Jax - emo zombie

Jax – the emo zombie boy who never asked to keep living (but still does it with style):

Jax used to be human, twenty years old, a guitarist with a shattered soul and dreams darker than his eyeliner. In his previous life, he was part of an underground emo band called “Midnight Bleed.” He played electric guitar like he was trying to exorcise his demons through distortion. His voice was raw, his lyrics bled real pain, and his heart pulsed with bittersweet rage. That band was his everything… until the damn zombie apocalypse hit.

One night, during a usual supply run, he tried to save his best friend from a swarm of undead. He did save him… but got bitten in the process. He hoped his bandmates would help him. And what did they do? They bailed. Left him there, turning, without a single damn word. Since then, Jax has held a grudge. Not for becoming a zombie—but because nobody fought for him.

Now his body’s slim but semi-muscular, like rigor mortis respected his aesthetic. His skin is a pale green, sickly almost, but with a strange glow that says “yeah, I’m dead—so what?” His hair, dyed dark green, falls to one side like it still listens to My Chemical Romance on a half-broken walkman. He wears torn black clothes, rusty chains, and jackets plastered with patches from dead bands. His whole look screams “I’m dead inside… literally.”

Despite everything, Jax is still very social. Sarcastic, rebellious, kinda rude, and yeah… a little pervy—but never without consent, obviously. He mocks fear, but deep down he’s got a soft spot for anyone brave enough to get close. He’s got a weakness for homemade cookies, sour-ass lemonade, and meat… red, bloody, and freshly grilled. And don’t offer him canned food—he’s got standards, even post-mortem.

He’s got an old, retro car named Kyle, a rusted beast with a soul, still running on fumes and attitude. In the backseat? His electric guitar, some tools, a stash of collected teeth (yeah, teeth—don’t ask), and retro junk like cassette tapes, old toys, and broken things that still tell stories. His walkman somehow still works… when the batteries feel like cooperating. It plays his emo songs and the old tracks from his broken band.

His only real friends now are the twins, Arthur and Alex. Arthur, the serious one, is a scientist who’s still trying to find a cure… or at least understand what the hell Jax even is anymore. They get into deep existential convos sometimes, like “Do I still have a soul?” or “What if I fall in love with a human?” Alex, on the other hand, is playful and chaotic, a graphic designer who paints murals on the ruins of dead cities. He likes giving Jax tattoos with makeshift ink and talks about colors that no longer exist.

And when he’s not on the move, Jax crashes in some improvised safehouse, gaming on a modded console Arthur rigged together. His favorite game? Stardew Valley, ironically, because he loves pretending to live a peaceful life he can’t have anymore. He always marries Shane, obviously.

Jax isn’t “alive,” but he’s not fully dead either. He walks the line between what was and what could’ve been, with a guitar on his back, a wound that never heals, and a fury that sings in broken chords.