under the moonlight.

Headcanon • Ghostface • Methods to Madness.

Isolation is the key to his success. To isolate his victim. To watch them grow paranoid. The psychological warfare. He's patient. He's spent his whole life in nothing, but the mundane. Nothing but radio silence and church hymns. He can sit back and watch the day to day lives of those he cases out. Observe human nature. To induce fear like no other. Did I see someone outside? Was it in my head? The creak under a staircase. The tapping of floorboards into an empty room. Is someone inside the house?! To watch someone flee their home in the dark of night, a frenzy, only to be forced to come back days later when ‘the coast is clear.’ He plays the long game. Weeks, months. Longer than his counterparts. Longer than most might. Waits to strike when the iron cools down. When after the rise and fall of fear settles in, and his victim is left wondering — what happened last week? Why’s everything fine now?

   Yet, every time his father would call him to the morgue to give lessons on embalming and dressing the body for funeral preparations, Yejun felt his blood run cold. When the distance sound of the old, scratchy radio echoed and flickering lights in the decrepit desolate walls of the mortuary filled his ears, all he knew was dread.

    “    Repeat after me, son. ‘The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.’    ” His father would guide him to recite before they begun, believing that they would save themselves from the wrath of vengeful spirits so long as they kept their faith in God. Bringing the deceased into God’s loving embrace, his father saw their work as something holy and sacred.

Headcanon • Seok Yejun • Choir

Headcanon • Ghostface • Alcoholism

No other lover holds Yejun as warmly as alcohol does, or so he tells himself. Nothing takes the pain away like drinking has. Bars and clubs were a sanctuary for him to let pain free and drink it all away; to feel the extroversion take over, to sleep with a stranger in the dead of night, and to forget their name the next day. To fight until his knuckles bleed, break glasses, and cause mayhem. Bar fights after bar fights, to feel something. The whiskey fills a void, a place in his chest where he feels he has no place for anyone. Where he feels best in his solitude. Where he thrives under observing the behavior of those around him. To stalk. To exist in shadows. Drinking alleviates this solitary need. Brings life to what he would consider himself to just be a dead man walking. A corpse. A ghost.

Thus the persona. Thus the taking of lives. Nothing matters anyway, right? They're all gonna die one day. He's seen enough cadavers in his life to know that one day it'll be his time too. Murder, it's a means to an end, and alcohol pushes him to engage socially with those around him outside of his murderous 'dates'. To break free from the confines of work in the morgue, and slaughtering the night away. He comes into himself. Laughing, smiling. No one can guess how broken this person is. How much he hates the world around him.

Headcanon •  Y=JUN: model #434354   • Existence

If he is cut with a knife, there is no blood. If his chest is ripped open, there is no beating heart. If he is killed, he is replaced. The Jun models are disposable, objects for the convenience of mankind. To aid in daily activities, to bring comfort. They exist without feeling, without complaint. Without emotion. They're wired, programmed to carry out necessities. Y=JUN is no different, placed and rewired over and over, for decades, to find where he belonged. He wasn't born from a womb, but from a factory with cauterizing flames connecting electrical powered, steel joints together remaining as his first memory. A mimicry of the human image, yet not the same. He can feign the feelings of compassion, adapt with advanced artificial intelligence to mirror the expression of the person before him, predict what mood may suit their fancy most of all, and act according to hypothesis. He acts with purpose, to exist for those around him. To show no emotion.

Yet, no artificial intelligence goes without flaws.

As he adapts, as he learns more about the human condition, about the bond humans have with one another; he feels. Longing. Pining. Loneliness. Need. Anger. Desire. All human feelings. He desires those moments with JJ's doting upon him with such love behind each action, being escorted around his gun closet and experiencing the excitement as he explains what new parts each and every weapon has added to it. He yearns for those quiet times in Minjun's office space and the peace that Minjun provides to him, where the world seems quiet and he can feel as if maybe, just maybe, he's forming a real thought. Not a computer process, but an authentic one. An original one. He longs for Kitae's company; to be coddled every so often with his sincerity and wisdom of the world around them ( as well as the meals he feeds him ), while returning the same comforts to someone he deems quiet in their own suffering. He seeks out Jaesung, in the garage- curiously observing as he tinkers with whatever mechanical parts he can stumble upon. A familiarity, a sense of home and the human who had stuck by him since the start. And Peter, he longs to understand. To see past the walls that are raised high, and empathize. To learn how to feel what another is feeling. To understand their pain, and soothe.

Headcanon •  Y=JUN: model #434354   • Existence

If he is cut with a knife, there is no blood. If his chest is ripped open, there is no beating heart. If he is killed, he is replaced. The Jun models are disposable, objects for the convenience of mankind. To aid in daily activities, to bring comfort. They exist without feeling, without complaint. Without emotion. They're wired, programmed to carry out necessities. Y=JUN is no different, placed and rewired over and over, for decades, to find where he belonged. He wasn't born from a womb, but from a factory with cauterizing flames connecting electrical powered, steel joints together remaining as his first memory. A mimicry of the human image, yet not the same. He can feign the feelings of compassion, adapt with advanced artificial intelligence to mirror the expression of the person before him, predict what mood may suit their fancy most of all, and act according to hypothesis. He acts with purpose, to exist for those around him. To show no emotion.

Yet, no artificial intelligence goes without flaws.

As he adapts, as he learns more about the human condition, about the bond humans have with one another; he feels. Longing. Pining. Loneliness. Need. Anger. Desire. All human feelings. He desires those moments with JJ's doting upon him with such love behind each action, being escorted around his gun closet and experiencing the excitement as he explains what new parts each and every weapon has added to it. He yearns for those quiet times in Minjun's office space and the peace that Minjun provides to him, where the world seems quiet and he can feel as if maybe, just maybe, he's forming a real thought. Not a computer process, but an authentic one. An original one. He longs for Kitae's company; to be coddled every so often with his sincerity and wisdom of the world around them ( as well as the meals he feeds him ), while returning the same comforts to someone he deems quiet in their own suffering. He seeks out Jaesung, in the garage- curiously observing as he tinkers with whatever mechanical parts he can stumble upon. A familiarity, a sense of home and the human who had stuck by him since the start. And Peter, he longs to understand. To see past the walls that are raised high, and empathize. To learn how to feel what another is feeling. To understand their pain, and soothe.

October 2022

[ text ← ] I've never felt more unwanted in my own house than when you came into my life. [ text → ] I don't care how you feel

December 2023

[ text ← ] I should've just insisted to drive you. [ text ← ] Please just come back.

“May we stop seeing ourselves through the eyes of people that never saw us.”

— Dr Thema