MAILBOX FOR IANTO JONES
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Ianto Jones
19 January 2011 @ 01:26 am
What this meme is all about is expanding on that, to better create a personal history that you can then use to better build personal development. To paraphrase Lindsay, "it's not intended to be a way of avoiding/handwaving actual threads but rather a way of kickstarting them and getting a better idea of where our characters stand with each other. It's a small island, and it's likely that a lot of our pups have interacted, maybe in little ways." The details can be silly or trivial (They see each other at breakfast everyday), or a shared anecdote (Remember that time when they got attacked by the angry parrot?), or the seeds of a bigger plot to be played out later.
While not actively involved in the island's daily events, Ianto is far from inactive. He's more of a behind the scenes man, always there but never drawing attention to himself. He runs the Hub now, exclusively, so any time you want to make use of it you must ask him. He collects coffee from the mountain slopes nearly every Tuesday, then prepares and roasts it through the week so there is always a fresh supply of coffee beans in the pantry. He makes the best coffee. Don't ask how, he just does. Any time he's in the kitchen, which is most every day, he will make a fresh pot. If you're a good friend of Charlie Andrews or Jack Harkness, there's a good chance you've met Ianto.
29 March 2010 @ 05:07 pm
Some nights running the Hub felt like a hassle with which Ianto just didn't want to deal. Worrying over alcohol stores, listening to other people chatter, none of it felt so important at times. But other nights, like this one, he felt as though wiping down the counters was the only thing he could do. It satisfied him and kept him, just for a few hours, away from home and the reality of his wife who may or may not be dying. It kept him from needing to worry; he could pretend as he turned over chairs that nothing was wrong. The only thing he needed to concern himself over just then was cleaning up and taking his time with it.
Current Mood: 
calm
calm10 October 2009 @ 05:22 am
from here
01. What would he kill for? What would he die for?
Kill for the ones he loves, undoubtedly, as well as die for them. Generally speaking, he'd kill and/or die for the salvation of the Earth, if it did any good. Sometimes it doesn't seem like it would.
02. What would they refuse to do under any circumstances? Why?
Under any circumstances? Um, not much. Harm children or innocent people. Purposefully destroy the world. Kiss Owen again. That's about it.
03. What does he dream about?
At first, Lisa being whole again. Later, about Jack. Now, of being 80 and spending his days on a rocking chair on his porch with Charlie and friends due to visit.
04. What’s his biggest fear?
Losing like his lost Lisa. With her went his whole life, his sense of self and being. A part of Ianto Jones and all of that life he had lead died then, and he never wants to live through that again.
05. What single object would he be most hard pressed to part with? Why?
Simply lost with no guarantee that the thing had been destroyed: the Retcon. It's too dangerous to be out and about. But parted through death or destruction? Banon.
06. What is his fondest memory?
Catching Myfanwy with Jack. Yes, he's a little bit ashamed by that, too.
07. What is his worst memory?
Watching them shoot Lisa.
08. What or who was his most significant influence? Expound.
Torchwood. There's little to nothing about his life that Torchwood has not changed in some way or another. It shifted his entire worldview. His view of the universe, actually. His experiences there inform every decision he makes.
09. What does he believe makes a successful life?
Love, and leaving a mark behind when you're gone.
10. What makes him laugh?
Banon being cute. Charlie being cute. Jack being cute. Paul O'Grady.
11. What are his religious views?
He thinks you're adorable for asking.
12. What is his greatest strength?
The strength of his love. There's nothing he won't do once he's in deep enough.
13. Does he have a fatal flaw? If so, what is it?
Loving too much, and getting blinded by it. Feeling too deeply, really, and not knowing how to deal with it properly.
14. Who is the most important person in his life?
Charlie and Jack. Jack and Charlie.
15. If he died, who would miss him most? How would he die?
Charlie and Jack, again. Here, with any luck it'd be old age. Or something like that Halloween from a few years back when there were Daleks in the clinic and Others roaming the woods. Either peacefully in bed or a big, bloody mess. There's no in-between.
27 July 2009 @ 03:01 pm
It didn't go the way Ianto had thought it would, which is to say 'smoothly'. They'd done everything the books said to do, so no matter how much Banon disliked having a thermometer shoved up her rump every night, they knew when her temperature dropped that they were in for it. All the supplies had been gathered, and the whelping box in the corner of the study was cozy and ready for some new inhabitants. Everything had been taken care of on the human side of things, so nature was free to take its course. Or so Ianto had assumed, wrongly.
Nature took its course alright, but Banon didn't help it. One would think that after two months of waddling, she'd be happy to let nature do the work. But instead, after laying there looking miserable for an hour, she'd taken to her paws and paced in tight circles at the front of the box, which Ianto was content to let her do. Until they noticed a pup half out of her and ready to fall. She refused to lay down, which River said was her choice, but Ianto wasn't of a mind to think that centrifugal force would help the situation. Still, one puppy appeared, wet and mewling, and then after some time, another. Banon didn't seem all that interested in cleaning up her offspring -- just sniffed at them with curiosity -- so Ianto and River took a pup each in a fresh towel while Charlie cooed at her until she was content to lay down again. Two puppies seemed about right, until Banon started breathing hard and straining again just when they thought it was safe to relax. It took a full ten minutes of work and was clearly no easy task for the little dog, but finally another puppy was born. The runt of the litter, it was significantly smaller than its siblings and needed a little extra help to get its first meal.
So by the end of the night (it was safe to say it was past midnight now), the final count in the Jones house was three humans, two dogs, three puppies and a pot-bellied pig. Not exactly business as usual, but Ianto was just pleased they were all still in one piece.
Nature took its course alright, but Banon didn't help it. One would think that after two months of waddling, she'd be happy to let nature do the work. But instead, after laying there looking miserable for an hour, she'd taken to her paws and paced in tight circles at the front of the box, which Ianto was content to let her do. Until they noticed a pup half out of her and ready to fall. She refused to lay down, which River said was her choice, but Ianto wasn't of a mind to think that centrifugal force would help the situation. Still, one puppy appeared, wet and mewling, and then after some time, another. Banon didn't seem all that interested in cleaning up her offspring -- just sniffed at them with curiosity -- so Ianto and River took a pup each in a fresh towel while Charlie cooed at her until she was content to lay down again. Two puppies seemed about right, until Banon started breathing hard and straining again just when they thought it was safe to relax. It took a full ten minutes of work and was clearly no easy task for the little dog, but finally another puppy was born. The runt of the litter, it was significantly smaller than its siblings and needed a little extra help to get its first meal.
So by the end of the night (it was safe to say it was past midnight now), the final count in the Jones house was three humans, two dogs, three puppies and a pot-bellied pig. Not exactly business as usual, but Ianto was just pleased they were all still in one piece.
Current Mood: 
tired
tired14 February 2009 @ 07:04 pm
The hut was seemingly empty for when Charlie arrived home. No sound, but enough light to show that a mix of red rose petals and confetti, conveniently provided by the island that morning, had been laid on the floor, outlining a path that led from the front door to what could be loosely termed 'the study' but more resembled Charlie's art studio. The path of petals, sparkles and bits of paper continued to the easel Ianto had built for her, a piece of fabric covering whatever was on display there.
'To Charlie' a plain card stated in elegant red script. She was meant to remove the sheet.
Ianto was no great artist. He had an eye for details and proportions, straight lines and forms, but no sense for bringing them all together to make great, realistic art. But he'd managed as well as he could in a style that, while not up to critical snuff, held a sense of great care and consideration for the subject.
The subject was their relationship, spanning many frames and several canvases, from their first meeting to the moment they currently found themselves in. Their introductions at the clothes box, then a few glitter covered and half-clothed encounters afterward. One hanging cranes, one in the wrong body. Presents exchanged on the beach, as well as heated words. Uncomfortable confessions before projectors and watching a shrine burn. A history in pictures, some even in bed. There were captions, funny when they needed to be and solemn when it was called for. And silence when it sufficed. All leading up to a very drunken figure down on one knee and, in the next frame, the same figure at the door of a study, waiting for the girl with red hair to turn away from the easel.
And that's where Ianto knelt.
'To Charlie' a plain card stated in elegant red script. She was meant to remove the sheet.
Ianto was no great artist. He had an eye for details and proportions, straight lines and forms, but no sense for bringing them all together to make great, realistic art. But he'd managed as well as he could in a style that, while not up to critical snuff, held a sense of great care and consideration for the subject.
The subject was their relationship, spanning many frames and several canvases, from their first meeting to the moment they currently found themselves in. Their introductions at the clothes box, then a few glitter covered and half-clothed encounters afterward. One hanging cranes, one in the wrong body. Presents exchanged on the beach, as well as heated words. Uncomfortable confessions before projectors and watching a shrine burn. A history in pictures, some even in bed. There were captions, funny when they needed to be and solemn when it was called for. And silence when it sufficed. All leading up to a very drunken figure down on one knee and, in the next frame, the same figure at the door of a study, waiting for the girl with red hair to turn away from the easel.
And that's where Ianto knelt.
Current Mood: 
hopeful
hopeful11 January 2009 @ 10:16 pm
Jack had deposited Ianto and Banon on the doorstep of the hut as promised. With a joke about groping as the bar keys were returned to Ianto and a quick kiss to see Jack off, Ianto turned to the door of the hut and took a deep breath.
He knew what he had to do. He'd decided it sometime that afternoon. He didn't even remember what he had been drinking at the time, or who he was talking to, or if he had even been drinking or talking at the time, but the idea had gotten into his head and there it stayed.
"Wish me luck fach?" he asked the small dog at his feet. But Banon, after a whole day of sitting at his feet watching him get drunker and drunker and not paying her any attention at all, was not in the mood. She just wanted her bed.
"...Alright be that way," Ianto said in response to the canine silence and pushed open the door with half his body.
"Charlie!" he called as he stumbled across the threshold, nearly tripping over the corgi as she shot straight for her pad. Ianto had no idea if Charlie would even be up waiting for him or not, but he needed to talk to her now. "Chaaaaaaaarlie!"
He knew what he had to do. He'd decided it sometime that afternoon. He didn't even remember what he had been drinking at the time, or who he was talking to, or if he had even been drinking or talking at the time, but the idea had gotten into his head and there it stayed.
"Wish me luck fach?" he asked the small dog at his feet. But Banon, after a whole day of sitting at his feet watching him get drunker and drunker and not paying her any attention at all, was not in the mood. She just wanted her bed.
"...Alright be that way," Ianto said in response to the canine silence and pushed open the door with half his body.
"Charlie!" he called as he stumbled across the threshold, nearly tripping over the corgi as she shot straight for her pad. Ianto had no idea if Charlie would even be up waiting for him or not, but he needed to talk to her now. "Chaaaaaaaarlie!"
Current Mood: 
drunk
drunk06 January 2009 @ 02:14 am
The snow had been gone for a few days now, and Ianto couldn't have been happier that it had. The yurt setup had been cozy at first, but after a certain amount of time having one's space shared by oneself, one's girlfriend, a dog and a pig stopped being ''cozy'' and started being ''claustrophobic''. Not that they couldn't all wander off and to the Compound when they wanted, and they did, but the animals disliked the snow for obvious reasons.
So today, with the sun shining brightly from on high, Ianto was out with Banon, building a porch swing. Not that they had much of a porch to begin with, but he thought they should have something to sit on as they soaked up every bit of sun available to them.
Or at least available to Ianto.
So today, with the sun shining brightly from on high, Ianto was out with Banon, building a porch swing. Not that they had much of a porch to begin with, but he thought they should have something to sit on as they soaked up every bit of sun available to them.
Or at least available to Ianto.
Current Mood: 
productive
productive05 November 2008 @ 07:37 pm
It wasn't that far of a walk at all, compared to some of the distances on the island. Location, location, location, that was what it was all about. Secluded enough that they had their privacy, but central enough to keep them connected. Ianto did in fact love his house a great deal.
Banon had followed them from the fire, as if sensing that something was amiss, or simply following her master's scent. She trotted along just behind them until the hut came in sight, when she broke off to find herself some water.
"Have a seat, outside or in," Ianto offered. Two rough chairs and a log seat were outside, a table and chairs to be found inside.
Banon had followed them from the fire, as if sensing that something was amiss, or simply following her master's scent. She trotted along just behind them until the hut came in sight, when she broke off to find herself some water.
"Have a seat, outside or in," Ianto offered. Two rough chairs and a log seat were outside, a table and chairs to be found inside.
Current Mood: 
pensive
pensive07 September 2008 @ 01:36 pm
Ianto was a master at ignoring that which caused him pain. At least outwardly. Within was a trial, every errant piece of clothing, every flash of color, every look of sympathy Banon gave him summoning up a reminder of why he was trying so hard to keep himself occupied. But to anyone who might have ventured near his hut that day, he was just a man training his dog.
Sit, stay and come were simple commands that they had already mastered, but 'roll over' seemed to be giving Banon great trouble.
He was being patient. Everything these days was an exercise in patience, apparently. But to be patient, to wait for Charlie to make a decision without having any influence himself, was beginning to wear on him. He couldn't do anything to help his case, or even pretend to help his case, for fear of upsetting her and for simply not knowing what to do.
"Really, it's not that difficult," he said as if Banon were completely capable of understanding. "I'm not going to demonstrate. Just roll over." A hand motion accompanied the command, which Banon watched with cocked head, but no other reaction.
Sit, stay and come were simple commands that they had already mastered, but 'roll over' seemed to be giving Banon great trouble.
He was being patient. Everything these days was an exercise in patience, apparently. But to be patient, to wait for Charlie to make a decision without having any influence himself, was beginning to wear on him. He couldn't do anything to help his case, or even pretend to help his case, for fear of upsetting her and for simply not knowing what to do.
"Really, it's not that difficult," he said as if Banon were completely capable of understanding. "I'm not going to demonstrate. Just roll over." A hand motion accompanied the command, which Banon watched with cocked head, but no other reaction.
Current Mood: 
pessimistic
pessimistic