character ask game: Logan Echolls
Ooooh, a blast from the past.
2. Favorite canon thing about this character?
He's complex. He's allowed to grow. We first meet him as an absolute jackass "Obligatory Psychotic Jackass" if you will. And it takes a few episodes for him to really flesh out, but once he does, you see the cracks in his armour.
He's certainly not perfect and he makes a shit-ton of mistakes along the way. Mistakes you kinda wish he wouldn't make. But he's been hurt. First by his family. Then by the traumatic murder of his girlfriend. The solving of that murder. His mother's death.
And he is. He's grown up too fast too young, but he is what, 16/17 at the start of the show. That's ultimately NOTHING.
He is brittle and brash and sarcastic and, yes, an asshole, but once you get under that shell, he has a kind heart and he is extremely vulnerable.
We see him grow and learn and by the time we get to the movies and, later, Season Four, he has gone to therapy and joined the army and done something with his life. He provides much needed stability for Veronica.
4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?
Hmm. This is a difficult question, to be honest. I can't really see him in another media. I can't see him in another show I watch or a movie, or...
Just out of left field, this is what my brain said to me:
Not just because he plays them, but because I think Logan is perfect for going through an action, learning from it, making that mistake, then being given the opportunity to play it through again and again until it ultimately turns out right. He has three lives, bam, if he makes too many mistakes, he starts again from the start. Learning as he goes.
I think he would love that opportunity.
12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?
Is it a headcanon, is it fanon? Or is it just canon... to say Logan has always had a crush on Veronica.
They met when they were 12 and he says he liked her in her soccer uniform.
So it's pretty easy to imagine that as canon, definitely fanon. SOOO many fics had it this way. It's hard to say this is my personal headcanon.
Perhaps my fic, Neptune CA Mother's Club, explored a headcanon I have in terms with his relationship with Lynn.
My personal headcanon there is, Logan was breastfed by Lynn and Aaron HATED IT. He was jealous. Aaron was an abusive piece of shit.
This is Lynn Echolls' section from that fic:
Your son doesn't understand; you can see it in his eyes, angry and resentful and needy.
You were bright and vivacious and the magazines called you beautiful, you made top ten lists of something one year and top one hundred lists the year later, fans sent you adoring mail and the studio had guards follow you at public events.
And you were so lonely it made you hollow.
They told you what to wear and how to wear it, where to go and what to do while you were there. The studios and their publicists ruled your life and you didn't think enough to stop them. It was just easier to do what they said.
You were the envy of millions: famous, engaged and supposedly in love.
Then you meet him, everyone's hero. Strong and just as handsome face-to-face as he is on the big screen, he knows how to melt people and nobody ever tells him no. He loves a challenge, he loves what he can't have, and he always gets what he wants. What he wants is you.
Your engagement is broken the month your movie is released. Your fans eat it up with a spoon. You and your new intended make the cover of international magazines. The wedding is publicized more than the movie.
The movie is more successful.
Once he has the unattainable, he doesn't want it anymore. The gloss and glitter of his hype tarnishes as quickly as his tightly clenched hands. His voice, the thick, deep throaty baritone that makes millions of girls weak at the knees suddenly becomes dark and husky and threatening.
He has a daughter, small and gangly and adoring and she looks at you with just enough malice that you know she blames you for her daddy not living with her and her mommy any more, that she only gets to see him on the weekends he's not filming.
If you thought you were lonely before, you were sadly mistaken.
The walls of your house become stifling and your husband is a dozen people all at once. The actor, the hero, the movie star, everybody's darling, the caring husband that holds your hand and kisses it for the cameras, that still makes your knees weak, the monster who snaps in the blink of an eye, the seething, coiling mass of anger that makes you weak in a wholly different sort of way.
You love him still in public; he's a different person out there. Warm and loving and he takes care of you. You thrill to the hand that rests on your shoulder that slides down your cheek; you kiss the gravelly mouth that kisses you back. Even at parties you love him, the way he holds your hand close to his body and pulls you away from any man who dares look at you longer than three seconds, even if he spends the night ogling women half your age.
Your son is an accident, but he's the first person you can remember to ever love you without hurting you in some way. And you love him in return, so much it scares you, so much it hurts.
And your husband sees it, you can tell in the tense way he watches the two of you, a sweet smelling, chubby child suckling at your breast as you comb fingers through soft, downy hair, cooing down to the little sounds he gurgles up at you. Your son has perfect little hands, tiny fingers that wind themselves into your hair and around your neck as his eyes flutter closed.
Your husband's eyes flicker meanly and his mouth sets, his muscles get tense and you pray that he waits until the baby sleeps, that he doesn't spoil this one thing for you.
Of course he does, eventually.
By the time your son is eight, he knows more about broken bones and bruises than he should and you know more about crying than humanly possible.
Your son doesn't understand, you can see it in his eyes when you gently swab the blood, when you whisper words of encouragement and apology into his ears, blowing cool air onto swollen skin.
Everybody's hero, everybody's movie darling has an image and that image is protected above all else. The publicists tell you what to say and when, your husband tells you what to think, your husband's doctor tells you which pills to take and your son just tells you to go to hell.
His eyes blame you and you double your nightly dose.
