John Jones - Tumblr Posts

JLA are trying to figure out Superman and Batman's secret identities and finally figure out that they are the famous married couple, Bruce and Clark Kent-Wayne

Except

They mix them around

Batman is an investigative reporter? That checks. He's a cornfed country boy? Explains the gains

Superman is an outgoing philanthropist? It tracks. His parents are wealthy enough to avoid any legal issues? It's how he stayed underground for years!

(Obviously, Superman is helping is hubby pay for the nice armor)

The Justice League, learning about Batman’a contingency plans for them: You 🥺 don’t 😔 trust 😢 us 😭?????? 💔💔💔💔

Batman, looking at the Justice Lords, Injustice Universe, and like 50 more: Yes

The Bird Leaves the Nest

⚠️ Mention of alcohol at end ⚠️

Vaude fell to his knees. They made a resounding crack as they met the hard, worn wooden floor of his shack. He clung to Wildcat’s pants leg like his life depended on it, and in a way, it did. His body hunched over her boots as a tsunami of tears flowed from him. His voice came out in broken sobs.

“Momma, please don’t go. I’ll do anything to keep you here.”

Wildcat looked down. A frown creased her lips as she looked over her shoulder at John, then back down to her adopted son. She rested a hand on Vaude’s arm and gently pried him off. Vaude looked up in disbelief as he scrambled backward on his hands and feet.

“I’m sorry, baby bird, I have to go on this mission. John needs me.”

John held her hand and gave it a small squeeze before they walked out of the crumbling shack. Vaude stood abruptly and stumbled after his mother and father. He cursed his limp under his breath and shouted after them, but his voice was too hoarse, and they were already gone.

Vaude was left alone once again. He limped over to his chair in front of the fireplace and plopped down. He reached beside him and picked up a brown glass bottle from the crate that served as a makeshift table. For the next few nights, Vaude distorted his memories with the bootlegged swamp liquid.

Catch y’all on the flip side 🌊😎

The Last Reality ⌛️

It all went topsy-turvy 🔁

A legend and his big-hearted Himbo companion.

Omg the Scientist calling Jones a “Blonde ding-dong in a suit” has me in stitches. Like SIR that is our lovable blonde ding-dong.

Also: That bit of dialogue and his line at the event, “Isn’t running for your life fun? It’s great cardio.” really makes me love him. I just want to wrap this giant nerd in the warmest of hugs 🥺❤️

New beginnings (Welcome to Artemis) 🌅🏝

Log Ride 🪵🏞

(I wasn’t floating in-game. Idk why replay mode made it look and sound weird.)

Behemoth 🦾

(I was standing right next to him 😳)

John Jones: Am I in trouble?

Dr Slone: Take a guess.

John Jones: No..?

Dr Slone: Take another guess.

A blast from the past 💥🥞

(This was my favorite place to snipe during Chapter 2 Season 5)

Presenting: A semi-cohesive Fortnite family flow chart

Martian Manhunter (J'onn J'onzz) character design

Gotham News @ 9

Can you IMAGINE the Gotham newscasters? No, not CNN, NBC, or CBS style with money and sets.

They're local news in Gotham City.

They have their chairs duct taped under their desks and old books making sure their desk doesn't wobble when they stand up to do weather.

Their graphics are mediocre at best; they're the mid-nineties ones that made you cringe, even at the time. They have a special sound effect and graphic for Mr. Freeze, one for Poison Ivey, and another for the Joker and Harley Quinn.

There are two main newscasters.

One grew up in the narrows. She's saw a newslady in the window of a department store when she was eight and immediately connected with the strength the well-dressed woman radiated through the screen. That was when people called her James. Now, the name that everyone calls her by and shows up on Gotham's public network is Julianne McLeod.

The other, Kendall Johnson, recently saw his already ramshackle apartment building collapse when they were on air. His mom didn't make it. He stayed on because there were other casualties and their families deserved to know. The next day, he came back because, "The Batman isn't the only one who can investigate Ggats Metalworks, you know."

The weatherman, Carl Lewis, is almost seventy and living on mostly social security. He got a degree in meteorology at Gotham University back before he lost one of his legs fighting for a war he didn't want any part of.

Their cameraman goes by John Jones, he's a quiet guy who mostly nods and smiles. They don't know much about the guys' past, they don't ask.

You'd never suspect any of it if you didn't know them. On air, off, and during collaborations with their sister network in Blüdhaven, they genuinely laugh at each other's jokes, missteps, and the general insanity of their hometown.

Although they're loved by thousands, the only things keeping them afloat are a meager cut of taxes, kind remarks on the street, and economizing wherever they can.

They were there before The Batman, back when Gotham Police Commissioners were ousted every month or so for corruption charges. Their scathing remarks towards City leaders that looked the other way when gangs ran rampant scared off any possible sponsors. It was a miracle Julianne's sarcasm alone hadn't gotten them sued yet.

During the day, when they're not briefing Gotham citizens about the crimes in their area, they play reruns of Full House and Friends.

This was back before Bruce stayed home with Dick, who had sprained his ankle trying to cartwheel away from one of Nygma's traps.

He figured he'd let his ward, who was grouchy from missing patrol, flip channels until he fell asleep. Except Bruce hadn't remembered his need to sleep, so he ended up groggily waking to Dick shaking his arm and starting intently at the screen.

"B, look, they're talking about us!" Although he had only the light from the TV to see, Dicks smile was plain as day.

Pivoting his head, he saw a man and woman reporting on their latest attempt to stop The Riddler from destroying Gotham's nuclear plant. It wasn't the story that caught his attention, though.

"Chum," he turned face him, "where'd you find this?" He'd been in Gotham for the past four years now and in all that time he never once remembered seeing a local news channel.

"What, the channel?"

He nodded.

"Oh," the boy looked down and fumbled with the remote that was clearly too big for his ten-year-old hands, and pulled up the TV menu, "it's Gotham channel eleven! They're on, it says here, at nine every morning, evening, and day of the week."

Bruce was taken aback, but the young acrobat to his right plucked the words right from him.

"Wow, B can you imagine working every day, twice a day?"

Well, not his exact words.

"Don't give me that look," he chided, "I know you do it, but most normal people don't." He paused for a moment, "When do they get the time to do laundry? Or feed their pets? If they have pets... You know, speaking of pets, do you think we could get an-"

"You know the answer, Dick, Alfred won't take care of an elephant while you're at school."

"Quite so, Master Bruce." As if on cue, Alfred breezed through the doorway.

"But Alfie-"

"Nothing more, Master Dick, I do believe it's a school night and Master Bruce had kept you up long enough."

Had he? Looking at the clock, it was half an hour past Dick's bedtime. Damnit, Bruce.

"That's right, Dickster," he stood up, his back bones cracking and old injuries protesting, picked his surrogate son up, and held him as one would a baby, careful to avoid the boy's sprain.

He harrumphed and crossed his arms, getting ready to make a point, "Only if you go to sleep now, too." He was staring down Bruce with the same intensity as he did towards Nygma just last night. He wasn't giving this up easy.

Well that surely wasn't going to happen, he had to figure out which shell company was connected to Simon Stagg, how to prove it, then hack into and locate the plans for the business's headquarters. Not to mention that tomorrow he needed to talk to Clark about Lexcorp's latest moves into Star City and how to best anonymously fund a public broadcasting station he didn't realize existed until just now.

Turning around, he saw Alfred, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed, and one hand holding a polished silver tray. There was no winning, this was the same man who had literally tried to give him sleep drugs in his coffee earlier that day.

"Alright, kiddo, just this once." After all, it'd the first time in the weeks he'd go to sleep at night and without being drugged by Alfred, a rogue, or after being knocked out.

Dick smiled and raised his arms in victory, "Onwards!" he pointed towards the stairs.

Although all of his actions were oriented towards getting him and his ward to sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about the dedicated news service operating under his nose for the past four years.

He'd have to push back that WayneTech meeting and his investigation into possible aliens in Gotham (which was a far fetched idea in the first place) in order to talk to Clark and get Lucius on the phone. After all, he had no clue what local news stations needed.

"You should talk to Ms. Lane, too," came a tuft of black curls masquerading as a head barely sticking out underneath several quilts.

Had he been thinking aloud again? Shit, he really did need to go to sleep.

"Maybe I will, Chum," he assured the young acrobat as he flicked off the lights and headed down the hall to his Egyptian cotton sheets and silk pillowcases.

J'onn J'onzz / Detriot Police Detective John Jones / Martian Manhunter - MARS THEME

"We can look like them, we blend in, a lot of aliens can't. And people in this world don't have much tolerance for others two look different.

I say that as an alien and add someone who's worn the face of a black man for 15 years."

- Supergirl (CW) S02 E03 Welcome to Earth

pinterest board with moodboards for dc characters

J'onn's head shape changes throughout the historical group photos of the jl in the background of several panels during final crisis: requiem- he trusts this team, he loves this planet, and slowly takes on a more martian form. his subconscious comfort around them physically manifests as his body allowing itself to take a martian shape (all IDs in alt text)

SPOILERS FOR FINAL CRISIS: REQUIEM

he was like a grandfather or a father to some of them, a mentor to many, and a friend to all. the fact that Nightwing finds him dead is so powerful because, in this continuity, Dick has known J'onn since his time as Robin. Dick is frequently at the beginning of modern heroes (Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman) in DC, so him being the one who finds J'onn feels very full-circle

the usage of "Martian Manhunter" vs "J'onn" is of note as well. when the Secret Society is fighting him, they only refer to him as Martian Manhunter, while every single hero calls him J'onn

the day after J'onn died, a telepathic link is activated in the minds of Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Cynthia Reynolds, and Dinah Lance that causes them to record and recite J'onn's history of Mars. not only did he trust them to accept his martian form, he entrusted them with his account of his almost dead civilization. and they not only keep that promise by combining their part of the account into a book, but they also bury him on Mars so he could be reunited with his home at last

Superman being the orator at the funeral becomes even more fitting when J'onn recounts meeting a young Clark Kent in Smallville. they share not only a history, but a burden: as some of the last members of their civilizations, aliens on Earth, and heroes, J'onn frequently lent an ear to Clark's troubles

Batman is not known for his displays of affection, but the end of the comic makes clear that Bruce will miss him. with his cowl off, he leaves a single choco (the DC's version of oreos) on J'onn's casket and calls him an old friend before leaving back to Earth

J'onn's steady presence in the league is so important to their ability to come together, not just as an organization, but as a community. it is not the same without him

Not a fan of the Walking Dead but, eh here this is. John Jones

𝐹𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒:

Sylvana Palma (Tomaselli) Windsor

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𝐹𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒯𝒾𝓉𝓁𝑒:

Sylvana Palma (Tomaselli) Windsor, The Countess of St. Andrews & Dr. Sylvana Tomaselli

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𝐵𝓸𝓇𝓃:

Tuesday, May 28th, 1957 in Placentia, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada

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𝒫𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈:

Father: Maximilian Tomaselli (Formerly of Salzburg)

Mother: Josiane (Preschez) Tomaselli

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𝒮𝓅𝓸𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓈:

John Paul Jones (M. 1977 and D. 1981)

George Windsor, The Earl of St. Andrews (M. 1988)

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𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓃:

Son: Edward Windsor Lord Downpatrick

Oldest Daughter: Lady Marina Windsor

Youngest Daughter: Lady Amelia Windsor

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𝐸𝒹𝓊𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃:

Educated in both Canada & England

Bachelor of Arts Degree from The University of British Columbia

Master of Arts Degree in York, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Master of Arts Degree from the University of Cambridge in Cambridge, England

Fellow of St. John’s College at the University of Cambridge in Cambridge, England

Dr. Sylvana Tomaselli specialized in British & French political theory in the 18th century focusing on the history of womanhood.

She has written about David Hume (A Scottish Economist, Enlightenment Philosopher, Essayist, & Historian), Jean-Jacques Rosseau (A Genevan Composer, Philosopher, & Writer), John Locke (an English Philosopher & Physician), John Stuart Mill (An English Civil Servant, Member of Parliament, Philosopher, & Political Economist), Mary Wollstonecraft (An English Advocate of Women’s Rights, Philosopher, & Writer).

Dr. Sylvana Tomaselli is the translator of Book II of the Seminar of Jacques, The Ego in Freud’s Theory in the Technique of Psychoanalysis. 

She teaches the 3 History of Political Theory Papers.

Dr. Sylvana Tomaselli is an affiliated Lecturer of the Faculties of History, Social, & Political Sciences

She is a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society

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𝒲𝓸𝓇𝓀: 

Director of Studies in History, Social, & Political Sciences: The University of Cambridge

Founding Member: The European Centre for the Philosophy of Gender in Siegen, Germany

Historian & Lecturer: The University of Cambridge

Tutor for Postgraduates: The University of Cambridge

𝐿𝒾𝓃𝓀: https://www.hist.cam.ac.uk/directory/[email protected]