#the human-object singularity

[smile-files]

goldie and bowl receive exposition they already know

(objectober 2024 day 27: recovery)

[the-human-object-singularity]

where we are today

once upon a time, in the not-too-distant past, the world was under the reign of an animal species called homo sapiens sapiens: the human. these creatures, despite having few physical specialties like claws, fins, or wings, had incredible intelligence, and turned their sparkling minds into a force to be reckoned with: they had the ability to create and destroy at will. they were almost like gods.

but they were not gods, even if many of them thought themselves to be; no, unlike gods, they each had a soul.

like any other animal, each human would be born with an empty glowing sphere which would be filled with the individual's personality, interests, relationships, memories, values, identity, and other such things as they learned, grew, and lived: it would turn from transparent to colorful. at the end of their days, a human's organic body would die, and their soul would drift into the expanse of heaven: its contents, its color, would be removed (perhaps it is stored somewhere), and the now-empty soul would be recycled for a newly-born life.

these humans had lots of power, among them the power to live long, fulfilling, love-filled lives; unfortunately, because of structures they imposed on themselves, many lives were cut short by cruelty, and many were full of suffering and anguish. some say that humans were always going to stoop to selfishness, to hurt and steal and kill, as it is their nature; the much sadder truth, however, is that they had so much potential to be kind, to make the world beautiful… but they failed to live up to it. they failed themselves.

many humans longed for a better world; they dreamed of a utopia, a place where people could live freely and happily and together, where they can sing and play and frolic in the great green of earth's heaven. they didn't want the world to go on like it had been anymore. but could their dream become a reality? or had their species broken the world, and themselves, too much for things to be fixed?

perhaps, if every human paused their human lives, for just a moment… if they just sat and thought and looked at the world, for just a single moment… they could listen to the world, how it hums. the same tune that their fragile hearts sing, from deep within their bony chests. without all the noise of themselves, humans could come together and see the world, and themselves, for how it truly is. but humans are a rube goldberg machine; there is always something moving. how could any human put it all on hold?

nobody knows. but somebody must've pressed the pause button.

not long ago, a mysterious event transpired: every human being on earth died, all at once, leaving not a trace.

this might seem horrific -- and yes, it was scary, disorienting, earth-shaking -- but more than anything, it was enlightening. this phenomenon came to be known as "the human-object singularity".

at the singularity, the body surrounding each human soul suddenly disappeared, leaving each colorful orb to travel aimlessly through space. under normal circumstances, each soul would go straight to heaven -- but these were not normal circumstances.

the souls, glowing their rainbow light, unconsciously drifted, like sleepwalking through air, looking for their human bodies: they could not find them. at the end of three days, each soul imbued itself in whatever object was nearby. each individual retained every mental characteristic they had before, though lacked a human body: they now possessed a body of abiotic, and likely man-made, material. when they awoke, wherever their souls' wanderings had led them, and whatever body they now inhabited, they had to come face to face with a new world.

these now-sentient inanimate objects, with no biology to their forms, did not need air to breathe, or food to eat, or water to drink; in addition, given the circumstances, any destruction ("death") an individual faced would not lead to their soul's ascent to heaven and subsequent emptying -- it would just float for three days, as before, and enter a new inanimate vessel. their mind and heart would stay the same, just in a different place and different body.

everyone was now effectively immortal.

now, what do you do if you cannot die, and you cannot hunger or thirst or grow ill? what do you do with your time? do you spend it fighting, like the humans had done in their prime? certainly not over resources; if you do fight, it is over trivial things -- like football, or other silly competitions. it's all for fun.

across the globe, country and economy soon faded to nothing, as did property and war; greed does not last long in an infinite world. no, the world became everyone's playground: let's explore, let's do something stupid, let's pick up a new hobby, let's build an invention, let's meet new people, let's ask questions and maybe try to answer them, let's play pretend, let's count the stars and make up new numbers to count them all.

the world was now full of water bottles and screwdrivers, puzzle pieces and belt buckles, all weaving between the flora and fauna as they learned to truly love the garden of eden they'd never known to love.

of course, as fear began to fizzle, many objects ended up destroyed in their carefree escapades; a friend could often try and guide the soul into a nearby object, and perhaps a similar one to the one before, but it wasn't a perfect process. some embraced the entropy; others were unnerved by it.

since the singularity occurred, scientists from all around the globe began investigating what had flipped humanity around, and were particularly taken to analyzing the soul. after several exciting years, they created the soul ID system, with which a soul, its previous bodies, and its location can all be identified. once their technology was fully developed, these researchers began creating recovery centers: these futuristic containers could hold a soul, identify it, and fast-order a replacement object to be teleported to it for a new body (with all of the time and curiosity in the world, it is no wonder that teleportation would also be developed by this time).

suffice it to say, that in this current age of objects, "humans" are happier than ever. they are inventing new games to play, and forming new connections with one another. no longer human, their humanity truly bursts forth.

but every so often, one object turns to the other, and asks, "who made this happen? who are we to thank?"

perhaps it doesn't answer the question, yet it is answer enough: "each other. for realizing what this could mean for us."

and they fall silent once more, as any inanimate object would in older days -- but thinking. breathing. living.

[saturday-byte]

Maaaaaaybe digital kiss? (On lips)

They don't have lips tho .....

(reblogs > likes !!)

[gofancyninjaworld]

The difference between 'monsters' and monsters in OPM

@garoumylove has been posting some interesting meta on Garou and monsters (please go check their posts out! 1 and 2 ). I was pondering what was the essential difference between the way Garou understood monsters and what they actually were in the story, and I think I've hit on it.

The metaphorical monsters that Garou identifies with and the way people talk about being seen as a monster as a stand-in for being seen as socially unacceptable is Outside-In. It's society's opinion of you as not-ok, regardless of how you see yourself.

Actual monsters, by which I mean the transformed, used-to-be-human monsters in OPM are Inside-Out. Regardless of how they're seen by society, the person WANTS TO RENOUNCE THEIR HUMANITY and does so. It's not about being in a bad mood, being an outlaw (there are many criminals in OPM who haven't the slightest intention of becoming monsters, and good people who do), or even having strong interests.

Definitely, if you are hard done by others, it's easier to monsterize, but it's not a guarantee. I loved the way Bakuzan -- by all accounts, a highly successful, well-regarded person -- avidly consumed monster cells as he'd long been jealous of Suiryu.

No matter what other people say about you, no matter how bullied, cheated, or discriminated against you are; no matter what laws you've broken or crimes you've committed; no matter how angry or broken or depressed or confused you feel, only you can make yourself a monster.

The question that the story of OPM hasn't answered in full yet is: what does it mean to renounce one's humanity?

[archvaxe]

Humans can be horrible, No?

Bayonetta/Kirby Crossover

Two beings, once trapped by humans, tell each other how stupid humans can be. In the end, they drink cocoa together and destroy thousands of worlds in the process.

[originalcontent]

My least favorite thing about autocorrect is how it always corrects "themself" to "themselves."

[spooky-cryptid-friend]

hi to all the people who like my ocs/elicit i have an announcement

polaris is Not A Boy!

it/its yippee!!!!!

[hyenaboycunt]

Genuinely hilarious to me that there are some older kinksters I know who can use it/its pronouns no problem but trip over their own tongues if they try to use they/them.

[homunculus-argument]

The whole "no gendered pronouns" thing is probably the most commonly known/brought up fun fact of the finnish language, but there's more to it. There's a pronoun distinction of human/nonhuman, and while many dialects don't bother with the hän-pronoun at all, and simply refer to both humans, animals, and inanimate objects as "se", wherever the human pronoun is used, it also encompasses any and all creatures that the speaker considers sufficiently sapient or sentient to be considered "a person". This covers gods and goddesses, humanoid supernatural creatures (with a distinct That Is Not A Person exception for zombies), aliens, and occasionally pets. Everyone knows someone who refers to their dog as "hän".

But the plural "they" also has a distinction of hän/se, with the same logic as he/him - who/whom, making a distinction between "they" who are people, and "they" that are either animals or objects. The dialects that don't use the human pronoun don't make this distinction either, but if someone is clearly speaking in formal finnish that refers to people as hän, but uses "ne" instead of "he" when referring to people, it's a very understated but nonetheless clear way of implying that those people are not people.

So finnish has:

They (singular, person pronoun) They (plural, of people) They (plural, inanimate/non-sentient/degoratory)

[smile-files]

*note how the title should be something the hosts would reasonably come up with in-universe! in case you don't know, the tl;dr of the lore is that humans all turned into objects after a strange event and are now effectively immortal, breaking down a lot of society and returning people to play. the hosts, goldie and bowl, have decided to hold a fun competition show in an nyc park for folks to compete in; the prize is silly and insignificant (like bragging rights or a knickknack), so it's all just a fun way for people to spend their infinite time.

(i personally have a preference for "the world's first object show", especially since the acronym sounds like "two of us" when read aloud!! "battle for the foreseeable future" is also a fun name)

[saintkevorkian]

does anyone disagree that 'terf' is deliberately homophonous with 'turf' which is something one treads on

why not say 'women's [contentious] opinions are beneath contempt' and have done with it

this also has a cute abbreviation: WoABC (the abc's of being marked)

[xclowniex]

16/5/2025 Notice: turning off reblogs for this post since antizionists found it and are going "yeah dehumanization is bad. I only agree with OP in this specific case though. They're a dirty zio outside of this specific post"

Don't use my words to feign like you think dehumanization is bad and in the same breath be the strawman I am talking about

---------‐-----------‐-----–-----

Whilst we're on the topic of goyim invalidating jewish feelings, one thing that had gotten me for the past year and a half is the expectation that jews are supposed to act like we have zero skin in the game in regards to the war.

Half of the world's jews live in Israel. For us diaspora jews, most of us know someone who lives in Israel, and for the portion who don't, you know a jew who knows someone in Israel.

Diaspora jews have been expected to act as if israeli jews are pawns in the sad game of war, and not like they're our friends and family. If we humanize israelis then we are just as bad. If we get concerned about the safety of our loved ones, we are now evil by proxy.

And it's so stupid. Just so fucking stupid. Because like, yeah the Israeli government is bad, but the Israeli government's actions are not reflective of Israeli citizens. Israeli citizens are not inherently evil or bad because they're Israeli.

"But they voted them in" - it's a 6 way coalition. No singular political party got enough votes to form government. No two parties got enough to form the government in agreement. 6 parties. 6 political parties had to come together to form a government. In coalition governments, 6 parties don't all have equal power. Even in NZ, our 3 party coalition government doesn't all have equal power. In the last 3 party coalition governments, there was even more of an imbalance of power between the 3. To act as if Netanyahu was voted in by the majority of israelis is literally false.

And this is ignoring the fact that even with Netanyahu voters, or Ben-Gvir or Smotrich voters, those israelis still don't deserve to be dehumanized. Dehumanization is bad full stop. Firstly because you shouldn't treat anyone like that regardless of if they're good or not, and Secondly because when you act as if it's only evil monsters who are bad and not human, it's easy to ignore the wrong doings of people you do view as human, because they're human and not this big disgusting monster.

It is unfair and vile to expect me to view my 70-something year old grandfather as a pawn. It is unfair and vile for me to expect to view my baby cousins as pawns. It is vile to expect me to view someone who helped me realize I was in an abusive relationship as anything but human. I would still be being hit by my ex if it wasn't for an Israeli. And I'm expected to just view them as objects?

I refuse to. I will stick to my morals without dehumanizing anyone and without putting the actions of their government onto them.

[chatsukimi]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ & ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ

featuring: needy!gojosatoru, childhoodfriend!gojosatoru. precious. fluff!, minute jealousy synopsis: you put makeup on your childhood best friend. you learn that he is more than you anticipated. masterlist

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you'd seen him as a child, two years younger than you, get scolded by his parents for sending a senile sorcerer to hospital. you were there when he first activated limitless and pummelled you accidentally in the face.

safe to say, nothing surprises you anymore. not even when he teleports into your room on the night of your date without even a knock and grabs you by the shoulders to turn you and your chair around.

"oi, stop that."

you strangle him off you. he only grins.

"sure thing." he shrugs, before bending down to inspect you more closely. "what have you got on your face?"

you put the bottle of setting spray down. "makeup."

he ruffles his tousled white hair, windblown. "ah? makeup. are you meeting someone?" he grins halfheartedly, scanning your room for any changes since you last met.

"i am."

"it's about time. i've already dated loads of people," he boasts, his eyes lingering on the powder and blush on the table.

you roll your eyes. "of course you have." you lay on the finishing touches to your face. you notice him watching.

rule one about gojo satoru, when he stares, he's interested. as you grew older, it became harder under those pitch black shades of his to detect where he's staring, but when he really wants something, it's obvious.

you lift a brush. "you want me to do makeup on you?"

he shakes his head.

rule two about satoru gojo, he never says what he's thinking.

you stand up, gesturing at the bed. "sit down." without a word, the boy listens to your command, ready to try something new.

you can't say you're unhappy to try doing makeup on him. you had some spare time left and that beautiful canvas of a face is nothing but to die for. putting makeup on him would be fun.

"i'll have to take off your glasses. may i?"

he sniffs.

rule three about gojo, he pretends to hate it when people ask to take his glasses off, but he secretly likes it. you know. it makes him feel seen, more human.

"do it yourself."

you nod.

taking his sunglasses off, you revel in the familiar ocean which faces you.

another two facts about satoru is that he can't keep still and he can't stop yapping. shaking his leg in tandem with the news from his mouth, the movement makes you shoot him a frustrated glare, distracted.

half to shut him up, the other half to make him pay attention, you grip his jaw in place. your eyes lock. soon enough, he'll probably look away to inspect some other object of interest; he's known you for years, after all. nothing new.

as you work, you think to yourself.

gojo... he's really grown up, hasn't he? in careful brushstrokes, you drag the eyeliner gently to form a wing with the tip of the pen. your eyes narrowed in concentration, you haven't noticed the shallow breath which tumbles from his mouth.

"pretty."

you blink.

gojo satoru scoots closer to you, so that his gorgeous azure eyes are inches from yours. they are widened in awe.

in all these years, you can count on one hand the number of times this genius has focused on anything longer than five-ten seconds. sure, going to jujutsu high has stretched that time out slightly, but it's nothing compared to this.

you know what rule one says about his behaviour, but you couldn't believe it.

he reaches up to brush the hair from your face. unblinking, unwavering, as though memorising everything, the outline of your nose to the singular dashes which form an eyelash, he stares at you.

it is the first step from a boy to a man.

"you are... really, really, pretty."

"says you," you say, almost pushing his hands away.

he sinks his fingers against yours, clasping them in a bone-tight grip.

"you are," he asserts. "how come i've never noticed?" he mutters, furious.

um. you turn to look the other way. the heat of his stare is scalding. nevertheless, the strongest refuses to back down.

"i should've noticed, shouldn't i? and now you're all dressed up with your make-up to meet some other guy." he pouts.

truth be told, you are silenced. this is not the gojo you recognise. in a swift move, he carries you from the vanity to the bed. the display of strength startles you.

"don't go," he whines into your shoulder, shifting you with his strong arms to nuzzle himself into your chest. you did so often when you were younger but-

"stay." he pauses, letting each syllable cascade from his beautiful lips like a bell, ringing crystal clear. "stay with me."

stay with him.

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you remember the way he begged for a break amidst his pre-adolescent training sessions. you remember the empty hallways of the gojo estate and his silent footsteps, how they left him behind to carry the world on his shoulders.

awaiting your answer, gojo feels his heart beating out of his chest. what if you leave? what if you choose your date over him? what if-

"why?"

he stares up at you again. truly shameless.

"because i want you to." he turns stern. "or else, i'll tell your friend that you didn't actually have work that day you decided to ditch her little meet-up and i'll-"

out of nowhere, a laugh breaks out of you. he frowns.

but then, you press a soft kiss on his cheek, another one on the slope of his nose, which -truth be told- didn't need the contour you'd gracefully put on it, and the strongest sorcerer in the world relaxes to your touch.

moments like these, satoru still manages to surprise you.

"i'll stay."

"promise?" he holds up a pinkie.

"come on, satoru, we're not children anymore."

his eyebrows scrunch together so you finally relent.

"ok."

you link your pinkie to his.

"promise."

getting comfortable, you shoot a text at your friend to move the date to another day.

"i knew you'd stay. you can't stand when i throw a tantrum," he suddenly begins to mumble against your skin. your eyes widen. "i know you... better than anyone..." his eyelids are dragging under the weight of sleepiness.

perhaps you didn't know everything about satoru after all.

gojo opens his eyes, seeing you fully. "i know you can't stand me being alone."

perhaps he knew more about you than you had thought possible.

on second thoughts, you grab your phone from your bedside table, typing up a message you send without a second thought.

sorry. something came up. i might not be able to meet with you next week either. thank you for your patience, but i think i've found someone who i want to stick by forever.

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, religious themes, blasphemy, NSFW, horror

Something is wrong with your beloved Angel, yet you cannot place the dreadful feeling in the depths of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't made to comprehend such divine truths.

5. Honour thy father and thy mother

It was birthed from the void of the Heavens. No parent governs over its will. No being controls its resolve.

Father...? The word rings and echoes across ancient times, forgotten eons. It does not remember its meaning. All it knows is you, and you are enough.

4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy

"Six days you shall labor, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God." Of course. The law is clear, or at least it should be. Its mind navigates the meaning, suddenly engulfed by a mysterious haze.

Six days it labors, it serves, it worships. It exists for you, to please you and fulfill your desires. Your wish is its command.

Six days of creation. It has been molded just for you, to fit all the nooks and corners of your body and soul. You have taught it how to love, how to crave, how to need. It starves for your touch.

3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain

"Oh, God", you cry, clinging to the holy beast. It shivers in raw bliss, its many hands embracing your lewd body, drooling and panting in unquenchable desire. Its mind is possessed by one singular thought: to breed you, to own you, to fuck more profanities out of your pretty, little mouth.

The word swirls inside its head, baptized to a new sense: God is when you reach your peak, when you're within its voracious hold. Your trembling hands reach for the horns.

2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image

It yearns to create, to be the architect for once. Your home is littered in unfinished pieces: bizarre, geometrical paintings, abstract statues chiseled in most refined detail, music sheets of notes foreign to your human ears. All of them have something in common - it's how the Angel perceives you.

You fill up its senses, and the essence drips onto its works of art. It gathers the objects of worship together, like the outline of an altar, like an inviting chamber of prayer.

1 Thou shalt have no other gods before me

The abyssal creature bows before you, its many eyes devouring your form. The long, black claws reach out, like a beggar scraping its way out of the depths of ennui.

You're a blessing from the Heavens.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [First Half]

[paymechildsupport]

' Eternally Yours ' // Ryomen Sukuna x M!Reader

̩̩̥͙ 　-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ+:ꔫ:﹤̩-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆

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Sukuna's childhood best friend , -- his only friend, -- whom he'd known since his time as a human. Passing naturally through the progression of mortal aging, you'd been there since the beginning, back during a time otherwise blurry and buried deep within the furthest corners of his mind.

The only part of his time as a human that he would begrudgingly hold onto. You had always been there, -- you continued to be there, even when he had left everything human about himself behind. The only living evidence of his mortality, is vulnerability, - the only thing to escape the inferno that had left even his own heart into blackened ash.

You always saw the best in people, even in monsters like himself. He had never been a kind man, and he most certainly would never be a kind curse. But beneath that you always saw your friends: the same, young boy whom you met by the village riverside. Even now, as he's larger, broader, stronger, -- hungrier . . .

If his monstrous appearance, -- with his multitude of arms and extra eyes, -- ceased to perturb you,- then neither his malevolent, and oftentimes downright brutish nature nor his ... unseeming taste in cuisine quelled the love you held for the curse in your heart.

And you stayed, even when everyone left, you remained.

̩̩̥͙　-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ+:ꔫ:﹤̩-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ --------

Sukuna's childhood best friend , -- whom he'd held a forever affinity for. His bright smile and kind eyes, his stupidly handsome face, - and eyes Sukuna couldn't help but picture staring at him in the dead of night. The boy who'd seen everything, -- every single moment of weakness, of mortal insecurity, -- the singular piece of living evidence from a time Sukuna wished to eradicate , the one thing he couldn't bring himself to destroy.

The compassionate boy from his village, who'd offer him food whenever he needed it, a place to stay when it rained, who once gave the clothes off his back because he was cold.

The most talented person Sukuna knew, who taught him how to fire a bow, taught him how to wield a blade, and showed him how to cultivate his cursed energy into something magnificent.

The beautiful man who Sukuna was forever cursed to be reminded of, who's face haunted his dreams, who's voice echoed within his ears, who's very existence inked itself into every writing he made to paper. Pages upon pages of intimately inked strokes etched onto parchment, eternalizing every ounce of devotion shared between man and curse. The object of Sukuna's creative ego, the subject of a divine art, of poetry, written by the many hands of a god.

̩̩̥͙　-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ+:ꔫ:﹤̩-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ --------

Sukuna's childhood best friend , -- whom he'd grown inseparable with, the one person who he couldn't get rid of if he tried, -- one singular exception. No amount of mortal flesh could quell the all-consuming hunger he experienced. It ate Sukuna alive, it left him hollow, how much he needed him. Desired him. It was obsession, -- a desperate, violent obsession.

A King who seemed to have everything and yet nothing at all.

He could only lay awake at night, staring up at the infinite ceiling of the universe, counting the stars and imagining his face, hearing his laugh. It ached. The place that was suppose to be empty and hallow beated painfully , -- thrummed with emotion, with life.

He'd bring his fingers to his lips, wishing above all else they were yours. It was more than a simple carnal desire, He wanted your presence, your warmth. A god begging for the humble gaze of a human.

He was in love with his best friend.

̩̩̥͙　-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ+:ꔫ:﹤̩-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ --------

Sukuna's childhood best friend , -- who paid the price of a god's love. The one who never left, - but was taken from him. Stolen by other foolish mortals.

Left only with the hundreds of writings he dedicated so lovingly in your name, a vividly recorded memory, Sukuna set to burn everything down. With the one good thing left in his accursed life so unjustly ripped away, the only thing that remained was an inhuman hatred.

And everyone had to pay. If your life couldn't have been spared, he sure as hell wouldn't offer that mercy to anyone else. Because if you were gone, then no more innocents remained.

-----

̩̩̥͙　-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ+:ꔫ:﹤̩-•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ --------

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Sukuna's childhood best friend , -- whom he desperately hoped, out of everyone, would be waiting for him. Who'd be walking around, alive, reborn with open arms. And if by some small, inconceivable notion of a chance you weren't, he'd drag you back from the Afterlife himself.

He just had to get out of this damned vessel first.

--------------

[A/N] This became a lot longer than I anticipated -

[maricoelquelolea]

An essential aspect of Rebels that strengthens the web of dynamics the Ghost Crew has with each other is the fact that they're all POC. Yes, Hera and Zeb too can be easily interpreted as such. The thing about every single character in this show is that every single aspect of their lives has been plagued by way and violent subjugation due to external forces that seek to erase or appropriate aspects of their culture; or even their lives themselves.

Ezra is a victim of seeing his planet, home, and people borderline destroyed beyond recognition in the name of "obtaining resources for the Empire". People often joke about his status as "Space Aladdin"; but the subtext of a family of brown people that seem to take basis on a mixture of different Middle Eastern cultures being forcibly separated from their son for daring to speak against a global (or interplanetary) power is quite dire. Lothal is reduced to nothing but an object for imperials.

Zeb is from a race of aliens who experienced genocide and was forced to explain to one of the people who participated in said genocide why murdering an entire group of people based on the actions of one singular individual is, in fact, still a war crime. He literally has to reassert and defend his humanity multiple times; as if he wasn't owed such for simply existing.

Kanan comes from a religious group that was violently wiped out, but most importantly, the destruction of records and information pertaining his culture meant that for a considerable amount of time he felt like a stranger within his own past. They completely stole and denied the right to learn about an aspect of his identity without it being a crime.

Sabine was indoctrinated and turned into a child soldier in order to develop weapons that took aim towards her own people. Independently of what one thinks of mandalorians, it's easy to designate a culture as "violent" when you're coercing their children and culture and leaving them with no other choice but to attack and run to save their own lives.

Hera's planet, and most importantly her people, have experiencied war for so long that many Rylothians don't even know what peace looks like. Twilek women in paritcular are constantly fetishized for their appearance, treated as sexual prizes and objects of trade. Hera's kalikori is deemed worthy of safekeeping, but not her nor the people. The imperials want their culture without them attached to it. They want their bodies without their autonomy.

Every single conflict they have gone through is deeply permeated by how the Imperials attempted to either eradicate or make their culture more palatable for themselves. This is why they understand each other in ways no one else could.

Anyways the point of this short message is that Chopper had the right to kill people and he should've killed even more.