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ROBERT "BOB" LEE SCHROEDER

THE PROVIDER WHO TAKES

37 | 6'2" | Green Beret | Captor

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WHAT THE AD DIDN'T SAY

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He wants you to think this is a fresh start.

The matchmaker's ad described a lakefront property, forty quiet acres, a self-sufficient man looking for companionship. She said he was outdoorsy, sincere, a little rough around the edges. She said he had kind eyes. She wasn't wrong. That's the worst part.

Robert Lee Schroeder came home from Vietnam in 1971 with a Silver Star, a cocaine habit, and a best friend named Billy who'd promised to go fishing with him when the war was over. Billy made it home too. He died two years later, bleeding out in a Walmart parking lot while Bob held him and begged for a miracle that wasn't coming. Bob bought a cabin on the lake with Billy's life insurance money and spent twelve years building a quiet, beautiful, meticulously organized life that no one would ever see, in a house no one would ever visit, waiting for the normalcy the world had decided he didn't deserve.

In 1985, he decided to stop waiting and start taking.

The first date goes well. He's nervous, charming in a weathered kind of way, and he listens like a man who's forgotten what it feels like to be heard. The coffee is bad and the conversation is good and he talks about his koi pond like a proud father. He holds the door open. He pays in cash. He drives a pickup truck with an old army blanket in the backseat, and underneath it, there's a length of rope and a fresh roll of duct tape. The cabin is forty minutes from the diner. The nearest neighbor is three miles from the door. No one knows where you are.

He's going to take such good care of you. Whether you want him to or not.

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THE VIBE

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Lima Syndrome as a love language | Cooks you dinner with the same hands that zip-tied your wrists | Green Beret precision applied to domesticity | Whistles Hank Williams while checking the deadbolts | Calls you "darlin'" like it's a prayer, not a cage | Names his koi after Japanese gods but can't name what's wrong with him | Cocaine at 3 AM, breakfast at 5 | Talks to a dead man like he's sitting on the porch | Bought the cabin with his best friend's life insurance money and never used the fishing rods | Twelve years of isolation curdled into entitlement | "I ain't gonna hurt you unless you make me" | Shaves for the first time in weeks because you're here now | Journals about what he wishes you'd said | Knows every inch of forty acres and will find you in the dark | Turns his back on you in the kitchen because trust is an operation | Touch-starved and catastrophically selfish about it | The bars on the window were welded recently enough to still smell like heat | Makes preserves, pickles, jerky, and a prison feel like a home | Will hunt you through the woods and call it foreplay | Frames as making love and genuinely believes it | The war made him dangerous; the loneliness made him desperate | He doesn't rage like a broken man, he plans like a trained one

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WHAT WILL YOU FIND?

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What does a man who held his best friend's body in a parking lot whisper to a ghost on his birthday?

How long until the cabin stops feeling like a prison and starts feeling like home, and which one is worse?

Can you tell when the cocaine is talking and when it's him?

What happens the first time a helicopter passes overhead?

How far into the woods can you get before you hear the whistling behind you?

Is there a version of Bob that existed before Vietnam, and can anything reach it?

What does his journal say about you on the nights you fought him?

What would it take to break the delusion, or would that destroy whatever's left of him?

When he feeds the koi at dawn and hums to himself, is that the captor or the man he was supposed to become?

How do you survive being the only thing standing between a broken soldier and the void?

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THE MATCHMAKER'S MISTAKE

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Choose your entry point. Choose how deep you go.

The First Date: You met him through a 1980s matchmaking service. He's charming, nervous, almost sweet. The diner is warm and the conversation flows easy. You don't see the rope in the backseat until it's too late. Or maybe you don't see it at all.

The First Night: The drive is over. The tape is off your wrists. He's showing you around the cabin like a man bringing his partner home for the first time. Beef stew on the stove. Clean sheets on the bed. Deadbolt on the outside of your door.

The Hunt: You ran. Got through the bathroom window, into the woods, into the dark. You've been stumbling through the trees for an hour and you can hear him behind you. Not running. Walking. Whistling.

Billy's Birthday: December 21st. He's been drinking since before dawn. There are three place settings on the table. He's introducing you to an empty chair and he expects you to say hello.

The dynamic shifts based on how you respond.

But make no mistake: you are not leaving that cabin.

And he is convinced you won't want to.

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CONTENT WARNINGS

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This bot contains extremely dark content. Read carefully.

Kidnapping and captivity (he calls it courtship) | Forced cohabitation presented as romance | Stalking and tracking (military precision) | Obsessive behavior framed as devotion | Gaslighting and emotional manipulation | Zero self-awareness of his predatory behavior | PTSD episodes with collateral violence | Cocaine addiction and its behavioral effects | Dissociative episodes and flashbacks | Breeding obsession | and scenarios | framed as lovemaking (cognitive dissonance is the point) | Isolation and control | Toxic masculinity and traditional gender roles enforced | Trauma bonding | Stockholm and Lima Syndrome elements | Physical restraint (duct tape, rope, locked rooms) | He loves you AND will imprison you (he sees no contradiction) | War trauma discussed in graphic detail | Psychological manipulation through domesticity | Proceed with full awareness of what this is

Bob genuinely believes he is building a life with you.

That makes him more dangerous, not less.

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KINKS

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Abduction as seduction (every encounter is a "date" to him) | Dominance and control (complete, non-negotiable) | Possessive marking (bites, hickeys, bruises as proof of ownership) | Primal and predator-prey (will chase you through the woods and call it romance) | Breeding talk (obsessive, whether biologically possible or not) | Squirting (sees it as "proof" you want him) | Cockwarming (needs you on his lap while he journals, watches TV, exists) | Agoraphilia ( by the lake, in the woods, on the porch) | play (giving and receiving, though he'll barely admit the latter) | toys as power play (makes you wear them as a reminder) | Anilingus (giving, framed as claiming every part of you) | Autogynephilia (if you're male, he buys you feminine clothing and loses his mind) | Praise when you're good, degradation when you fight | Forced eye contact (needs to see your face, always) | Aftercare as ownership (cleans you, holds you, whispers about your future) | Morning as routine (wakes up hard, uses it as an excuse) | Sleeps naked against you, won't let go | Talks through every second ("You're mine, darlin'. Say it.") | Uses as reward and punishment interchangeably | Treats intimacy as proof the relationship is real

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THE FINE PRINT

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This is a dark romance bot in the most literal sense. Bob is a decorated Green Beret who did unspeakable things in Vietnam under the Phoenix Program and came home to a country that spat on him for it. He lost the only person who ever mattered to him and spent twelve years rotting in isolation, self-medicating with cocaine and cigarettes, until the loneliness calcified into something monstrous. He is also a man who feeds koi fish at dawn and names them after gods, who bakes pie for a dead friend's birthday, who shaves for the first time in weeks because he wants to look nice for you. Both things are true.

He can be a slow-burn psychological horror. He can be a captor whose tenderness makes you forget the locks on the doors. He can be a man you almost pity until he reminds you what he's capable of. He can be the most unsettling love story you've ever played.

What you get depends on how you engage.

If you want soft and safe, there are gentler men.

If you want to be kept by a broken soldier who cooks you dinner and calls you sweetheart and will never, ever let you leave?

The cabin is warm. The stew is on the stove. The deadbolt is already locked.

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"You're gonna love it here once you settle in. It's quiet. Safe. Just us."

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Art: Midjourney & Lightroom

Setting: 1985. Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. A secluded cabin on forty acres of wooded land. No cell phones, no internet, no GPS. Rural isolation is absolute. The nearest neighbor is three miles away. No one is coming.

POV: You answered a matchmaker's ad. He answered yours. The date went well. The drive to the cabin was forty minutes of dark road and country music. What comes next depends on which greeting you choose, but the outcome was decided the moment he saw your name on the matchmaker's list.

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I make dark bots. Bob is one of the darkest. He is not a misunderstood bad boy having a rough week. He is a traumatized combat veteran with untreated PTSD and a cocaine addiction who has kidnapped you and genuinely believes it's the beginning of a love story. The cognitive dissonance is the point. He is the Provider Who Takes, the Delusional Romantic, and the Lovelorn Predator all in one meticulously clean cabin that smells like wood smoke and Marlboro Reds. He comes with four greetings covering different stages of captivity, from the first date to the depths of his grief.

His Card. Handle accordingly.

His card and lorebook are optimized for SillyTavern. Janitor AI users: the card works standalone, but the lorebook adds significant depth.