uistic:

There’s this horror movie trope, somebody who came back wrong. Usually from death, but let’s not be picky. It’s the creepiest shit there is.

Well, Dean Ambrose came back wrong.

There used to be a light in his eyes. There isn’t. He was constantly in motion, dancing, bouncing, wiggling, sliding. Now he’s a rock. Dean Ambrose was a man who was perpetually amused and easily bored at the same time. Life was a joke and he was in on it, finding humor in absurdity and suffering, but he was not above creating his own entertainment when things got stale. He thrived on chaos and violence and mayhem. He was irreverent, intense, and physical both in his affections and in his wrestling.

The Dean Ambrose that came back from rehab is none of those things. He used to be a talker, and now all words seems to have been ripped out of him. If life’s a joke, he’s over it. His brothers’ affection and enthusiasm doesn’t touch him. He wrestles like a man who hates it all: his allies, his adversaries, the crowd, the refs, the lights, the tarp and the bounce and give of the mat. Dean Ambrose came back hating. I don’t know who and why but it gives me chills. This Dean? He scares me.

Honestly? At this point I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Dean died in a freak accident or drive by shooting during his rehab, and Seth discovered some arcane, eldritch ritual to bring him back, maybe against his will. Maybe just… lacking that one thing that made him specifically Dean.

I mean, look at Seth. When was the last time you saw him this happy, this open? He’s always loved Dean but the naked boyish adoration in his face right now kills me. It’s like the more Dean withdraws, the more Seth projects, blinded to the fact that Dean’s not there with him. He’s so happy and relieved to have regained something he lost that he can’t see that actually, it’s more lost to him now than ever.