shocked stare, your eyebrows raising nearly to the top of your head.

How could you not like him?? You might sound cliche, but he just... he just wasn't like other guys. There was just something about the way he held himself, that awkward, shy appearance of his that made him look so adorable.

Or the way he concentrated while working on his masterpieces. His face might not tell much, but you could see the plethora of emotions swirling inside those blue wells you liked so much to get lost in.

Or the way he never rejected anyone's presence, even though he rarely talked to anyone who happened to be close to him.

And his smile...Oh, his smile.

It rarely showed and yet, when you were lucky enough to see it, you instantlu melted into a puddle and the only thing you could feel were the butterflies in your stomach. And you just wished you could be the reason of his smile.

After a long, long period of pining (that you later on found out was mutual) you finally mustered enough courage to tell him all this.

He probably wasn't expecting such a detailed confession and in the end you both ended up in tears, tears of love.

You loved to watch him paint, because it was his passion and he loved to capture you and your passion into one of his paintings.

As good as van Gogh's portraits were, you could not unsee his love for nature. If he could, he would spent all his free time outside, just...existing.

It was summer break now, perfect time for new couples to bond. So far you went on many amazing dates together, but last time you proposed that on the next date you two could just kick back and relax.

Your tiny boyfriend immediately perked up, saying that he knows the perfect spot. And how could you say no to those excited blue eyes of his?

One love text messages filled week later you found yourself waiting for Vincent near his house. He looked so handsome in his brown boots, straw hat and a brown messenger bag, you couldn't help but hug him tightly to your chest. Fortunately he didn't mind, feeling comfortable enough to snuggle up to your chest.

Vincent took your hand and sheepishly said "It's a bit of a walk, but you don't mind right?" You smiled and shook your head. How bad could a walk be?

"Vincent, when you said 'a walk', I didn't think it would mean a tour!" you said jokingly, huffing a laugh as sweat rolled down your forehead. Normally you wouldn't mind a 45 minute walk through nature, especially not with Vincent as your company, but the hot weather was killing you.

"I know, I know, but trust me, it'll be worth it once we get there! You'll see!" Stammered the young clone apologetically from few meters ahead of you.

Roughly ten minutes later Vincent jogged up to you, excited like a puppy "Alright, close your eyes (Y/N), and don't open them until I tell you." You did as he said and the next thing you feel is Vincent taking your hand and tugging you through the forest you were currently walking through.

"Van Gogh, I swear to God, if I fall because of you, you're a dead man, understand?" From in front of you you heard him say "Loud and clear!" and then he mumbled a warning about a root you were approaching.

It wasn't long before you could feel sun hitting your closed eyes and you couldn't help but scrunch up your face, to which Vincent giggled accompanied by that cute snort of his.

He let go of your arm and stood next to you as he said in a low voice "Alright, you can open them."

And the view sure was worth it, you had to give him that. You had no idea how the hell did Vincent find this place, but to find a place so pretty in this time was difficult.

Vincent led you to a lovely opening, a quiet meadow in the middle of woods, with a small pond a bit ahead of you.

"Wow, you truly outdone yourself van Gogh." you said in awe "How come you haven't painted this place? I'm sure it would look amazing." you turned to look at him. Vincent shrugged "Haven't had the time yet."

You nodded and wiped the sweat off your brow. Then you turned to look at the pond "How deep do you think it is?" Vincent turned to look with you and shrugged "Not much, it's more of a big puddle than anything."

But that was enough for you. Soon enough the two of you were sitting on the edge of the small pond or...really big puddle, as Vincent called it, your legs resting comfortably in the cool water. You guessed that there could be water up to your knees and loads of mud that could swallow you whole.

As you made yourself comfortable on the fluffy meadow grass, Vincent sat next to you and pulled a sketchbook out from the messenger bag he carried all the way here.

"You could've painted it today, y'know?" you told him, but he only shook his head "No, I want to concentrate on us today." he said as he started sketching the little piece of heaven. "And you'll remember how it looks here?" Vincent only nodded his head.

The atmosphere was peaceful, almost lulling you to sleep, the only sounds being the slight hum of the wind blowing through trees and the scratching of Vincent's pencil. It was....beautiful.

Suddenly a question came up in your mind. You turned to look at your beloved boyfriend "What do you think is beautiful Vincent?"

Vincent stopped sketching at looked at you in slight surprise, caught off guard by this particular question. He thought for a bit before responding "Well, nature is very beautiful. And all the moments I spend with you are beautiful. And...When those two combine like this...That's even more beautiful."

A stupid smile formed on your face, your cheeks heating and the urge to smother him in love becoming irresistible.

"Well what about you?" Vincent piped up.

"I also think nature is beautiful." you said slowly, Vincent nodding in agreement "Literature is also beautiful... But I guess the most beautiful thing in my world...is you."

Vincent whipped his head to look at you, his cheeks turning bright red "What, what do you mean? How?" he said meekly.

You smiled sweetly at him "Well, you yourself are so beautiful in so many ways, inside and outside. And when I'm with you, all those beautiful things that are sometimes so hard to see, are even better, just because of you." You started waving your hands in the air, showing him what you mean, not noticing the small tears welling up in his eyes "It's like there's all the beautiful stuff" you made a big circle in the air with your arms "and in the center, like kings in those medieval paintings, is you."

You barely had any time to properly breathe in, when Vincent laid down next to you, hugging you tightly and hiding his face in the crook of your neck, which quickly became wet with tears.

You slowly pulled your legs out of the pond, draping one of them over Vincent, one of your arms sneaking around him, the other tangling in his hair as you pressed soft kisses to the crown and top of his head and bandages, doing whatever you could to not shed tears yourself.

And as you held each other in the quiet piece of heaven, there was nowhere you'd rather be.

Art p.2

Pairing: Vincent van Gogh x OC

Summary: Vincent and Art ditch the poet group and start a new friendship.

Warnings: cursing, anxiety (just a bit), toxic friendships

A/N: Aight, I decided it's worth a shot. I'd still love to know what y'all think tho ;)

aka Vincent regretting his life choices (he's so adorable though)

Why did he agree to this again? Poe wasn't even his friend. They never talked, they didn't have anything in common! Vincent replayed the whole thing in his head again. Ugh, he even said it so cheerfully, Poe won't even notice how uncomfortable he is! This is really hopeless.

Vincent's head was full of worry as he mindlessly followed Poe through the different dorms. Only when he stopped and Vincent bumped into his back did he notice where they were. He hasn't been here many times, but he recognized that they weren't that far away from the writers' dorm. Poe went ahead and knocked on one of the doors.

A guy in a hazel brown coat opened the door. He had green eyes and was smoking a pipe. Upon seeing who was behind the door, a smile formed on his face "Poe! Glad you could join! Come in, come in!" When the writer did, the guy looked at Vincnet, a flash of confusion ran through his eyes, before the smile reappeared "Ah, you must be Poe's friend! Don't be shy and join us!" and with that he dissapeared through the door. Vincent stood there for a second, looking into the small complex, contemplating just making a run for it. That guy seemed nice enough... How bad could this be?

And so he stepped inside.

Following the voices, Vincent entered what seemed to be a bedroom. A cozy looking place actually. With two beds on each side of the room and a window between them, a writing desk on each side of the door and between the bed and tanble on the right was another door. On the ground between the beds was a comfy looking carpet and a whole ton of pillows. There were four other people besides him, Poe and the guy who opened the door.

Occupying the bed on the left side of the room were two girls. Both of them brunettes with brown eyes, very feminine looking. They were half sitting, half laying with their heads propped on the wall, feet tangled. One of them had short hair and doll looking eyes, her skin smooth, the other had long hair, tied into a bun. They were both cuddled up together, seeming very lovey dovey.

On the ground, propped upon the pillows was a man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, with a black barrett on his head. Poe was sat next to him.

On the bed on the right side of the room was a person laying on their back, legs up on the wall. They had short, chestnut hair, baby blue eyes surrounded by freckles. The were wearing a white blouse and brown shorts, supported by black suspenders. The guy who opened the door was laying with his head propped upon the foot of the bed, his legs draped upon his friend's chest, much to their displeasure.

Poe noticed Vincent standing awkwardly in the door and called out to him "Oh, Vincent, there you are! Come in and sit wherever you want!"

Cautiously, Vincent sat on the edge of the carpit. Poe cleared his throat "Right. Uh, everyone, this is my pal Vincent. Vincent, these are the poets." and he pointed at the two girls "This is Sappho," he gestured to the one with short hair "and her girlfriend." Poe looked at Vincent to see if he's following. Then he poked the guy next to him "This is François Villon." and then he pointed over his shoulder "The guy who greeted us at the door is Paul Verlaine and that is Art Rimbaud."

"Wait, aren't you van Gogh? The one who made that cool painting of Gandhi on the wall that one time?" asked the long haired girl. Vincent sheepishly nodded.

"You're seriously van Gogh? The one that cut off his ear?" asked François, a little worried. "Of course he is, why else would he be wearing that bandage?" said Sappho.

Vincent looked to the ground. He didn't like being the centre of attention and he especially didn't like when people discussed his appearance.

"Shut up Sappho, that's not cool." Art said, an angry look on her face. Sappho smiled devilishly "Says the one who told us to go fuck ourselves." "That was a joke." Art tried to defend themself. "So was this." rebutted immediately Sappho. "Well, there are some things you shouldn't joke about." Art growled. "Well, that's relative..." said François in a lazy tone.

"Vincent's new here and we wouldn't want to scare him off now would we?" said Paul, successfuly calming the situation. "That's true. By the way, would you mind putting your stinky feet elsewhere?" said Art. Paul mockingly thought for a while and then lifted one leg and hovered the foot above Art's face. "Ew, gross!" they laughed and quickly bit his foot. Paul yelped and Vincent watched in secret amusement as he started to poke Art, who was apparently ticklish and soon errupted in a laughing fit.

As uncomfortable as he was, it wasn't as bad as Vincent thought.

You two should just get together already." Sappho rolled her eyes. "Uh, if you didn't notice, I like people with a dick in their pants." said Paul. François send a kiss Paul's way, but he only shook his head. "I'm literally your type!" exclaimed François in mock hurt. "Yeah, but you got more std's than the computer dudes have pokemons." laughed Paul and François shrugged "What can I say, gotta catch 'em all." "Well, if you keep on fucking homeless people then you'll achieve that." said Art. "What, are you jealous that you can't fuck anyone Art?" The person in question frowned again "You're saying it like it was my fault I wasn't born a dude." Poe, who had been silently following the conversation, suddenly interrupted "Relax Art, it was just a joke." Art only huffed in response, their gaze falling upon Vincent's form on the edge of the carpet, hands in fists, facing the ground.

Vincent finally understood why he was so uncomfortable. He could not believe how often these people could fight. It made him feel out of place and he prayed to whatever was above him that they wouldn't drag him into their arguments.

Feeling someone staring, Vincent peeked up and saw Art's eyes trained on him. When their eyes met, Art smiled a friendly smile.

"Hey, Vincent? Can I show you something?" Art asked sweetly. Feeling flustered, Vincent nodded. Art goz up from the bed, shoving Verlaine's legs out of the way and made their way over to the timid painter. Art waited for Vincent to get up, before they grabbed him by the arm and dragged him outside.

When they were outside the dorm, Art turned to him and asked "How about we ditch those assholes?"

Somehow, they seemed different now that they were alone. Their voice sounded lighter, softer and their tone seemed more lighthearted too. It was such a pleasant change from the sharp words and razor tounges that Vincent found himself nodding.

"Let's go outside, how about that?" Art smiled again and he caught himself smiling shyly in response "Y-yeah, that sounds cool."

The weather outdside was pleasant, not too hot or too cold, just enough to lay on the ground and let the warmth seep into your skin. And that's exactly what Art did, patting the spot next to them so Vincent would join.

"You didn't really want to be there did you?" they looked up at Vincent who was sitting next to them. He shook his head and Art smiled "Yeah, I could tell." they paused for a minute "I bet Poe dragged you along so he wouldn't have to be alone with Villon on the ground. That guy can act like a serious creep."

Thinking that maybe he'd like to think about something else than that disaster, Art said "You know, I've seen your paintings in the school gallery. I really liked them." Vincent's eyes lit up "Re-really?" Art laughed "Of course! I love how colourful they all are. It really makes the beauty of nature stand out." Art looked up at van Gogh "I'd really like to know where you get those interesting colour palletes from..."

After a nice, long chat about art, Vincent suddenly blurted out "Are you really friends, since..." Vincent trailed off nervously. "Since we fight so much?" Art finished and the ginger beside them nodded. "I guess we aren't." they shrugged. "Why do you hang out then?" asked Vincent in disbelief.

"Because we would go insane if we were to be alone. So we hang out, because other poets understand the best how we feel and it creates this toxic enviroment..." Art sighed "If I had anyone else, I would gladly ditch them."

Then they looked at Vincent "Do you have any friends? I've never seen you talk to anyone at school..." they asked carefuly. Vincent shook his head "No, not.. Not really..." he admitted shyly.

"Would you like to change that?" Art asked and Vincent tilted his head in confusion. "Well, I'm lonely, you're lonely... How about we be lonely together?"

Vincent smiled a genuine smile at that offer. If other hangouts are gonna be like this, then don't mind if he agrees "I'd like that very much." he answered, his voice still shy and a bit raspy. Art giggled

"You're really cute you know that?"

Maybe Vincent didn't mind helping Poe out after all.