#Jimmy Kinsella | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

farfromstrange · 2 years ago

Text

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter Five: Double Espresso

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (I used she/her pronouns this time)

Summary: When Jimmy knocks at Michael's door, things are bound to escalate, and Michael makes a decision that is gravely going to affect both of you.

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, violence (brothers hitting each other), mention of seizures, mentions of canon character death, lots of swearing, Mikey is in pain so he's an ass

Word Count: 5k

A/n: I'm sorry for this chapter. I know some of you are going to absolutely hate me for this, but I promise that the next chapter will clear all that pain up and then we have another sweet epilogue chapter, I promise. Also, I did notice that having a clear plan for this miniseries made it so much easier to write, so the chapters are coming so fast after another because I know what I want to write and where I want it to go. If my other WIP’s could only flow like that *sigh* (also this plays after Michael’s release and before Jamie’s death, which might be important to note for some of the dialogue in here)

Read All Other Parts Here…

The sun behind the clouds casts a soft pink glow across the sky. Michael stands in his backyard, watching the sunset from the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame as he takes in the sight of the beautiful evening. He’s holding a cup of chai tea. After tasting the cup you were so kind to bring him, he decided to brew some espresso as well and add that with a little bit of milk and cinnamon. It’s nowhere near as good as yours, but the taste of the Dirty Chai runs on his tongue like ice cream and he feels at home.

He gets to breathe fresh air now, he tells himself, he has a bed, proper food, and coffee, something he couldn’t have in prison. He can watch the sunset from his backyard and imagine what animals the clouds above him could portray. With a little bit of mindpower, he manages to make out a possible turtle and a knight, but he’s not sure how his brain sorts the pompous cloud as a knight; it has a striking resemblance with one of the pictures out of his history books.

Sipping his Dirty Chai, he allows himself to rest for a moment. His lips curl into a soft smile as the wind brushes across his face and through his hair. It’s not particularly cold, not colder than usual anyway, but the oxygen feels good in his lungs, and his skin jumps in glee at the fresh air.

You told him that you try not to let the world get to you. You try to be an optimist and that makes you happier. You’ve made peace with how your life is, even though you still feel guilty for not being able to finish the things you want to, and he envies that. He wishes he could do that. It would make life so much easier, but he also knows that even though you like to pride yourself on how well you’re doing, staying positive is hard and you’re struggling just as much as him. It makes him feel less alone to know he’s not the only one who feels so inevitably stuck. Your situations may be different, but he gets how you’re feeling and he could tell just from talking to you that you understand him without knowing all the details because you can see his pain, and his pain is something you yourself have felt before. Most of the time, you still do.

He has to learn how to live with himself too, just like you. He has to learn that there are things he cannot change, but that those he can change require his full focus and that he needs to be happy with what he has before the yearning for something that’s so far out of reach breaks his heart completely and he will find himself in an even more helpless position. He doesn’t want to go back to being the man he was. He has changed for one person and one person only, and she deserves a father who is a hundred percent dedicated. He needs to be that man and to be that Michael, he needs to learn how to live with himself. Plain and simple. He needs to take a page out of your book and not try so hard to hide who he is just to appease others.

He can’t keep others safe when he’s running himself into the ground, and he can’t get Anna back like that either because then no court will ever grant him visitation rights ever again, and her grandma will have him dead before he can even breach the front door. Although he figures that might happen anyway. After what happened with Allison…

Michael shakes his head. He can’t let these thoughts in, not now, not when the sun looks as ephemeral as it does now. Sunsets are supposed to be relaxing, so relaxed is what he tries to be. Just for this particular moment, he wants to be completely free and not think about anything other than the relief he felt in the safety of your understanding arms.

After the sun has set, he stays outside for a little while longer until he starts getting cold. He returns inside, cleans his now-empty mug, and finds himself once again staring at the napkin you left him. The Sharpie is barely readable anymore after all of his tears landed on it, but the X is still there. There is something so adorable about how nervous you are around him, and it even shows in the notes you left him. He still regrets throwing the cup away, but he has the napkin and he cherishes it like it’s an antique.

A knock on the door disturbs his peace. At least with you, the world around him didn’t exist, but now he’s alone and everything seems to be rushing back in.

Michael makes his way to his front door and opens it. He expected it to be someone from his family, perhaps Birdy because the woman likes to check in on him from time to time or ask him for a cup of tea, knowing he tends to get lonely, and he appreciates her maternal bones, but it’s not her. In front of him stands his brother, Jimmy, and he doesn’t look happy. He never does, but he looks particularly grouchy tonight.

He steps aside and lets him in, albeit hesitantly.

“We need ta talk,” Jimmy says when he’s already halfway through the door.

“About what?” Michael asks, closing the lock again behind him.

He doesn’t want to talk, which is why he hasn’t been answering his brother’s calls, but even if he did, it’s been a long day and he is tired. Whatever Jimmy has to say to him, he doesn’t want to hear it.

He looks around the house with curious eyes.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Are ya alone?”

Michael nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Amanda told me somethin’,” Jimmy says. His eyes look dark, almost vacant in the dim living room light.

There are a million things she could have told him, and he likes none of them. His heart stops. The history between Michael and Amanda is something he promised to keep hidden, although his brother isn’t stupid and the signs have never been clearer, considering the rather awkward reunion after he was released from prison. But why would he come to him now? Why would Amanda tell him?

It’s not like Michael has ever been in love with his brother’s wife. He’s not sure why it happened; his feelings were conflicted back then and he screwed up. He always does. He lets the demons in his head guide him against his better judgment, and then shit happens. He’s not proud of it nor does he want to find excuses because what he did hurt not only his brother in a way but his wife and the family he’d always wanted and then lost. He doesn’t want to talk about it because he can’t explain himself – Michael knows he’s an asshole, but saying it to his brother’s face would be even more humiliating than carrying the knowledge around with him.

He tries not to show that he’s panicking. Instead, he moves to the kitchen and grabs both of them a beer. “Oh yeah?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, although the guilt makes his eyes look particularly sunken in the darkness. “What did she tell ya?”

Jimmy takes one of the bottles from him. He doesn’t look like he wants to punch him just yet, so maybe Amanda didn’t tell him about them. He’s not sure what other secrets she’s keeping, he can only remember the elephant in the room, but his mind is foggy and he tends to forget a lot, especially when it comes to the past. He either pushed all the memories away or his brain decided for itself to forget certain things to protect himself – and the seizures, not to speak about them. His family doesn’t know, but he does, and he hates to admit that they’re happening, but ever since getting out, they have only become more frequent.

His life is a mess and as Jimmy is standing before him now, ready to let some kind of guillotine fall on him, Michael wishes nothing more than for you to be there and take some of the edge off that is pushing him forward toward the abyss.

“Have ya been goin’ out lately?” his brother asks.

The question surprises him. In his mind, he’s playing a game where he’s scratching off the things Amanda could have told her husband like a bad game of bingo, but they’re all over the place.

What does his private life have to do with Amanda and Jimmy? He hasn’t been doing anything illegal. He is trying to go straight, they know that. Everyone knows that. They hate it, but he’s insistent. Michael is certain he didn’t do anything wrong and he isn’t planning on doing so anytime soon.

Maybe it is about Anna? But that wouldn’t connect directly to Amanda and it wouldn’t be Jimmy but his lawyer and maybe Birdy because the woman actually cares. He’s not always sure if his brother cares like he pretends he does because there is a lot of unresolved tension – once again, he thanks himself for being such an idiot and Amanda for being herself – and that’s how he knows that Jimmy would be the last person to knock with news on his fight to get his daughter back.

“What do you mean?” Michael asks with a frown.

“Have ya been goin’ out?” Jimmy repeats his question. “On the town, tryin’ to pick up ladies, that sorta thing?”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“C’mon, ya can tell me, Mikey. I’m your brother.”

He is, but this feels more like an intervention than a friendly chat. It’s starting to dawn on him. While his visits to the café may have gone unnoticed, you came to visit him at work today, the same place that is a front for laundering money for all the Kinsella family business and Amanda was there this morning. She could have seen you. You kissed him across the street from the big windows and she could have easily watched the scene unfold, watched you hug him and kiss him, and Michael indulged in the kiss.

Amanda must have seen you and she went right ahead and snitched to Jimmy that he has been spending time with you. You, the last person who should have to deal with his mess. You, someone normal and authentic. You, someone who has never done anything bad in your life. And you, the person Michael has found solace in and started telling his story to. He didn’t tell you details, but he told you his name and you could figure it all out if you wanted to, and he dragged you into it even though he knew he shouldn’t have.

It’s you Jimmy is referring to, and his muscles instantly lock up. This isn’t about him anymore, this is about someone who has nothing to do with this life, you’ve just chosen to show the wrong man the best kind of affection and he refuses to let his brother or Amanda ruin this for him, let alone ruin you.

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” Michael says through gritted teeth.

Jimmy scoffs. “Did Amanda see a ghost then?”

“If ya told me what this is about–“

“You’ve been seein’ a woman, haven’t ya, Mikey?” he asks.

There it is.

Michael puts his bottle down and stares at his brother. His features darken. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Start this.”

“Start what, exactly? I’m just tryin’ ta have a conversation with my brother.”

“Ya know exactly what yer startin’, Jimmy. Don’t play coy.”

“Amanda saw you kissin’ a stranger and she said ya keep disappearin’. Ya don’t answer our calls. I’m sorry fer gettin’ worried about ya. Yer family, after all and I care about ya, Michael.”

It sounds like he’s blaming him now, which, given the circumstances, feels neither fair to him nor to you.

“Ya don’t know shit about my life!” He hasn’t raised his voice in a while, but when he does, it’s pure anger and a tinge of vulnerability that strain his vocal cords. The glass of the bottle hits the counter.

“Hey,” Jimmy warns, “take it easy!”

He doesn’t want to take it easy. He’s far beyond the point where he can.

“I don’t know how this is any of your business,” says Michael, his eyes still staring coldly at his brother, “but yeah, I’ve met someone, and she’s good ta me. More doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Michael, ya know what I’m gonna say and I hate ta say it.”

“Ya don’t have to.”

“I do ‘cause if this were anyone we know, I wouldn’t give a flyin’ fuck, but tha’ girl–“

“Leave her name out of your mouth or I swear to God–“

“Who is she?”

“Doesn’t matter. I told ya.”

“A normal civilian then,” Jimmy says. “Amanda said she looks like that girl who works at the café down the street.”

Now they know who you are, too. His skin turns as cold as ice, and he can feel his blood boiling in his veins.

“Ya know what tha’ means, Michael?”

“Fuck,” he runs a hand over his face, “Of fuckin’ course I know.”

It means a lot of things.

“If yer not careful, she’s gonna get killed. Ya just got out of prison, yer a Kinsella… The stakes are higher now. The danger is greater. We can’t deny that.”

Michael groans. “Since when do any of ya have the right to dictate my relationships? Especially Amanda. She’s the last person on this godforsaken planet that should get a right to have a say,” he says. “Just because ya want me back in the saddle–“

“Ya wanna know since when, huh?” Jimmy snaps, breaking his assumption in two. “Since ya’ve got your wife fuckin’ killed, that’s when!”

The beer bottle soars across the room, barely missing his face before it shatters against the wood on the wall behind him. Michael steps forward, his finger pointed at his brother, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him into the nearest object. He towers over him, even though he is smaller, and all of the humanity in his eyes has vanished.

Whatever Jimmy’s problem is, he’s moving on very thin ice, and the ice is about to break through.

“Watch yer fuckin’ mouth!” he growls. “Ya can tear me down and attack my life, but Allison and Anna? Ya keep your fuckin’ mouth shut about them! And her–“ Your face flashes in front of his eyes like a Polaroid picture. “Don’t fuckin’ dare compare her to them or what happened before I went to prison because I know.” His voice is barely above a whisper; he sounds almost like a snake. Michael doesn’t have to yell to cause goosebumps.

“I know, Jimmy,” he says, “I know she’s in danger ‘cause of me and this family, but I promised Anna I would go straight now because she’s my daughter and I deserve to get her back, I deserve to make amends, and I won’t let ya or Amanda tell me what to do as if I have anythin’ to do with the shit yer doing anymore. You tryin’ to sabotage my relationships won’t bring me back.”

Jimmy grabs his wrists. “That’s not how it works,” he says. There is a flash of concern in his eyes.

Michael sneers. “How would you know? You have yer wife and yer sons. Ya have everything. You don’t know what it’s like to lose a fuckin’ child!”

“Yer right, I don’t, but you think it’s gonna help Anna if ya start a relationship that might end anyway? Ya want more grief? More heartbreak? Does she even know?”

Michael tightens his grip around his collar. “Oh, fuck off, Jimmy! Ya don’t know me, and yer certainly not the boss of me, ya fuck!”

His spit pearls off his cheeks, and his eyes turn feral. “Are ya so used to gettin’ and corruptin’ what you want that ya can’t see the bigger picture?”

He lets go of him, distancing himself almost immediately. His fist twitches. Jimmy’s face looks so inviting, he has a hard time controlling himself. He tries not to let his words touch him, but he’s got him riled up and he can’t come back down.

“Maybe I should let ya make your own mistakes,” he says. “Let you run into the knife ‘cause ya seem to have a real knack for fuckin’ up everything. When yer little girlfriend ends up dead, maybe then you’ll learn that sometimes, family is right. Or ya just kill her yerself because ya just seem so fuckin’ good at it–“

The loud crack of bone breaking fills the house. Jimmy howls when Michael’s fist connects with his nose, and the bridge breaks clean through. It tilts at the most painful angle without popping back in place. Blood spills from his nostrils. He falls to his knees on the floor, clutching his broken nose.

Michael towers over his brother, his irises fully black now. His chest heaves, his knuckles are covered in blood, and his wrist is already starting to swell.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Jimmy!” he says. He doesn’t even leave him time to recollect himself.

Jimmy rises to his feet, his nose still dripping. He stares at him with a mixture of pride and shock; without another word, he launches at him and strikes his fist across his face.

It’s Michael’s turn to fall onto his knees with a surprised groan. He didn’t get his full nose, but something did break upon impact.

Jimmy huffs, staring at his brother who is now bleeding just as excessively as him. “Gladly,” he says, satisfied with his work, and then he leaves, but not without emptying his beer on his way out and leaving the bottle right at the entrance for him to clean it up.

The door falls shut behind him.

He stays on the floor for a while, feeling the floorboards under his fingers. The worst part isn’t that Jimmy said these outrageous things. Michael would be angrier if he had lied to him, but that wasn’t the case. He said the truth and nothing but the truth. And it eats him alive that his brother is right – the worst part is that he is no good for you and the wisest choice is to let you go before you’re too far in to crawl back out.

And that kills him inside.

He finds himself on his bedroom floor again that night, nursing a bottle of whiskey. He leans back against the bed. The alcohol is slowly hulling his brain into a fog, numbing the pain, numbing his emotions, but most of all, it makes the thought of you go away and turn into bitterness instead. You, Allison, Anna… he wants to forget it all.

His finger ghosts over the ‘send’ button on his phone, but instead of sending the text, he switches to the icon in the top corner and presses ‘call’.

The line clicks. “Hello?” Amanda’s voice sounds from the other end.

“Are ya proud of yerself?” he asks. He’s too exhausted to be angry, but there is a force behind his words that goes beyond being tired.

There is silence before she answers. “Michael,” she says his name oh so softly.

He doesn’t want to hear it. He wants to yell at her and tell her why she told Jimmy and ask her why this is such a big deal and that he hates her and he hates this family and… he hates himself.

“Jimmy just wanted ta talk.”

He scoffs. “I just wanted ta tell ya that ya should be proud of yerself. Ya can tell Frank I didn’t change my mind, but good try and ya should be proud of yerself, truly.”

She ruined something very good for him, and she made him loathe his reflection again.

“We care about ya,” she says. It sounds almost like she’s arguing. “And we want ya to think things through, especially with your history and this family, and you don’t want another person ta suffer because of a risk we couldn’t control, do ya? That’s why I told Jimmy. I just wanted ta help. This isn’t personal. And this isn’t about Frank.”

But oh, it is personal. She lies shamelessly through her teeth and right now, Michael hates her guts as much as he loathes himself, which is a lot. He hates his family. He hates everyone. And most of all, he hates the universe.

“Yeah,” he sniffles, “I did think ‘em through. And it is personal.”

“Michael–“

“Thanks for nothin’, Amanda. Good night.”

He hangs up, leaving behind only silence and the taste of whiskey on his tongue as he continues to stare at the ceiling until inevitably, he passes out right there, still leaning against the bed and praying that his life will soon turn out to have been nothing but a bad, bad dream.

The next day, the café buzzes with activity as customers come and go, their conversations blending into a steady hum. You're back behind the counter, but you're not paying attention. The radio plays a Taylor Swift song and you hum along, scribbling something on one of the coffee cups, waiting for the next wave of people in need of coffee to come through the door.

You're not working with Sarah today, so at least you're not getting smart comments about your floaty state, but his lips... you wish you could should his name at the top of your lungs. You can't get him out of your head – his hands on your body, touching and grabbing everywhere, his lips moving against yours as he breathes all of you in, even your bare soul; it's a picture you wish you could replay like a 3D movie, but the memories come and go in a blur. You need him. You crave him. He's messing with your head and while it's annoying, you can't get enough. You're addicted to Michael Kinsella.

What started as wanting to comfort a man who came to the café in need of an escape has evolved into a physical yearning for his touch, not just getting to know his soul in a way you still haven't been able to, but you've seen more of him the day before and you're proud of yourself for picking apart the walls he's built around his heart piece by piece. You're so happy, you could burst.

Every ring of the bell above the door catches your attention, but then your heart drops when you see it's not him. The longing for Michael begins to feel obsessive, yet you can't deny the thrill it brings you. And then, as if the universe has answered your unspoken plea, he walks in, and your heart stops, only to beat twice as fast.

"Michael," you greet him with a bright smile. "How are you?"

Something is off about him today. You notice there is a cut on his nose and the bridge is starting to turn blue. His hand is bandaged again. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even try to fake it. His eyes are vacant, almost, like he’s empty inside, the pain having moved deep enough to burn his soul to ashes. The numbness he displays while also keeping a cage locked tightly around himself makes your own heart ache for him.

What happened to him? When you parted ways, you both seemed more than alright. It was awkward, but it was great. Or did you misinterpret something?

“I’ll take a double espresso,” he answers the question you haven’t even voiced yet. “Just a double espresso. Nothin’ else.”

“Are you sure?” you try to sound as cheery as before, but the sight of him has your light dimmed a little. “We have other options,” you say.

He’s not acting on your recommendations today. His stare is blank and his voice sounds harsh when he repeats his order, though this time making it sound like a demand that makes you flinch. Men scare you, that is no secret, but Michael had never scared you before. Up until this point, you never thought it possible, he never struck you as the scary type, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine, uncomfortable ones, and he leaves no space for you to argue or be playful with it.

You bonded over coffee before. His demeanor has you second-guessing everything. Did you misinterpret his intentions? Was it all a facade? Why did he come here if he intended to hurt you?

You finish the double espresso with millions of thoughts racing in your mind. Right before handing it to him, you take a deep breath and decide to write your number on the cup. You should have done it long before. He might not want to talk now, but maybe later, or maybe he won’t ever call. You’re not sure why the hope is still there, but it burns brighter than your fear or your anger.

"Double espresso," you call out, hoping he'll stay a moment longer.

Michael approaches the counter, his eyes avoiding yours as he snatches the cup from your hands. Your fingers brush. You keep him there.

“Hey,” your voice softens, “Are you okay?”

He avoids your eyes.

“You seem… different today.” That’s an understatement.

“Yeah,” he says and tears the cup from your hands. “Bad day. I have to go. Thanks.”

That’s what he wants to leave you with? The interaction tastes bitter. He doesn't even spare a glance at the cup. He doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t listen. It's as if he's determined to shut you out, to sever whatever connection you had.

You shoot your colleague an apologetic glance before tossing your apron on the counter and sprinting after Michael.

“Michael!”

At the call of his name, he stops in his tracks. “What do you want?” he asks. He sounds defensive, guarded even. There seems to be an entire army fighting inside of him, against him, and against you.

You’re not strong enough to withhold the storm. Yet, you still take a step forward to somehow bridge the gap that is not just literally but figuratively between you. The space hasn’t been there before, it’s new and you hate it. He won’t even reach your lifeline because he’s swimming out far enough that he can’t reach it. It’s almost as if he’s doing this on purpose, destroying himself, slowly killing himself, and you’re helpless.

“I want to be there for you,” you say, gentle yet determined. “I’m not sure where we went wrong, where I went wrong, but you’re not alone in this. Just tell me what happened and I can try to fix it. I can help you. Either way, I can tell you’re hurting and I don’t want you to push me away. Not after we’ve come so close.”

You’re grasping for straws now.

Michael turns to look over your shoulder. You see a flicker of regret flash up in his eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. Left behind is only an empty shell.

“Please,” you beg.

He studies your face for a moment. He hesitates, he's uncertain, but he's gone. You can tell he's gone; he disappears right before your eyes, slipping through your fingers and this time it feels final. It shouldn't hurt, you don't know him, but it burns like acid on your skin and get through to your heart. It shouldn't hurt, you're not like that, but you can't deny that it does.

As if a wall slams shut, he shakes his head and takes a step back. "Ya don't get it," he says.

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything! It doesn’t fuckin’ matter anyway.”

“Come on, talk to me. Maybe I can help. I–”

“Maybe ya should stop tryin’ so hard all the fuckin’ time.”

You didn’t expect that.

“People might like you more if ya weren’t tryin’ so hard,” he says, taking your heart like a piece of paper and ripping it straight through. “People pleasers are exhausting, and yer no better than tha’.”

Your throat tightens as the words start to sink in. “What?” you whisper.

“Ya heard me.” He turns back around, his eyes leaving yours. “It’s best if we end this here. Fer both of us.”

There wasn’t much between you anyway and yet he wants to take his fist and shatter it like glass hard enough so that you won’t be able to pick it up. That sounds cruel, and it feels even worse. His words remind you of your childhood and the time after that, all the people who laughed at you, who told you that you were too complicated, that you needed to change to fit in, that you would never be good enough, and they remind you of your parents and the friends you’ve lost simply because no matter what you did, it was never good enough. They used your kind heart and destroyed you in the process. Not once did you think Michael would do the same.

“I didn’t realize, I– I’m sorry,” your voice cracks.

He huffs, still not looking at you. “Like I said, yer exhausting,” he says as if he hasn’t done enough. “I’ll stay away from ya from now on. It’s better tha’ way. Try not to please everyone so hard or you’ll end up miserable.” He says your name, but you feel like your ears are underwater and all of this is just a stupid dream. A nightmare, even.

Michael says goodbye and then he’s gone. You’re not sure where to, but he leaves, and you don’t make an effort this time – you don’t follow him. He managed to break your heart with what little you shared about yourself and that is not something you can easily swallow.

Your colleague stares at you when you storm back into the café, but you ignore her. You leave your apron where it is, holding your breath as you hold the tears in the corners of your eyes, your feet carrying you to the back room. And you cry.

You break down and cry because Michael used the power of words shamelessly to hurt you in a way that runs deeper than your skin. You break down, and you curse Michael Kinsella all the way to hell.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin #no y/n #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #jimmy kinsella #charlie cox #reader insert #butterfly effect #coffee shop au #mini series

86 notes · View notes

bepractical · 2 years ago

Text

Kin Season 1 Superlatives

I'm just about ready to reignite my Daredevil obsession, but before my page becomes flooded with pics of my favorite vigilante in black pjs…

I thought I’d do one last Kin post to close out my recaps, at least until Season 2. Here are my superlatives for season 1 of Kin. It was much harder than I expected.

Favorite Character: Michael Kinsella.

You won’t believe it but I really had to think this one through. How much of my love for Michael has to do with Charlie Cox? Have I been blinded by those sad, puppy-dog eyes? Amanda is my close second and her storyline and development is just as satisfying. In the end there are a few things that put Michael in the top spot. The first is Anna. Michael and Anna’s relationship is one of my favorite things about the series. More on that in a minute. Second, I love how Michael is portrayed. It’s a conscious decision to make the family hitman a quiet, grieving man, who is soft and shy on the outside but a stone cold killer who struggles with expressing himself and with detachment on the inside. His health problems provided some of the most intense moments of the series and he has wonderful, multidimensional relationships with Anna, Jimmy, Amanda, Birdy, Jamie and Frank. He’s a good character who is well acted and I cannot wait to see what happens with him next season.

Least Favorite Character: It’s Frank.

Of course it is. I’ve said it before and I stand firm in the assertion, rewatching is not kind to Frank. It’s not that Frank is uninteresting or poorly written. He has a great story arc and Aidan Gillen does a wonderful job with a pretty thankless character. Frank is written as a man who worked hard to secure his place in the family. He kept them well respected and relevant, but failed to provide the might needed to survive. Even before the events at the beginning of the season he had a fraught relationship with Eamon. Once the shit hit the fan, Frank reacted in the worst way possible. He panicked, stopped looking for solutions, and took out his frustration on the people around him. He was pathetic, sexist and incompetent, and a terrible, emotionally abusive dad to Eric.

Favorite Villain: Eamon Cunningham.

Eamon is frustrating, foolish, stubborn and full of hubris. He’s entirely dependent on his ability to intimidate and outright murder his enemies. The minute someone bites back he’s floundering, with no choice but more force. He’s the Goliath to the Kinsella’s David. He’s also a sucker for his ex wife and his little son in Spain. Eamon is a great antagonist and Ciarán Hinds plays him well.

Character Who Benefited Most from the Recaps: Jimmy Kinsella.

The slow watch I did for the recaps, where I paid special attention to details and wasn’t doing ten other things while I watched, was so good for Jimmy. There are a lot of small details to his performance, and most often they involve him loving and reaching out to his loved ones. He’s an incredibly emotional character and the dichotomy between him and Michael is fascinating.

Biggest Fuck Up: Eric Kinsella.

Character or plot point, it’s all about Eric. He’s a loveable fuck up, but a fuck up all the same. His horribly planned, anger fueled drive by was undoubtedly the biggest fuck up of the season.

Character Who Made the Largest Impact in the Least Amount of Screentime: Bren Kinsella.

His appearance answered so many questions I didn’t even know I had concerning Michael, Jimmy and Frank. He’s the missing piece in the Kinsella crime family and I cannot wait to see more of him.

Character I Want to See More Of: Birdy Goggins nee Kinsella

Birdy played a supporting role in most of her relationships this series, whether she was subtly manipulating Michael or bolstering Frank. My favorite scenes of hers, though, were her conversations with Eamon. First at Jamie’s funeral, when she outright asks him to give the Kinsellas Caolan Moore and second, when she approaches him in the parking garage and tries to broker a peace. I want to see more of Birdy when she’s not propping up other characters. I am also dying to see her, Frank and Bren.

Favorite Ship: Michael/Amanda/Jimmy.

Aka my favorite slow moving disaster. Every combination of these three is a delightful mess.

Favorite Family Relationship: Michael and Anna.

This is a show about family, so the options are many. In the end I have to go with Michael and Anna. They are the same flavor of awkward ducks and seeing them circle each other and try to carve out a relationship is stressful and endearing. Big props to Hannah Adeogun for mirroring some of Charlie’s mannerisms for Michael, right down to his awkward smile.

Most Shocking Death: Jamie Kinsella.

In retrospect there’s enough foreshadowing packed in that first episode that his death should have been visible from the moon, but on first watch I found it truly shocking.

Favorite Storyline: The Kinsellas do a robbery.

From Frank’s mischievous smile when the idea is first brought up, to Eric and Jimmy’s delight at Michael’s participation, to Michael’s dry delivery when threatening Con, to the family celebration when the job is done, this was a delight all around. Was it a good idea? Probably not. But everybody loves a heist and I love that this one hinged on Con Doyle loving his son more than he cares about Eamon’s drugs.

Least Favorite Storyline: Eamon and Angela go to an ayahuasca ceremony.

I love Angela and the hold she has on Eamon. I even love getting to see more of Eamon’s life outside of him terrorizing the Kinsellas. It’s the muddy symbolism, man.

Saddest Scene: Jimmy's eulogy.

This is a sad, sad series. After much contemplation, I’m gonna go with Jimmy’s eulogy at Jamie’s funeral for the saddest scene. It is a certified tearjerker. Emmett J Scanlan does a tremendous job in his portrayal of grief, with his strained, tearfilled smiles as he struggles to talk about his dead son. We also get a brief recognition of the pain Michael has caused his own daughter (which leads to another sad scene). The scene ends with a cut to Amanda with a crying Jimmy beside her, who has finally surfaced long enough from her own grief to see how painful this is for Jimmy.

Most Satisfying Scene: Amanda ferrets out the mole.

Everything about this plan is immensely satisfying to me. The minute Amanda suspects someone is working against the family, she uses her deductive reasoning to figure it out. She confronts Kem at her house, with Jimmy unknowingly on standby, and weasels the truth out of him. Look at that shot. Awesome.

Most Stressful Scene: Michael freaks out during the hit on Caolan Moore.

So many options and almost all of them have to do with Michael. I’m going with the first scene to truly stress me out in the series, Michael trapped in the bar after he kills Caolan Moore. It ends with him face-to-face with Mini Michael, the hitman who killed Jamie, but he can't focus his eyes to shoot. So stressful.

Most Cathartic Scene: Michael yells at Amanda after the cafe shootout.

If you’re looking for catharsis, this may not be the series for you. There is, however, one scene that really brings it home. You know the one. It’s Michael screaming out his feelings after the shooting at the cafe. If ever a character needed a moment to release his emotions, it’s Michael.

And that's all she wrote. Feel free to post our own, or say if you agree or disagree. The list I used is below. Hope to see you next season!

Favorite Character

Least Favorite Character

Favorite Villain

Character Who Benefited Most from the Recaps

Biggest Fuck Up

Character Who Made the Largest Impact in the Least Amount of Screentime

Character I Want to See More Of

Favorite Ship

Favorite Family Relationship

Most Shocking Death

Favorite Storyline