MTL - Who Doesn’t Like a Sweet Little Alpha? - Chapter 78

Our straight (?) bottom woke up ten years into the future and found himself on the bed of his childhood friend… At the start, the bottom was shocked to his very bones, but he soon quickly accepted this premise and found the whole situation to be rather amusing. Precisely then, the bottom once again went back to his timeline — back to when he and the top were just platonic childhood friends.

Landmines include but are not limited to: Sweet & naive bottom, a president story, logic is dead, slow-progressing romance, the protagonist’s name has too many character strokes, the names are hard to pronounce, too many gay characters…

- Description from novelupdates

She is intelligent, beautiful, calm, and professional. As the youngest chief forensic investigator for the past few years, her future was very bright. All of this, however, changed with a bizarre time-travel.

In this dawn age, we wake up.

Will use countless pairs of eyes to study our home world, and the surrounding environment, we walk as one, build shelters for the bee colony, develop industry, research new technologies, and make use of various resources on the earth.

Soon, we will be all over the world.

A small number of autonomous bee colonies were created, and were added to the colony as independent individuals.

These more powerful swarms have limited free will, but they still obey the highest will incomparably, just like other tool swarms.

As we completely dominate the planets, the will begins to pay attention to those worlds orbiting in other orbits. The smartest autonomous bee swarms have designed new ways of travel, giving us the ability to cross the long distances between planets.

Our swarm will soon become more prosperous.

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.