Hi, sorry for the delaaaay.
I started writing this as one part then in got too long so I'm going to do a double update! (Yaaaaaaay!)
Also 17.2K VIEWS AND 742 VOTES WHAT THE HECK TYSM LOVE YOU OK ENOUGH WITH THE A/N
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Instagram. It was Instagram. That's where this all started.

Actually, it was technically when Peter got Ben's old camera, but that's besides the point.

It was on Instagram that he got famous.

Evie, I think you're confusing them.

Aaaand how would I be doing that, Mr Parker?

One, please don't call me that, it makes me sound as old as Mr Stark and two, it would make more sense to start from the beginning.

Ugh, fine, we'll start aaaaaaall the way on the 10th of August, two years ago...

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"You got one more present, Pete."

Peter looked up from his new Lego set, surrounded by a sea of Star Wars themed wrapping paper. "Another one? I'm only thirteen!"

"Yeah, well, this one is special."

The glint in Ben's eye won over Peter's curiosity. He took the odd gift from his uncle's hands and very carefully pulled the paper off. He gasped. "Really?" He whispered, looking up in awe. Ben nodded, sending Peter into an excited flurry. "No way! How do I turn it on... here! Oooooooh!" Peter aimed the lens at Ben and May, smiling. "Why did you give me your camera?"

Ben studied the black Canon in his nephew's hands, an odd shine in his eyes. "I want to pass it down to you. You'll put better use to it than me."

Peter smiled softly. "Thank you." He launched himself at the couple, wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered, leaving the rest of his meaning unsaid. For looking after me, for not abandoning me, for giving me the best you could, for being here.

"Okay." May patted Peter's arm and he pulled away, beaming. "Who wants pancakes!"

"ME!" Faster than lightning, Peter bolted into the kitchen, grabbing the wall as he slid around the corner in his slippers. May chuckled as she spotted a glimpse of wrapping paper stuck to the Iron Man pyjamas.

"Slow down, Peter!" She tapped Ben's knee and got up, following the chaotic ball of energy known as her nephew.

A year and a month later, Peter had changed. Once chaotic and full of energy, he was now quiet, shy, almost weak. He was then, so why shouldn't he be now? He sighed, shaking his pen aggressively as it stuck to his palm before flopping down in defeat. Stupid spider. Why him? Why couldn't it have bitten someone else? Someone who knew what to do with these weird, freaky abilities?

With yet another resigned sigh, Peter picked himself off the bed. His foot snagged on his bag and he tripped, reaching for the bookshelf in a desperate attempt to break his fall. He had misjudged his strength, as usual. Books came raining down on his head, accompanied by other bits of bric-a-brac and collectables, landing in a resounding crash on the wooden floor. Great, Peter growled internally, now I get to clean this all up.

He bent down, gathering heavy textbooks and science thesis in his arms, disregarding any order. His foot nudged something as he straightened, causing him to look down.

It was a camera.

Dusty, a little worn around where people had held it, a slightly fraying strap and a scratch down the side.

Peter shoved the books on the shelf, keeping his eyes trained on the camera until he could get a good look at it. In all honesty, he had forgotten about it. After... everything had happened, it had slipped his mind.

His first instinct was to throw it away, lock it somewhere where memories couldn't haunt him, but something stopped him. Written on the underside of the strap was Ben's handwriting, printed neatly.

"With great power comes great responsibility." Peter chuckled. Of course. Of course Ben would write his motto on the camera. He turned to the small window, watching as cars honked by outside through the torrent of misty rain. At first glance, anybody would turn away at the dismal sight, finding the scene too gloomy. But as Peter stared at it some more, things started to pop out. The soft spots of colour that twinkle against the dark asphalt. The small sliver of gold that edged the grey clouds. The shining sheen everything had. It was... oddly beautiful.

With great power...comes great responsibility.

Without a second thought, Peter switched on the camera. An old memory in his mind came back as he adjusted the lighting on the camera. Once it was focused, he clicked, producing a beautiful image. He had quite a gift for photography, though he had never realised until now.

He smiled.

benjamin's camera

benjamin's camera A beautiful daughter for an average looking man XD @you_know_eho_i_am_ts

benjamin's camera

benjamin's camera A throne fit for a king... or a tin can @you_know_who_i_am_ts

benjamin's camera

benjamin's camera Sunsets just make me so happy, y'know?

A year later, Peter had kept up the habit and had decided to post it on Instagram. Not wanting anyone to know who it was, he had created a new account labelled 'Benjamin's Camera'. It blew up. After the photo shoot Peter did of the Avengers, likes and followers started rolling in. Some people began asking for him to take family photos or other events. Someone even asked for him to be the wedding photographer, which he accepted gratefully. Still, not many people actually knew who was behind the lens.

The first big excitement aroused when he posted pictures from a photo shoot with his girlfriend. No one at school knew he was dating because they still seemed kinda distant, so it was the perfect opportunity to post them.

benjamin's camera

benjamin's camera
Just finished a photoshoot with my wonderful girlfriend @mzjones

The comments blew up. Michelle had compliments showering over her left 4ight and center, while others were starting to press for a face reveal of the man behind the camera. Everyone had started calling Peter Ben, but oddly, he didn't mind. It was Ben that had started this in the first place, after all.

Benjamin's Camera was all over the place. Everyone knew about it. TikTok, Facebook, Snapchat, absolutely everything. Even Flash was interested, wondering if he could get a photo shoot with his new Tesla. (Peter/Ben said no, he was busy with "college work".) Peter would take his camera on patrol, snapping shots of Queens in between muggings and robberies, stashing the bag right next to the secret compartment for his suit. He even uploaded MJ's artworks from time to time

benjamin's camera

benjamin's camera Artwork done by my wonderful girlfriend, @mzjones

Flash was over the moon at this new photography star. "Hey guys," he said as he walked in late to a decathlon meeting. "What you you think of Benjamin's Camera on Insta?"

"It's so cool," Liz answered. "Ben really has a talent."

A soft blush began to grow on Peter's cheeks, much to his annoyance. "Should we be getting on with the question? The answer is alpha particle by the way."

"Are you jealous, Parker? That someone has more talent than you? Maybe now you understand how the rest of us feel, Mr I-know-the-answer-to-everything."

His face grew hot. "I-I don't! I don't-I don't know the answer to everything?"

Flash quirked an eyebrow. "Really? What's the meaning of life?"

"42. Everyone knows that."

"Okay, let's calm down and get on with the practice." Liz intervened, playing peacemaker before someone became a punching bag. " What are the two other forms of radioisotope decay?"

Peter sighed and watched MJ as she answered. Did people really not like just because he got good marks? That seemed kinda pointless, but he did see the point. Heh, look at that contradictory statement.

He turned his focus back to the practise, his eyes darting to the clock every few minutes. His hands itched for the feel of the smooth, black camera between them, the satisfying click of the lenses. There wasn't too long to wait now.

Eventually Liz glanced at her watch. "Okay, that wraps it up for the practice. Good job guys!" Everyone bustled and hurried to leave while Liz walked over to Peter. "Hey, you alright? You didn't answer as much as usual."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I just thought that maybe the others might like a turn of- a turn of answering."

Liz nodded, but was still sceptical. Peter took her hesitation as a time to leave, almost skipping out the door as he forced himself not to run. He walked over the oval and down to the train station, where someone was waiting for him.

"Yo, Parker!"

Please not now.

"Don't ignore me!"

A hand grabbed Peter's bag roughly, almost pulling him to the ground. "What do you want?" He asked, a small tremble in his voice.

Flash sneered. "You to get out of my life."

"Ouch." Peter tried to get up, but was forced bag down again by one of Flash's friends, who took his bag. "Hey, no, give it back!"

"What, this? What's important in here?" The bully began digging through, pulling out books and stationary and scattering them all over the station floor.

Please don't find the secret compartment, please don't find the suit, Peter chanted, over and over again in his head.

Flash didn't find the suit. "What's this?" He asked leeringly, pulling out an odd-shaped bag.

"No please don-" A breath was expelled as Flash's goon shoved him back down. "Give... that... back..."

He chuckled, unzipping the bag. "A camera," he said in mock awe. "To Peter, from Uncle Ben," he read on one side of the the strap, not seeing the other message. "Ugh, it's so worn."

"No!" The tearing of fabric ripped through the air. Flash dropped the camera with its torn strap on the ground and placed a foot on it.

"Should I do it, Parker?"

Peter shook his head furiously, but it was too late. The crunch of plastic and glass filled his ears and he winced, not being able to watch. He only opened his eyes when the goon stood up, freeing Peter of his prison.

"Enjoy your camera now, Parker."

Peter watched in horror as Flash saunted away, leaving the remains of the camera at its owner's feet. A tear splashed on the ground as Peter bent down, studying the damage.

It was definately beyond repair.

He swallowed, his vision blurring as he picked up the camera. He uncooked the broken strap and gently removed the SIM card, which was thankfully still intact, and very gingerly, picked up the destroyed camera. There was nothing to do but chuck it.

It was a melancholy teenage boy that stepped on the train, his eyes red and his face patchy as he clutched the broken fabric in his hand. The writing was fading, almost to beyond readability, but he could still make out the faint motto. With a resigned sigh, he sat back in his seat, his curls falling as low down his face as they could go.