Hellooooooo this one is a bit different :) based on real life experiences from yours truly, and yeah :)
Enjoy some bittersweet fluffs

AU where the spider bite doesn't give Peter enhanced senses.

Mary adjusted the baby in her lap, trying to comprehend the words the audiologist had just told her. Richard squeezed her hand, obviously stumbling over the thought of reality just as much as she was. "He's... deaf?"

"Hearing impaired, yes." The audiologist, Kristy, gave the young couple a sad smile. "You're very lucky to have picked up on it at such a young age. Things will definitely be a bit tricky as he gets older, but knowing when he's still 8 weeks old means that you can get all the preparation you need for him now, such as early intervention, signing classes if you need or want, etcetera."

Richard nodded, squeezing Mary's hand gently. Peter watched in her arms, oblivious to the conversation as he watched the world with his big, blueish-brown eyes. Mary stroked his head. Her precious little sunbeam of joy couldn't hear. He couldn't hear the sounds of birds, or the wind in the trees, he couldn't hear cars or the bustling streets of New York, he couldn't enjoy the melodies and harmonies of music, or even hear his own mother's voice. It was a harsh reality to realise, but it was true.

That night, the couple had a long discussion on what to do. He was still so little, so they had a lot of room to work with.

"So do we try to teach him to talk and listen? Or sign? Will he want hearing aids? There are too many questions," Mary sighed flopping down on the couch.

Richard nodded, agreeing. He paused, thinking. "I'm gonna call May," he said, grabbing the phone. May Parker, his sister-in-law, was a teacher's aid in special needs classes and often worked with deaf kids. He picked up the phone, tapping his foot as the dial rang.

"Hellooo."

"Hey May, it's Richard. We... well, we took Peter to the audiologist today, and... He's hearing impaired."

"... oh wow. That's unexpected."

"Yeah."

Mary walked up behind Richard, massaging his shoulders and listening in. "We're trying to decide whether we take him to early intervention and teach him to talk and listen or if we teach him to sign."

May was quick to answer. "What kind of hearing loss does he have?"

"Moderate-moderately severe neurosensory hearing loss. No idea what that means."

May laughed. "On a scale to mild to profound, profound being completely deaf, he's in the moderate to moderately severe range, so he can't hear a lot. Neurosensory hearing loss has to do with the little hair cells inside the cochlear being bent over, which are the hairs that pick up the vibrations and send them to the brain. So when they're bent over, they don't pick up much." She paused, filling her silence with the sound of rustling pages. "I'd say teach him to talk. He still has some hearing, and hearing aids will do the trick, and it will be easier for him later in life when he applies for jobs, goes to school, etc. And he can always learn sign- in fact, it'll probably be easier to learn if he can talk."

The couple nodded, agreeing. "Thank you so much, May," Mary said.

"Anytime. I'll leave you to it, but if you ever have questions just let me know. I have some books that might help."

"That would be great, thank you." Richard hung up and sighed. "This makes things far more interesting, doesn't it?"

Mary nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. "It does. It does indeed."

* * * * *

Peter was soon fitted with tiny little hearing aids that looked far too big on his small head. The hearing aid had two parts: the bit that sat behind the ear, with all the technology and stuff in it that processed sound that was beige, and the somewhat squishy bit that sat in the bowl of the ear called the ear mould was clear. It was very discreet, but was a pain when Peter inevitably figured out how to take them out at the beach. It took several hours to find them in the sand when that happened while Peter sat there, burbling happily to himself.

He also had a bad habit of pulling them out in other horrendous places. The supermarket was one, where he left them on a shelf and Mary panicked when she got home and realised they were gone. Thankfully a worker had found them and they were soon returned to the small baby.

He also dropped them out of the pram when they went walking, and found chewing on the mould quite fascinating. His parents were not impressed, so he was constantly forced to wear headbands and beanie to keep his fingers away.

That obviously didn't stop him.

Thankfully, as he grew up, the habit stopped and they were no longer pulling hearing aids from his mouth or from under couches. He also started early intervention with a lovely lady named Sharmaine, who began to teach him how to listen for the sounds that people make when they talk called phonetics. It was mainly little games and memory things to help learn and remember, and his parents were always diligent in making sure his hearing aids were in at all possible times. He learnt to talk (his first words were "'urry up!" which made everyone laugh,) and when he hit the terrible age of four, he was starting to grow bored of it all.

There was one particular day where he was incredibly snarky to everyone and everything, making his mother nearly cry, when Sharmaine piped up. "Peter," she said as he twanged a ruler against the edge of the table, "are you bored?"

The toddler nodded, not even looking up.

"Do you want me to teach you how to read?"

His eyes grew wide as he perked up, suddenly excited. "Uh, duh!"

Mary laughed. "I'd better enrol you in for school next year."

Peter grew even more excited about that. Sharmaine began to teach him how to read, starting with the basics like "cat", "hat", etc. Phonics were certainly difficult in the English language, but Peter had spent his whole life learning them and picked up on the words fairly quickly.

By the time he started his first day of kindergarten, he was well ahead of the other kids, despite his disability. It shocked the teachers a bit to see him so far ahead, but when Mary and Richard finally got his IQ tested, saying that it was "some tests for school," they soon understood. Not many people had an IQ of 250, let alone 5-year-old boys.

Peter grew up fairly normally when it came to learning. Well, not, he didn't. He was far ahead of everyone else, but he didn't know it.

His home life changed, though.

After he moved in with May and Ben, he grew a lot more solemn, preferring to sit quietly on the silver benches and watch as the other kids played. It was noisy during recess and lunch, with his hearing aids trying to pick up all the different voices. It sometimes became to much, so he would hide out in his teacher's classroom, reading quietly to himself while she prepared for the next lesson.

He soon crawled out of that shell, however, and became really good friends with a boy named Harry. Harry had originally thought that Peter's hearing aids were spy gadgets and made some out of paper. They played spies a lot during breaks, sneaking through the playground like they worked for SHIELD or something. It was loads of fun.

Then came the dreaded year of 3rd grade. With the unfortunate babysitter. Nuh-uh, no way was Peter going back to school. Absolutely not. He hardly came out of his room, let alone out of the apartment.

May and Ben tried everything they could to make him feel better, to make him feel safe with them, but nothing would work. Peter stayed determinedly burrowed up in his bedroom, hiding under a blanket as he played chess with himself. The world was too scary for him.

It wasn't until a few weeks later, when Ben was cooking in the kitchen while May was at work, when he heard the soft sound of a door opening and feet creeping along the carpet. The creak of old hinges and then, a gentle note from the old piano. Then a couple more. And a soft giggle.

Ben walked to the doorway of the living room, watching as his nephew played around with the piano, playing random notes. Peter played a couple and stopped, tilting his head. He played them again, this time changing the rhythm, then played a few more notes. When he found the right one, he played the pattern again. The more notes he added, the more Ben recognized the song.

He was playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

By ear.

This hearing impaired child, who had never played any musical instrument before, was learning a song just from his memory and his ears.

It was a miracle.

"Peter."

The boy spun around, his eyes wide as he watched his uncle.

"You're not in trouble."

Peter watched as his uncle gave him a gentle smile. "I'm... not?"

Ben shook his head. "No. You're a genius, that's what you are. You're teaching yourself to play a song using only your ears."

Peter paused, contemplating what his uncle had told him. "Normal people can't do that?"

"No. Only special people can. May I sit next to you?"

Peter nodded, scooching over on the bench to let Ben sit down. Ben took Peter's hands gently and placed them on the piano. "This note is called C." He pressed the key with Peter's finger and continued. "C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C. Then it repeats."

"Like the alphabet?"

"Like the alphabet. Now-"

They sat there for a long time, Ben teaching Peter the different notes and helping him finish learn the song. When May opened the door, she nearly cried when she saw her nephew giggling next to his uncle as they played the lullaby together. She nearly cried with joy.

Ben continued to teach Peter how to play piano and eventually got him with an actual teacher who was kind and understood Peter's needs. Peter worked hard, often sitting himself down for ages just to play the same two bars of "Feather Theme" over and over until he could play it with his eyes closed. Piano was something he could use to unwind and relax, and he soon developed a deep passion for music, quite ironically. He joined school choirs and bands, playing percussion instruments such as timpanis, glockenspiels and cymbals. He loved the timpanis the most though.

As Peter got older, he began to notice how different his learning and life was to other kids. While many kids preferred to sit at the back where they could hide away from the work, Peter always sat at the front where he could hear and see the teacher. Thankfully his two friends, Ned and MJ, understood and more than happily sat with him. He also had to go through the anxiety-inducing process of explaining how his FM transmitter worked. Basically there were two parts: the receiver and the microphone. The microphone was a device shaped a little like a blocky phone that the teacher could wear around their neck. The receiver was in the hearing aid, and sent the audio from the microphone directly to the hearing aid. Rather than explaining that, however, Peter always needed up simplifying things by telling them to wear it around their neck and showing them the mute button.

There was also that petrifying day when Peter forgot his hearing aid batteries.

He had been in science, with Mr Harrington, when one ear filled with the dreaded chiming that signalled a flat battery. Peter dug around the front pocket of his bag, feeling with his fingers as he kept his eyes on the board for the batteries. When he couldn't feel them, he pulled the bag on his lap and started searching. Nothing. Nada, nil, zilch, nothing. Oh well, it's only one ear, he thought as he pulled the now dead hearing aid out and slipped it in his pocket.

Oh how he was wrong.

Ye Ole Parker Luck decided that today would be the day it reared its ugly head.

Gym. Halfway through. It was already a pain because the sound of basketballs slamming against the smooth wooden court was setting him off because one ear wasn't functioning, so the dread that filled him when the gosh-forsaken chiming rang in the other ear was paralyzing.

Not now. It was last period, and he was so close to the end. Peter sneakily shot May a message as a desperate cry for help and she replied saying something about being there shortly. While he waited, Peter could do nothing but watch- no, hear- what little remained of his hearing slowly fade until he was left all on his own. He asked Coach Wilson quietly if he could go to the office to pick up batteries, waiting until he replied before walking quickly out the doors.

There was something eerie about walking through the halls in near silence. It wasn't like everything was quieter. He couldn't hear anything in higher pitches unless they were ridiculously loud, and speech was slurred, like a drone, or like being underwater. He could hardly hear his shoes against the floor, or the door shutting as a teacher walked out. Peter's heart thumped wildly in his chest as he walked through the office. He really hoped no one tried to talk to him.

The ladies at the office gave him a smile, talking to him as they held up the batteries. Peter smiled, nodding as he watched their lips for any hints on what they were saying. The batteries in his hearing aids were quickly replaced and when he put them in, it was like he had opened his eyes after a nap, or someone had switched on a light in a dark room. The room was full of noise: the computers whirring, the clacking of keyboards, phones ringing, voices, footsteps, everything came rushing back, but not in a bad way. Peter grinned and thanked the ladies, then jogged back to gym. At least he could hear now.

For the most part, Peter seemed to function like a normal kid. Sure, noisy situations were annoying, but he could understand and communicate with people, and he did exceptionally well in English despite his disability.

His ears wouldn't be his main problem as he got older.

Oh no, they were only one part to the problem.

* * * * *

"Okay, now go slow."

Peter watched the road as he inched slowly out of the parking lot. Driving was scary, even for a fifteen-year-old. May was just as tense as he was, her hand darting towards the wheel every now and then. Peter squinted at the sign coming up, trying to read the white letters. How anyone was supposed to see them Peter would never know. It wasn't until he had just about passed the sign that he saw it said 'Queens Boulevard.'

"Aaaaaand you missed the turnoff."

"Yeah, I couldn't read the sign. Why are the letters so small?"

May gave him a confused glance. "You couldn't read it?"

"... nooooo..."

"Hmm." May sat back, thinking. The lights ahead of them turned red. "BRAKE BRAKE BRAKE BRAKE BRAKE-"

"I AM BRAKING, MAY!" Peter cruised to a halt at the intersection. "I'm not colour-blind!"

"Yeah, well we're still getting your eyes tested. Ease off the brake, slowly."

Peter frowned at the road as the car began to inch forwards. "Wait why? Since when?"

"Since you told me you couldn't read the sign. Turn right here."

Peter scowled and turned, but something kept nagging him at the back of his mind.

* * * * *

Peter walked out of the optometrist with May, rubbing his thumb against the cover of his new glasses case. "Guess you were right about my eyes. Two senses down, three more to go. Well... four," he added.

May gave him a playful roll of her eyes. "Hey, you look good with glasses." She paused. "You look like your dad."

Peter nodded and they lapsed into silence. To be honest, Peter loved his glasses. They were round with a reddish tortoiseshell pattern that accented the pink tones of his skin nicely without looking too bold on his face. And they brought out the green in his hazel eyes.

It wasn't long until Peter noticed May was being unusually quiet. Well, he didn't notice until her least favourite song came on the radio and she didn't change it. "May..." he asked tentatively, "are you okay? You're really quiet."

"Hmm?" May snapped out of her trance. "Yeah, no, I'm fine."

Peter merely raised his eyebrow. She gave a quick glance at him and sighed. "I was just... thinking."

"About what?"

She sighed again. "I don't know." They fell into another bout of silence before she spoke up. "When your parents told me about your hearing loss, I was a little shocked because your family doesn't have a history of it, at least, not from what Ben said. So I was reading about different causes for your type of hearing loss, and I found one connected to eyes... I don't think you have it though. It's extremely rare, like 4-17 in 100, 000 people, so it's very unlikely that you have it. And it doesn't involve an astigmatism, which is what you have."

"Hmm." Peter nodded. "So now I have glasses AND hearing aids. And the contacts are coming soon."

"Yes. Soon."

* * * * *

"HEADS!"

Bonk. The ball landed smack in Peter's face and he stumbled back, his eyes watering. It was a good thing he had his contacts in, or else he would be dealing with broken glass in the mix. Coach Wilson came rushing over, helping Peter off the floor. "You alright Parker?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good, I'm good. Just- didn't see the ball."

Flash, who had thrown the ball, snorted. "Dude, how did you not see it? It was right in front of your face!"

MJ flipped him off and walked over to Peter. "Ned and I can take him to the nurse's office to make sure he's not broken," she said pointedly, glaring at Peter. He had a history of broken noses.

Coach nodded and the three of them walked out of the gym, taking the shortest route possible. Which involved a dimly lit staircase. To any normal person, the stairs would have been easy to walk down, but Peter froze at the top. MJ turned around.

"You good?"

"I can't see where the stairs end or begin."

Ned frowned. "You've never had that problem before."

"I know." Peter widened his eyes as much as possible, but it did nothing. So he pulled out his phone and turned on the flash. Much better. He walked down carefully, ignoring Ned and MJ's concerned looks. "Yay I didn't die. Andiamo!"

"Peter, you're broken."

Peter turned around. "You only just noticed this?"

MJ rolled her eyes but continued, not saying another word about it. It still bugged her though.

* * * * *

Peter flopped down on the couch next to Tony, already reaching for the bowl of popcorn. 

"FRIDAY, dim the lights."

FRIDAY obeyed Tony's command and the lights dropped for the movie.

"WAIT I FORGOT THE APPLE JUICE!" Peter jumped up and fell into the coffee table. "Ow. I'm fine," he muttered before getting up and stumbling out of the room into the kitchen, not before stubbing his toe against the door frame.

Tony watched after him, completely befuzzled. "Hey kid, you blind or something?"

"Hmm?" Peter stuck his head back around the corner. "What did you say?"

"You blind or something?"

Peter glared at him. "No, the glasses are purely for fashion. Yes I'm blind."

"Glasses don't help with night vision though. You've never had trouble with the dark before, have you?"

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes. "First MJ, now you. What's the problem? It's dark; of course I can't see."

Tony furrowed his eyebrows but didn't say anything. "Alright, go get your apple juice like the child you are." He chuckled as Peter glared at him and walked out, but Tony shot May a quick text about what he had just witnessed.

* * * * *

Peter tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. May sighed next to him. Hospitals were always boring and Peter was nervous. He rocked slightly in his chair, thinking about what was about to happen.

"You ready to see the genetics councillor?" May asked.

Peter shrugged. It was hard to be excited about having your blood drawn. Especially when it was so they could test you for a rare genetic syndrome that held scary prospects. Peter groaned and rested his head back.

"Peter Parker?"

The two Parkers shot up and followed the woman into the office. A woman smiled warmly at them shaking their hands as they sat down. "Hi, I'm Melissa, the genetics councillor. Now, you're here to get genetic testing done for Peter, yes?" May nodded. "Great. I'm just going to explain what they're looking for first." Melissa ruffled through her papers and laid one out in front of them. On it were drawings of different DNA chromosomes. "So, we're testing you for Usher Syndrome, yes? Do you understand what it is?

Peter shrugged. "Kind of?"

Melissa smiled. "It's okay if you don't" Basically it's a genetic disorder that impacts your hearing and vision. From what we've gathered with your hearing and eye tests you would most probably have Type II out of the three types that are there. There are also different categories within the types, but that's not important right now. 
"With Type II, you're born with the hearing loss, and during your adolescence, your eyesight starts to deteriorate. It begins with night blindness, light sensitivity, some spots in your vision, etc. Then those spots in your vision get larger and larger until a certain point and you end up with some form of tunnel vision."

May nodded slowly. "Is there a cure?"

"Unfortunately not yet, but there are medical procedures you can do once your eyes have finished deteriorating and medicine is advancing quickly, so who knows? There might be one in the future." She paused at their serious faces. "But hey, you might not even have it, okay? It is rare; about 4-17 people every 100,000."

Peter nodded. There was still a slim possibility. And a tiny voice at the back of his mind told him that he probably did have it.

They took the blood quickly, met with another councillor and soon left, both of them a little down at the possible prospects of Peter's future.

"Let's get gelato," May said suddenly. "Just to cheer us up."

"Agreed."

* * * * *

It was nine months later and Peter lay on the couch, a pile of damp tissues next to him and his head on May's lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, sniffing softly. "So..." she started, not quite sure what to say. "How do you feel about it?"

"I don't wanna go blind," Peter whimpered.

"I know. I know, baby." She sighed, pulling him into a hug. "But we'll make do with what we have left, okay?"

"How much time is left?'

"I wish we knew." They sat there in silent apart from Peter's gentle sniffles, May comforting him the best she could. "At least you'll get out of gym class," she said, trying to lighten to mood.

Peter gave out a soft laugh, dabbing at his nose. "I guess." He hesitated, thinking. "Will I still be able to go on patrol?"

May's brows furrowed as she pondered his question. "We'll see. You should be fine for now, though."

Peter nodded and pulled out his phone. He was going to have to tell them eventually.

The Chaos Chat

i cant hear lol
Hey guys

Michael Jackson
OH HEY LOOK WHO'S ALIVE THE  T R A I T O R

Noodlees
MJ be nice he's probably sick
Hey Pete

Michael Jackson
So where have you been, loser?

i cant hear lol
Mourning the loss of yet another sense

Noodlees
Wait what

Michael Jackson
Explain
I am confusion

Noodlees
WE are confusion, comrade

i cant hear lol
Guess who's going bliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind

Michael Jackson
Ohhhhh.
Did you finally get the results?

i cant hear lol
Yeah.
I got Usher Syndrome type II A
woot woot

Noodlees
*aggressively spams virtual hugs*

i cant hear lol
Awww
Thanks Ned

Michael Jackson
WE'RE COMING OVER 
YOU CANNOT STOP US
YOUR ATTEMPT WILL BE FUTILE

True to her word, MJ was at the Parker doorstep in approximately 8 minutes and 34 seconds with an out-of-breath Ned panting beside her. "We ran from the station," she explained simply when Peter opened the door with a confused look.

"You ran, I was dragged," Ned said with a small glare at MJ before turning to his friend and giving him a hug. "I'm sorry Pete."

"It's okay." Peter bit his cheek in a futile attempt to stem the tears. "Gotta make the most of it while we still can, right?"

MJ nodded, joining in on the group hug. May smiled at the three of them. MJ noticed and shot her a death glare to get her to join. "You'll be okay," she said softly. "You're far too invincible for the universe."

Peter simply nodded, unable to express how grateful he was for his little family. 

And so life continued. Peter went and saw all kinds of eye specialists, joined in a bunch of clinical trials, and even connected with some other kids with Usher's. There was another girl in Australia who also had type II A, and he kept in touch with her a lot. He couldn't tell whether it was a mistake or brilliant idea when he added her to a group chat with Ned and MJ. It was chaos.

Because of the spots in his vision, Peter was allowed to sit out in gym class whenever they played a ball sport, much to MJ's jealousy. He also had a bunch more extra time in exams and in-class assignments. Whenever anyone complained, he simply asked them politely if they would like a rare genetic disorder that impacted both your senses and had no apparent cure at this point in time. That shut them up pretty quickly.

Peter moved on from high school to MIT with MJ and Ned. It was a blast, and he and MJ kept falling harder for each other. Spidey continued swinging through the streets whenever he could, saving people from muggings and fires, helping kids with homework and being a generally good citizen. Every time J. Jonah Jameson came round to rear his ugly head in Spidey's business, the webslinger simply states that he couldn't hear anything Jameson was saying because oh dear, his hearing aids had somehow stopped working! What an unfortunate calamity! Then Spidey would swing off, laughing to himself and ignoring Jameson's lies. It was quite an entertaining spectacle.

But all-in-all, life was good. He had an awesome girlfriend, the world's best aunt, a brother-from-another-mother, his favourite mentor and a superhuman family all ready to support him and be there for him. And he wouldn't want to change a thing.

* * * * *

The soft melody of 'Feather Theme' floated down the hall, mingling with the soft tap of Michelle Parker's heels. She paused at the doorway, watching as he played the Steinway piano, blissfully oblivious to anything around him. Peter didn't even need to see the keys to be able to play. The piece had been engrained into his mind long ago, so he simply relied on pure muscle memory.

He finished the piece softly, letting the last chord ring into the air softly. Tessa, his dong, lifted her head off his lap, just as his Spidey Sense tingled softly. "Hey, MJ."

His wife walked up to him, touching his shoulder gently to let him know she was there. "Hey Honey. I finished up the last of the paperwork regarding the apartment complex project and sent that in. Hopefully we can get approval for that."

Peter nodded, leaning into her hug. He was glad to be by her side as they worked together as the CEO's of Stark Industries. He was incredibly grateful how lucky he was to have a wonderful family.

MJ continued. "I managed to get the twins to bed, finally. But Elizabeth is finishing her science project."

"Does she want me to help?" Peter asked.

"No, she was very determined to be a strong, independent female who didn't need any help."

Peter chuckled. "She's just like her mother." He stood up, stretching. Tessa stayed by his side, brushing against his leg so he could grab her harness with ease. The couple, plus the dog, walked out with arm in arm, talking softly as they walked into the kitchen. Ten-year-old Elizabeth sat up at the counter, finishing the last of her Solar System diorama. "Tadaaa!" she said, sticking the last star on and spinning it around to show her parents. "I finished!"

Despite having lost all of his peripheral vision, Peter could still see exactly what was in front of him. It was kind of like looking through narrow binoculars that didn't magnify anything. He inspected the handiwork of his eldest daughter, admiring the careful placement and detail of each of the planets. "That's incredible, Ellie!" He grinned, earning a pleased smile from Elizabeth.

"But wait! There's more!" She switched on a battery pack in the back and the stars came to life with the fairy lights she had stuck through the cardboard. "It glows!"

"Woooooaaaaah that's so cool! You're a natural at this." MJ brushed the girl's curls from her face, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "But now it's time for bed."

"Awwwww." Ellie dragged herself off the stool slowly and gave her dad a hug. "Goodnight, Daddy. Stay safe at work."

"I will, little munchkin." 

MJ took her daughter's hand and gave Peter a quick kiss. "Have fun on patrol. I'll tuck the little one in."

"I'm not little!" Ellie protested, despite only coming up to MJ's waist. She had unfortunately inherited her father's growth genes and was quite small for her age. MJ rolled her eyes fondly and scooped up the girl, giving Peter one last smile as she went into the bedroom.

Peter grabbed his suit and changed, taking a moment to replace the batteries in his hearing aids. He gave Tessa a hug and nipped out the window, Enjoying the sound of New York below him. Because he couldn't see properly, he relied purely on his sixth sense to make sure he didn't swing to his demise. He ended up in Hell's Kitchen, where a voice called out.

"Hey! Webhead! I'm over here!"

"Look, DD, yelling at me isn't going to help. I can't hear properly either." Spider-Man swung down next to Daredevil, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder as a greeting. DD had been the one to help him figure out how to navigate the place without an excellent sense of vision. They weren't alone for long.

"That was a good chimichanga. Oh hey! It's Webby and the Devil! Quick question: how many fingers am I holding up?"

Spidey glared through his suit at Deadpool. Ever since the guy had learnt they were both blind, he kept making quips about it that often meant Peter had to fight hard to keep a straight face. "^ hundred billion," Spidey replied flatly, when he knew he was holding up 3.

Deadpool gasped. "How did you know!?"

"Magic."

"Okay, enough from you two. Who's covering what tonight?"

Spidey screwed his face up in thought. "I can take Brooklyn, Queens and Manhattan. I know those areas like the back of my hand."

"You can't even see the back of your hand. How do you know it so well?" Deadpool quipped.

Daredevil and Spidey both smacked him in the back of his head. "You sure about it Spidey? It's a big area," DD questioned.

"Yeah, I know. I have all the streets mapped out in my head. I do live here, y'know," he added.

Daredevil nodded, satisfied. "I'll take Hell's Kitchen, like always-"

"-and I'll take the Bronx," Deadpool finished.

"Lit. I'll see you guys around... why are you looking at me like that?" 

Deadpool and Daredevil both raised their eyebrows. "I have never heard a grown man say 'lit'," DD said.

Spidey shrugged. "It's a generational thing. I'm a lot younger than you guys think. Adios!" With that, he swung off, grinning under his mask at how confused they must be at his remark. It's true, he thought as he swung off into the cityscape, not many people would've guessed I started this at only 14. His smile saddened softly when he thought back to those days when he could see. But it's okay. I have the best family and job in the world.

And I'm happy.

That's all that matters.

Lol well that's that.

Yeah, so this is the weird thing I have (relax, it's fine, don't be upset, I'm not mad or anything, it's life,) aaaaaaaand yeah

A lot of the stuff in here that I wrote with Peter as a kid and teen is accurate to me, e.g. the learning to read, the learning how to play piano by ear (though it wasn't Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,) the struggling to read street signs, the not being able to see stairs... 

I have many funny stories that I would love to tell :)

Idrk what this was

but anywho 

:)