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Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

It gets harder to read paperwork first, then the computer screen; he scours about twenty pawn shops before he can find a screen reader to buy on the cheap. He watches how Matt uses his, when they're working together in the meeting room, practices at home before really needing it so that Matt won't know. He does some research and applies for a free cane from the National Federation of the Blind and, when it arrives, starts to practice when he's alone.

For the most part, Foggy's pretty sure he can handle this. He's a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and nothing if not infallibly pragmatic.

But sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night in complete darkness and the panic is all-encompassing, horrible, unending. He fumbles for the lamp and stares at the light for hours, sometimes through tears, trying to judge if the halo his failing eyes are causing is getting bigger or more hazy. Those are the nights that the thoughts he usually manages to keep at bay with practicalities come crashing into him like tidal waves.

There will be a day when I will stop being able to see Karen’s smile. I’ll never see another rainbow, another Batman movie, Matt’s stupid fucking Daredevil suit. It’ll just be black black black and oh god I’m going to go mad--

He reteaches himself every morning to smile and ignore the way his peripheral vision is steadily fading, how the details of things are getting fuzzier every day despite his glasses. And he practices everything with his eyes closed, and he laughs like he always does, and he memorizes how Karen looks with her bright hair tucked behind her ears, and he reconstructs Matt's crinkly-eyed smile in his mind until he could draw it freehand, and he does not tell them.



(AN: sorry this is a short part, next part will be longer and actually move the plot forward, amazing)

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

My heart...

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

T_T The pain...!

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

This is hurting my heart a lot I love it

Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Of course, eventually, they do start to notice something is wrong. And Foggy knows that once that happens, they won't let it go until they figure it out, because Karen is an actual bloodhound disguised as a human being, and Matt is. Well. Matt. But he's not ready to tell them. He buttons his lip and laughs off their concern, teasingly calling them worrywarts and changing their names in his phone to "Mom" and "Dad." Neither of them buy it completely, but it gives Foggy a little more time to breathe.

--

He tells them separately, Karen first, because that feels easier. He waits one night until Matt has gone home (watches him get a cab and ride away, just to make sure he's really gone), then pulls up a folding chair to Karen's desk and sits down heavily. She looks up from her paperwork, eyebrows raised, and Foggy goes cold with the knowledge that, even this close, he can't see her clearly anymore. Her hair blurs into a blonde curtain around her pale face. He used to be able to count the freckles on her beautiful neck; now he can barely see what color her eyes are in the dim light. Blue, he thinks, swallowing. Bright blue, the color of the autumn sky.

She closes her laptop and waits patiently while Foggy stumbles around words, stutters through a few half-incoherent lead-ins, before he finally cuts all the bullshit and just says it, flat out, for the first time ever out loud. "Karen, I'm going blind."

He's pretty sure she blinks at that, but he can't tell for sure. "Um," she says. "What?"

"Trust me," Foggy says. "I know how implausible this sounds. But. Yeah. There it is."

She's silent for a long moment, and Foggy desperately wishes he could read her microexpressions like he used to. "God, Foggy," she says quietly, after a while. "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm so... Um. How long, how long have you known?"

"About two months," he admits. "Well, officially. I knew something was wrong before that, I just didn't know exactly what, and by the time I got around to going to the doctor, it was too far gone to be curable. There's a surgery they can do to halt the progression, but." He shakes his head. "It really only works in about twenty-five percent of cases on people who are at the stage I'm at, and it's so far out of my price range that I'm pretty sure it's actually in the stratosphere."

He can hear Karen sucking on her teeth. Nervous, trying not to take a wrong step. "How bad is it...now?" she asks. Hesitant, but too worried about him not to ask.

He shakes his head, his throat tightening a little at the concern in her voice. "It's not too bad," he lies, then shakes his head again, dispelling the lie. "Actually, it kind of sucks," he admits, and they both huff out a little breath that was meant to be a laugh. "Even with the glasses, it's hazy. Everything's darker. Peripheral vision's basically shot. It's harder to read, too. Good days, I can manage about an eighteen point font from a normal distance. Bad days... It's just easier to use Braille, to be honest."

"You know Braille?"

Foggy nods. "Taught myself a few months after I met Matt. Thought it might come in handy someday, but I never imagined this particular scenario."

"I can print things bigger for you," Karen suggests, latching onto something she can help with. "Or just print it out twice in Braille, if you ask. If it's a...a Bad Day." He can hear the capital letters in her voice; he's started thinking about them that way, too, as Bad Days and Good Days. He does not say that the Bad Days are far outnumbering the Good Days lately, and soon he won't be able to read fifty point font on his best days, let alone eighteen.

Still, getting things printed in Braille will be helpful, and Foggy says softly, "Thanks, Karen."

"Whatever you need," she says earnestly, and reaches over the desk and takes his hand. It's a little awkward but completely sincere, and God, Foggy loves her. He squeezes her hand and tries to smile. It comes out a little shaky.

"Does Matt know?" she asks after a moment.

"Nope," Foggy says, and chuckles to himself. "How pathetic is it that I haven't told my blind best friend that I'm going blind?"

Karen laughs a little, too. "It's not pathetic, Foggy," she assures him with a squeeze of his fingers. "But maybe you should? He could... I don't know, maybe he could help. Teach you the ways of the Force."

Foggy laughs genuinely at that. "Can you imagine Matt with a lightsaber?" he giggles.

Karen covers her mouth, snickering. "You could use them as canes," she suggests. "No one would ever bump into you again."

"I'd probably end up taking myself out at the ankles," Foggy jokes.

"Be optimistic," she encourages him. "I'm sure you'd only take out a toe or two."

Their laughter slowly turns into the occasional snicker, and when they're finally calm, Karen adopts her serious voice and says, "Listen, I get why you didn't want to tell anyone, but. If anyone can help, Foggy, it's Matt.

It's not the same! Foggy wants to yell. All his laughter is gone, and in its place is a spiraling awful blackness he's been trying to avoid thinking about since this whole things started. He looks into the black and sees Matt there, still able to hear heartbeats and cross the street without help and move as gracefully as a seasoned boxer. But Foggy... He won't have those things. He'll be a clumsy dead weight, needing help with everything no matter how much he practices alone. He'll be a chore. Not worth the effort.

It's stupid, completely ridiculous to think these things; he knows that his and Matt's friendship is stronger than that, but he thinks them anyway, and that cold terror he usually only feels in the dead of night starts to creep in.

"Foggy?" Karen says.

He shakes his head, trying to clear away the fear, but he can feel it crawling up the back of his spine. "Yeah, I know," he says. "I will. I just." He purses his lips to keep them from quivering. "I don't want to be--" Oh God, no, I am not going to cry, he thinks, but his eyes start to burn anyway. He takes a deep breath, and it shakes without his permission.

"Foggy," Karen whispers.

He covers his face with his hands. "Shit."

Heels click against the hardwood floor and then Karen is kneeling beside his chair, one hand on his back, the other on his knee. "I am scared fucking shitless, Karen," he admits through his fingers. He tries to laugh, but it comes out embarrassingly close to a sob. "I'm practicing everything all the time, I'm trying to be practical and learn everything, but I'm just kidding myself, I-I have no idea how Matt does it, and I'm not like him, you know? I can't--" His voice abruptly cuts out, dropping away in a choked-off sob. His hands are clammy with sweat and tears. "I can't do this," he finally whispers. He realizes that this has been a long time coming, that this is a cliff he's been teetering at the edge of while turning his head and pretending he's still on solid ground. He feels like he's finally looking down into that chasm and seeing nothing but a long fall and jagged rocks at the bottom.

When he comes through the other side of it god-knows-how-long later, Karen is still there, kneeling, one hand smoothing his hair, humming something familiar.

"...Is that the Imperial March?" he asks.

"It was the first thing that came to mind," she admits, and they both laugh a little too hard for something that wasn't all that funny. If Karen notices the slightly hysterical hitch still in Foggy's voice, she doesn't mention it. Her gentle soft hand runs through his hair one last time, still smiling.

"You look like you could use a drink or five," she says, and Foggy knows it's an invitation.

"I probably could," Foggy agrees. "But I think you were right. I need to get this talk with Matt over with, and, uh. No time like the present, right?"

Karen nods, understanding. "I'm gonna finish up some paperwork and head home," she says and pats him on the shoulder as she stands, knees creaking from kneeling for so long. "If you need anything, seriously--"

"I know where you are," Foggy finishes, and the smile he gives her is small but real.

(A/N ayyyyy guess who learned how to do italics finally)

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Matt can take some of the money from the people he caughts and use it to pay for Foggy's surgery, he wont be feel guilty about it. It's for his friend.

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Oh wow. This fic hits me in places I didn't know I I had.

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my God. How did I not notice this until now!!
This is incredible, heart wrenching and possibly the best thing I've read in this fandom so far. You're breaking my heart.
-OP

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

wow thank you! it was such a great and inspiring prompt. i hope i'll be able to do it justice. :)

-authoranon

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Not authoranon, but this telling to Matt just came into my head after I read the Scott/Matt fic elsewhere and I had to share it. Feel free to steal it, authoranon! Or not. Whatever. Babbling it totally ok on an anon thread, right?

Foggy knew he needed to tell Matt. Karen was almost bursting. But not now. Not tonight. Tonight he was taking Matt out to dinner to celebrate the case they just won. To the fancy place Matt liked so much, but never suggested.

Foggy hadn't thought about the God damn mood lighting.

Matt finally put aside his menu. Foggy asked, "Have you decided what you're ordering?"

Matt nodded. "Great, hand me your menu."

Foggy opened it up and started running his fingers over the sections. "Shit, where is the list of side dishes in this menu?"

Matt opened his mouth a few times, saying nothing, then reached over and turned the menu to the last page. "Second half of the page."

When Foggy closed the cover and set the menu aside Matt's face was pointed straight at him. "So. Do you want to tell me about your renewed interest in Braille?"

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Jeezus, this really packs an emotional punch. I think I'm in love with you, authoranon.

Fill: Foggy is going blind, 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

(A/N: Sorry this next update took so long. I kinda got stuck. Still not really happy with this part but I'm sick of looking at it so here ya go XD)

Foggy calls Matt's phone as soon as he gets down to the first floor of their building. The light is so dim and grimy in this hallway that he's pretty sure he would have trouble seeing anything with his good eyes; as it is, he has to feel his way to the door to make it out into the brighter lights of Hell's Kitchen just after dusk. Cars with their headlights on flash by, disorienting him a little, and he leans back against the wall, the back of his shoulder grinding into the edge of the Nelson and Murdock sign, and listens to the tone of Matt's phone ringing. Two, three, four rings, and then Matt's flat lifeless voicemail. He closes his eyes and knocks his head back against the brick. There's a migraine starting to build behind his right eye, which is failing slightly faster than the left one; the doctor had warned him that migraines were a possibility as he passed into the later stages of the disease, but he'd been lucky so far.

Guess my luck ran out, he thinks grimly. He hangs up without leaving Matt a message and stays there, against the wall with his eyes shut, phone hanging loosely in his fingers. Cocking his head slightly to one side, he tries to tune himself to his city, tries to pick out individual cars and footsteps and the scent of his favourite bakery across the street. He thinks he catches a whiff of something like Marci's favourite perfume, but when he opens his eyes, there's no one anywhere near him. He sighs, runs one hand down his face, and the sounds and smells of Hell's Kitchen blur back together, indistinguishable and noisy and overpowering as they have always been for him. I can't do this, he thinks for the second time of the night, and his throat tightens again. His heart is heavy in his chest, beating so loud and fast that Matt can probably hear it from his apartment fifteen blocks away. He tries, uselessly, to calm himself, to reassure himself that Matt isn't going to shed him like dead skin when he finds out, but before he can steady himself out, his phone rings and startles him nearly out of his shoes. Matt's ringtone.

He answers with his eyes closed on the first try. (Getting better at this, he thinks) "Hey."

"Hey, sorry, I was in the shower when you called," Matt's voice says, cheerfully enough. Foggy takes a deep silent breath, trying again to calm his heart so Matt won't hear it fluttering. He wishes for the millionth time that he could tell whether or not Matt is lying. But he can't, so he straightens his back, leans away from their sign. Brightens his voice.

"It's okay. Are you, uh. Doing your thing tonight?"

There's a long beat before Matt answers, and god, Foggy hates that they still can't talk about Daredevil without their recent fight rising immediately to the surface of Things They Can't Say.

"Yes," Matt answers. Stiff, awkward.

Foggy sighs and rubs his forehead. The migraine is starting to really throb, and he knows it's only going to get worse as the night progresses. "Do you think you could stand to take a break tonight? We could hang out at Josie's or something."

"Foggy, you know I can't," Matt says patiently, but with a little bit of an edge to his voice, like a teacher explaining something to a child for the hundredth time. Anger surges in Foggy's chest at the note of condescension in Matt's tone; for a terrifying second he hates Matt. "Not with that child trafficking ring meeting tonight," Matt continues. "Raincheck on Josie's?" And damn him, he sounds so tentative and hopeful that all of Foggy's anger drains instantly. He drops his head, eyes closed against the insistent pounding in his temple, and nods.

"Yeah, okay," he answers, and hopes beyond hope that Matt doesn't hear how rough his voice sounds. He hangs up before Matt has a chance to respond.

He doesn't expect a call back, and doesn't get one.

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

NO MATT DAMMIT FOGGY NEEDS YOU NOOOO

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

Oh god Matt no Foggy needs you and urge this is breaking my heart I need MORE OF THIS

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

Agh, Matt! Listen closer, Foggy's obviously asking for help here! Maybe it's for the best though, a migraine would make a difficult conversation worse.

Still loving this. Still eager for more. I'm intrigued to see what Matt's reaction will be when Foggy finally tells him. Something tells me he's not going to take it well.
-OP

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

C'mon Foggy, use your adult words! Matt can't read your mind. :-(

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

Dammit Matt! Go talk to Foggy or so help me! This fic...you have already made me cry with the Karen part (probably not the only time I am going to cry during this fic tbh) and now I am angry at Matt. I understand, but I am angry at him.

This fic gave me too many emotions.

Fill: Foggy is going blind, 5/?

[(Anonymous)]

Foggy is right about the migraine. He tosses and turns all night, trying to find a position that doesn't make him want to die, but when his alarm goes off at seven the next morning, he practically gags with pain as the sound screams in his ears. He texts Karen that he won't be in to work until maybe later in the day, if at all; she answers, but he knows he's not coherent enough to read it or even find the button to make his phone read it aloud to him, so he just leaves it. He rolls over, covers his head with his comforter, and waits to pass out.

It's around noon when the headache finally recedes enough to fall asleep; unfortunately, after what feels like about thirty seconds of unconsciousness, a loud rapping at his front door jerks him awake again. Wincing at the sound, he buries his head further into his pillow, hoping that whoever it is will give up and go away, but then the knocking comes again, louder than before, and along with it Matt's voice, calling for him.

Foggy still can't really open his eyes without wanting to scream--everything is a horrible mixture of bright fuzzy light and dim shadows. So he keeps his eyes closed and trails his fingers along the walls as he heads toward the door, silently counting the steps. He only trips once, over an umbrella that had gotten knocked over, and he smiles a little, proud of himself. He keeps his eyes shut when he opens the door for Matt; Matt won't have any idea anyway.

"Morning, sunshine," Matt says.

"Ha ha," Foggy says dryly, then bites back a moan at the volume of his own voice. "Hilarious. What are you doing here?"

"Karen said you were sick, and you weren't answering our texts," Matt explains. "I wanted to come by and give you the file on a new case we just got this morning."

"You sure you didn't just miss the sultry sound of my voice?" Foggy jokes weakly.

"That may have been a factor," Matt tosses back.

"I knew it. What's the case?"

Matt takes a deep breath that's not quite steady. "You'd find out if you took the file I've been holding out for you for the past thirty seconds."

Foggy suddenly, intimately understands the meaning of the phrase "ice chips skittering up the spine." He breathes in sharply, then cracks his eyes open. Matt is a dark blur in front of him; it takes a moment, but Foggy squints and Matt's hand, holding out a bland file folder, swims into what passes for focus these days. He takes the folder from Matt, and before he even has a chance to open it, Matt continues, "You wanna tell me why Karen printed out this file in both ink and Braille for you?"

Foggy drags in a deep breath. It's more than a little shivery, and not just from the migraine still pounding away in his temple. "I was going to tell you today anyway. You might as well come in."

Matt does. He moves around Foggy's living room almost easier than Foggy does, smoothly sidestepping the umbrella Foggy tripped over, and sits tensely on Foggy's couch. Holding back a groan of pain, Foggy lowers himself into the chair opposite Matt.

There's a taut silence, which Foggy ends up breaking. "I don't really know how to start."

"Are you blind, Foggy?" Matt asks bluntly.

Foggy blinks. "That's one way to start," he mumbles to himself. Runs his fingers through his hair. "Not yet," he says after a moment's thought. "But... Soon. I will be. It's a degenerative disease, probably genetic, super rare. Like rare enough that it doesn't have a name yet. Hey, maybe they'll name it after me," he jokes, but Matt very pointedly does not laugh. Foggy sobers up quickly. "Sorry. They found it a few months ago, when I went to get my vision tested. Things were going kind of blurry and dark around the edges, but I thought it was just normal. Getting older, you know, you need glasses. But they found this instead. I just gestured to my eyes, by the way. It causes vision loss and migraines, which I had the pleasure of experiencing this morning. Eventually I'll be completely blind. Like you but without the extra cool stuff."

"There aren't any treatments?" Matt sounds confused, almost incredulous.

"A couple," Foggy replies, dragging his hand through his hair again. It's greasy, tangled. He needs a shower and about forty-eight hours of sleep. "They don't always work even under the best of circumstances, and they caught mine pretty late in its progression. I'm allergic to the only FDA-approved medication. And the surgery--" He shrugs helplessly. "Every doctor I've talked to and every source I can find says it only works about 25-30% of the time at this stage. And even if it does work, all it does is halt the degeneration. It doesn't give me any vision back that I've already lost." He pauses, then adds, "Plus, money, you know. It's a thing I don't have."

"So--" Through Foggy's hazy vision, Matt's frame looks even more tense than before. "So what, you're just--resigning yourself to this?"

"No," Foggy starts. He thinks he sees where this is going, and he's so tired.

Matt cuts him off, stands up and starts pacing without seeming to realize he's doing it. "This isn't like getting your tonsils taken out or losing the tip of your pinky or something, Foggy, this is--this is forever, this changes everything! How you move, how you work, how people treat you--this--this isn't a blindfold you can just take off when you're done. It's permanent. Once your eyes are gone, they're gone. And you're telling me there's nothing that can be done to fix it?" His voice is getting more and more agitated, his footsteps louder, turning into something closer to stomping than pacing. "Have you called your insurance company about this?" he asks, almost vicious in his zealousness. "Gotten a second opinion? Anything?"

Foggy waits for a moment, drawing out the silence, hoping that it'll make Matt calm down a little. "You done?" he asks finally, through gritted teeth.

Matt's breathing is still a little heavy, like he just went three rounds with a punching bag, but he quiets after a minute and sits back down.

Foggy starts talking without really knowing where he's going. He feels like he's ripping open his chest cavity and baring his entire soul. "Yes, to your first and second questions. I have, in fact, called my insurance company so many times that I've memorized their entire automated menu system. Did you know it takes a minimum of seven different menus before you get an actual human to talk to? And yeah, I've gotten a second opinion. And a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, when I couldn't even afford the first one. They all say the same thing: it's late stage, it's incurable, better buy your cane now, good thing you already know Braille, right, haha, I'm a funny doctor."

He takes a long breath and lets it out slow, to calm himself. "I know," he says, quiet again, "how this must seem to you. It seems like an insult. Like I'm just letting it happen, whereas you had no choice in the matter, no warning. But this isn't about you. I love you, Matty, but you have this tendency to--to think pretty exclusively about how stuff relates to you, and I get that, that's normal human behavior, but this is a completely separate situation. And I promise you, I have done everything--" His voice wavers, and he stops for a moment, lets himself breathe before continuing. "I have done everything I can think of to make this stop. And nothing has worked. So I'm dealing with it. I've already been through the there-has-to-be-something-we-can-do stage and I've moved on to the let's-accept-this-for-what-it-is-and-roll-with-it stage. But...I'm still fucking terrified, you know?" His voice wavers again, but this time he doesn't stop. "It's so gradual, it's like you almost don't notice it's happening, until one day you open up a book you've read a million times and you can't see the words, no matter how much you squint. And you start missing things in conversation, little gestures that people make in the periphery that you should be able to see.

"What I'm trying to say is, I need you to be with me on this. You and Karen. I've been doing this alone so far, but I can't anymore. I don't want to."

Matt is silent and still, so still it almost seems like he's holding his breath. Then he bows his head, removes his glasses and runs his fingers through his hair, mirroring Foggy. "I'm sorry, Foggy, he says. "I didn't mean to--"

"I know," Foggy interrupts with a tired, forced smile. "Let's start over. Good afternoon, Matt. How's your day?"

Matt chuckles and plays along. "Pretty slow and uneventful. "How was yours?"

"Not so good, my friend. See, I found out a couple of months ago that I'm going blind and I decided to tell my best friend about it today, except he confronted me about it first."

"Oh, how did that go?" Matt's still humoring him, which Foggy is grateful for.

"Terrible," Foggy fake-confesses. "So far, anyway. But I think we can turn it around."

Even with his shit eyes and a lingering migraine, he can sense Matt's smile faltering. Matt leans forward again, earnest and sincere. "I am sorry, Foggy," he says seriously. "I shouldn't have gone off like that. You're right, this isn't about me."

"It's fine," Foggy says, heart racing. He doesn't want this to go any deeper than it already has or he might actually cry, and he's only just got the headache down to a manageable level of pain. "No harm done."

But Matt's frame stays tense. His uncovered eyes make his face look bare, stripped almost naked. It makes Foggy's throat tight, that he gets to see this, no matter how blurry. "I'm still going to call your insurance company. I'll make an appointment with my own doctor. He specializes in working with blind people. I know you've done everything you can, but I don't believe there's nothing at all that can be done. As for all the...other stuff...I don't know how much help I'm going to be," Matt admits. "But I can try. I'll do--whatever you need. What do you need me to do?"

Don't give up on me, Foggy thinks, but says instead, "You could start narrating your expressions, maybe."

Matt jerks back, badly startled. "It is that far along already?" he asks, and Foggy knows he's beating himself up for not noticing it sooner.

Foggy says truthfully, "There are good days and bad days. Today's bad because of the migraine. It'll help to get into the habit before you really need to."

"I can do that," Matt agrees.

"You did learn from the best."

"That I did."



(A/N: I'm thinking maybe one or two more parts after this? Not totally sure where I want to go with it but I have some ideas. Hope you enjoy!)

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 5/?

[(Anonymous)]

I am simultaneously DYING BECAUSE OH GOD FOGGY, but cooing because that last exchange is still so cute. ;____;

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 5/?

[(Anonymous)]

Oh god I'm screeching because I feel so bad for poor Foggy but the interaction was so cute and Matt and Foggy arghhh and just "You learne from the best." "That I did." Feelings I check back frequently for updates and I screech a lot when there is. You're awesome, author anon

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

By screen reader do you mean Braille display?

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

author anon: *facepalm* yep. will fix when finished and added to ao3, thank you for catching that.

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

He would need screenreader software too. That's what controls the Braille display. It also actually reads the text on the screen, which when turned up really fast (takes practice to understand!) is useful for skimming a page and just plain easier than the Braille display sometimes. He probably wouldn't get that in a store though, he'd more likely download it if he doesn't have a computer with it pre-instated (like macs do).

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

There was a week when I thought (w/some medical reason) that I was likely going to go blind soon...this is bringing back memories (what do I want/need to go and look at? how quickly can I finish that sight-requiring project that matters to me?). Good writing, anon, even while this fill is breaking my heart.

Re: Fill: Foggy is going blind, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

I'm sorry that happened, that must have been rough. But I'm glad you think it's good! I don't really know much about blindness/the different processes of going blind, so I'm doing some research but also just kind of throwing everything together and hoping for the best.