I'm clearly not the first nerd to facepalm when I saw this prompt. However, your language is incorrect. They would be the Adeptus Anomalie, not the Imperium Anomalie. The second implies they are on par with the Emperor, while the first shows the Adeptus (like the Adeptus Assassinorum) as a department.

This makes sense. Good work.

[removed]

Reincarnated to a world, where it is a modern world, but with generic fantasy species and elements. Apparently the main antagonist (a dictator) has the power to create things that come from Earth.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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I think most people wish on nearby stars. They're further than shooting stars, but you'd still get your wish granted in your lifetime. Also, I'd bet a lot of people are wishing on Venus.

Apparently, whishes move substantially slower than light.

There was a Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya episode involving this. They were celebrating Tanabata, which involves wishing on two stars. Haruhi figured that their wishes would be granted in 16 and 25 years, which is when the light would reach the stars. Kyon pointed out that they'd also have to wait for the light to get back, but Haruhi apparently thinks they have FTL wish-granting powers, but not FTL perception.

I sure can’t complain about that one making a return—that was probably my favorite prompt I’ve participated in, and at least it’s not yet another “it turns out you’re actually dating your arch-nemesis!!” prompt.

Oh my gosh, this is so sweet! I wasn't expecting this kind of take and it honestly made me tear up. Fantastic little story, thank you for posting it. ❤️

I hate that I know exactly where this quote came from.

Today was the day the wishes began to come true. Little did we know what was to occur. Little did we know what to expect. I think, deep down, we thought that we were good, that when we got the ability to wish for things, that they would come from good places, from the good within. Oh, how we were fools.

Immediately, death, disease, destruction. The world is overtaken by selfish desires, as humans began ripping each other apart one by one. Jealous of what others received. Angry that they didn’t wish for something else. Cursing the name of the stars, for reasons that weren’t their fault, rushing head first into an abyss that wasn’t meant for them. As they say: be careful what you wish for. Thankfully, you were.

You woke up that morning and all the stars were ablaze. The book you had been reading the night before is on the nightstand beside you, alongside your phone. It’s blowing up.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing!?” one text says. “He’s back! Dad’s back!” says another. It’s all too much to take in at once.

Outside, you see a car crash into a street pole, the driver dead behind the wheel. The passenger stepped out, screaming, “I take it back! I don’t wish you were dead! Please!”

Money, countless amounts of it, line the streets. Many people are clawing at it, some are driving over it, figuring it was useless as the world had just ended. Another car crashes. Then another. Then another. The chaos ensues for the next three hours and you stay up in your apartment watching, waiting for some sort of relief to come. Your family seems to be okay. You lock your doors and go back to your room. The electricity has been shut off. You sit in the dark, alone.

Suddenly a light floods your window. You look outside and glowing above you is one last shooting star, glowing a bright blue. You can’t look away. And then it hits you. You never made your wish.

“Oh God,” you say. “What the hell am I suppose to wish for?”

You think about texting your family, but then you realize that any input from them would tarnish your wish. It had to come solely from you. You ponder what to do, writing out pros and cons lists, researching philosophies and theologies, even praying. But as the dawn begins to crack, you still have nothing. You begin to panic.

The star is still burning blue. It seems to have not dimmed at all since you first saw it. Then you realize what you have to wish for.

“My only wish,” you think, “is one million more years of wishes coming true.”

You expect something to happen, but nothing does. Outside it’s become pitch quiet. People have probably abandoned town. It wouldn’t been soon until looters begin to arrive. You look out your window and the blue star is gone. You decide to test to see if your wish worked.

“I wish for immunity to damage and pain,” you think. “I wish for immortality,” you think. Again, nothing happens. But you decide to test it.

You open the window of your apartment, which is five stories high, and you jump off, landing on the pavement with a loud thud. But as you come to your senses, you realize that nothing has happened to you. You remained unscratched. “Awesome,” you say aloud. “Awesome.”

Now, all that is left to do is relay the news to other. Every wish that is wished would come true for the next one million years. They had to use this power responsibly, as one wish could ruin the whole thing, but something inside you felt optimistic of the future.

“I wish this goes well,” you say. You stand up into the street. You put some cash in your pocket, and you go on your way.

Depends, what are you looking for?

Japanese Isekai? The male protagonist is run over by a truck with a game device in hand that becomes his superpowered ability within the new world they have entered. As a result, they have been blessed with magical abilities focused around said game device as they travel the land, saving fair maidens, running from the local authorities, and causing no endless amount of trouble.

Korean Isekai? The female protagonist dies while reading an online web-novel and has now entered said novel as the female side character during the events of the novel. Join her as she narrowly avoids all the relationship flags being thrown her way, charms the love of her life, and finds a way to make herself a successful business woman!

WARNING: HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION.

SCP-40000

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-40000-1's vital signs are to be monitored at all times by MTF EX-4 (Adeptus Custodes), and the life support systems of SCP-40000-2 are to be maintained to the best of the Foundation's ability. Currently, there is no way to repair SCP-40000-2's failing systems fully and is estimated to completely fail in [REDACTED].

Description: SCP-40000 consists of two anomalous objects: SCP-40000-1 and SCP-40000-2 SCP-40000-1 is currently the most powerful human being to ever live on record. Due to injuries sustained by [REDACTED] eleven-thousand years ago, SCP-40000-1 has been connected to the archaic life support device known as SCP-40000-2.

SCP-40000-2 also known as: "The Golden Throne" is a life-support system that is at most twenty thousand years old and utilizes technology that is long lost to the human race. Research for possible repairs to SCP-40000-2 is of high priority as it is showing signs that it will fail in the next [REDACTED]. All attempts to fully repair SCP-40000-2 so far have failed, and research is still ongoing. Information about SCP-40000's current condition is highly confidential and any breach of security must be dealt with swiftly.

SCP-40000 is currently located deep within Site-[990] (The Imperial Palace) and is to be guarded at all times by MTF EX-4 (Adeptus Custodes).

Uncle Bubba just got hit by a truck. New he, his pack of coon dogs, and his shot gun Bessie need to defeat the Dark Lord.

This is magnificent

Looking forward to reading more of you so decide

Thank you! I didn't mean it like i was not happy with it- to me it feels jumbled because i cut a lot out. I was worried that it would be too long and I had so many ideas for it but cut it short- like, the kid didn't expect to get picked up by the villian, but why the hell couldn't he go to any of the adult heroes instead? Why did he live on the streets for a week- what's the deal with his powers, his origin- and what makes Miss Terry a villian? I imagined her as a 'retired' lex luthor, and I sort of envisioned Terry's wife being a former Hero.

I had enough ideas for a full story and I've been working on it on and off, Cause I didn't kow if I wanted Terry to ruin the mother and step father's life, or have the kid be the one to go back and get revenge. I was also trying to figure out how to post it later, cause I don't think AO3 allows original work.

maybe this is how we got Industrial Revolution, monkey claws...

"Why would a NECRON help protect the universe?"

"Because I live here too!"

Honestly I'd not be surprised if a chaos demon or two was working with them, since they Also live in the universe (they live in a WEIRD part, but DO they live in it)

The shape began to pivot towards her in mid-air, the scrambling attempts of it to claw it's way through the air towards her ship seeming successful against all physical probability. Kit'Au turned again, siphoning power from both shield and weapons to redouble her speed and put as much distance as possible between herself and this abomination. However, this appeared to enrage the creature, and It being swimming and clawing its way towards the Manta with redoubled speed. Her gunner began swearing as he rained shots into It without success, and she gritted her teeth as she felt it slam into the wing. The damage sensors immediately began blaring about structural cracks to the fuselage and wing strut, but Kit'Au's more pressing concern was the scrambling and thumping she heard along the wing coming towards her. The last thing she saw was an emaciated, weeping, human-like face in her viewport, before there was a smashing sound and a rush of wind.

Far below, Khârne the Betrayer was leading a brotherhood of Bloodletters into battle against the weakling Tau battle suits, when he was distracted by the crunching smash of a destroyed Manta hurtling into the perimeter of their skirmish. His helmet sensors had barely time to register there was movement within the wreckage, when Khârne felt something slam into his ceramite pleading, cracking a shoulder pad and hurling him against a rock outcropping.

As he leaned forward and stood, he could see a blur of motion turning the skirmish into a charnel house. Whatever was amongst the combatants cared not for Chaos or Tau, and instead slaughtered all with bludgeoning, brutal efficiency. A new emotion sparked deep within Khârne's chest: envy. He gunned the teeth on Gorecleaver, and roared out a battle cry to attract his foes attention.

The shape stopped, revealing itself in that moment to be a slender, pale, human-like figure. Certainly nothing more frightening than Khârne had ever seen amongst his travels within the warp and his witnesses to the perverted atrocities of the gods of Chaos, but nevertheless it held something that still terrified the razor slim sliver of human instincts he had left after his transformation to a Space Marine and then the right hand of the God of Slaughter had washed away everything else.

The entity was a blur again, smashing into Khârne and pulling at plates, hoses, helmet, and weapon faster than mere vision could track. Khârne instinctively swung and felt Gorecleaver bite into flesh, the teeth sticking and slowing as if caught in tar rather than meat and bone. He gunned the engine again, but by the time his fingers had responded to his mind's directive, the entity was behind him this time, pulling and yanking at his pack on his armor: bloodless, tattered fingertips creating streaks and gashes and dents as they scrambled to pull and tear at any exposed piece they could.

Again, Khârne acted without hesitation, the plasma pistol spinning around and glowing an eye-searing blue as it thundered into the being at point blank range. The berserker howled at the damage the Betrayer had inflicted, the momentary respite giving Khârne time to turn to face his opponent again.

Five clicks distant, Earth Caste missile technician Fio'vre Nem'sha was racing to press his data pad into the hands of their Ethereal commander. Breathless with excitement he explained "The main Chaos general, one our sources tell us is named The Betrayer, and the primary source of what statistics are displaying as greater than 15% of all casualties in our siege against the Chaos forces, has engaged with the entity we detected coming out of deep space. The entity has already destroyed a Manta and the Crisis battle group that was engaged with the general and his retinue, but appears to be in a stalemate for the moment with the Betrayer. I would suggest that we act swiftly to unleash all available firepower and artillery we have to spare, to end the threat now before he has a chance to move again."

The Ethereal considered the data pad for a long moment, eyes passing over the images of both combatants, before nodding solemnly.

Khârne was panting, feeling the exertion of battle in a way that made his blood race and heart pound with exhilaration. He had not been challenged in combat, truly challenged by a foe of this magnitude, since the heresy, And now, on this inauspicious planetoid, he was being tested in the colosseum of battle by this strange monster. So focused was he on attacks and counter attacks against this creature, that neither he nor his counterpart noticed the thousands of streaking blue lines overhead, as the missile barrages from hundreds of Sky Rays came hurtling towards them.

Long minutes had passed. The skirmish ground, once covered in blood, was now a blackened, glassy hole, blue flickers of plasma fire still looking at the edges. The Earth Caste technicians had a trio of camera drones focused on the smoke, to confirm the destruction of both the Chaos general and the strange berserker creature. But as the smoke cleared, a single ragged figure was seen at the center of the crater. The sigil of Khorne began to glow into existence, a stark and bloody red overwhelming the remnants of blue at the bottom of the crater, centered beneath the feet of this lone figure.

In a voice of thunderous triumph, the Blood God's declaration rang forth in a demonic tone even the Tau could comprehend in their terror:

"I have chosen a new champion."

Although no one would survive to record it, the technicians could have sworn that they could also hear a distant, quiet sobbing.

It had not been Guardsman Yarmoth's day, or even week. The unfortunate soldier had woken up to mud soaking his boots, before being reassigned to go attend the Basilisk vanguard. The Guard had been shelling the position of the Chaos heretics for much of the past month, but in truth there was a mere scratch upon decades of shelling that had reduced their myriad warren of tunnels and strong points to little more than a smoking craters and rubble.

But still, the Chaos filth persisted and took hold like a weed, or so their Commissar had told them, and as a result they were needed to push for a new strike. The heretics had become emboldened, apparently receiving a trio of Thunderhawks the previous fortnight. Yarmoth had heard from some of the Ratlings at the dining bunker that the Thunderhawks had deposited some Chaos Space Marines, a comment that sent chills up Yarmoth's spine.

However, he felt somewhat more secure when he caught sight of the enormous cannons, the thunder audible for miles away, and rattling his very chest from this close. Even a Space Marine, as terrifyingly mighty as they could be, was little match for a shell the same size of them, landed with unerring precision on their position. So it was with some surprise that he was forewarned of his fate by only the unnervingly close rev of the saw blade, before his skull was split in half by the grinding teeth of the chain axe Gorecleaver.

Khârne the Betrayer laughed, a noise not filled with mirth but merely unhinged satisfaction, as yet another spray of blood stained the countless layers darkening his armor. He was among the crews of the Basilisks like a hurricane, cleaving men and steel and flak armor like it was little more than cumbersome paper. Yarmoth's body had barely begun to cool by the time Khârne had finished obliterating the remainder of the Basilisk detachment. Three dozen artillery pieces devastated and over a hundred men dead in the span of just a few minutes, and not even enough of bloodbath to warrant a footnote in his own personal history.

It was as he stood atop the smoking husk of the final Basilisk that the Betrayer caught sight of a Rhino barreling towards him. He laughed again, gunning the motor on his chain axe as he watched and readied himself for another charge into battle.

To his disappointment though, the Rhino stopped several hundred yards away. There was no large weaponry installed on it, and even the front bolter was angled downwards, unmanned. A quick triggering of the thermal sensors in his helmet revealed only a single occupant, a mere human unclad in anything more than the robes of the sniveling Inquisition. However, the insignia on the front of the rhino was not one that he recognized. It was a trio of gilded arrows pointing inwards, but confusion rapidly gave way to anticipation as he obligingly charged his plasma pistol and leveled it at the target that had been provided. He saw the lone human pop the hatch of the rhino, bracing something against their shoulder as they prepared to fire it.

Khârne growled in response, ready for some painful hellish fury to be unleashed. But instead, there was just a quiet thunk and something was lobbed out of what appeared to be a converted grenade launcher. The cargo landed a few paces from him, before cracking in half with a hiss and puff of harmless smoke. Within was some sort of printout, a picture of an unoccupied mountainside, but little else. He cocked his helmet in confusion, the threat having apparently been harmless, but looked up as he heard the distant vox squawk of the Rhino driver saying "Cargo delivered, my lords."

The Betrayer snorted, and in a span of heartbeats closed the distance to the Rhino, rending it and the feeble human inside into little more than metal scraps and bleeding offal within moments. Still, for the first time in more millennia than he could count, the betrayer shivered with unease.

Dozens of light years distant, there was a series of loud rumbling thumps from deep within the Imperium Anomalies fortress-bunker, as hundreds of bulkheads and redundant defenses for breached by the passage of something unstoppable. The tunnels and passageways had been mostly abandoned, but they were the occasional shrieks of pain and splintering wet sounds of brutal death as the entity passing through encountered more prey to destroy.

Finally the destruction reached the surface of the dusty moon, and after pacing in a worried circle for almost an hour, the entity began digging straight down. It proceeded to do so for another hour, making almost a full kilometer of distance in a ragged hole, unimpeded by dirt, rock, concrete, or steel. Having apparently reached the necessary depth, it turned, and with a final howl sprinted faster than the eye could see and launched itself out of the hole and into the stratosphere, quickly disappearing into the cloud layers and beyond. From a secure observation room below, the Lord Scientist Bright keyed his vox recorder:

"Well, I suppose this is a new behavior we can add to this SCP's capability. Now all we have to do is wait."

314 years later:

Air Caste pilot Kor'la Kit'Au choked a curse into her helmet as she urged her Manta to bank, the Chaos Heldrake that had been soaring directly at her passing under a wing and leaving a scraping trail already starting to sputter and catch fire. A dozen auto turrets and drones pivoted and began raining fire on the offending craft, quickly reducing it to a ball of plasmic flame that immediately cratered towards the distant surface below.

She had registered the damage diagnostics and just begun the nanotech repair protocols, when her stellar positioning sensors warned her of an incoming projectile from far above. It was traveling too slowly to be a spacecraft, but too quickly to be a mere high altitude bird or other native fauna. As she keyed in the camera clusters to focus in on whatever this might be, all she can make out was a distant, roughly humanoid shape, limbs uncomfortably long and covered with matted hair. It opened its mouth as she saw it, and even though she could not hear the howl she could tell it was screaming at a volume that would have ruptured her eardrums had she been close enough.

Now I'm tempted to write a bit about the Queen when the villain took over. Lol.

Give me a while. I have a seminar to go to this morning. 😅

The SCP Foundation is dead.

Long live the SCP Foundation.

"Secure their weapons." The mortal commanded, gesturing to his subordinates.

The three Grey Knights balked, dropping into combat stances. Artorias spoke, "No one disarms the Grey Knights of the Holy Emperor."

The mortal drew himself to his full height, diminutive in comparison to the Space Marines, but his sheer force of will shone like a beacon to their Warpsight. "By order of Malcador the Sigillite, primogenitor of your order, by order of the Emperor of Mankind, and by order of the O5 Council, I demand the surrender of your weapons. There are... Things far more dangerous than Chaos in our vaults. Our remit is unmatched, our authority absolute." He held up a signet ring, and placed it firmly in the lead Knight's gauntleted fist.

The Knight looked at the ring and immediately surrendered his Null Stave. The others paused significantly but followed suit.

The Mortal nodded, "You would not be here if it wasn't absolutely necessary. We require your expertise." He turned and strode briskly through the enormous baroque doors, which opened for him silent and smooth.

They followed.

An interminable march of twists and turns past doors labeled with alphanumeric signifiers later, they came to a door. A brutal slab of adamantium and titanium alloys, with a variety of esoteric warnings on the wall nearby.

KETER HOSTILE LIFEFORM

The Knights shared a look as the Mortal spoke again, "When you enter this room, you will encounter an organism. It is nonhostile to Psykers. Please attempt to ascertain it's True Name and banish it."

The door slid open, revealing another massive door. The Mortal gestured and they entered. As the door swung shut behind them, Damocles voiced the thought they shared, "They sent us to a Daemon, unarmed."

Silence greeted him as the second door opened.

Within the next chamber was a large transparent container of boiling acid, the fumes filling the room were lethal, and the armor threat sensors of the Knights went berserk.

Inside the vat a distinctly inhuman skull bumped the glass, eyes rapidly forming and dissolving. A raspy, gurgling voice emanated from the tank, "Humans."

Artorias stepped forward, "We are His Holy Grey Knights, the Blade of the Emperor, Chamber-Militant of the Ordo Hereticus."

"You've come to kill me." It wasn't a question.

Regulus cut in, "We've come to send you home."

The creature considered, floating in it's deadly bath. "If you're being truthful, I welcome you. Let me out."

Artorias silently disengaged the systems filling the vat, from a nearby control panel. The acid drained, leaving a pitiful but large corpse. It's legs planted themselves as it leveraged itself up, tendons and muscle and flesh rapidly racing across bones to recreate it's body.

The beast regarding them was reptilian, huge, powerfully muscled, and clearly intelligent. It paced around them, menace exuding from it like an odor.

Finally it stopped and sat, somewhat like a dog. "How do I go home?" It intoned coarsely.

Artorias nodded, "Tell me your name. Your True Name."

The beast spat a disgusting sounding litany of guttural, unpronouceable noises. "Good luck repeating it."

Artorias nodded at Damocles, who concentrated his psychic might and started reciting the name, each sound an exact copy of the Creature's.

As he finished, the Beast stood, almost alarmed. Damocles spoke, "I command you to return from whence you came, in the name of the Emperor."

It started to rush forward as an unseen force gripped it with strength beyond reckoning. "WAIT! I CAN'T GO BACK! I DON'T KNOW THAT WORLD ANYMORE!"

Damocles looked at Artorias, at the beast that was desperately clawing to remain in the Material realm. Then he intoned with fervor, "You are banished!"

In the observation chamber, the O5 Council watched in amazement as SCP-682 finally died, at least in their estimation. An ancient file was retrieved, opened, and stamped with two new classifications, "Neutralized" and "Safe".

Deep in the bowels of the Warp, the Beast was home.