Journey into...

I mean. Definitely true. Loki just has that goth vibe all the time and he is not the least bit interested in changing to suit the mortals’ prejudices. And the seasons in Asgard worked a little differently, so Loki finds that he greatly enjoys autumn in certain regions of Midgard, the crispness to the air, the trees’ leaves turning colors such that they appear to be great burning brands across the landscape. The feeling of change, tangible, all around. Of course Loki is pleased by that. And of course Thor likes the idea that he can be whatever he likes. There’s a sense of the fantastic about it that he---a child of Asgard, after all---could not have even said he was missing.

Loki would definitely put on the witch hat when it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Middle of October or whatever, slide a little headband of wolf ears onto Thor’s head and take him out to go walking, because who’s going to tell them not to, honestly? Loki doesn’t feel a single drop of embarrassment about it, and Thor absorbs that feeling from him. They walk through town, going to the tiny little candy shop wedged into what must once have been an alley between the hardware store and the old theater, because Loki says half the holiday appears to just be about the candy, and if they are treating every day in October as Halloween--well, it’s an easy calculation. Lets Thor pick out one or two things, not enough to spoil his appetite but a little sweet something to enjoy before the rest of their walk.

Then out to the parks and open areas to find leaf piles to jump in or misty fields to wander through. Quiet residential neighborhoods to traipse across as the witch and the fierce little wolf at his side.

And to fully get into the spirit… on these wanders, Loki sometimes tells Thor scary stories. Frightening tales he’s picked up here and there, or his own spin on the legends they heard growing up together long ago. Thor clings to his hand, gasps in excitement at the appropriate moments, asks questions about all the details.  

Loki has read the various myths that are recorded on Midgard in which his own name appears, of course, and in some of them, he is said to have mated with a Jotun witch who bore him a wolf son, and various other monster children. The first time he read those stories, he’d merely slammed the book shut in disdain at how flatly incorrect it all was. How little it had to do with his life. Flights of mortal fancy and nothing more. 

He thinks back on it now and it is still all wrong, of course. But they get home, back to the quaint little cottage they’re living in, and Thor asks to be allowed to keep wearing the wolf ears. So Loki runs fingers through his soft blond hair, straightening the furry ears on his head, and says, “Of course, brother. You can be a wolf for the whole of October, if you wish it.” 

Thor grins and runs off to play, and it is not until later that Loki has to tell him that he probably should not howl if it is already past his bedtime. 

Well, Loki shouldn’t be surprised.