General Thread v2: Enhanced Segregation Techniques!

RestlessRain said:

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God's Strongest Mozumite said:

Good evening TVA, this is your boy God's Strongest Mozumite. The more perceptive amongst you noticed that I took an uncharacteristic two week break from my usual shilling and shitposting here at the ol' asylum, and I'm sure you have questions. "Where have you been, Mozumite?" "Did those dirty KKKrackas finally get to you?" "Did you come back to reclaim your title of "dark enjoyer" from that fag who just got doxed as you were writing this?" Yes to that last one, but as to the first question, it requires a more in-depth explanation. So sit back, put on your favorite Tsukumo Sana stream as background noise, and relax as I spin you a tale...

Spoiler: Warning: life-threatening levels of autism

Our story begins, as all good stories do, with drugs. My regular plug, Lil Sleepy, had recently been arrested by the Peckerwood Police for being within less than 400 feet of a school zone, which is bullshit because he dindu nuffin and never sold any crack rocks to kids. Regardless, I had to find a new source of that good loud. Fortunately, my nigga Big Wakey hooked me up with the addy to a traphouse where they sold the shit I needed. So I laced up my timbs and got to stepping.

Now this particular trap house was in a bad part of town. I mean fuck drive bys, niggas was chucking spears at each other like Shaka Zulu. I saw a nigga with a bone sticking through his nose cutting the heads off of chickens and pouring the blood into a boiling pot while uttering chants and prayers to some unknowable voodoo deity. Probably asking for a white bitch. Yet despite the dangers, I pressed on. Eventually, I found the spot: dilapidated, smelly, and absolutely crawling with crackheads. It was as authentic a trap house as drug money could buy. Assured that this was the place, I stepped over a nigga passed out in the street and walked in.

The inside of the house was as you would expect. Immediately upon entering I was hit by a thick cloud of smoke, probably consisting of weed, vapor, fentanyl, and whatever else niggas could feasibly smoke. As my eyes watered and my lungs burned, I took in my surroundings. Loud, obnoxious mumble rap was being blasted on a bluetooth speaker. Bitches were twerking they stanking asses on a niggas's lap fr. There was even a pack of gentlemanly negros in a corner shooting dice, which I didn't understand since you usually do that outside, but they were likely on several forms of crack at this point so I didn't press the issue. I located the operator of this fine establishment, a Mr. Willie Deez, and began negotiating a fair price. Soon enough I was in possession of the finest buds of OG Orange Dragon Fuck Nigga kush I had ever laid eyes upon. I stowed away my bag and bid my dealer adieu.

Before I could even walk into the next room, however, a ruckus had broken out amongst the crowd of hooligans. The dice game had apparently not gone well for one participant, and a mixture of bruised ego and mind-altering inhibitors had made a tense situation violent. Niggas were punching each other out, hooting and hollering, swinging from chandeliers, shit was wild. Eventually firearms were produced, and niggas started lighting shit up like Christmas. I ducked and weaved, remembering my real nigga training to avoid the cacophony of bullets, but one unlucky move caught me with a freshly dispensed round of 9mm to the skull. I dropped instantly, my vision fading quickly, the last thing I saw being the continued scene of violence as consciousness failed me.

When I awoke, I was no longer in that accursed drug den, nor was there any evidence of injury upon my cranium. I was in a completely unfamiliar location. The walls that surrounded me were comprised of simple wood planks, the ceiling appearing to have been crafted from some thatch-like material. As I arose from the humble bed I was laying in, I took note of the strange tunic and pantaloons I was dressed in, as well as the silver sword that laid propped up against a nearby wall. I stumbled over to the nearest window, and what was revealed to me on the other side was something beyond imagination.

Outside stood a street of dirt and gravel, upon which simple travelers and townsfolk strolled by. Stalls were set up along the way, humble peddlers looking to sell their wares to passerbys. The wares in question varied greatly from vender to vender; one sold simple foodstuffs, another weapons and armor, another still offered strange bottles of queerly-colored liquids and tonics. I was utterly perplexed by this: one moment I was in a sketchy ass part of town, copping some dank kush with my niggas, and one bullet later I'm in a fantasy world? I pondered my situation for a time, until its true nature revealed itself to me: I had been isekai'd!

I quickly gathered my belongings and rushed out of the inn I had apparently been staying at. Sword in its scabbard, and purse of gold coins in tow, I headed through town to find my destination. Sure enough, just as Konosuba had taught me, there was an Adventurer's Guild in the center of town. Walking through its doors, I took in the sights: warriors and heroes of all kinds were gathered around, looking for quests, comparing gear and spells, or relaxing after a particularly taxing adventure. I walked up to a booth labelled "registration" and began the process of becoming an adventurer. The stall used an automated magic system, so there was no one around to tell me that "Real Nigga" was not a valid class of hero. Several minutes of bureaucracy later, and God's Strongest Mozumite was ready to begin his journey to become the strongest hero in all the land!

I made my way to the quest board, another magical contraption, only to find my options were rather limited. Most of the good quests were either too high-level for a novice like me, or already taken by other newbie warriors. I managed to find one that was nice and easy: simply kill 100 low-level slimes in a field outside of town. Yet when I went to select the quest, I was rejected. For some reason, this quest required a party of at least two members to accept. Frustrated at this rebuke, I began to ponder the soul-crushing reality that I would never see my friends and family ever again, until I was snapped out of my stupor by a voice calling from behind me:

"Having trouble, hero?"

As I turned to meet the owner of this sultry and disarming cadence, I was greeted with an incredible sight: standing just in front of me was a tall, beautiful, and if I may say, well-endowed dark elf. She was clothed in fancy silk robes which at once did very little and just enough to preserve her modesty, with what appeared to be a wizard's staff in hand. Fancy jewelry bedazzled her from head to toe, and covering her mouth was a mostly-transparent silk bandana. Her bountiful bosom and tight washboard abs were exposed for all the world to see, and I had to fight to the death to keep my eyes locked with hers, the deep, blood-like crimson of her irises seeming to hypnotize me the longer we exchanged glances. She chuckled softly, at which point I realized I had been staring at her for some time without answering her question.

"Sorry, yeah, I was just trying to accept this quest. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking? I don't think I've seen you here before."

The enchantress before me bowed slightly in greeting,

"I am Clair Miranui, dark elf of the Desolate Valley and novice witch of this guild. Don't let my heritage or title fool you, I'm a very sweet girl. You are?"

A sly grin snuck its way across my face. As if I, the African Aficionado, would ever take offense to her delectably dark skin, or her admittedly based choice of using magic.

"I am but a humble Mozumite, a fellow novice of this guild."

"A Mozumite? How fascinating, I've never heard of such a tribe before. Are they all as cute as you?"

I blush as her forward flirtation. Her advances are as subtle as her clothing, it would seem. I think about her questions, pondering the humble Mozumites, disgusting fetishists that they are.

"Nope, definitely not."

She puts a delicate hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Man I'm good. Once she settles down, Clair once again meets my eyes.

"Back to the matter at hand, I noticed you were rejected by the quest board just now. Let me guess, it demands you have a party?"

Oh yeah, that. I nod my head affirmably, Clair letting out a small sigh in response.

"Yes, I've been having that problem too. This guild is so busy, all the good solo quests get snatched up quickly. Oh, if only there were a handsome young man around here to adventure with..."

Picking up on the metaphorical brick she just threw in my face, I move to respond.

"Well, this is just a slime-killing quest, and it only requires two people. Would you care to join me?"

Clair's face lights up at my suggestion, perhaps elated that I managed to pick up on her advances. Dense anime protagonist, this Mozumite is not.

"Splendid," she exclaims, clapping her hands together, "let's go register our party right away!"

Some minutes later, our party is formed, and the quest is accepted. The slime-infested field is only an hour's travel on foot, so my new party-mate and I spend the time getting to know each other better. Clair regales me with tales of her homeland, the Desolate Valley, a once fertile and peaceful area that was ravaged and corrupted by volcanic activity and dark magic. What resulted was an alien landscape where the plant life was sparse and the animal life was exceedingly hostile. Here her kind, the dark elves, through their hardiness and penchant for adaptation, managed to establish themselves in the hellish wasteland, forming a powerful kingdom that was respected and feared by its neighbors. Dark elves were apparently very cold and xenophobic, but Clair was as warm and welcoming as one could be. No wonder she had chosen to leave her homeland behind in search of adventure. I too was inquired about my origins, as Clair was still fascinated with the existence of the Mozumites, but I was only able to give her vague lore in turn, not wanting to expose the truth about the "real" world when there was no indication the concept existed in the minds of people here.

Eventually, we came across the field that was the object of our quest. The slimes here were small yet plentiful, stained with a sickeningly green hue that reminded me of mucus or stomach bile. As expected, they proved to be little match for our combined force; with my trusty sword, I hacked and slashed my way through the swarm of lethargic creatures, and Clara whipped up brutal and dazzling fire storms that left the slimes as little more than smoldering bubbles. Was she really a novice as she claimed? Was this just the power of magic in this realm? I better start specking into a Spellsword build quick.

In a few minutes, it appeared our work was done, as the slimes that once stretched across the field had been thoroughly exterminated. Clair and I stood there, catching our breath, and I wondered to myself why the Guild felt it necessary to demand a party be formed for such a simple, albeit tedious, mission. My question was, unfortunately, answered, as the ground beneath us began to shake. Clair suddenly grabbed me and cast a teleportation spell, putting some distance between us and the spot where we had once been standing. The ground there suddenly gave way, as a huge, green slime rose from the earth, bubbling and oozing with what I could only assume was rage. Perhaps this was the origin of the many slimes we had slain on the surface; the Slime Queen, if you will. Within her gelatinous body I could see bones, weapons, and fragments of armor, the last remains of unlucky adventurers who had learned the hard way why this quest wasn't to be attempted solo.

With little said between us, Clair and I sprung into action. There was admittedly little I could do, as the Slime Queen was exponentially larger than myself or my sword. Clair, however, was unfazed by the beast's large stature, and wasted no time launching fireballs into its side. Though damage was dealt, the Slime Queen's regenerative abilities outpaced the damaging effects of Clair's magic, quickly draining my captivating companion of her mana. As she stopped to recharge, the Queen advanced towards us, and with little other choice, I dashed forward, uselessly slashing at the monster in an attempt to keep its attention away from Clair. My plan worked, and soon the great slime directed its slow advances towards me as I ran off in another direction.

My plan had seemed to be a success, as Clair continued to recharge her magical aura, until the Slime Queen did something unexpected. A long tentacle of slime suddenly grew out of her side, robust and filled with the remains of dead heroes, and it slammed down in my direction with bone-crunching force. I barely managed to dodge the attack, although I was thrown some distance away, managing to lose grip of my sword in the process. Exhausted and without my only form of protection, the Queen advanced on me, its arm coiled for another strike. Looking upon the harrowing sight, I wondered if there was an isekai world for retards who get killed by slimes as well as crackheads.

"Mozumite!"

A wicked bolt of lightning suddenly impacted the Queen's tendril, severing it from its body and producing what could only be described as a cry of pain from the enormous creature. Clair had finished refreshing her magic, and quickly acted in my defense. The arm fell to the ground with a stomach-churning splat, the gelatinous substance that made up the slime's body losing shape and animation as it splattered across the field. I rose to my feet, beginning to head after the beast to prevent it from cornering Clair, before noticing the items that were once stored in the tentacle were now free of the creature's grasp, albeit still coated with sickening mucus. Ignoring the protests of my stomach, I decided to be resourceful, grabbing a soaked-through knapsack and scouring through its contents. Inside were mostly books, seemingly unremarkable except for once, which was more ornately-decorated and bore the unmistakable depiction of a snowflake on its cover.

A sudden flash of purple light announced the arrival of Clair, who had used her teleportation magic to evade the monster's grasp. She looked down at me, perhaps about to scold me for milling about in the midst of an important fight, before her eyes were drawn to the book in my hand.

"A spell tome! Where did you find that?"

Not wanting to waste time by answering her question, I quickly rise and hand it to her, knowing she could make better use of it than I. Though also put off by the slime coating it, Clair quickly perused its contents.

"This tome holds a Blizzard spell! It's an exceptionally powerful spell."

"It was contained within the slime, one of its victims must've been planning to use it on her."

"Of course!" Clair exclaimed, nearly bringing her palm to her face before remembering it was still slick with slime, "Slimes are naturally weak to ice magic, it counteracts their regenerative properties! How could I have been so foolish as to not purchase an ice spell before coming here?"

Guess that answers that, Clair is as much a novice as she claimed. Despite her frustration with herself, she re-focuses, closing the book and handing it to me.

"Wait, shouldn't you be using it? You're the mage here."

"Witch, and spell tomes don't require magical proficiency to use, anyone can pick one up and cast a spell simply by reading them. That's their advantage. So here's the plan: I'm going to give that big snot bubble everything I got, and when I've blown a big enough hole into its side, you'll cast that Blizzard spell and freeze it to the core. Destroying it after that should be as simple as one lightning spell. But you need to be precise with the cast, as spell tomes only have one use before they're spent. You think you can do it?"

The cry of the Slime Queen closing in on our location gives me little time to argue. I nod, and Clair turns to face our enemy.

"Then let's give her hell."

Clair opens up with a vicious fire storm, scorching the slime and the field around it. This assault is followed by several strikes of lightning and fireballs. With so much concentrated firepower, she's making a considerable amount of progress through the creature's hide, progress that I suddenly remember will be useless if I don't have the tome spell ready. I flip through the pages, attempting to find the right page to read in order to access the spell, but the text is smudged and faded from the slime that had permeated the tome's pages.

"Be ready, Mozumite! I'm almost out!"

My page turning becomes frantic as Clair's assault begins to peter out as she is forced to recover mana. I'm left wondering whether this tome was already used before a selection of text begins to grow a pale, cold blue. I'm suddenly gifted with the knowledge, temporary though it may be, of the Blizzard spell, and I feel a surge of energy growing in my dominant hand. I look up at the Slime Queen, the devastating damage inflicted by Clair already beginning to heal. Acting on a newfound instinct, I raise my hand up, the air around me suddenly beginning to chill as powerful magical energy manifests itself in the palm of my hand. With determination, I coalesce all the magic of the spell into a ball in my hand, and with a powerful cry, I launch it right into the beast's center.

As the ball impacts the Slime Queen, everything in sight is drowned out by a brilliantly cold light. The Queen's cries could be heard as a vicious blizzard forms inside of her, tearing everything in its vicinity apart. I suddenly realize I'm too close to the blast as Clair once again swoops in to teleport me to safety, relocating us to a nearby hill safe from the carnage. Exhausted, we watch as the once-fertile field is turned into a frozen hellscape, towering pillars of ice forming on the ground near the epicenter of the spell. The Queen herself is completely obfuscated by the whipping winds and magical light emanating from the storm, and I can only hope that our gambit worked.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, the raging storm eventually subsided, its end heralded by a final flash of brilliant white light. As the area settles, Clair and I look intensely as the spot where the beast was last seen, until, finally, the frozen body of the Slime Queen could be made out. Less of a snot bubble and more of an ice cube, now, the monster seems totally lifeless in this state, but that doesn't stop Clair from quickly rising to her feet, summoning the last of her magical aura to conjure a powerful bolt of lightning that, when fired, shook the very earth around us. The bolt impacted the beast's side with a mighty crack, and the great Slime Queen shattered like glass, her reign of terror over this land ended as she crumbled into a million pieces of frozen gelatin.

I instantly shot up in victory, cheering and hollering as a drained Clair fell down to her knees beside me. Taking note of my spent companion, I drop down to her level, wrapping her in a big hug and heaping all kinds of praise onto her. Without my party-mate at my side, I would've surely perished here like all the others. It's only until I become conscious of her sizeable breasts pressing into me that I release her, blushing wildly and beginning to stammer out an apology. Clair, though exhausted, seems pleased nonetheless, and I return to laying in the grass with her as she recovers her strength.

As we continue to lay upon the hill, exhaustion threatening to rob me of consciousness, I suddenly feel Clair climb over me. I find myself paralyzed as the beautiful woman on top of me leans down, her beautifully-sculpted face and tantalizingly-full lips mere inches away from mine.

"We make a good team, don't we, my dear Mozumite?"

Through my tiredness and bewilderment, I'm incapable of even choking out a reply. Clair simply giggles, bringing her face ever closer as her lips meet mine in a sordid embrace. I knew Clair was coming onto me before, what melanin-rich beauty wouldn't, but right now? Our embrace continues for some time before she pulls away, still giggling, but in a more sultry manner, her eyes gazing down at me with hunger as she licks her lips.

"Just relax, I want to celebrate our victory the best way I know how."

She bends down again, kissing me not just on the mouth, but all over my face. She eventually moves over to my ears, kissing and nibbling them as memories of Korean ASMR videos float through my head at the worst time. I'm experiencing all kinds of feelings at once, as once again my exhaustion threatens to get the best of me, my vision fading as she continues an assault on me equally as vicious as the one she launched against the Slime Queen. Unaware of my tiredness, Clair moves down to my neck, kissing it up and down as she breathily moans my name.

"Oh, Mozumite... Mozumite......"

"Mozumite!"

I awake with a start, practically jumping out of the bed I find myself laying in. No longer am I at the top of a grassy hill, being pinned down and ravaged by the chocolate beauty of my dreams. Instead, I'm in a hospital, the sterile white walls almost seeming to mock me as I sit there furious that I had been pulled out of my fantasy at the worst possible moment. The doctor who had been calling my name quickly assesses my condition, before explaining to me that I had been in a coma since suffering a near-fatal injury nearly two weeks ago. I don't make mention of my vivid experience in the isekai world, so as to ensure I remain in the hospital and am not moved to the psychiatric ward.

Over the next few days, I spend my time in the hospital recovering. Once the doctor cleared me for phone usage, I spent my time watching vtuber streams all day. Really, being in the hospital was not much different from being at home. When I asked about the potential damage the bullet could've done to my brain, the doctor noted that a transplant surgery was necessary for the part of my brain that had been most affected by the incident. I naturally inquired who donated part of their own brain to a humble Mozumite such as myself. My question was answered when I was escorted to another room in the same wing; there in the bed laid a figure instantly recognizable a good friend, someone whom I've always seen eye to eye with and have spent many close moments with. Of course, who else but Proctor would willingly sacrifice his own brain for my sake? Although I was concerned when I spoke to him and he mentioned how much he loved TTS donations and how much of a whore ProjektMelody was despite Kirsche having put out a doujin of herself. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I nodded along and agreed anyways.

After a few days of mild headaches and bad hospital food, I was eventually released. My nigga Big Wakey managed to hold on to that bag of kush I had nearly lost my life purchasing, and we celebrated my release by smoking our lungs black and fucking some stank hoe from the projects. Which brings us to my triumphant return to this site. I hope this story neatly and concisely addresses all your concerns. I apologize for my sudden disappearance and will endeavor to be more careful in the future. Thank you.

To anyone unfortunate enough to have actually read all that, I'm deeply sorry. I wanted to make something super autistic for my 4,000th post, as I usually do for these milestones, but things got out of hand very quickly. Nevertheless, I hope my little bit of fanfiction was entertaining. I wouldn't be this retarded for anyone else. Brown Woman Love!

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God's Strongest Mozumite said:

All this shit

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God's Strongest Mozumite said:

Spoiler: Warning: life-threatening levels of autism

Our story begins, as all good stories do, with drugs. My regular plug, Lil Sleepy, had recently been arrested by the Peckerwood Police for being within less than 400 feet of a school zone, which is bullshit because he dindu nuffin and never sold any crack rocks to kids. Regardless, I had to find a new source of that good loud. Fortunately, my nigga Big Wakey hooked me up with the addy to a traphouse where they sold the shit I needed. So I laced up my timbs and got to stepping.

Now this particular trap house was in a bad part of town. I mean fuck drive bys, niggas was chucking spears at each other like Shaka Zulu. I saw a nigga with a bone sticking through his nose cutting the heads off of chickens and pouring the blood into a boiling pot while uttering chants and prayers to some unknowable voodoo deity. Probably asking for a white bitch. Yet despite the dangers, I pressed on. Eventually, I found the spot: dilapidated, smelly, and absolutely crawling with crackheads. It was as authentic a trap house as drug money could buy. Assured that this was the place, I stepped over a nigga passed out in the street and walked in.

The inside of the house was as you would expect. Immediately upon entering I was hit by a thick cloud of smoke, probably consisting of weed, vapor, fentanyl, and whatever else niggas could feasibly smoke. As my eyes watered and my lungs burned, I took in my surroundings. Loud, obnoxious mumble rap was being blasted on a bluetooth speaker. Bitches were twerking they stanking asses on a niggas's lap fr. There was even a pack of gentlemanly negros in a corner shooting dice, which I didn't understand since you usually do that outside, but they were likely on several forms of crack at this point so I didn't press the issue. I located the operator of this fine establishment, a Mr. Willie Deez, and began negotiating a fair price. Soon enough I was in possession of the finest buds of OG Orange Dragon Fuck Nigga kush I had ever laid eyes upon. I stowed away my bag and bid my dealer adieu.

Before I could even walk into the next room, however, a ruckus had broken out amongst the crowd of hooligans. The dice game had apparently not gone well for one participant, and a mixture of bruised ego and mind-altering inhibitors had made a tense situation violent. Niggas were punching each other out, hooting and hollering, swinging from chandeliers, shit was wild. Eventually firearms were produced, and niggas started lighting shit up like Christmas. I ducked and weaved, remembering my real nigga training to avoid the cacophony of bullets, but one unlucky move caught me with a freshly dispensed round of 9mm to the skull. I dropped instantly, my vision fading quickly, the last thing I saw being the continued scene of violence as consciousness failed me.

When I awoke, I was no longer in that accursed drug den, nor was there any evidence of injury upon my cranium. I was in a completely unfamiliar location. The walls that surrounded me were comprised of simple wood planks, the ceiling appearing to have been crafted from some thatch-like material. As I arose from the humble bed I was laying in, I took note of the strange tunic and pantaloons I was dressed in, as well as the silver sword that laid propped up against a nearby wall. I stumbled over to the nearest window, and what was revealed to me on the other side was something beyond imagination.

Outside stood a street of dirt and gravel, upon which simple travelers and townsfolk strolled by. Stalls were set up along the way, humble peddlers looking to sell their wares to passerbys. The wares in question varied greatly from vender to vender; one sold simple foodstuffs, another weapons and armor, another still offered strange bottles of queerly-colored liquids and tonics. I was utterly perplexed by this: one moment I was in a sketchy ass part of town, copping some dank kush with my niggas, and one bullet later I'm in a fantasy world? I pondered my situation for a time, until its true nature revealed itself to me: I had been isekai'd!

I quickly gathered my belongings and rushed out of the inn I had apparently been staying at. Sword in its scabbard, and purse of gold coins in tow, I headed through town to find my destination. Sure enough, just as Konosuba had taught me, there was an Adventurer's Guild in the center of town. Walking through its doors, I took in the sights: warriors and heroes of all kinds were gathered around, looking for quests, comparing gear and spells, or relaxing after a particularly taxing adventure. I walked up to a booth labelled "registration" and began the process of becoming an adventurer. The stall used an automated magic system, so there was no one around to tell me that "Real Nigga" was not a valid class of hero. Several minutes of bureaucracy later, and God's Strongest Mozumite was ready to begin his journey to become the strongest hero in all the land!

I made my way to the quest board, another magical contraption, only to find my options were rather limited. Most of the good quests were either too high-level for a novice like me, or already taken by other newbie warriors. I managed to find one that was nice and easy: simply kill 100 low-level slimes in a field outside of town. Yet when I went to select the quest, I was rejected. For some reason, this quest required a party of at least two members to accept. Frustrated at this rebuke, I began to ponder the soul-crushing reality that I would never see my friends and family ever again, until I was snapped out of my stupor by a voice calling from behind me:

"Having trouble, hero?"

As I turned to meet the owner of this sultry and disarming cadence, I was greeted with an incredible sight: standing just in front of me was a tall, beautiful, and if I may say, well-endowed dark elf. She was clothed in fancy silk robes which at once did very little and just enough to preserve her modesty, with what appeared to be a wizard's staff in hand. Fancy jewelry bedazzled her from head to toe, and covering her mouth was a mostly-transparent silk bandana. Her bountiful bosom and tight washboard abs were exposed for all the world to see, and I had to fight to the death to keep my eyes locked with hers, the deep, blood-like crimson of her irises seeming to hypnotize me the longer we exchanged glances. She chuckled softly, at which point I realized I had been staring at her for some time without answering her question.

"Sorry, yeah, I was just trying to accept this quest. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking? I don't think I've seen you here before."

The enchantress before me bowed slightly in greeting,

"I am Clair Miranui, dark elf of the Desolate Valley and novice witch of this guild. Don't let my heritage or title fool you, I'm a very sweet girl. You are?"

A sly grin snuck its way across my face. As if I, the African Aficionado, would ever take offense to her delectably dark skin, or her admittedly based choice of using magic.

"I am but a humble Mozumite, a fellow novice of this guild."

"A Mozumite? How fascinating, I've never heard of such a tribe before. Are they all as cute as you?"

I blush as her forward flirtation. Her advances are as subtle as her clothing, it would seem. I think about her questions, pondering the humble Mozumites, disgusting fetishists that they are.

"Nope, definitely not."

She puts a delicate hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Man I'm good. Once she settles down, Clair once again meets my eyes.

"Back to the matter at hand, I noticed you were rejected by the quest board just now. Let me guess, it demands you have a party?"

Oh yeah, that. I nod my head affirmably, Clair letting out a small sigh in response.

"Yes, I've been having that problem too. This guild is so busy, all the good solo quests get snatched up quickly. Oh, if only there were a handsome young man around here to adventure with..."

Picking up on the metaphorical brick she just threw in my face, I move to respond.

"Well, this is just a slime-killing quest, and it only requires two people. Would you care to join me?"

Clair's face lights up at my suggestion, perhaps elated that I managed to pick up on her advances. Dense anime protagonist, this Mozumite is not.

"Splendid," she exclaims, clapping her hands together, "let's go register our party right away!"

Some minutes later, our party is formed, and the quest is accepted. The slime-infested field is only an hour's travel on foot, so my new party-mate and I spend the time getting to know each other better. Clair regales me with tales of her homeland, the Desolate Valley, a once fertile and peaceful area that was ravaged and corrupted by volcanic activity and dark magic. What resulted was an alien landscape where the plant life was sparse and the animal life was exceedingly hostile. Here her kind, the dark elves, through their hardiness and penchant for adaptation, managed to establish themselves in the hellish wasteland, forming a powerful kingdom that was respected and feared by its neighbors. Dark elves were apparently very cold and xenophobic, but Clair was as warm and welcoming as one could be. No wonder she had chosen to leave her homeland behind in search of adventure. I too was inquired about my origins, as Clair was still fascinated with the existence of the Mozumites, but I was only able to give her vague lore in turn, not wanting to expose the truth about the "real" world when there was no indication the concept existed in the minds of people here.

Eventually, we came across the field that was the object of our quest. The slimes here were small yet plentiful, stained with a sickeningly green hue that reminded me of mucus or stomach bile. As expected, they proved to be little match for our combined force; with my trusty sword, I hacked and slashed my way through the swarm of lethargic creatures, and Clara whipped up brutal and dazzling fire storms that left the slimes as little more than smoldering bubbles. Was she really a novice as she claimed? Was this just the power of magic in this realm? I better start specking into a Spellsword build quick.

In a few minutes, it appeared our work was done, as the slimes that once stretched across the field had been thoroughly exterminated. Clair and I stood there, catching our breath, and I wondered to myself why the Guild felt it necessary to demand a party be formed for such a simple, albeit tedious, mission. My question was, unfortunately, answered, as the ground beneath us began to shake. Clair suddenly grabbed me and cast a teleportation spell, putting some distance between us and the spot where we had once been standing. The ground there suddenly gave way, as a huge, green slime rose from the earth, bubbling and oozing with what I could only assume was rage. Perhaps this was the origin of the many slimes we had slain on the surface; the Slime Queen, if you will. Within her gelatinous body I could see bones, weapons, and fragments of armor, the last remains of unlucky adventurers who had learned the hard way why this quest wasn't to be attempted solo.

With little said between us, Clair and I sprung into action. There was admittedly little I could do, as the Slime Queen was exponentially larger than myself or my sword. Clair, however, was unfazed by the beast's large stature, and wasted no time launching fireballs into its side. Though damage was dealt, the Slime Queen's regenerative abilities outpaced the damaging effects of Clair's magic, quickly draining my captivating companion of her mana. As she stopped to recharge, the Queen advanced towards us, and with little other choice, I dashed forward, uselessly slashing at the monster in an attempt to keep its attention away from Clair. My plan worked, and soon the great slime directed its slow advances towards me as I ran off in another direction.

My plan had seemed to be a success, as Clair continued to recharge her magical aura, until the Slime Queen did something unexpected. A long tentacle of slime suddenly grew out of her side, robust and filled with the remains of dead heroes, and it slammed down in my direction with bone-crunching force. I barely managed to dodge the attack, although I was thrown some distance away, managing to lose grip of my sword in the process. Exhausted and without my only form of protection, the Queen advanced on me, its arm coiled for another strike. Looking upon the harrowing sight, I wondered if there was an isekai world for retards who get killed by slimes as well as crackheads.

"Mozumite!"

A wicked bolt of lightning suddenly impacted the Queen's tendril, severing it from its body and producing what could only be described as a cry of pain from the enormous creature. Clair had finished refreshing her magic, and quickly acted in my defense. The arm fell to the ground with a stomach-churning splat, the gelatinous substance that made up the slime's body losing shape and animation as it splattered across the field. I rose to my feet, beginning to head after the beast to prevent it from cornering Clair, before noticing the items that were once stored in the tentacle were now free of the creature's grasp, albeit still coated with sickening mucus. Ignoring the protests of my stomach, I decided to be resourceful, grabbing a soaked-through knapsack and scouring through its contents. Inside were mostly books, seemingly unremarkable except for once, which was more ornately-decorated and bore the unmistakable depiction of a snowflake on its cover.

A sudden flash of purple light announced the arrival of Clair, who had used her teleportation magic to evade the monster's grasp. She looked down at me, perhaps about to scold me for milling about in the midst of an important fight, before her eyes were drawn to the book in my hand.

"A spell tome! Where did you find that?"

Not wanting to waste time by answering her question, I quickly rise and hand it to her, knowing she could make better use of it than I. Though also put off by the slime coating it, Clair quickly perused its contents.

"This tome holds a Blizzard spell! It's an exceptionally powerful spell."

"It was contained within the slime, one of its victims must've been planning to use it on her."

"Of course!" Clair exclaimed, nearly bringing her palm to her face before remembering it was still slick with slime, "Slimes are naturally weak to ice magic, it counteracts their regenerative properties! How could I have been so foolish as to not purchase an ice spell before coming here?"

Guess that answers that, Clair is as much a novice as she claimed. Despite her frustration with herself, she re-focuses, closing the book and handing it to me.

"Wait, shouldn't you be using it? You're the mage here."

"Witch, and spell tomes don't require magical proficiency to use, anyone can pick one up and cast a spell simply by reading them. That's their advantage. So here's the plan: I'm going to give that big snot bubble everything I got, and when I've blown a big enough hole into its side, you'll cast that Blizzard spell and freeze it to the core. Destroying it after that should be as simple as one lightning spell. But you need to be precise with the cast, as spell tomes only have one use before they're spent. You think you can do it?"

The cry of the Slime Queen closing in on our location gives me little time to argue. I nod, and Clair turns to face our enemy.

"Then let's give her hell."

Clair opens up with a vicious fire storm, scorching the slime and the field around it. This assault is followed by several strikes of lightning and fireballs. With so much concentrated firepower, she's making a considerable amount of progress through the creature's hide, progress that I suddenly remember will be useless if I don't have the tome spell ready. I flip through the pages, attempting to find the right page to read in order to access the spell, but the text is smudged and faded from the slime that had permeated the tome's pages.

"Be ready, Mozumite! I'm almost out!"

My page turning becomes frantic as Clair's assault begins to peter out as she is forced to recover mana. I'm left wondering whether this tome was already used before a selection of text begins to grow a pale, cold blue. I'm suddenly gifted with the knowledge, temporary though it may be, of the Blizzard spell, and I feel a surge of energy growing in my dominant hand. I look up at the Slime Queen, the devastating damage inflicted by Clair already beginning to heal. Acting on a newfound instinct, I raise my hand up, the air around me suddenly beginning to chill as powerful magical energy manifests itself in the palm of my hand. With determination, I coalesce all the magic of the spell into a ball in my hand, and with a powerful cry, I launch it right into the beast's center.

As the ball impacts the Slime Queen, everything in sight is drowned out by a brilliantly cold light. The Queen's cries could be heard as a vicious blizzard forms inside of her, tearing everything in its vicinity apart. I suddenly realize I'm too close to the blast as Clair once again swoops in to teleport me to safety, relocating us to a nearby hill safe from the carnage. Exhausted, we watch as the once-fertile field is turned into a frozen hellscape, towering pillars of ice forming on the ground near the epicenter of the spell. The Queen herself is completely obfuscated by the whipping winds and magical light emanating from the storm, and I can only hope that our gambit worked.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, the raging storm eventually subsided, its end heralded by a final flash of brilliant white light. As the area settles, Clair and I look intensely as the spot where the beast was last seen, until, finally, the frozen body of the Slime Queen could be made out. Less of a snot bubble and more of an ice cube, now, the monster seems totally lifeless in this state, but that doesn't stop Clair from quickly rising to her feet, summoning the last of her magical aura to conjure a powerful bolt of lightning that, when fired, shook the very earth around us. The bolt impacted the beast's side with a mighty crack, and the great Slime Queen shattered like glass, her reign of terror over this land ended as she crumbled into a million pieces of frozen gelatin.

I instantly shot up in victory, cheering and hollering as a drained Clair fell down to her knees beside me. Taking note of my spent companion, I drop down to her level, wrapping her in a big hug and heaping all kinds of praise onto her. Without my party-mate at my side, I would've surely perished here like all the others. It's only until I become conscious of her sizeable breasts pressing into me that I release her, blushing wildly and beginning to stammer out an apology. Clair, though exhausted, seems pleased nonetheless, and I return to laying in the grass with her as she recovers her strength.

As we continue to lay upon the hill, exhaustion threatening to rob me of consciousness, I suddenly feel Clair climb over me. I find myself paralyzed as the beautiful woman on top of me leans down, her beautifully-sculpted face and tantalizingly-full lips mere inches away from mine.

"We make a good team, don't we, my dear Mozumite?"

Through my tiredness and bewilderment, I'm incapable of even choking out a reply. Clair simply giggles, bringing her face ever closer as her lips meet mine in a sordid embrace. I knew Clair was coming onto me before, what melanin-rich beauty wouldn't, but right now? Our embrace continues for some time before she pulls away, still giggling, but in a more sultry manner, her eyes gazing down at me with hunger as she licks her lips.

"Just relax, I want to celebrate our victory the best way I know how."

She bends down again, kissing me not just on the mouth, but all over my face. She eventually moves over to my ears, kissing and nibbling them as memories of Korean ASMR videos float through my head at the worst time. I'm experiencing all kinds of feelings at once, as once again my exhaustion threatens to get the best of me, my vision fading as she continues an assault on me equally as vicious as the one she launched against the Slime Queen. Unaware of my tiredness, Clair moves down to my neck, kissing it up and down as she breathily moans my name.

"Oh, Mozumite... Mozumite......"

"Mozumite!"

I awake with a start, practically jumping out of the bed I find myself laying in. No longer am I at the top of a grassy hill, being pinned down and ravaged by the chocolate beauty of my dreams. Instead, I'm in a hospital, the sterile white walls almost seeming to mock me as I sit there furious that I had been pulled out of my fantasy at the worst possible moment. The doctor who had been calling my name quickly assesses my condition, before explaining to me that I had been in a coma since suffering a near-fatal injury nearly two weeks ago. I don't make mention of my vivid experience in the isekai world, so as to ensure I remain in the hospital and am not moved to the psychiatric ward.

Over the next few days, I spend my time in the hospital recovering. Once the doctor cleared me for phone usage, I spent my time watching vtuber streams all day. Really, being in the hospital was not much different from being at home. When I asked about the potential damage the bullet could've done to my brain, the doctor noted that a transplant surgery was necessary for the part of my brain that had been most affected by the incident. I naturally inquired who donated part of their own brain to a humble Mozumite such as myself. My question was answered when I was escorted to another room in the same wing; there in the bed laid a figure instantly recognizable a good friend, someone whom I've always seen eye to eye with and have spent many close moments with. Of course, who else but Proctor would willingly sacrifice his own brain for my sake? Although I was concerned when I spoke to him and he mentioned how much he loved TTS donations and how much of a whore ProjektMelody was despite Kirsche having put out a doujin of herself. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I nodded along and agreed anyways.

After a few days of mild headaches and bad hospital food, I was eventually released. My nigga Big Wakey managed to hold on to that bag of kush I had nearly lost my life purchasing, and we celebrated my release by smoking our lungs black and fucking some stank hoe from the projects. Which brings us to my triumphant return to this site. I hope this story neatly and concisely addresses all your concerns. I apologize for my sudden disappearance and will endeavor to be more careful in the future. Thank you.

To anyone unfortunate enough to have actually read all that, I'm deeply sorry. I wanted to make something super autistic for my 4,000th post, as I usually do for these milestones, but things got out of hand very quickly. Nevertheless, I hope my little bit of fanfiction was entertaining. I wouldn't be this retarded for anyone else. Brown Woman Love!

Click to expand...

God's Strongest Mozumite said:

Good evening TVA, this is your boy God's Strongest Mozumite. The more perceptive amongst you noticed that I took an uncharacteristic two week break from my usual shilling and shitposting here at the ol' asylum, and I'm sure you have questions. "Where have you been, Mozumite?" "Did those dirty KKKrackas finally get to you?" "Did you come back to reclaim your title of "dark enjoyer" from that fag who just got doxed as you were writing this?" Yes to that last one, but as to the first question, it requires a more in-depth explanation. So sit back, put on your favorite Tsukumo Sana stream as background noise, and relax as I spin you a tale...

Spoiler: Warning: life-threatening levels of autism

Our story begins, as all good stories do, with drugs. My regular plug, Lil Sleepy, had recently been arrested by the Peckerwood Police for being within less than 400 feet of a school zone, which is bullshit because he dindu nuffin and never sold any crack rocks to kids. Regardless, I had to find a new source of that good loud. Fortunately, my nigga Big Wakey hooked me up with the addy to a traphouse where they sold the shit I needed. So I laced up my timbs and got to stepping.

Now this particular trap house was in a bad part of town. I mean fuck drive bys, niggas was chucking spears at each other like Shaka Zulu. I saw a nigga with a bone sticking through his nose cutting the heads off of chickens and pouring the blood into a boiling pot while uttering chants and prayers to some unknowable voodoo deity. Probably asking for a white bitch. Yet despite the dangers, I pressed on. Eventually, I found the spot: dilapidated, smelly, and absolutely crawling with crackheads. It was as authentic a trap house as drug money could buy. Assured that this was the place, I stepped over a nigga passed out in the street and walked in.

The inside of the house was as you would expect. Immediately upon entering I was hit by a thick cloud of smoke, probably consisting of weed, vapor, fentanyl, and whatever else niggas could feasibly smoke. As my eyes watered and my lungs burned, I took in my surroundings. Loud, obnoxious mumble rap was being blasted on a bluetooth speaker. Bitches were twerking they stanking asses on a niggas's lap fr. There was even a pack of gentlemanly negros in a corner shooting dice, which I didn't understand since you usually do that outside, but they were likely on several forms of crack at this point so I didn't press the issue. I located the operator of this fine establishment, a Mr. Willie Deez, and began negotiating a fair price. Soon enough I was in possession of the finest buds of OG Orange Dragon Fuck Nigga kush I had ever laid eyes upon. I stowed away my bag and bid my dealer adieu.

Before I could even walk into the next room, however, a ruckus had broken out amongst the crowd of hooligans. The dice game had apparently not gone well for one participant, and a mixture of bruised ego and mind-altering inhibitors had made a tense situation violent. Niggas were punching each other out, hooting and hollering, swinging from chandeliers, shit was wild. Eventually firearms were produced, and niggas started lighting shit up like Christmas. I ducked and weaved, remembering my real nigga training to avoid the cacophony of bullets, but one unlucky move caught me with a freshly dispensed round of 9mm to the skull. I dropped instantly, my vision fading quickly, the last thing I saw being the continued scene of violence as consciousness failed me.

When I awoke, I was no longer in that accursed drug den, nor was there any evidence of injury upon my cranium. I was in a completely unfamiliar location. The walls that surrounded me were comprised of simple wood planks, the ceiling appearing to have been crafted from some thatch-like material. As I arose from the humble bed I was laying in, I took note of the strange tunic and pantaloons I was dressed in, as well as the silver sword that laid propped up against a nearby wall. I stumbled over to the nearest window, and what was revealed to me on the other side was something beyond imagination.

Outside stood a street of dirt and gravel, upon which simple travelers and townsfolk strolled by. Stalls were set up along the way, humble peddlers looking to sell their wares to passerbys. The wares in question varied greatly from vender to vender; one sold simple foodstuffs, another weapons and armor, another still offered strange bottles of queerly-colored liquids and tonics. I was utterly perplexed by this: one moment I was in a sketchy ass part of town, copping some dank kush with my niggas, and one bullet later I'm in a fantasy world? I pondered my situation for a time, until its true nature revealed itself to me: I had been isekai'd!

I quickly gathered my belongings and rushed out of the inn I had apparently been staying at. Sword in its scabbard, and purse of gold coins in tow, I headed through town to find my destination. Sure enough, just as Konosuba had taught me, there was an Adventurer's Guild in the center of town. Walking through its doors, I took in the sights: warriors and heroes of all kinds were gathered around, looking for quests, comparing gear and spells, or relaxing after a particularly taxing adventure. I walked up to a booth labelled "registration" and began the process of becoming an adventurer. The stall used an automated magic system, so there was no one around to tell me that "Real Nigga" was not a valid class of hero. Several minutes of bureaucracy later, and God's Strongest Mozumite was ready to begin his journey to become the strongest hero in all the land!

I made my way to the quest board, another magical contraption, only to find my options were rather limited. Most of the good quests were either too high-level for a novice like me, or already taken by other newbie warriors. I managed to find one that was nice and easy: simply kill 100 low-level slimes in a field outside of town. Yet when I went to select the quest, I was rejected. For some reason, this quest required a party of at least two members to accept. Frustrated at this rebuke, I began to ponder the soul-crushing reality that I would never see my friends and family ever again, until I was snapped out of my stupor by a voice calling from behind me:

"Having trouble, hero?"

As I turned to meet the owner of this sultry and disarming cadence, I was greeted with an incredible sight: standing just in front of me was a tall, beautiful, and if I may say, well-endowed dark elf. She was clothed in fancy silk robes which at once did very little and just enough to preserve her modesty, with what appeared to be a wizard's staff in hand. Fancy jewelry bedazzled her from head to toe, and covering her mouth was a mostly-transparent silk bandana. Her bountiful bosom and tight washboard abs were exposed for all the world to see, and I had to fight to the death to keep my eyes locked with hers, the deep, blood-like crimson of her irises seeming to hypnotize me the longer we exchanged glances. She chuckled softly, at which point I realized I had been staring at her for some time without answering her question.

"Sorry, yeah, I was just trying to accept this quest. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking? I don't think I've seen you here before."

The enchantress before me bowed slightly in greeting,

"I am Clair Miranui, dark elf of the Desolate Valley and novice witch of this guild. Don't let my heritage or title fool you, I'm a very sweet girl. You are?"

A sly grin snuck its way across my face. As if I, the African Aficionado, would ever take offense to her delectably dark skin, or her admittedly based choice of using magic.

"I am but a humble Mozumite, a fellow novice of this guild."

"A Mozumite? How fascinating, I've never heard of such a tribe before. Are they all as cute as you?"

I blush as her forward flirtation. Her advances are as subtle as her clothing, it would seem. I think about her questions, pondering the humble Mozumites, disgusting fetishists that they are.

"Nope, definitely not."

She puts a delicate hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Man I'm good. Once she settles down, Clair once again meets my eyes.

"Back to the matter at hand, I noticed you were rejected by the quest board just now. Let me guess, it demands you have a party?"

Oh yeah, that. I nod my head affirmably, Clair letting out a small sigh in response.

"Yes, I've been having that problem too. This guild is so busy, all the good solo quests get snatched up quickly. Oh, if only there were a handsome young man around here to adventure with..."

Picking up on the metaphorical brick she just threw in my face, I move to respond.

"Well, this is just a slime-killing quest, and it only requires two people. Would you care to join me?"

Clair's face lights up at my suggestion, perhaps elated that I managed to pick up on her advances. Dense anime protagonist, this Mozumite is not.

"Splendid," she exclaims, clapping her hands together, "let's go register our party right away!"

Some minutes later, our party is formed, and the quest is accepted. The slime-infested field is only an hour's travel on foot, so my new party-mate and I spend the time getting to know each other better. Clair regales me with tales of her homeland, the Desolate Valley, a once fertile and peaceful area that was ravaged and corrupted by volcanic activity and dark magic. What resulted was an alien landscape where the plant life was sparse and the animal life was exceedingly hostile. Here her kind, the dark elves, through their hardiness and penchant for adaptation, managed to establish themselves in the hellish wasteland, forming a powerful kingdom that was respected and feared by its neighbors. Dark elves were apparently very cold and xenophobic, but Clair was as warm and welcoming as one could be. No wonder she had chosen to leave her homeland behind in search of adventure. I too was inquired about my origins, as Clair was still fascinated with the existence of the Mozumites, but I was only able to give her vague lore in turn, not wanting to expose the truth about the "real" world when there was no indication the concept existed in the minds of people here.

Eventually, we came across the field that was the object of our quest. The slimes here were small yet plentiful, stained with a sickeningly green hue that reminded me of mucus or stomach bile. As expected, they proved to be little match for our combined force; with my trusty sword, I hacked and slashed my way through the swarm of lethargic creatures, and Clara whipped up brutal and dazzling fire storms that left the slimes as little more than smoldering bubbles. Was she really a novice as she claimed? Was this just the power of magic in this realm? I better start specking into a Spellsword build quick.

In a few minutes, it appeared our work was done, as the slimes that once stretched across the field had been thoroughly exterminated. Clair and I stood there, catching our breath, and I wondered to myself why the Guild felt it necessary to demand a party be formed for such a simple, albeit tedious, mission. My question was, unfortunately, answered, as the ground beneath us began to shake. Clair suddenly grabbed me and cast a teleportation spell, putting some distance between us and the spot where we had once been standing. The ground there suddenly gave way, as a huge, green slime rose from the earth, bubbling and oozing with what I could only assume was rage. Perhaps this was the origin of the many slimes we had slain on the surface; the Slime Queen, if you will. Within her gelatinous body I could see bones, weapons, and fragments of armor, the last remains of unlucky adventurers who had learned the hard way why this quest wasn't to be attempted solo.

With little said between us, Clair and I sprung into action. There was admittedly little I could do, as the Slime Queen was exponentially larger than myself or my sword. Clair, however, was unfazed by the beast's large stature, and wasted no time launching fireballs into its side. Though damage was dealt, the Slime Queen's regenerative abilities outpaced the damaging effects of Clair's magic, quickly draining my captivating companion of her mana. As she stopped to recharge, the Queen advanced towards us, and with little other choice, I dashed forward, uselessly slashing at the monster in an attempt to keep its attention away from Clair. My plan worked, and soon the great slime directed its slow advances towards me as I ran off in another direction.

My plan had seemed to be a success, as Clair continued to recharge her magical aura, until the Slime Queen did something unexpected. A long tentacle of slime suddenly grew out of her side, robust and filled with the remains of dead heroes, and it slammed down in my direction with bone-crunching force. I barely managed to dodge the attack, although I was thrown some distance away, managing to lose grip of my sword in the process. Exhausted and without my only form of protection, the Queen advanced on me, its arm coiled for another strike. Looking upon the harrowing sight, I wondered if there was an isekai world for retards who get killed by slimes as well as crackheads.

"Mozumite!"

A wicked bolt of lightning suddenly impacted the Queen's tendril, severing it from its body and producing what could only be described as a cry of pain from the enormous creature. Clair had finished refreshing her magic, and quickly acted in my defense. The arm fell to the ground with a stomach-churning splat, the gelatinous substance that made up the slime's body losing shape and animation as it splattered across the field. I rose to my feet, beginning to head after the beast to prevent it from cornering Clair, before noticing the items that were once stored in the tentacle were now free of the creature's grasp, albeit still coated with sickening mucus. Ignoring the protests of my stomach, I decided to be resourceful, grabbing a soaked-through knapsack and scouring through its contents. Inside were mostly books, seemingly unremarkable except for once, which was more ornately-decorated and bore the unmistakable depiction of a snowflake on its cover.

A sudden flash of purple light announced the arrival of Clair, who had used her teleportation magic to evade the monster's grasp. She looked down at me, perhaps about to scold me for milling about in the midst of an important fight, before her eyes were drawn to the book in my hand.

"A spell tome! Where did you find that?"

Not wanting to waste time by answering her question, I quickly rise and hand it to her, knowing she could make better use of it than I. Though also put off by the slime coating it, Clair quickly perused its contents.

"This tome holds a Blizzard spell! It's an exceptionally powerful spell."

"It was contained within the slime, one of its victims must've been planning to use it on her."

"Of course!" Clair exclaimed, nearly bringing her palm to her face before remembering it was still slick with slime, "Slimes are naturally weak to ice magic, it counteracts their regenerative properties! How could I have been so foolish as to not purchase an ice spell before coming here?"

Guess that answers that, Clair is as much a novice as she claimed. Despite her frustration with herself, she re-focuses, closing the book and handing it to me.

"Wait, shouldn't you be using it? You're the mage here."

"Witch, and spell tomes don't require magical proficiency to use, anyone can pick one up and cast a spell simply by reading them. That's their advantage. So here's the plan: I'm going to give that big snot bubble everything I got, and when I've blown a big enough hole into its side, you'll cast that Blizzard spell and freeze it to the core. Destroying it after that should be as simple as one lightning spell. But you need to be precise with the cast, as spell tomes only have one use before they're spent. You think you can do it?"

The cry of the Slime Queen closing in on our location gives me little time to argue. I nod, and Clair turns to face our enemy.

"Then let's give her hell."

Clair opens up with a vicious fire storm, scorching the slime and the field around it. This assault is followed by several strikes of lightning and fireballs. With so much concentrated firepower, she's making a considerable amount of progress through the creature's hide, progress that I suddenly remember will be useless if I don't have the tome spell ready. I flip through the pages, attempting to find the right page to read in order to access the spell, but the text is smudged and faded from the slime that had permeated the tome's pages.

"Be ready, Mozumite! I'm almost out!"

My page turning becomes frantic as Clair's assault begins to peter out as she is forced to recover mana. I'm left wondering whether this tome was already used before a selection of text begins to grow a pale, cold blue. I'm suddenly gifted with the knowledge, temporary though it may be, of the Blizzard spell, and I feel a surge of energy growing in my dominant hand. I look up at the Slime Queen, the devastating damage inflicted by Clair already beginning to heal. Acting on a newfound instinct, I raise my hand up, the air around me suddenly beginning to chill as powerful magical energy manifests itself in the palm of my hand. With determination, I coalesce all the magic of the spell into a ball in my hand, and with a powerful cry, I launch it right into the beast's center.

As the ball impacts the Slime Queen, everything in sight is drowned out by a brilliantly cold light. The Queen's cries could be heard as a vicious blizzard forms inside of her, tearing everything in its vicinity apart. I suddenly realize I'm too close to the blast as Clair once again swoops in to teleport me to safety, relocating us to a nearby hill safe from the carnage. Exhausted, we watch as the once-fertile field is turned into a frozen hellscape, towering pillars of ice forming on the ground near the epicenter of the spell. The Queen herself is completely obfuscated by the whipping winds and magical light emanating from the storm, and I can only hope that our gambit worked.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, the raging storm eventually subsided, its end heralded by a final flash of brilliant white light. As the area settles, Clair and I look intensely as the spot where the beast was last seen, until, finally, the frozen body of the Slime Queen could be made out. Less of a snot bubble and more of an ice cube, now, the monster seems totally lifeless in this state, but that doesn't stop Clair from quickly rising to her feet, summoning the last of her magical aura to conjure a powerful bolt of lightning that, when fired, shook the very earth around us. The bolt impacted the beast's side with a mighty crack, and the great Slime Queen shattered like glass, her reign of terror over this land ended as she crumbled into a million pieces of frozen gelatin.

I instantly shot up in victory, cheering and hollering as a drained Clair fell down to her knees beside me. Taking note of my spent companion, I drop down to her level, wrapping her in a big hug and heaping all kinds of praise onto her. Without my party-mate at my side, I would've surely perished here like all the others. It's only until I become conscious of her sizeable breasts pressing into me that I release her, blushing wildly and beginning to stammer out an apology. Clair, though exhausted, seems pleased nonetheless, and I return to laying in the grass with her as she recovers her strength.

As we continue to lay upon the hill, exhaustion threatening to rob me of consciousness, I suddenly feel Clair climb over me. I find myself paralyzed as the beautiful woman on top of me leans down, her beautifully-sculpted face and tantalizingly-full lips mere inches away from mine.

"We make a good team, don't we, my dear Mozumite?"

Through my tiredness and bewilderment, I'm incapable of even choking out a reply. Clair simply giggles, bringing her face ever closer as her lips meet mine in a sordid embrace. I knew Clair was coming onto me before, what melanin-rich beauty wouldn't, but right now? Our embrace continues for some time before she pulls away, still giggling, but in a more sultry manner, her eyes gazing down at me with hunger as she licks her lips.

"Just relax, I want to celebrate our victory the best way I know how."

She bends down again, kissing me not just on the mouth, but all over my face. She eventually moves over to my ears, kissing and nibbling them as memories of Korean ASMR videos float through my head at the worst time. I'm experiencing all kinds of feelings at once, as once again my exhaustion threatens to get the best of me, my vision fading as she continues an assault on me equally as vicious as the one she launched against the Slime Queen. Unaware of my tiredness, Clair moves down to my neck, kissing it up and down as she breathily moans my name.

"Oh, Mozumite... Mozumite......"

"Mozumite!"

I awake with a start, practically jumping out of the bed I find myself laying in. No longer am I at the top of a grassy hill, being pinned down and ravaged by the chocolate beauty of my dreams. Instead, I'm in a hospital, the sterile white walls almost seeming to mock me as I sit there furious that I had been pulled out of my fantasy at the worst possible moment. The doctor who had been calling my name quickly assesses my condition, before explaining to me that I had been in a coma since suffering a near-fatal injury nearly two weeks ago. I don't make mention of my vivid experience in the isekai world, so as to ensure I remain in the hospital and am not moved to the psychiatric ward.

Over the next few days, I spend my time in the hospital recovering. Once the doctor cleared me for phone usage, I spent my time watching vtuber streams all day. Really, being in the hospital was not much different from being at home. When I asked about the potential damage the bullet could've done to my brain, the doctor noted that a transplant surgery was necessary for the part of my brain that had been most affected by the incident. I naturally inquired who donated part of their own brain to a humble Mozumite such as myself. My question was answered when I was escorted to another room in the same wing; there in the bed laid a figure instantly recognizable a good friend, someone whom I've always seen eye to eye with and have spent many close moments with. Of course, who else but Proctor would willingly sacrifice his own brain for my sake? Although I was concerned when I spoke to him and he mentioned how much he loved TTS donations and how much of a whore ProjektMelody was despite Kirsche having put out a doujin of herself. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I nodded along and agreed anyways.

After a few days of mild headaches and bad hospital food, I was eventually released. My nigga Big Wakey managed to hold on to that bag of kush I had nearly lost my life purchasing, and we celebrated my release by smoking our lungs black and fucking some stank hoe from the projects. Which brings us to my triumphant return to this site. I hope this story neatly and concisely addresses all your concerns. I apologize for my sudden disappearance and will endeavor to be more careful in the future. Thank you.

To anyone unfortunate enough to have actually read all that, I'm deeply sorry. I wanted to make something super autistic for my 4,000th post, as I usually do for these milestones, but things got out of hand very quickly. Nevertheless, I hope my little bit of fanfiction was entertaining. I wouldn't be this retarded for anyone else. Brown Woman Love!

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God's Strongest Mozumite said:

Good evening TVA, this is your boy God's Strongest Mozumite. The more perceptive amongst you noticed that I took an uncharacteristic two week break from my usual shilling and shitposting here at the ol' asylum, and I'm sure you have questions. "Where have you been, Mozumite?" "Did those dirty KKKrackas finally get to you?" "Did you come back to reclaim your title of "dark enjoyer" from that fag who just got doxed as you were writing this?" Yes to that last one, but as to the first question, it requires a more in-depth explanation. So sit back, put on your favorite Tsukumo Sana stream as background noise, and relax as I spin you a tale...

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God's Strongest Mozumite said:

Good evening TVA, this is your boy God's Strongest Mozumite. The more perceptive amongst you noticed that I took an uncharacteristic two week break from my usual shilling and shitposting here at the ol' asylum, and I'm sure you have questions. "Where have you been, Mozumite?" "Did those dirty KKKrackas finally get to you?" "Did you come back to reclaim your title of "dark enjoyer" from that fag who just got doxed as you were writing this?" Yes to that last one, but as to the first question, it requires a more in-depth explanation. So sit back, put on your favorite Tsukumo Sana stream as background noise, and relax as I spin you a tale...

Spoiler: Warning: life-threatening levels of autism

Our story begins, as all good stories do, with drugs. My regular plug, Lil Sleepy, had recently been arrested by the Peckerwood Police for being within less than 400 feet of a school zone, which is bullshit because he dindu nuffin and never sold any crack rocks to kids. Regardless, I had to find a new source of that good loud. Fortunately, my nigga Big Wakey hooked me up with the addy to a traphouse where they sold the shit I needed. So I laced up my timbs and got to stepping.

Now this particular trap house was in a bad part of town. I mean fuck drive bys, niggas was chucking spears at each other like Shaka Zulu. I saw a nigga with a bone sticking through his nose cutting the heads off of chickens and pouring the blood into a boiling pot while uttering chants and prayers to some unknowable voodoo deity. Probably asking for a white bitch. Yet despite the dangers, I pressed on. Eventually, I found the spot: dilapidated, smelly, and absolutely crawling with crackheads. It was as authentic a trap house as drug money could buy. Assured that this was the place, I stepped over a nigga passed out in the street and walked in.

The inside of the house was as you would expect. Immediately upon entering I was hit by a thick cloud of smoke, probably consisting of weed, vapor, fentanyl, and whatever else niggas could feasibly smoke. As my eyes watered and my lungs burned, I took in my surroundings. Loud, obnoxious mumble rap was being blasted on a bluetooth speaker. Bitches were twerking they stanking asses on a niggas's lap fr. There was even a pack of gentlemanly negros in a corner shooting dice, which I didn't understand since you usually do that outside, but they were likely on several forms of crack at this point so I didn't press the issue. I located the operator of this fine establishment, a Mr. Willie Deez, and began negotiating a fair price. Soon enough I was in possession of the finest buds of OG Orange Dragon Fuck Nigga kush I had ever laid eyes upon. I stowed away my bag and bid my dealer adieu.

Before I could even walk into the next room, however, a ruckus had broken out amongst the crowd of hooligans. The dice game had apparently not gone well for one participant, and a mixture of bruised ego and mind-altering inhibitors had made a tense situation violent. Niggas were punching each other out, hooting and hollering, swinging from chandeliers, shit was wild. Eventually firearms were produced, and niggas started lighting shit up like Christmas. I ducked and weaved, remembering my real nigga training to avoid the cacophony of bullets, but one unlucky move caught me with a freshly dispensed round of 9mm to the skull. I dropped instantly, my vision fading quickly, the last thing I saw being the continued scene of violence as consciousness failed me.

When I awoke, I was no longer in that accursed drug den, nor was there any evidence of injury upon my cranium. I was in a completely unfamiliar location. The walls that surrounded me were comprised of simple wood planks, the ceiling appearing to have been crafted from some thatch-like material. As I arose from the humble bed I was laying in, I took note of the strange tunic and pantaloons I was dressed in, as well as the silver sword that laid propped up against a nearby wall. I stumbled over to the nearest window, and what was revealed to me on the other side was something beyond imagination.

Outside stood a street of dirt and gravel, upon which simple travelers and townsfolk strolled by. Stalls were set up along the way, humble peddlers looking to sell their wares to passerbys. The wares in question varied greatly from vender to vender; one sold simple foodstuffs, another weapons and armor, another still offered strange bottles of queerly-colored liquids and tonics. I was utterly perplexed by this: one moment I was in a sketchy ass part of town, copping some dank kush with my niggas, and one bullet later I'm in a fantasy world? I pondered my situation for a time, until its true nature revealed itself to me: I had been isekai'd!

I quickly gathered my belongings and rushed out of the inn I had apparently been staying at. Sword in its scabbard, and purse of gold coins in tow, I headed through town to find my destination. Sure enough, just as Konosuba had taught me, there was an Adventurer's Guild in the center of town. Walking through its doors, I took in the sights: warriors and heroes of all kinds were gathered around, looking for quests, comparing gear and spells, or relaxing after a particularly taxing adventure. I walked up to a booth labelled "registration" and began the process of becoming an adventurer. The stall used an automated magic system, so there was no one around to tell me that "Real Nigga" was not a valid class of hero. Several minutes of bureaucracy later, and God's Strongest Mozumite was ready to begin his journey to become the strongest hero in all the land!

I made my way to the quest board, another magical contraption, only to find my options were rather limited. Most of the good quests were either too high-level for a novice like me, or already taken by other newbie warriors. I managed to find one that was nice and easy: simply kill 100 low-level slimes in a field outside of town. Yet when I went to select the quest, I was rejected. For some reason, this quest required a party of at least two members to accept. Frustrated at this rebuke, I began to ponder the soul-crushing reality that I would never see my friends and family ever again, until I was snapped out of my stupor by a voice calling from behind me:

"Having trouble, hero?"

As I turned to meet the owner of this sultry and disarming cadence, I was greeted with an incredible sight: standing just in front of me was a tall, beautiful, and if I may say, well-endowed dark elf. She was clothed in fancy silk robes which at once did very little and just enough to preserve her modesty, with what appeared to be a wizard's staff in hand. Fancy jewelry bedazzled her from head to toe, and covering her mouth was a mostly-transparent silk bandana. Her bountiful bosom and tight washboard abs were exposed for all the world to see, and I had to fight to the death to keep my eyes locked with hers, the deep, blood-like crimson of her irises seeming to hypnotize me the longer we exchanged glances. She chuckled softly, at which point I realized I had been staring at her for some time without answering her question.

"Sorry, yeah, I was just trying to accept this quest. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking? I don't think I've seen you here before."

The enchantress before me bowed slightly in greeting,

"I am Clair Miranui, dark elf of the Desolate Valley and novice witch of this guild. Don't let my heritage or title fool you, I'm a very sweet girl. You are?"

A sly grin snuck its way across my face. As if I, the African Aficionado, would ever take offense to her delectably dark skin, or her admittedly based choice of using magic.

"I am but a humble Mozumite, a fellow novice of this guild."

"A Mozumite? How fascinating, I've never heard of such a tribe before. Are they all as cute as you?"

I blush as her forward flirtation. Her advances are as subtle as her clothing, it would seem. I think about her questions, pondering the humble Mozumites, disgusting fetishists that they are.

"Nope, definitely not."

She puts a delicate hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Man I'm good. Once she settles down, Clair once again meets my eyes.

"Back to the matter at hand, I noticed you were rejected by the quest board just now. Let me guess, it demands you have a party?"

Oh yeah, that. I nod my head affirmably, Clair letting out a small sigh in response.

"Yes, I've been having that problem too. This guild is so busy, all the good solo quests get snatched up quickly. Oh, if only there were a handsome young man around here to adventure with..."

Picking up on the metaphorical brick she just threw in my face, I move to respond.

"Well, this is just a slime-killing quest, and it only requires two people. Would you care to join me?"

Clair's face lights up at my suggestion, perhaps elated that I managed to pick up on her advances. Dense anime protagonist, this Mozumite is not.

"Splendid," she exclaims, clapping her hands together, "let's go register our party right away!"

Some minutes later, our party is formed, and the quest is accepted. The slime-infested field is only an hour's travel on foot, so my new party-mate and I spend the time getting to know each other better. Clair regales me with tales of her homeland, the Desolate Valley, a once fertile and peaceful area that was ravaged and corrupted by volcanic activity and dark magic. What resulted was an alien landscape where the plant life was sparse and the animal life was exceedingly hostile. Here her kind, the dark elves, through their hardiness and penchant for adaptation, managed to establish themselves in the hellish wasteland, forming a powerful kingdom that was respected and feared by its neighbors. Dark elves were apparently very cold and xenophobic, but Clair was as warm and welcoming as one could be. No wonder she had chosen to leave her homeland behind in search of adventure. I too was inquired about my origins, as Clair was still fascinated with the existence of the Mozumites, but I was only able to give her vague lore in turn, not wanting to expose the truth about the "real" world when there was no indication the concept existed in the minds of people here.

Eventually, we came across the field that was the object of our quest. The slimes here were small yet plentiful, stained with a sickeningly green hue that reminded me of mucus or stomach bile. As expected, they proved to be little match for our combined force; with my trusty sword, I hacked and slashed my way through the swarm of lethargic creatures, and Clara whipped up brutal and dazzling fire storms that left the slimes as little more than smoldering bubbles. Was she really a novice as she claimed? Was this just the power of magic in this realm? I better start specking into a Spellsword build quick.

In a few minutes, it appeared our work was done, as the slimes that once stretched across the field had been thoroughly exterminated. Clair and I stood there, catching our breath, and I wondered to myself why the Guild felt it necessary to demand a party be formed for such a simple, albeit tedious, mission. My question was, unfortunately, answered, as the ground beneath us began to shake. Clair suddenly grabbed me and cast a teleportation spell, putting some distance between us and the spot where we had once been standing. The ground there suddenly gave way, as a huge, green slime rose from the earth, bubbling and oozing with what I could only assume was rage. Perhaps this was the origin of the many slimes we had slain on the surface; the Slime Queen, if you will. Within her gelatinous body I could see bones, weapons, and fragments of armor, the last remains of unlucky adventurers who had learned the hard way why this quest wasn't to be attempted solo.

With little said between us, Clair and I sprung into action. There was admittedly little I could do, as the Slime Queen was exponentially larger than myself or my sword. Clair, however, was unfazed by the beast's large stature, and wasted no time launching fireballs into its side. Though damage was dealt, the Slime Queen's regenerative abilities outpaced the damaging effects of Clair's magic, quickly draining my captivating companion of her mana. As she stopped to recharge, the Queen advanced towards us, and with little other choice, I dashed forward, uselessly slashing at the monster in an attempt to keep its attention away from Clair. My plan worked, and soon the great slime directed its slow advances towards me as I ran off in another direction.

My plan had seemed to be a success, as Clair continued to recharge her magical aura, until the Slime Queen did something unexpected. A long tentacle of slime suddenly grew out of her side, robust and filled with the remains of dead heroes, and it slammed down in my direction with bone-crunching force. I barely managed to dodge the attack, although I was thrown some distance away, managing to lose grip of my sword in the process. Exhausted and without my only form of protection, the Queen advanced on me, its arm coiled for another strike. Looking upon the harrowing sight, I wondered if there was an isekai world for retards who get killed by slimes as well as crackheads.

"Mozumite!"

A wicked bolt of lightning suddenly impacted the Queen's tendril, severing it from its body and producing what could only be described as a cry of pain from the enormous creature. Clair had finished refreshing her magic, and quickly acted in my defense. The arm fell to the ground with a stomach-churning splat, the gelatinous substance that made up the slime's body losing shape and animation as it splattered across the field. I rose to my feet, beginning to head after the beast to prevent it from cornering Clair, before noticing the items that were once stored in the tentacle were now free of the creature's grasp, albeit still coated with sickening mucus. Ignoring the protests of my stomach, I decided to be resourceful, grabbing a soaked-through knapsack and scouring through its contents. Inside were mostly books, seemingly unremarkable except for once, which was more ornately-decorated and bore the unmistakable depiction of a snowflake on its cover.

A sudden flash of purple light announced the arrival of Clair, who had used her teleportation magic to evade the monster's grasp. She looked down at me, perhaps about to scold me for milling about in the midst of an important fight, before her eyes were drawn to the book in my hand.

"A spell tome! Where did you find that?"

Not wanting to waste time by answering her question, I quickly rise and hand it to her, knowing she could make better use of it than I. Though also put off by the slime coating it, Clair quickly perused its contents.

"This tome holds a Blizzard spell! It's an exceptionally powerful spell."

"It was contained within the slime, one of its victims must've been planning to use it on her."

"Of course!" Clair exclaimed, nearly bringing her palm to her face before remembering it was still slick with slime, "Slimes are naturally weak to ice magic, it counteracts their regenerative properties! How could I have been so foolish as to not purchase an ice spell before coming here?"

Guess that answers that, Clair is as much a novice as she claimed. Despite her frustration with herself, she re-focuses, closing the book and handing it to me.

"Wait, shouldn't you be using it? You're the mage here."

"Witch, and spell tomes don't require magical proficiency to use, anyone can pick one up and cast a spell simply by reading them. That's their advantage. So here's the plan: I'm going to give that big snot bubble everything I got, and when I've blown a big enough hole into its side, you'll cast that Blizzard spell and freeze it to the core. Destroying it after that should be as simple as one lightning spell. But you need to be precise with the cast, as spell tomes only have one use before they're spent. You think you can do it?"

The cry of the Slime Queen closing in on our location gives me little time to argue. I nod, and Clair turns to face our enemy.

"Then let's give her hell."

Clair opens up with a vicious fire storm, scorching the slime and the field around it. This assault is followed by several strikes of lightning and fireballs. With so much concentrated firepower, she's making a considerable amount of progress through the creature's hide, progress that I suddenly remember will be useless if I don't have the tome spell ready. I flip through the pages, attempting to find the right page to read in order to access the spell, but the text is smudged and faded from the slime that had permeated the tome's pages.

"Be ready, Mozumite! I'm almost out!"

My page turning becomes frantic as Clair's assault begins to peter out as she is forced to recover mana. I'm left wondering whether this tome was already used before a selection of text begins to grow a pale, cold blue. I'm suddenly gifted with the knowledge, temporary though it may be, of the Blizzard spell, and I feel a surge of energy growing in my dominant hand. I look up at the Slime Queen, the devastating damage inflicted by Clair already beginning to heal. Acting on a newfound instinct, I raise my hand up, the air around me suddenly beginning to chill as powerful magical energy manifests itself in the palm of my hand. With determination, I coalesce all the magic of the spell into a ball in my hand, and with a powerful cry, I launch it right into the beast's center.

As the ball impacts the Slime Queen, everything in sight is drowned out by a brilliantly cold light. The Queen's cries could be heard as a vicious blizzard forms inside of her, tearing everything in its vicinity apart. I suddenly realize I'm too close to the blast as Clair once again swoops in to teleport me to safety, relocating us to a nearby hill safe from the carnage. Exhausted, we watch as the once-fertile field is turned into a frozen hellscape, towering pillars of ice forming on the ground near the epicenter of the spell. The Queen herself is completely obfuscated by the whipping winds and magical light emanating from the storm, and I can only hope that our gambit worked.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, the raging storm eventually subsided, its end heralded by a final flash of brilliant white light. As the area settles, Clair and I look intensely as the spot where the beast was last seen, until, finally, the frozen body of the Slime Queen could be made out. Less of a snot bubble and more of an ice cube, now, the monster seems totally lifeless in this state, but that doesn't stop Clair from quickly rising to her feet, summoning the last of her magical aura to conjure a powerful bolt of lightning that, when fired, shook the very earth around us. The bolt impacted the beast's side with a mighty crack, and the great Slime Queen shattered like glass, her reign of terror over this land ended as she crumbled into a million pieces of frozen gelatin.

I instantly shot up in victory, cheering and hollering as a drained Clair fell down to her knees beside me. Taking note of my spent companion, I drop down to her level, wrapping her in a big hug and heaping all kinds of praise onto her. Without my party-mate at my side, I would've surely perished here like all the others. It's only until I become conscious of her sizeable breasts pressing into me that I release her, blushing wildly and beginning to stammer out an apology. Clair, though exhausted, seems pleased nonetheless, and I return to laying in the grass with her as she recovers her strength.

As we continue to lay upon the hill, exhaustion threatening to rob me of consciousness, I suddenly feel Clair climb over me. I find myself paralyzed as the beautiful woman on top of me leans down, her beautifully-sculpted face and tantalizingly-full lips mere inches away from mine.

"We make a good team, don't we, my dear Mozumite?"

Through my tiredness and bewilderment, I'm incapable of even choking out a reply. Clair simply giggles, bringing her face ever closer as her lips meet mine in a sordid embrace. I knew Clair was coming onto me before, what melanin-rich beauty wouldn't, but right now? Our embrace continues for some time before she pulls away, still giggling, but in a more sultry manner, her eyes gazing down at me with hunger as she licks her lips.

"Just relax, I want to celebrate our victory the best way I know how."

She bends down again, kissing me not just on the mouth, but all over my face. She eventually moves over to my ears, kissing and nibbling them as memories of Korean ASMR videos float through my head at the worst time. I'm experiencing all kinds of feelings at once, as once again my exhaustion threatens to get the best of me, my vision fading as she continues an assault on me equally as vicious as the one she launched against the Slime Queen. Unaware of my tiredness, Clair moves down to my neck, kissing it up and down as she breathily moans my name.

"Oh, Mozumite... Mozumite......"

"Mozumite!"

I awake with a start, practically jumping out of the bed I find myself laying in. No longer am I at the top of a grassy hill, being pinned down and ravaged by the chocolate beauty of my dreams. Instead, I'm in a hospital, the sterile white walls almost seeming to mock me as I sit there furious that I had been pulled out of my fantasy at the worst possible moment. The doctor who had been calling my name quickly assesses my condition, before explaining to me that I had been in a coma since suffering a near-fatal injury nearly two weeks ago. I don't make mention of my vivid experience in the isekai world, so as to ensure I remain in the hospital and am not moved to the psychiatric ward.

Over the next few days, I spend my time in the hospital recovering. Once the doctor cleared me for phone usage, I spent my time watching vtuber streams all day. Really, being in the hospital was not much different from being at home. When I asked about the potential damage the bullet could've done to my brain, the doctor noted that a transplant surgery was necessary for the part of my brain that had been most affected by the incident. I naturally inquired who donated part of their own brain to a humble Mozumite such as myself. My question was answered when I was escorted to another room in the same wing; there in the bed laid a figure instantly recognizable a good friend, someone whom I've always seen eye to eye with and have spent many close moments with. Of course, who else but Proctor would willingly sacrifice his own brain for my sake? Although I was concerned when I spoke to him and he mentioned how much he loved TTS donations and how much of a whore ProjektMelody was despite Kirsche having put out a doujin of herself. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I nodded along and agreed anyways.

After a few days of mild headaches and bad hospital food, I was eventually released. My nigga Big Wakey managed to hold on to that bag of kush I had nearly lost my life purchasing, and we celebrated my release by smoking our lungs black and fucking some stank hoe from the projects. Which brings us to my triumphant return to this site. I hope this story neatly and concisely addresses all your concerns. I apologize for my sudden disappearance and will endeavor to be more careful in the future. Thank you.

To anyone unfortunate enough to have actually read all that, I'm deeply sorry. I wanted to make something super autistic for my 4,000th post, as I usually do for these milestones, but things got out of hand very quickly. Nevertheless, I hope my little bit of fanfiction was entertaining. I wouldn't be this retarded for anyone else. Brown Woman Love!

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Bronze said:

Is this about new gen?

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bunniedoll said:

Or it's just Megu
That would be depressing

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Zinnaha said:

Low CCV in a corp with merch etc is still better than low ccv with literally nothing.

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TheDarkEnjoyer said:

So uh Astel Leda from Holostars is getting attacked for having mcdonalds (not boycotting them).





Many referencing this twitter post by Japan Bulletin

View attachment 70244

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Some knuckleheads are even thinking of reporting this to Cover.

View attachment 70243

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RestlessRain said:

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God's Wingiest Winger said:

Ina birthday

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God's Strongest Mozumite said:

Good evening TVA, this is your boy God's Strongest Mozumite. The more perceptive amongst you noticed that I took an uncharacteristic two week break from my usual shilling and shitposting here at the ol' asylum, and I'm sure you have questions. "Where have you been, Mozumite?" "Did those dirty KKKrackas finally get to you?" "Did you come back to reclaim your title of "dark enjoyer" from that fag who just got doxed as you were writing this?" Yes to that last one, but as to the first question, it requires a more in-depth explanation. So sit back, put on your favorite Tsukumo Sana stream as background noise, and relax as I spin you a tale...

Spoiler: Warning: life-threatening levels of autism

Our story begins, as all good stories do, with drugs. My regular plug, Lil Sleepy, had recently been arrested by the Peckerwood Police for being within less than 400 feet of a school zone, which is bullshit because he dindu nuffin and never sold any crack rocks to kids. Regardless, I had to find a new source of that good loud. Fortunately, my nigga Big Wakey hooked me up with the addy to a traphouse where they sold the shit I needed. So I laced up my timbs and got to stepping.

Now this particular trap house was in a bad part of town. I mean fuck drive bys, niggas was chucking spears at each other like Shaka Zulu. I saw a nigga with a bone sticking through his nose cutting the heads off of chickens and pouring the blood into a boiling pot while uttering chants and prayers to some unknowable voodoo deity. Probably asking for a white bitch. Yet despite the dangers, I pressed on. Eventually, I found the spot: dilapidated, smelly, and absolutely crawling with crackheads. It was as authentic a trap house as drug money could buy. Assured that this was the place, I stepped over a nigga passed out in the street and walked in.

The inside of the house was as you would expect. Immediately upon entering I was hit by a thick cloud of smoke, probably consisting of weed, vapor, fentanyl, and whatever else niggas could feasibly smoke. As my eyes watered and my lungs burned, I took in my surroundings. Loud, obnoxious mumble rap was being blasted on a bluetooth speaker. Bitches were twerking they stanking asses on a niggas's lap fr. There was even a pack of gentlemanly negros in a corner shooting dice, which I didn't understand since you usually do that outside, but they were likely on several forms of crack at this point so I didn't press the issue. I located the operator of this fine establishment, a Mr. Willie Deez, and began negotiating a fair price. Soon enough I was in possession of the finest buds of OG Orange Dragon Fuck Nigga kush I had ever laid eyes upon. I stowed away my bag and bid my dealer adieu.

Before I could even walk into the next room, however, a ruckus had broken out amongst the crowd of hooligans. The dice game had apparently not gone well for one participant, and a mixture of bruised ego and mind-altering inhibitors had made a tense situation violent. Niggas were punching each other out, hooting and hollering, swinging from chandeliers, shit was wild. Eventually firearms were produced, and niggas started lighting shit up like Christmas. I ducked and weaved, remembering my real nigga training to avoid the cacophony of bullets, but one unlucky move caught me with a freshly dispensed round of 9mm to the skull. I dropped instantly, my vision fading quickly, the last thing I saw being the continued scene of violence as consciousness failed me.

When I awoke, I was no longer in that accursed drug den, nor was there any evidence of injury upon my cranium. I was in a completely unfamiliar location. The walls that surrounded me were comprised of simple wood planks, the ceiling appearing to have been crafted from some thatch-like material. As I arose from the humble bed I was laying in, I took note of the strange tunic and pantaloons I was dressed in, as well as the silver sword that laid propped up against a nearby wall. I stumbled over to the nearest window, and what was revealed to me on the other side was something beyond imagination.

Outside stood a street of dirt and gravel, upon which simple travelers and townsfolk strolled by. Stalls were set up along the way, humble peddlers looking to sell their wares to passerbys. The wares in question varied greatly from vender to vender; one sold simple foodstuffs, another weapons and armor, another still offered strange bottles of queerly-colored liquids and tonics. I was utterly perplexed by this: one moment I was in a sketchy ass part of town, copping some dank kush with my niggas, and one bullet later I'm in a fantasy world? I pondered my situation for a time, until its true nature revealed itself to me: I had been isekai'd!

I quickly gathered my belongings and rushed out of the inn I had apparently been staying at. Sword in its scabbard, and purse of gold coins in tow, I headed through town to find my destination. Sure enough, just as Konosuba had taught me, there was an Adventurer's Guild in the center of town. Walking through its doors, I took in the sights: warriors and heroes of all kinds were gathered around, looking for quests, comparing gear and spells, or relaxing after a particularly taxing adventure. I walked up to a booth labelled "registration" and began the process of becoming an adventurer. The stall used an automated magic system, so there was no one around to tell me that "Real Nigga" was not a valid class of hero. Several minutes of bureaucracy later, and God's Strongest Mozumite was ready to begin his journey to become the strongest hero in all the land!

I made my way to the quest board, another magical contraption, only to find my options were rather limited. Most of the good quests were either too high-level for a novice like me, or already taken by other newbie warriors. I managed to find one that was nice and easy: simply kill 100 low-level slimes in a field outside of town. Yet when I went to select the quest, I was rejected. For some reason, this quest required a party of at least two members to accept. Frustrated at this rebuke, I began to ponder the soul-crushing reality that I would never see my friends and family ever again, until I was snapped out of my stupor by a voice calling from behind me:

"Having trouble, hero?"

As I turned to meet the owner of this sultry and disarming cadence, I was greeted with an incredible sight: standing just in front of me was a tall, beautiful, and if I may say, well-endowed dark elf. She was clothed in fancy silk robes which at once did very little and just enough to preserve her modesty, with what appeared to be a wizard's staff in hand. Fancy jewelry bedazzled her from head to toe, and covering her mouth was a mostly-transparent silk bandana. Her bountiful bosom and tight washboard abs were exposed for all the world to see, and I had to fight to the death to keep my eyes locked with hers, the deep, blood-like crimson of her irises seeming to hypnotize me the longer we exchanged glances. She chuckled softly, at which point I realized I had been staring at her for some time without answering her question.

"Sorry, yeah, I was just trying to accept this quest. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking? I don't think I've seen you here before."

The enchantress before me bowed slightly in greeting,

"I am Clair Miranui, dark elf of the Desolate Valley and novice witch of this guild. Don't let my heritage or title fool you, I'm a very sweet girl. You are?"

A sly grin snuck its way across my face. As if I, the African Aficionado, would ever take offense to her delectably dark skin, or her admittedly based choice of using magic.

"I am but a humble Mozumite, a fellow novice of this guild."

"A Mozumite? How fascinating, I've never heard of such a tribe before. Are they all as cute as you?"

I blush as her forward flirtation. Her advances are as subtle as her clothing, it would seem. I think about her questions, pondering the humble Mozumites, disgusting fetishists that they are.

"Nope, definitely not."

She puts a delicate hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Man I'm good. Once she settles down, Clair once again meets my eyes.

"Back to the matter at hand, I noticed you were rejected by the quest board just now. Let me guess, it demands you have a party?"

Oh yeah, that. I nod my head affirmably, Clair letting out a small sigh in response.

"Yes, I've been having that problem too. This guild is so busy, all the good solo quests get snatched up quickly. Oh, if only there were a handsome young man around here to adventure with..."

Picking up on the metaphorical brick she just threw in my face, I move to respond.

"Well, this is just a slime-killing quest, and it only requires two people. Would you care to join me?"

Clair's face lights up at my suggestion, perhaps elated that I managed to pick up on her advances. Dense anime protagonist, this Mozumite is not.

"Splendid," she exclaims, clapping her hands together, "let's go register our party right away!"

Some minutes later, our party is formed, and the quest is accepted. The slime-infested field is only an hour's travel on foot, so my new party-mate and I spend the time getting to know each other better. Clair regales me with tales of her homeland, the Desolate Valley, a once fertile and peaceful area that was ravaged and corrupted by volcanic activity and dark magic. What resulted was an alien landscape where the plant life was sparse and the animal life was exceedingly hostile. Here her kind, the dark elves, through their hardiness and penchant for adaptation, managed to establish themselves in the hellish wasteland, forming a powerful kingdom that was respected and feared by its neighbors. Dark elves were apparently very cold and xenophobic, but Clair was as warm and welcoming as one could be. No wonder she had chosen to leave her homeland behind in search of adventure. I too was inquired about my origins, as Clair was still fascinated with the existence of the Mozumites, but I was only able to give her vague lore in turn, not wanting to expose the truth about the "real" world when there was no indication the concept existed in the minds of people here.

Eventually, we came across the field that was the object of our quest. The slimes here were small yet plentiful, stained with a sickeningly green hue that reminded me of mucus or stomach bile. As expected, they proved to be little match for our combined force; with my trusty sword, I hacked and slashed my way through the swarm of lethargic creatures, and Clara whipped up brutal and dazzling fire storms that left the slimes as little more than smoldering bubbles. Was she really a novice as she claimed? Was this just the power of magic in this realm? I better start specking into a Spellsword build quick.

In a few minutes, it appeared our work was done, as the slimes that once stretched across the field had been thoroughly exterminated. Clair and I stood there, catching our breath, and I wondered to myself why the Guild felt it necessary to demand a party be formed for such a simple, albeit tedious, mission. My question was, unfortunately, answered, as the ground beneath us began to shake. Clair suddenly grabbed me and cast a teleportation spell, putting some distance between us and the spot where we had once been standing. The ground there suddenly gave way, as a huge, green slime rose from the earth, bubbling and oozing with what I could only assume was rage. Perhaps this was the origin of the many slimes we had slain on the surface; the Slime Queen, if you will. Within her gelatinous body I could see bones, weapons, and fragments of armor, the last remains of unlucky adventurers who had learned the hard way why this quest wasn't to be attempted solo.

With little said between us, Clair and I sprung into action. There was admittedly little I could do, as the Slime Queen was exponentially larger than myself or my sword. Clair, however, was unfazed by the beast's large stature, and wasted no time launching fireballs into its side. Though damage was dealt, the Slime Queen's regenerative abilities outpaced the damaging effects of Clair's magic, quickly draining my captivating companion of her mana. As she stopped to recharge, the Queen advanced towards us, and with little other choice, I dashed forward, uselessly slashing at the monster in an attempt to keep its attention away from Clair. My plan worked, and soon the great slime directed its slow advances towards me as I ran off in another direction.

My plan had seemed to be a success, as Clair continued to recharge her magical aura, until the Slime Queen did something unexpected. A long tentacle of slime suddenly grew out of her side, robust and filled with the remains of dead heroes, and it slammed down in my direction with bone-crunching force. I barely managed to dodge the attack, although I was thrown some distance away, managing to lose grip of my sword in the process. Exhausted and without my only form of protection, the Queen advanced on me, its arm coiled for another strike. Looking upon the harrowing sight, I wondered if there was an isekai world for retards who get killed by slimes as well as crackheads.

"Mozumite!"

A wicked bolt of lightning suddenly impacted the Queen's tendril, severing it from its body and producing what could only be described as a cry of pain from the enormous creature. Clair had finished refreshing her magic, and quickly acted in my defense. The arm fell to the ground with a stomach-churning splat, the gelatinous substance that made up the slime's body losing shape and animation as it splattered across the field. I rose to my feet, beginning to head after the beast to prevent it from cornering Clair, before noticing the items that were once stored in the tentacle were now free of the creature's grasp, albeit still coated with sickening mucus. Ignoring the protests of my stomach, I decided to be resourceful, grabbing a soaked-through knapsack and scouring through its contents. Inside were mostly books, seemingly unremarkable except for once, which was more ornately-decorated and bore the unmistakable depiction of a snowflake on its cover.

A sudden flash of purple light announced the arrival of Clair, who had used her teleportation magic to evade the monster's grasp. She looked down at me, perhaps about to scold me for milling about in the midst of an important fight, before her eyes were drawn to the book in my hand.

"A spell tome! Where did you find that?"

Not wanting to waste time by answering her question, I quickly rise and hand it to her, knowing she could make better use of it than I. Though also put off by the slime coating it, Clair quickly perused its contents.

"This tome holds a Blizzard spell! It's an exceptionally powerful spell."

"It was contained within the slime, one of its victims must've been planning to use it on her."

"Of course!" Clair exclaimed, nearly bringing her palm to her face before remembering it was still slick with slime, "Slimes are naturally weak to ice magic, it counteracts their regenerative properties! How could I have been so foolish as to not purchase an ice spell before coming here?"

Guess that answers that, Clair is as much a novice as she claimed. Despite her frustration with herself, she re-focuses, closing the book and handing it to me.

"Wait, shouldn't you be using it? You're the mage here."

"Witch, and spell tomes don't require magical proficiency to use, anyone can pick one up and cast a spell simply by reading them. That's their advantage. So here's the plan: I'm going to give that big snot bubble everything I got, and when I've blown a big enough hole into its side, you'll cast that Blizzard spell and freeze it to the core. Destroying it after that should be as simple as one lightning spell. But you need to be precise with the cast, as spell tomes only have one use before they're spent. You think you can do it?"

The cry of the Slime Queen closing in on our location gives me little time to argue. I nod, and Clair turns to face our enemy.

"Then let's give her hell."

Clair opens up with a vicious fire storm, scorching the slime and the field around it. This assault is followed by several strikes of lightning and fireballs. With so much concentrated firepower, she's making a considerable amount of progress through the creature's hide, progress that I suddenly remember will be useless if I don't have the tome spell ready. I flip through the pages, attempting to find the right page to read in order to access the spell, but the text is smudged and faded from the slime that had permeated the tome's pages.

"Be ready, Mozumite! I'm almost out!"

My page turning becomes frantic as Clair's assault begins to peter out as she is forced to recover mana. I'm left wondering whether this tome was already used before a selection of text begins to grow a pale, cold blue. I'm suddenly gifted with the knowledge, temporary though it may be, of the Blizzard spell, and I feel a surge of energy growing in my dominant hand. I look up at the Slime Queen, the devastating damage inflicted by Clair already beginning to heal. Acting on a newfound instinct, I raise my hand up, the air around me suddenly beginning to chill as powerful magical energy manifests itself in the palm of my hand. With determination, I coalesce all the magic of the spell into a ball in my hand, and with a powerful cry, I launch it right into the beast's center.

As the ball impacts the Slime Queen, everything in sight is drowned out by a brilliantly cold light. The Queen's cries could be heard as a vicious blizzard forms inside of her, tearing everything in its vicinity apart. I suddenly realize I'm too close to the blast as Clair once again swoops in to teleport me to safety, relocating us to a nearby hill safe from the carnage. Exhausted, we watch as the once-fertile field is turned into a frozen hellscape, towering pillars of ice forming on the ground near the epicenter of the spell. The Queen herself is completely obfuscated by the whipping winds and magical light emanating from the storm, and I can only hope that our gambit worked.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, the raging storm eventually subsided, its end heralded by a final flash of brilliant white light. As the area settles, Clair and I look intensely as the spot where the beast was last seen, until, finally, the frozen body of the Slime Queen could be made out. Less of a snot bubble and more of an ice cube, now, the monster seems totally lifeless in this state, but that doesn't stop Clair from quickly rising to her feet, summoning the last of her magical aura to conjure a powerful bolt of lightning that, when fired, shook the very earth around us. The bolt impacted the beast's side with a mighty crack, and the great Slime Queen shattered like glass, her reign of terror over this land ended as she crumbled into a million pieces of frozen gelatin.

I instantly shot up in victory, cheering and hollering as a drained Clair fell down to her knees beside me. Taking note of my spent companion, I drop down to her level, wrapping her in a big hug and heaping all kinds of praise onto her. Without my party-mate at my side, I would've surely perished here like all the others. It's only until I become conscious of her sizeable breasts pressing into me that I release her, blushing wildly and beginning to stammer out an apology. Clair, though exhausted, seems pleased nonetheless, and I return to laying in the grass with her as she recovers her strength.

As we continue to lay upon the hill, exhaustion threatening to rob me of consciousness, I suddenly feel Clair climb over me. I find myself paralyzed as the beautiful woman on top of me leans down, her beautifully-sculpted face and tantalizingly-full lips mere inches away from mine.

"We make a good team, don't we, my dear Mozumite?"

Through my tiredness and bewilderment, I'm incapable of even choking out a reply. Clair simply giggles, bringing her face ever closer as her lips meet mine in a sordid embrace. I knew Clair was coming onto me before, what melanin-rich beauty wouldn't, but right now? Our embrace continues for some time before she pulls away, still giggling, but in a more sultry manner, her eyes gazing down at me with hunger as she licks her lips.

"Just relax, I want to celebrate our victory the best way I know how."

She bends down again, kissing me not just on the mouth, but all over my face. She eventually moves over to my ears, kissing and nibbling them as memories of Korean ASMR videos float through my head at the worst time. I'm experiencing all kinds of feelings at once, as once again my exhaustion threatens to get the best of me, my vision fading as she continues an assault on me equally as vicious as the one she launched against the Slime Queen. Unaware of my tiredness, Clair moves down to my neck, kissing it up and down as she breathily moans my name.

"Oh, Mozumite... Mozumite......"

"Mozumite!"

I awake with a start, practically jumping out of the bed I find myself laying in. No longer am I at the top of a grassy hill, being pinned down and ravaged by the chocolate beauty of my dreams. Instead, I'm in a hospital, the sterile white walls almost seeming to mock me as I sit there furious that I had been pulled out of my fantasy at the worst possible moment. The doctor who had been calling my name quickly assesses my condition, before explaining to me that I had been in a coma since suffering a near-fatal injury nearly two weeks ago. I don't make mention of my vivid experience in the isekai world, so as to ensure I remain in the hospital and am not moved to the psychiatric ward.

Over the next few days, I spend my time in the hospital recovering. Once the doctor cleared me for phone usage, I spent my time watching vtuber streams all day. Really, being in the hospital was not much different from being at home. When I asked about the potential damage the bullet could've done to my brain, the doctor noted that a transplant surgery was necessary for the part of my brain that had been most affected by the incident. I naturally inquired who donated part of their own brain to a humble Mozumite such as myself. My question was answered when I was escorted to another room in the same wing; there in the bed laid a figure instantly recognizable a good friend, someone whom I've always seen eye to eye with and have spent many close moments with. Of course, who else but Proctor would willingly sacrifice his own brain for my sake? Although I was concerned when I spoke to him and he mentioned how much he loved TTS donations and how much of a whore ProjektMelody was despite Kirsche having put out a doujin of herself. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I nodded along and agreed anyways.

After a few days of mild headaches and bad hospital food, I was eventually released. My nigga Big Wakey managed to hold on to that bag of kush I had nearly lost my life purchasing, and we celebrated my release by smoking our lungs black and fucking some stank hoe from the projects. Which brings us to my triumphant return to this site. I hope this story neatly and concisely addresses all your concerns. I apologize for my sudden disappearance and will endeavor to be more careful in the future. Thank you.

To anyone unfortunate enough to have actually read all that, I'm deeply sorry. I wanted to make something super autistic for my 4,000th post, as I usually do for these milestones, but things got out of hand very quickly. Nevertheless, I hope my little bit of fanfiction was entertaining. I wouldn't be this retarded for anyone else. Brown Woman Love!

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Horo7618 said:

Hoodina

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Cubanodun said:

OH YEAH BABY LETS ACCELERATE MORE

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Cubanodun said:

OH YEAH BABY LETS ACCELERATE MORE

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Cubanodun said:

OH YEAH BABY LETS ACCELERATE MORE

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