Evan McCulloch

[reflectedmonarch]

cptsnart​:

When Evan actually showed himself clearly, not through the distortion of a curved bottle and dark glass, Leonard took a wide step back away from the mirror. Immediately, he brought his hands up to his face and ran both of them down his cheeks like he was trying to rub life back into them. It looked like someone needed to do that for Evan, too. “Yeah, yeah…yeah, I can see you. You look like shit,” he said, the words just rolling out, “but I can see you. Why the hell-” He tapped his hands hard against his own face like he was trying to snap himself out of something. This was real wasn’t it? He didn’t want to jolt awake to sweaty sheets and a hangover.     

When that didn’t happen - when the image of Evan in front of him didn’t waver and he didn’t wake up, Leonard walked forward again. “What the hell happened? I don’t understand. I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking at.” Maybe he shouldn’t have (he didn’t really know what’d happen if he did) but Leonard dropped one hand away from his face and reached out to press two fingertips against the mirror like he was about to set off some kind of launch sequence. He didn’t know if he could go through or Evan could come out, or if he was just going to be touching a regular mirror. Well, not regular. Practically fucking haunted. If Evan hadn’t started out in the bottle first, that might’ve been what he thought, stupid as it was. 

“I saw what he did to you.” His voice was more steady when he said that. The indignation and year-old anger cleared away some of the alcohol. “How am I looking at you, McCulloch? Get out here.” He curled his fingers against the glass and into his own palm. “Come on.” 

-

Evan scoffed, a half-delirious laugh coming from his lips as he lent against the mirror, “I don’ even care if ya insult me. I’m so fucking happy ta hear you speak ta me.” A year of nothing. He’d have gone insane if he didn’t master the ability to at least see through mirrors after the first month. It’d been like watching TV, spying on the world, on people’s private moments, just as a way to try and stave off his isolation. From there it’d been small progress, refraction burns, pain and disappointment from his lack of skill. Sometimes it got too much and he’d snap, screaming at the people in the mirror to just look at him, acknowledge him.

He wasn’t dead.

Evan’s hands curled into fists against the mirror, “He trapped me,” Evan spoke quietly, “Inglo’s machine... Dunno wha’ it did exactly but it made me part o’tha mirror. There’s a whole world in here Snart, not a gateway, it’s a planet.” he tried to explain but, again, was likely failing. “A whole empty world. I screamed for him ta help me but... he could’ne see. None o’yous could. He put me in hell.” he growled, thumping the mirror slightly, “I can’t eat, can’t sleep- I’m jus-” he swallowed, “I tried ta get out so many times. First I couldn’t, then I could but it woulda killed me. Now... now I think I can. But I dunno...”

He shook his head, Snart’s brusque demand enough to tip him over the edge. He spread both palms on the glass and began to push as though he was trying to move a boulder. The surface rippled and pushed out with him, clinging to his arms and face like saran wrap, he felt the burning pain and screamed, his skin turning red but not blistering like before. With something almost like a ‘pop’ he tumbled from the mirror and landed in a head at Snart’s feet, curling in on himself, holding his tender skin and panting to the point of hyperventilation.  

[reflectedmonarch]

bxrtholomewhallen​:

The days and weeks all seemed to blur together anymore, as they had for a little over a year now. While the blonde was able to pass himself off as the same annoyingly cheerful and upbeat individual to his friends and colleagues, he went home and let the mantle collapse to the floor with whatever piece of clothing came off first that night. He had spent so long going over the night Evan died - going through each and every move he made that entire evening, trying to find something; anything that would show him that he could have prevented it.

Eventually, he had to accept that there wasn’t any faults in his movements that he would have been able to address. It was a split-second movement - an injury caused by a blast from the mirror gun that had glanced his arm - that had resulted in his motion being thrown off-balance and Evan being sent into the machine that took his life. Eventually, he had to move on so he could put more energy towards the other important parts of his life.

Barry wasn’t exactly dressed for company - pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt - but the sound of something moving in his bedroom caught his attention from the other room. With a spark, Barry bolted to the bedroom door - but the sight he beheld had him speechless for several long moments. By the time he could find his words, Evan was speaking. “I… Evan?” He questioned, wondering if he was hallucinating the man yet again. “Evan, it was an accident…a horrible, terrible accident…” He pleaded. 

-

Evan stared a few moments longer his body tense, rigid. His hands were curled into fists and shook slightly, the pressure with which he held them causing the digits to pale. But, as though his string were cut, Evan suddenly slumped down, landing on the corner of Barry’s bed and put his head in his hands. “N’accident.” he mumbled, voice a little muffled by the hands covering his face, “I was ruined... cause o’an accident?” he looked up, eyes slightly glassy but focused on the other.

“S’not good enough. S’not good enough!” he abruptly yelled, the mirror that he’d entered through cracked and suddenly shattered, spilling shards of glass onto the floor and causing Evan to stumble back, falling of the edge of the bed, his hands again curled into pale fists. “No-nonononono,” he mumbled, a fist hitting the floor, “Stop it stop it stop it.” he tried to keep his breathing even but it was difficult to catch a deep one. He started to rub his arms with his hands, the motion too hard too quick.

“I can’t-,” he swallowed, “S’not... Where’s Snart?” he asked, looking up at Barry as he scrambled to his feet, backing up till he bumped against the wall, “I need Snart.” Snart was good, Snart was safe, a leader. He looked after them. He couldn’t fight Barry right now and he’d just destroyed the guy’s mirror, how was he supposed to take that as something other than aggression?

[reflectedmonarch]

When: A Month After Evan’s Escape  Where: Barry’s Apartment With: Barry @bxrtholomewhallen​

Evan didn’t know why he was baring into The Flash.. into Barry’s home. Not truthfully, he told himself it was for revenge, to destroy him for trapping him in his own personal reflected hell for a year. There were so many emotions building up within him he didn’t even know how to process them; emotions had never been his strong suit. He’d ditched Snart, stepped back into the Mirrorverse, it was his prison, now it was freedom, he could do anywhere he needed, anywhere he wanted, in seconds. 

So he stepped wordlessly out of Barry’s Bedroom mirror into his apartment. He wasn’t even in his suit, just jeans and a t-shirt that was still too loose. He’d been back in the real world for a few weeks now but the bags were still heavy under his eyes, the weight loss obvious. He hadn’t felt hungry since the day he’d been trapped. 

He looked around the room, still not knowing what he was expecting to do and he wasn’t given any time to think as Barry walked into the room, no doubt not expecting to see his would-be dead Rogue standing there. Evan stared at him for several moments, no doubt an eternity to the speedster, he swallowed once, twice... When he finally spoke it was hoarse, his throat tight. 

“Ye left me...” he swallowed again, “Ya trapped me, and ya left me... Why?” he asked, staring at Barry, no anger in his words, more sadness, no... Grief. Who Evan once was had died when Barry threw him into that beam. “... Why?” he shakily repeated.

[reflectedmonarch]

cptsnart​:

Leonard damn near dropped the bottle when - and this was when he started to seriously question whether he ought to ever touch another drop of alcohol again as long as he still had to live - he heard Evan’s voice on top of the face. Fuck, that was Evan’s face he’d seen, wasn’t it? He’d dreamed about him before. Nightmares and other kinds of things. But he’d not actually seen him while sitting there awake. 

“McCulloch! What the-” Saw you die. Saw you shatter. Fucking Flash, the fucking Flash-   

The command managed to get him moving. He held the bottle out in front of him like he was carrying a live grenade, nearly tripping over the corner of his bedroom door as he rounded it and went inside. The mirror was situated over near the closet, just above a table that had odds and ends scattered all across it. Leonard shoved everything off into the floor so that there was nothing in front of him but the mirror. Then, as if somehow Evan were trapped in the beer bottle (in retrospect he’d realize how very stupid that was, but could he be blamed?) he sat it carefully down on the empty table like he expected it to release some kind of genie into the mirror. Maybe it would. This whole thing couldn’t get any god damned weirder could it? 

It felt like the room was spinning. Was that the drinking? Probably. He was regretting it more by the second, even though he could’ve sworn he hadn’t really had that much. “What’s going on!” he finally demanded, bracing himself with one hand on either side of the mirror. 

-

“Snart!” Evan yelled, relief washing over him, the other man could see him, hear him. His control was there, finally he could cross the dimension. He’d break through, it was now or never and he knew where he’d try. Even if it hurt him, burned him, he’d do it. He couldn’t live like this anymore, alone, isolated. A world of his own that was nothing more than damn prison to rot away forever.

His breathing was shaky as raised a trembling hand and with a hard gesture, Evan appeared in front of Leonard in his mirror. His cheeks were hollow, deep rings around his eyes, his body was slimmer, he’d lost weight and muscle, his skin even paler making his bright ginger hair stand out in comparison. He wore a plain white shirt and joggers, the colours doing nothing to hide his almost unhealthy pallor, but he was alive. Unquestionably alive. “Ya c’n see me right?” he asked, his deep Scottish brogue almost echoing through the glass, “Fuck me ye c’n see me.” he lent forward, a choked sob almost escaping him, “I’ve been watching ye fer months, screaming’n banging on tha glass but... ye could’nae see me.” he swallowed.

“S’taken me a year ta get ma head round this, a year by meself... oh god it feels good ta talk to another person.” he shook his head in disbelief, “I gotta get outta here Snart, I can’t take it no more.” another shaky breath left him, “But I think I finally can... I can control it.” He was so pent up, Evan didn’t even realise he was only giving Leonard snippets of the story.    

[reflectedmonarch]

cptsnart​:

Reflections

To say that Leonard hadn’t handled the aftermath of Evan’s death well would have been a real undersell. There had been a heavy feeling of guilt since it happened. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been there or hadn’t known what was going on, it still seemed like something that he ought to have been able to prevent. He should’ve been there to help. Evan hadn’t said a damn thing, of course, and had went on ahead and done it all without him. By the time Leonard had been clued in, he’d already been gone. It felt like it was on him. It wasn’t just because he and Evan had been…whatever in the hell they’d been, but Mirror Master had been one of them. He’d been a Rogue, and that made him Leonard’s responsibility. He should’ve done better watching his back. 

In some ways, it had made him double down. He’d lost confidence in himself as a leader, but that hadn’t got him to step away from it. He’d put his hands in more pies than ever in an attempt to not let anything slip under his radar again. What happened to Evan couldn’t happen to anyone else under his watch. But once he got home, out of the suit, and behind closed doors, that resolve faded almost instantly. Leonard had never had what people might call good or healthy coping mechanisms, and he’d been leaning on them hard for the last year. 

That particular night, he’d practically fused with his armchair as he watched the game between the Red Wings and Blackhawks play out. There was a collection of empty bottles in the floor beside the chair, and it mirrored the other ones scattered in random places through the apartment. He needed to clean the place, but when he was sober he didn’t want to stay there long enough to actually do that. 

He brought the bottle up to his lips to take the last sip, and as soon as he raised his arm he saw a reflection. It was a face, he was fucking sure that it was a face. He turned quickly, already going on the offensive, only to find empty space and stagnant air waiting behind him. “What the hell?” He’d made it through a couple of beers, but he knew he wasn’t drunk enough to be seeing shit already. No way. 

-

“I feel... Cold.” Those were the final words he’d spoken in the real world. In the world where he’d grown up, in the world where he’d learned everything that him himself. In the world that, as it so often did, had broken him, thrown him, about like a rag doll and left him in pieces, forever unable to put himself back together in any way approaching normal. He’d tried, fuck he’d tried over many years. Evan had never been able to completely let go of his ties to crime, it was too familiar, too same, too brilliant at distracting his mind from the demons that hounded him relentlessly day and night without fail. But... he’d sought more nonetheless. The Flash Family were somewhat kinder than other vigilante’s. Yes they fought them, threw them in jail, left them to rot. But, when approached on an open playing field, they were willing to offer help, advice, friendship even.      

And that was something he’d lent into. Evan approached Wally West of all people who’d helped him apply to college, get through a BA in half the time and a Master’s too. He’d been working on a PhD under Dr. Inglo but then, it all went wrong. Inglo was a monster and he’d needed to be stopped. So, Evan had stopped him. But not without a price. The Flash, the original, had been there to stop him. They’d fought, and he’d lost. In a way more dire than ever before...

Trapped. He’d ended up trapped in the very Mirror Verse he’d manipulated. At first he’d thought he’d go mad, screaming endlessly into the mirror as he saw the world he’d been exiled from grow and evolve. Yet, nobody saw him. Nobody responded... Nobody cared. He may as well have been dead. But that hadn’t stopped him, night after night, day after day he’d toiled. Yes he was truly a part of this Mirror Verse now but that meant he could control it. Manipulate it.

It took him a year or more but he learned to use his powers without a suit, just as he was. And, eventually, his work paid off as he appeared in a beer bottle of all things to the man he... well, even with a year in isolation he hadn’t sorted through his feelings for Leonard Snart, but he appeared. And it worked. Thank fuck it worked. “Snart!” He yelled again, “Look at the bottle dammit! S’me! I need you to go to the mirror in your bedroom, the big one, quick as!    

[axlryan]

I was going to make a compilation of all the Rogues calling Flash Flasher, but it was 75% McCulloch doing it, so here: Evan McCulloch calling Flash Flasher

[evan-mcculloch]

Mirrors reflect our mood, our desire, our essence. They are, a temporary receptacle for some tiny fraction of our soul.

Ingrid of Arendelle, Once Upon A Time, 4X05 Breaking Glass (via evan-mcculloch)

[evan-mcculloch]

[reflectedmonarch]

evan-mcculloch​:

The Flash (1987) #213

‘You’re a good Rogue, McCulloch. Better than Scudder ever was.’  

[theblanddcu2021]