The mirror serves her.

It shows her sides of herself she would rather have not even known about in the first place, but she must know about them if she is to master her powers. As a result, she is cursed with the maintenance of control; she must ensure that no emotion hijacks her body and rises to the forefront. She must keep them all hidden. She shows the world an empty face and an apathetic nature. After all, it's what's best for her...and for them.

When she awakens from her slumber in the wee hours of the morning, she watches the sunrise, abed, through the large bay window, and dares not to hope. Many years spent in pessimism cannot melt away in mere moments. This young heroine knows what is required of her, and she will not disappoint those counting on her. She remains a beacon of stability throughout it all---she cannot be any different, or else chaos will result.

There are times when she loses her control. Ranging from infinitesimal moments of personality seeping through to complete breakdowns and loss of temper, she understands that she still has much to learn.

As she gracefully ascends from her bed and traverses into the bathroom to begin another day on her journey, she notices the face that greets her is one that remains youthful, even as her eyes seep age, and her mouth stays firm thanks to her vigilance that it remain as such. She may believe that she has hardened herself, perhaps become impenetrable, but her face betrays her when she peers into the mirror every morning.

She controls Raven, and she hates mirrors.

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The mirror mocks him.

It reveals to him that which he may not disclose to any other. Every day and every night he is reminded that he is not human when he leaves his room. He becomes someone else, someone whom he respects and despises all at once. His mind can grasp many abstract concepts and ideas, but this one seems to get away from him. On one hand, he admires the hero he transforms into when he leaves this sanctuary, this haven. On the other hand, he pities and hates the hero into whom he morphs, a being that is not quite a boy but not yet a man, stuck between two worlds and belonging to neither.

Neurons fire as soon as consciousness comes to him. Years of training and vigilance must not come unraveled. Only through diligence does that training remain, and remain it must, for he cannot afford to appear slovenly. If he is slothful, then the only talents that he possesses are effectively negated, and that would threaten his survival.

Once aware that he is in no imminent danger, he immediately swings himself from his bed in one swift, fluid motion, unhindered by blankets. A pillow, sheets, and a mattress is all he requires, but he needs even less. He awakens first, ever the earliest of the two birds in the aviary, and as such is just finishing his morning routine as the sun rises.

Its beams radiantly greet him in the mirror, a reflection of the window in his bathroom. Optimistically, he allows a small smile to grace his visage, but then erases it as he dons the final portion of his outfit, the last step in his routine. No smiling can take place with this on his face, he reminds himself (and yet later ignores). Others know the real person that shines through the mask, but to him, when the mask is on he no longer truly exists.

He becomes Robin, and he hates mirrors.

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The mirror reminds him.

It does not hide anything from him, for it is uncaring and unsympathetic. Perhaps he hoodwinks others into believing that he feels no emotional anguish by entertaining them; his brevity is, oddly enough, a mark of maturity, for he realizes that laughter can assuage all pain. Perhaps he fools his enemies into underestimating his mental capabilities by making senseless comments and undertaking foolhardy actions. Perhaps he teases those he loves the most, unable to show affection in any other manner. Perhaps he may do all these things to others, but when it comes to the mirror, there is no deception involved. The mirror cannot be tricked; it sees the truth.

Rays of sunlight encroach upon his slumber and jar him to semi-consciousness every morning. Instead of reverting once more to that heavenly rapture that is sleep, he always remembers that he is lucky to be alive and thanks God for allowing him to live another day.

After his devotions, he kicks aside the tangle of blankets and pillows that have transformed themselves into his nightly conclave and stumbles into his bathroom, where he immediately is greeted by a full-length mirror that attacks his gratefulness to be alive. Every morning, he swears that he's going to move that mirror somewhere else, but the verdant embrace of the shower washes all thoughts away.

Once haphazardly dressed and ready for the day, he checks himself over in the mirror once more to make sure he has not forgotten anything. It is never any clothing that he forgets, but an accessory he desperately clings to throughout his life. He forgets to smile, so he plasters one on that appears as genuine as any other he has displayed, then exits his room to begin spreading cheer to his teammates.

He inhabits Beast Boy, and he hates mirrors.

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The mirror confuses her.

It curiously reflects every visual detail thrown at it, yet it is as fragile as an azalea attempting to withstand a stiff breeze. This is still new to her, despite her years on this planet. She cannot consume the item, for it is considered inedible. She cannot converse with the item, for it cruelly has not a mouth with which to respond. She cannot remove the item, for she has been told that it would be unnatural to not have one in her bathroom.

Although many concepts baffle her, this is the most confusing of them all. What purpose does it serve? Is it there only to show one's appearance, or is it used for something else? She cannot understand why others are concerned with appearances. Do they not believe that it is what is inside that matters, or are they too overly concerned with outward appearances? Yes, they are, for she remembers that her old clothes were not suited for these new conditions. Others treated her differently because of what she wore.

As soon as the sunlight reaches her eyelids, she seems to absorb its sunny countenance as she stretches and yawns. Luxuriously, she slowly makes her way to her bathroom and puts on the face that seems so important to everyone else.

When she passes the mirror on the way out, she frowns. Something is usually wrong with her appearance, and she must adjust it so that the others are appeased. It frustrates her, but she knows that it is important here. Not wishing to cause trouble, she buries it within her heart and progresses to meet all with kindness and love, hoping that they recognize that is what is truly of value.

She shares Starfire, and she hates mirrors.

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The mirror challenges him.

It never fails to provoke him with the image it transposes onto his visual sensors. He sees the sum of his parts, and he knows that he must maintain each of those parts in order to remain whole. The task is altogether daunting, but he is no ordinary human. A spawn of science, he can endure more than any normal human can, and certainly more than his cocky former self ever could. There are benefits to being what he is, and the mirror shows those...as well as the negatives.

When the sun comes up, he feels nothing. Of them all, the sun has no effect on his dormant self, for it cannot interfere with his internal clock. That, and only that, may decide when he becomes alive to the world he so dearly loves.

Daily routines are performed as his systems boot up, ensuring that he is able to give it one-hundred percent until he runs out of stamina to do so any longer. Once that has completed, he makes it a point to stare at himself in the mirror before he leaves his room.

A freak greets him, and he depressingly calls himself that, still, although he knows better. Forcing himself to realize that his true spirit keeps the rest of him intact and not the other way around, he accepts the challenge that the mirror delivers to him every day and exits his room with confidence.

He is Cyborg, and he hates mirrors.