I Can Copy Everything Without Limit - Chapter 19

One is the gentle and handsome zombie father who has raised her for thousands of years, and the other is the cold and awkward Professor Tianshi who always lectures her. I hate it, why are you digging by Uncle Mei? Jiang Xiaosi bared his teeth, I’ll choose whose blood tastes better… The story of a bouncing little zombie in the Tuoguxiang sex toy store.

- Description from novelbuddy

A smutty LitRPG with a futa lead.Long-running. Support me at Pat.treon.com/winterwhereof and receive early chapters.***Levels. Skills. Dungeons.As a nineteen year old living in modern society, these are terms Zoey is aware of. But had she ever expected to experience these videogame abstractions in the literal sense? To struggle through monster-infested realms, earning skills, casting spells, and acquiring rare and magical items?Obviously not.And more than the strange environment she finds herself in, Zoey contends with the bizarre reality of her class. Of being summoned by a sensual, perverted goddess who has gleefully bestowed a throbbing length between Zoey’s legs, then sent her off with a single unhelpful instruction: to save the world, and ascend to divinity while doing so.It’s all a bit much.But with so many cute girls to lay conquest to, and a new piece of equipment to help her along the way … well, things could be much, much worse.

Finn travels to the timeline after Avengers: Endgame and obtains a system that hides one's own strength while allowing him to grow even stronger!However, he soon discovers that the system's prescribed hiding place is actually Westview!Before long, Wanda will seize control of the entire town, plunging countless people into pain and torment.Fearing exposure and determined not to give up halfway...Finn decides to act first—conquer Wanda and resolve the issue at its root.And thus, he embarks on a road of no return.Here's the cliched NOTE : English is my 3rd language so I'm not proficient in that , so if there are any mistakes please point it out to me

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.