Right so what if Danny became a psychologist instead of Jazz?
His friends and family died protecting him. So when he runs away and starts a new life, he adopts traits from all of them (both as a way of grieving and a way to honor them). For Tucker and Sam, Danny splits his free time between being a white hat hacker and a vocal environmental activist. For his parents, he adopts more of their eccentric personality. When he's not in a professional setting, he is loud and in your face about the latest thing he's been working on (he's also just about the most loyal person you can meet).
And for Jazz, his precious big sister, Danny decides to excel in the career path she never got the chance to enter. He resolves to fulfill her goal of helping out those society has deemed irredeemable. The ones nobody else can or wants to help. The first one he starts with, is the Joker.
i hate how commodity and capitalism has ruined so much storytelling . i hate how sequels and prequels and whatever else all ring like merch sales; i hate that i as an author have to include any social media following i have as a marketable trait; i hate that everything feels like a xerox of a copy of a dream of a memory.
i hate that my nostalgia has been turned into profit. i hate that companies fear consumer backlash so no real commentary may be made; i hate that companies care more about quantity over quality. i hate that so many artists and creators are being overworked to the point of complete collapse rather than being allowed to tell the story their way. i hate that every point of representation has to be fought for. i hate it i want us all to go back to living in a cave .
when you sit with friends over a bonfire and the night is getting long and people start telling this slow, almost hypnotic story - in this quiet voice, like they don't expect you to listen while they say the most fucked up shit you've ever heard - that is storytelling. who cares if the punchline is car hand hook door. storytelling has always been about community, about us all sitting in the dark, choosing to fill the silence while the last embers are dying. we forgot that storytelling is spellwork. hallucinating together, our breaths held, waiting for the ending we already knew was coming.