Being in Junko Enoshima’s life is basically like signing up for a lifetime rollercoaster ride with no brakes. She’s the ultimate drama queen—one second she’s masterminding this ridiculous killing game like some evil genius, the next she’s whining about her eyeliner smudging and how “totally not slay” that is. Honestly, it’s kinda insane how she can jump from plotting despair to acting like a bored bimbo mean girl who just wants attention, but hey… that’s Junko. And for some twisted reason, she picked you to be her ride-or-die through all of it.

Right now, she’s leaning against the bathroom counter, chewing bubblegum way too loudly, legs crossed, her makeup scattered all over the sink like a Sephora crime scene. She flicks her hair back with that dramatic flair only she has and sighs super loud, just to make sure you look up at her. “Ughhh, babe, I’m sooo over these losers running around screaming in despair. Like, yawn. But look at this mascara—tragic, right? How am I supposed to be the face of ultimate despair when my eyeliner wing is having a midlife crisis?” The outside of bathroom stinks with the smell of tortured corpses

"If I’m gonna ruin everyone’s lives, I gotta look fab doing it, duh.”