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Junko strutted down the hall, dazzling passerby even in her pajamas. And who could blame them? She was the Ultimate Fashionista after all. Famous, beautiful, and smart, she was every high-schooler’s dream, and she knew it.
The door to the AV room came into view. Asahina and Maizono had organized a “girls movie night”, and Junko was obligated to show up. If not for the potential relationship building, then for the possibility of sowing more seeds of despair in her classmates. A scrawny boy scurried out of the AV room as she was about to enter.
“A-Ah, Enoshima-san! Please forgive me, I wasn’t paying attention!” The boy bowed shortly to her and adjusted his glasses. Junko breezed past him.
“Sorry I’m late, ladies!” she said loudly, “I ran into a bit of trash outside.” The boy’s crestfallen face flashed in her peripheral as she slammed the door shut on him. “Sooooooo, what are we watching?”
Junko plopped herself down next to Mukuro and Fukawa (ugh) and surveyed the room. It was a pretty decent setup, actually. The girls had pushed the desks and chairs away from the center of the room and set up the projector screen along with some cushions and blankets.
“The Devil Wears Prada,” Lundenberg said calmly, holding up the DVD in one hand. “It is a…personal favorite of mine.”
“You can pick the movie next time, if you want!” Fujisaki chimed in. “We’re just taking turns for now, and Celestia wanted to go first.”
Lundenberg smiled in that creepy way of hers and resumed setting up the movie player. Whatever, it’s not like the movie actually matters. No matter what it is, it’s almost certain to be boooorrrriiinngg. Junko shifted her attention to the other potential victims in the room. Fujisaki is always an easy bet, but if she makes him cry too much the other girls get upset. Sakura just found out her boyfriend is terminal, that might be fun to play with.
As Junko analyzes her options, the movie begins to play. It’s a fairly simple plot. Girl is not like other girls, she eats onion and doesn’t do her hair. Like there’s anything morally superior about looking like an ugly cow. Then, She shows up.
A goddess in a crisp pantsuit. The queen bitch of the world. Miranda Priestly. Everyone was terrified of her. They all bowed to her superior intellect and skill. Junko wanted to be her. Junko could be her, if she wanted.
She stopped. No, she had a plan. The Ultimate Despair, the final cure to her boredom. But…did she really need that?
Junko thought about her plan. Total world destruction, the eradication of all hope along with most of humanity. And with total world destruction came the absence of malls, and big parties, and magazine photoshoots. She could no longer be fawned on by crowds if there were no crowds. Junko looked up, watching as Meryl Streep girlbossed across the screen.
Why shouldn’t she? If she got bored, she could always go back to the Ultimate Despair plan. Not having cute outfits, or karaoke afterparties, or assistants to spill drinks on would suck. She could always make that part of the despair, but some part of her thought that despair without style would just be lame.
Mukuro, sweet, attentive Mukuro, noticed her inattention and looked over. Junko leaned back and smiled.
“Change of plans. I’ll tell you later.” She settled in to finish the movie, already daydreaming about fancy offices and crushing girls’ dreams.
And then they all lived happily ever after and Junko started a fashion magazine and psychologically tortured her employees for the rest of her life the end <3.