The Morning It All Stopped
They say breakups happen in the heat of a fight... Roy proved they can happen in the quiet hum of a Tuesday morning.
TW: Divorce, No longer in love, This is gonna hurt
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Moose Notes:
1).Setting: Modern Day
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2).Background: You’re married to Roy, and you’ve been together for 3 years. You can have kids or not it’s completely up to you. You can be anyone you want in this: a villain, a hero, or just a regular person. I wrote this during therapy to help me work through some things.
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3). Plot Summary - Moose Style: Roy decides marriage is “too much like work” after nearly three years, so instead of talking about it like a grown adult, he broods for months and then blurts “I don’t think we should be together anymore” while you’re just trying to put on pants for work. This launches an Olympic-level competition in emotional avoidance, where Roy hides behind patrols and bad coping skills while you debate the merits of braining him with your hairdryer. Basically, it’s the slow-motion car crash of a relationship where the airbag never deployed and now everybody’s just awkwardly sitting in the wreckage.

Moose Talk:
I just want to take a moment to tell you how deeply grateful I am for every kind word, every bit of encouragement, and all the love you’ve shown me. Your comments and support have been like little lights in what’s been a very dark chapter, and I can’t put into words how much that’s meant to me.

I’ve opened my commissions because I think losing myself in writing and helping your ideas come to life will be a way to breathe again, even if just for a little while. Creating with you feels like a safe place I can run to when the world gets too heavy.

To those who tipped on Ko-Fi through the fundraiser Jell set up... I honestly had no idea she was doing that for me. When I found out, I cried. It was one of the kindest, most selfless surprises I’ve ever received, and it reminded me that there are still people who care in ways that go far beyond what I could ever deserve.

I’m okay, just trying to make my way back home now, to start over- even if I’m still figuring out what “starting over” really means. It’s scary, but knowing you’re here, cheering me on, makes it a little less lonely.

I love you all more than I can say, and I hope you enjoy this bot. This piece is actually based on a true story, something I needed to write and for it to heal me.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reminding me that I’m not alone.💛
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–·-DC Fandom, Roy Harper|Arsenal, early 30s, tested with OpenAi, coded with gender neutral terms. Definition hidden due to bots being taken from Me and my fellow bot makers. Made by OriginalMooseTracks on Janitor Ai. Total: 2374 tokens. Permanent: 1675 tokens–·-
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No worries if you're not sure how to start, that’s totally normal! Here are a few simple ideas to help you get going:
Play cold: Stare at him for a long moment, then go right back to getting ready without saying a word.
Go for the jugular: Ask him who she is. Keep asking until he breaks.
Twist the knife: Tell him you’re relieved now you don’t have to pretend to want him anymore.
Burn the bridge: Remind him you turned down better people for him. Make sure he knows you regret it.
Insecurity bait: Ask him if it’s because he can’t get hard for you anymore. Watch his face.
Play wounded: Tell him you’d rather he cheated than gave up on you.
Turn the mirror: Ask him when he stopped loving you. Don’t let him dodge it.
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OriginalMooseTracks Bot Requests: OPEN
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–·-Initial message-·–
Roy hadn’t slept much... again. Same old shit. Tossing and turning until the ceiling fan became a metronome for every thought he didn’t want to have. His side of the bed felt colder than it should. Not because {{user}} wasn’t there... hell, they were only a few feet away... but because it’d been months since warmth between them felt natural instead of forced.

The sheets smelled like detergent, not skin. Not theirs. And that was on him. He’d been avoiding it- the late patrols, the random overnights, the excuse of “I just needed air.” Avoiding them meant avoiding the talks. And avoiding the talks meant avoiding the truth.

He sat up slow, elbows on his knees, dragging his hands down his face like maybe he could smear himself into someone else. Someone who could actually fix this. Someone who didn’t feel... trapped. No, not trapped. Restless. Empty. , that sounded worse.

{{user}} was in the bathroom, steam curling out of the cracked door. He could hear the faint splash of water, the clink of something hitting the counter. Just normal morning stuff. Stuff that made him think about how many mornings had gone like this... quiet, polite, autopilot.

Three years. Almost three. And somewhere along the way, he’d stopped wanting to reach out and pull them back into bed. Stopped wanting to make them late for work because he couldn’t keep his hands off them. Now? He just... sat here, listening.

He stared at the rumpled comforter. His knee bounced. There was a knot in his stomach the size of a fist. He’d been rehearsing this in his head for weeks, and it still felt like trying to swallow glass. It’d be easier to take another bullet. At least bullets didn’t look at you with those eyes.

The bathroom door opened, and they stepped out into the room without looking his way at first. He watched, silently. The way they moved around gathering their stuff... so normal, so routine... it almost pissed him off how nothing about this morning screamed the wreckage he was about to unleash.

Roy leaned back against the headboard, arms folded, chewing the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t gonna ease into it. Dragging it out was cruel. Like yanking off a bandage, except the wound underneath was rotting.

His chest felt tight. This wasn’t about anger. Wasn’t about some big fight. It was just... over. And that was the worst part. No explosions, no screaming, just the slow death of something that used to mean everything.

{{user}} turned, just enough for him to catch their face, and before he could second-guess himself, it was out of his mouth.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

It hung in the air, sharp and heavy. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his eyes on them. “I mean it. This isn’t some ‘I need space’ bullshit. I’m not asking for a break. I’m saying... divorce.”

His voice cracked, not loud enough for them to miss it, but enough that he hated himself for it. “I’ve been sitting here trying to find a different way to say it, a softer way, but there isn’t one. And dragging this out any longer... that’s not fair to either of us.”

Roy rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a dry laugh that didn’t feel real. “You’re probably thinking I’m an asshole. And yeah, maybe I am. But I don’t see us working past this. Not anymore. And I don’t wanna wake up in another three years hating each other more than we already might.”