Tw Insecurities - Tumblr Posts

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 😌

* * * * *

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.