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Pumpkin King JakeSkellington aka Jake, Jakey, or Jacob, whatever... (He/Him) is a 122 year old (DOB: October 31, 1901) wizard living in Halloween Town. He wields a 14¼" Ebony, Thestral Hair wand, and a member of Hufflepuff. His favorite Harry Potter book is Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and his favorite Harry Potter character is Dobby.

About Me
Questions asked, but never answered. Pacts made, but never fulfilled. Lives treasured, but never guarded. Jake Skellington is the epitome of hypocrisy, the embodiment of Trickery, the macabre King of a forgotten land.

Halloween Town. Known only as whispers in the hearts of believers. Understood only by the Pumpkin King and his daughter, though their lips remain sealed, secrets guarded by ageless lives.

The Pumpkin King is rumoured to hold immense power, though it has been ages since he has been seen using it. He lives as a legend, thriving on the status of enigma, flourishing in the sweet mysteries that surround the world that he is from.

At times, the Pumpkin King will be seen looking upon the moon, deep in thought, the past haunting bright orange eyes, regrets welling at the surface of memories flippantly discarded to the winds. He lives a life of forget, exists as a relic of the past and a guardian of the future, but none see him for what he is.

Personality: Jake Skellington is, beyond everything else, unpredictable. One moment, he will caress a cheek, flash a wink, and attempt to seduce a lovely prize in his grasp, the next, he will cast them aside in favour of his solitude. An immortal life among a dying breed has hardened him to the pains and sufferings of loss, though in his heart, lies an ability to love that consumed like fire. The orange hue in his eye brightens with deep emotion, turning from cast reflection of the Pumpkins he takes as his mark to the welling depths of fire.

'The Angels of Love believe themselves to know the feeling.
They know nothing of what they protect. They watch from the distance.
They tussle from afar, they sit upon their thrones with little more than pitiful disguise and lies.
They know not what it is to feel! They struggle to understand their spheres.
It is the Angel of Night, the Demon of Light, who understands.
For only when one has thrust themselves into the deeps of love can one know its power to destroy.