Last of a Dying Breed @lone-wolf-baron - Tumblr Blog

Satisfied wolf is satisfied. He has finally arrived, all of his hard work and unrelenting drive finally paying off.

His word didn’t have to be taken for it, either. His nameplate on that humongous trophy said so.

coolnightbreeze

No matter what you think of Baron Corbin, this is a well deserved burn 😂

rivenator-deactivated20161203

I’ve carved a path of devestation and broken dreams to get here

thearchitectwwe-deactivated2020

gravenbabies-blog

sixdegreesofsamson

:slow clap:

#baron corbin approves of this development

Well. This’ been an interesting night. Good for you, Reigns. Finally got people to like you and all you had to do was straight up murder a guy, the boss no less, on national television. Ought to call those ‘Win Friends and Influence People’ guys and tell them to revise their book.

keroa

reblog if AAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

numahachi

アアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアアア

phuiscribbles

啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊

jukun

valbrandur

ddemotivators

AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

minervafloofderg-migrating

skarchomp

lone-wolf-baron

Can’t Fight Fate.

cane-da-giustizia

There was a ghost of a smirk as he heard the man speak, the quiet bit of pride and dignity in that baritone somehow more Baron than the Baron that had strutted around in the ring with arrogance aplomb flared out like a Lyrebird elaborate and desperate to impress a mate.

Roman nodded absentmindedly as he admired the make of the bike, wondering vaguely what Dean’s response would be to one of these on the man’s doorstep as a birthday gift. The Cincinnati native’s love for bikes had always been in the back of his mind and while most of said interest had been centered around dirt bikes, he was rather sure something with a little more firepower wasn’t about to go unappreciated.

“You got her off the line like this? Or souped up some of that hot stuff yourself? Might think of gettin’ somethin’ like her for a friend.” He offered, a finger tracing the spokes of the front wheel as he lifted his gaze to meet Baron’s once more.

lone-wolf-baron

“Don’t touch her.”

It was his first response and it was dead serious. Not posturing, not an idle threat- there was something in Baron’s tone, his eyes, his very body position that screamed in no uncertain terms ‘either the fingers come off my bike or off your hand’.

She was his only companion. His only packmate, if you will. And perhaps he was being stereotypical, but he just didn’t like anyone putting their hands on her without permission.

Once the hands were off the wheel, he’d relax back to his previous position, and shrug.

“I saw her. I wanted her, and I bought her. I take care of her myself. ... Dean, right? He seems the type who’d want one.”

He pays attention. He knows how thick Roman is with the auburn-haired brawler. Frankly, he’d question how well Ambrose could take care of one, but he has tact. As Baron was adverse to people touching his bike, he’d noted from observation that Roman was adverse to people speaking ill of his pack. Friends. People have friends, Baron. He’s not what you hope he is. Least not likely he is.

#canedagiustizia

ex0skeletal

by Kipine

sukekyo

思わず保存した最高の画像を転載するスレ『ヒロイン達をリアルにしてみたら』:哲学ニュースnwk

elidee-art

eat your enemies / bisexuwolf

jack-the-lion

This is actually a really good metaphor.

lone-wolf-baron

Can’t Fight Fate.

Well, he’d done it.

Baron couldn’t help but smile at the narrative he’d woven. It was absolutely perfect- something that’d promise him both the ire of the fans and his fellow grapplers. An aloof loner had allure, mystery. People got intrigued, tried to get close- too close for Baron’s comfort.

His temper had been wearing thin lately. It was too dangerous, he could be found out if he lost his temper. Arm’s length wasn’t far enough to keep people anymore. The only way he’d be safe, he’d figure, was to practically create a nuclear fallout zone around himself.

How to do that? What does everyone hate? Ambition wasn’t enough anymore, and some people couldn’t help but love a general jackass. But nobody but nobody likes an entitled jackass who doesn’t care about any aspect of the business but the money. It had been easy really- he just took what everyone on the internet had THOUGHT Roman Reigns was and amped it up. It was almost cartoonish. But it worked. Nobody said a word to him, he’d gotten the ugliest looks from the other wrestlers, and the crowd seemed practically ready to burn him in effigy.

Good. Left to his own devices, Baron occupies his post-workout time with tuning up his beloved bike. He didn’t really like this, he supposed. He was supposed to be a pack animal. But it was too risky to let anyone close- you never know what people would do if confronted with, well, a monster.

His fate seemed to be a lone wolf, and everyone knew you couldn’t fight fate.

cane-da-giustizia

The communal visits down to their alma mater at Winter Sail had become almost ritualistic at this point like a weekly hajj to the establishment that crafted them as the sons and daughters of a revolution in the industry. There was a sense of camaraderie to it that Roman knew had been absent from the main roster for the longest time, and that Hunter crafted the sister company that was NXT as though it was family instead of a faceless mass certainly helped matters. He loved it—the familiarity, the feel of being worth a damn no matter who you were, the multitude of bodies crashing on the mats of the five rings that dominated the main practice hall and even as signs that read “You are not here to fill a spot, You are here to take a spot” were hung overhead on alabaster walls as a warning of the business’ dog-eat-dog nature, he couldn’t help but feel a stronger sense of belonging here than he did on the main roster. The wrestlers were given more creative freedom as well, each their own character and there was space for others with more special talents to thrive—Finn being one of them—and learn to hone them best as they could. He couldn’t help but wonder at times if that was the true treason Hunter had made the company into what it was, a safe haven even for those who were……marginally different.

Those like the lone individual in the desolated parking lot working steadfastly on an impressive-looking Harley Davidson piece. Baron. His name was Baron, as Roman could recall. Hard to overlook certainly with a build like a brick shithouse, enough tattoos to rival Lord Tensai, a leather jacket that just about screamed to be left alone and the attitude to match if recent promos were any indication. Despite all that, Roman found himself oddly drawn to the man like a moth to a flame, long strides taking him over to Baron’s side as he crouched low to be at the same level as the bike’s owner who was busy attempting to tune it up.

“Bitchin’ ride, my man.” The Samoan-Italian rumbled as he marveled over the craftsmanship. “Bet she’s a fuckin’ panther on the road. You had her for long?”

lone-wolf-baron

Baron looked up from his work slowly, deliberately.

Well well well, look what the pup dragged in. The same man who’d inspired his little ruse.

Roman Reigns had often been an interesting puzzle for Baron to try and figure out. When he’d first seen the other man, he’d been absolutely certain that he was no longer alone. He’d been excited, happy even. And yet... in the end, he was too unsure of himself to approach. What if he was wrong? He couldn’t tell for certain. And he didn’t want to bring it up unless he was completely certain.

And so, in Baron’s eyes, there was always a big question mark hanging over the Samoan’s head.

His baby was complimented. In spite of himself, Baron cracks a bit of a smile, just a quick, slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. He’s not sure if he should answer, lest he blow his cover, but he couldn’t help himself. He was very proud of his bike. “...yeah. I have. And panthers only wish they were as much of a beast as her.”

#canedagiustizia #well hell this took me long enough didn't it

Can’t Fight Fate.

Well, he’d done it.

Baron couldn’t help but smile at the narrative he’d woven. It was absolutely perfect- something that’d promise him both the ire of the fans and his fellow grapplers. An aloof loner had allure, mystery. People got intrigued, tried to get close- too close for Baron’s comfort.

His temper had been wearing thin lately. It was too dangerous, he could be found out if he lost his temper. Arm’s length wasn’t far enough to keep people anymore. The only way he’d be safe, he’d figure, was to practically create a nuclear fallout zone around himself.

How to do that? What does everyone hate? Ambition wasn’t enough anymore, and some people couldn’t help but love a general jackass. But nobody but nobody likes an entitled jackass who doesn’t care about any aspect of the business but the money. It had been easy really- he just took what everyone on the internet had THOUGHT Roman Reigns was and amped it up. It was almost cartoonish. But it worked. Nobody said a word to him, he’d gotten the ugliest looks from the other wrestlers, and the crowd seemed practically ready to burn him in effigy.

Good. Left to his own devices, Baron occupies his post-workout time with tuning up his beloved bike. He didn’t really like this, he supposed. He was supposed to be a pack animal. But it was too risky to let anyone close- you never know what people would do if confronted with, well, a monster.

His fate seemed to be a lone wolf, and everyone knew you couldn’t fight fate.

#canedagiustizia

3lixar

Mm. Fresh meat.

#tough enough #Baron stop eyeing up the TE kids like prey

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Last of a Dying Breed