I have a question for Adam (Coraline oc) : in the coraline movie we see the other mother seems to change clothes, like her black dress with white dots from her jumper one. Does that mean Adam would have a similar outfit like that? P.S: I'd go for deep blue buttons if i had the choice (Sry if this is to long it's my first time doing this kind of comment and i really want to know more about him, he looks cute😅)
Love your art💙 thx!
Thank youu dear !! 😌🙏🏻💖
I should definitely draw him in this outfit more, it's kinda cute.. 😭👉🏻👈🏻🧡
Marge Simpson was a serial killer, and she was chasing me through an abandoned multi story parking lot. When I got to the bottom of the parking lot, Corpse Husband was waiting for me with a getaway car that was shaped like a giant pea. He yelled at me to get in, and the parking lot exploded as he drove me away. Oh, and somehow, Marge survived the explosion and she kept chasing us on foot.
Vy, do you still write for Corpse Husband?? If so could you write about an neighbours to lovers?
Hi dear!
Thank you so much for the request! You know I love a good neighbors to lovers story 😉
Hope you enjoy ❤
Greetings From Next-Door
Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Warnings: Swearing?
Genre: Neighbors to Lovers, FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)
Summary: Corpse is probably the first and only person to receive a reverse noise complaint
It hasn't been a good morning for Corpse. It's barely been a morning, if we're being honest.
He woke up after three hours of restless sleep feeling more tired than he had felt before painstakingly drifting off at the crack of dawn. He had fifteen minutes of 'morning' to spare before noon rolled around and he dragged himself to the kitchen, swinging the fridge door open to a massive disappointment. Had the scene been a cartoon, a fly would've strayed its way out of the vacant fridge. Then again, using cartoon logic, Corpse could easily draw food to fill the fridge with.
But this is real life. And in real life food costs money that Corpse is strapped for. Grocery delivery is not a privilege he can rely on any longer, hasn't been for a few months even. So every couple weeks, like clockwork, comes the dreaded day calling for a grocery run. And it always starts the same: a vacant kitchen; an attempt to convince himself he doesn't need food to survive; a grumble from his empty stomach disagreeing with him; and finally - surrender.
That's how Corpse just barely managed to usher himself out the door. His all-black attire - accessorized with a black facemask and beanie over which he's also thrown the hood of his hoodie - makes him unassuming, mysterious and unapproachable all in tandem which is precisely the 'aesthetic' he goes for every time he steps foot outside the comfort and safety of his shoebox apartment.
Good thing his kitchen decided to be barren on such a shitty day - rain is pouring down in sheets, the dark clouds are so thick that time cannot be discerned by simply looking up at the sky - it's been the same shade of dark and depressing grey since 6 AM. And Corpse loves it. He just wishes he could have appreciated it from the warmth of his dry and quiet home instead of experiencing it head-on. Not to mention that he's soaked for the most part due to his aversion to umbrellas.
By the time he makes it home with two bags of groceries hooked in each of his hands he feels like he should be wringed out like a towel. The dark curls that are sticking out from beneath his beanie are damp and stuck to his forehead, the mask on his face is soaked and almost impossible to breathe through to the point where he finally bites the bullet and drags it down to beneath his chin. His shoes have a colony of fish living in each one and his groceries are swimming in their bags. But despite the massive inconvenience, his relief to finally be done with the task isn't dampened (pun semi-intended).
However, he's in for a mild infuriation when he approaches his apartment door, keys in hand, and sees a note stuck to the dark wood, the paper ominously contrasting against it.
For a moment, he believes the worst of it - an eviction notice. Is there a valid reason for him to be getting evicted? Absolutely not. Is the landlord and ass though? Absolutely, and Corpse knows the dude is no stranger to the distaste he harbors for him.
He's just about to completely ignore the note for the time being and push into the apartment in favor of drying off and organizing his groceries but an interesting detail jumps out at him from the white page as he goes to unlock the door.
The note is written in cursive in a glittery purple gel pen. Not really the font or format of an eviction notice or complaint, is it?
Corpse pushes the door open, setting the bags down in the foyer before stepping back out to retrieve the piece of paper and read it with far more curiosity than dread this time.
To his surprise and amusement, the note reads:
~ Dear neighbor,
You don't know me and I don't know you. But that's irrelevant. I just know you have an amazing taste in music and whatever it is you're blaring in the middle of the night, I'd like you to play it louder so I can at least Shazam it because holy shit do I love it!
Keep up the great DJing, neighbor!
PS: Sorry if the letter caused mild discomfort upon first sight. No complaints here! :) I hope the purple ink translated that ~
The relief that washes over him after the third time re-reading the note feels almost like a physical weight being removed from atop his chest and he can finally get his breathing in order. Which then turns into laughter, wholehearted cackling that has him leaning against the hallway wall, groceries all but momentarily forgotten by his feet.
Later that day, in the evening, he does indeed blast the music he typically listens to as motivation and inspiration for his own discography. Despite the blaring speakers, he still manages to hear the three distinct knocks on the wall connecting him to the next unit over. It brings a genuine smile to his face, knowing exactly what it means.
The roundabout way of their communication brings him great comfort. It makes him feel far less alone, the loneliness punctured by the knowledge that there is someone right next door who he managed to make smile if only even briefly.
Thing is, Corpse doesn't want it to end. He realizes that when he finds himself peeking out into the hallway of his building so he can check the other side of his front door for the potential new letter from his neighbor. The realization only sinks in further when he feels the flood of disappointment engulf him upon the sight of the letter-less door.
So, that seals the deal for him. He decides to take it upon himself to not let it end.
It takes him a long time to locate something to write on that isn't a napkin or a paper towel. Even longer to find a working pen. But once he does, he sits down at his computer desk to write a note of his own.
~ Dear Neighbor,
Hope you enjoyed the concert last night. Not my typical style to blast music but how can I say no to the Neighborhood Watch. But hey, I don't mind whatsoever - it's the closest thing to a party I've had in years.
Seeing as how we seem to share the same preference for music, here's a link to a curated playlist I've been adding to for almost a decade now. There's plenty of hidden gems in there I'm sure you'll enjoy.
Feel free to be the one to blast the tunes this time
Greetings from next-door ~
He can't help but laugh to himself as he writes down the whole URL to his Spotify playlist, but even the ridiculousness of that doesn't seem to deter him from his mission.
The next morning, during a teetering predicament of standing on a stool trying to change the lightbulb in the hallway, Corpse hears a laugh echo out in the hallway right beside the door to his unit.
He hops down and takes a look outside the peephole to see what's going on and sure enough, it's his neighbor, having found the note he'd left taped to their door the night before.
He feels a genuine smile spread across his face, a certain warmth flooding his chest. He can still hardly believe he went out of his way to establish communication with a total stranger - something so out of his comfort zone it might as well be in the stratosphere - but that laugh makes it all so worth it.
And there indeed is a party that night as well, with songs he knows all too well blaring from the other side of the wall, loud enough to shake the building. And man, does he love it.
He'd never thought he'd come to think this one day, but he never wants to not have a party (like this one anyway) again.
man, i miss corpse (husband lol) so fucking much. I know most people think of him as that one guy who got famous for his voice but hoooooolyyyyyyy fuck that dude meant and still means so fucking much to me. i really truly wish more people would've just given him a chance. in my darkest covid depression era he was there openly talking about his health and his struggles while still playing games and constantly laughing and being silly with his friends and i think that really meant a lot to me. I think subconsciously i felt like "If corpse is going through all of that and he can still make music, follow his dreams, laugh with his friends, do all of these cool ass things then maybe there is hope for me" Now that I'm 4-5 years older and more familiar with my own struggles, I just love his music that much more because he really poured his life into the lyrics and through these short, simple songs and I can truly feel the depths of his life and his pain. especiaally in his last few songs such as disdain, life waster, and code mistake. I hate that people heard his sillier tiktok blow up songs and immediately wrote him off because dude...his music is so fucking good and SO UNIQUE. I truly think no one else can successfully do what he does with his music. And then people love to say "Oh people just listen to his music because of his voice" but don't realize how talented he is to be able to manipulate his voice in the ways that he does. I've heard this man rap, sing, whisper, yell and make every individual aspect of his voice sound so good. Honestly, maybe it's because i'm a lesbian but i truly never gave a fuck what he looked like. I wonder if people were obsessed with his face because he proved that he COULD successfully do what he wanted without showing it.
There were months where I didn't think of him at all, I even threw my battered corpse hoodie away (i was desperate to escape my past, I don't really regret it, It's like a healed wound now lol) but now I think of him almost everyday. His songs feel like a wwalk in the rain with an old friend. Someone who you know you can't live and exist with anymore, but you're still happy to see them and listen to their stories. . I think he chose his name well because now he kinda does feel like a corpse, in the sense that he's dead to us, so now his music kind of feels like receiving comfort from a ghost.
I listen to his music, and I catch these glimpses of his life, but I have this constant knowing that these lyrics are only disjointed pieces. i have no desire to know the full story because he has no desire to share it but when I listen, I can't help but wonder about everything that he's gone through and what he might've experienced behind the scenes in the entertainment and content industry. I just hope Corpse knows that even the hate drowned out the support towards the end, people still love him, love his music, and he made a lot of people feel seen and supported. I think nowadays when i listen to his music, that's what i think of the most, that somehow he knows that there are people that still love his music and quietly wish for his happiness.
(WEIRDLY LONG AND RANDOM I KNOW BUT I HAD TO GET THIS OFF MY CHEST LMAOOO)
my corpse husband era was honestly such a good period of time for me even if it was also fucking terrible and i’m honestly aways gonna be thankful for that man, his existence, his music, and his humor just like everything dude
