Thread 513212304

What do you think about women in the military?

>>513212304 (OP)
Performative nonsense that lowers troop morale.

>>513212304 (OP)
they destroy male companionship - the very essence of a military life.

They should be able to dig their own latrines

>>513212304 (OP)
Also apart from that gypsy girl, it's crazy how these dudes look 100% like us. I though balkans were brown.

Nazis once believed in traditional gender roles and women don't belong in the military.

Turns out, a bullet fired by a woman goes through their skull the same as one fired by a man.

>>513212304 (OP)

It is clearly man....and I don't care if trannies are part of army

They can be of value in certain support roles but not combat or most combat support roles and certainly not in special operations.

>>513212304 (OP)
they definitely were useless during my mandatory military service, crying and not being able to carry their own shit

>>513212304 (OP)
Performative. Also my sister was in the military and she is retarded. Twice divorced single mother who is addicted to weed with arm and hand tattoos and an ipad kid

>>513212304 (OP)
send them on the front line in active combat roles and they ll be slaughtered . .

by the relentless grind of the Norwegian Army. Her dedication to her profession was total, a passion that defined every inch of her existence. As a soldier on a joint military expedition with France, she spent months in remote bases, training with unforgiving precision. Her body was a testament to years of discipline: slim and super fit, with ribs visible under pale, toned skin, defined abs that contracted like steel under strain, a thigh gap accentuating long, muscular legs, elongated arms carrying effortless strength, and perfect goddess proportions sharpened by military physical training. Long orange hair cascaded down her back, framing piercing brown eyes that radiated unbreakable confidence. She was dominant by nature, with high self-esteem rooted in her Norwegian identity – proud of her Viking roots, she collected artifacts like axes etched with ancient runes, ornate knives evoking ancestral warriors, an issued army rifle mounted on her Oslo apartment wall, and three Glocks stored with military precision. Snowy forest hikes were her therapy: the biting cold air on her skin, the crunch of snow under boots, the silence broken only by wind, linking her to a heritage of resilience. Beyond physical prowess, Astrid was sharp-minded, with deep knowledge of international agreements and legal matters – she studied military treaties and Geneva Conventions in her downtime, turning her mind into a weapon as keen as her body.

>>513212577
You guys should probably conscript all your women then, if you want to beat Russia.

>>513212304 (OP)
Combat rape just became my new sexual fetish.

>>513212304 (OP)
Combat nurses are okay. Anything else is femicide disguised as equality.

>>513212577
I have 776 confirmed woman kills

Introduction>>513212929

Astrid Larsen, at 30, was a force of nature shaped by the relentless grind of the Norwegian Army. Her dedication to her profession was total, a passion that defined every inch of her existence. As a soldier on a joint military expedition with France, she spent months in remote bases, training with unforgiving precision. Her body was a testament to years of discipline: slim and super fit, with ribs visible under pale, toned skin, defined abs that contracted like steel under strain, a thigh gap accentuating long, muscular legs, elongated arms carrying effortless strength, and perfect goddess proportions sharpened by military physical training. Long orange hair cascaded down her back, framing piercing brown eyes that radiated unbreakable confidence. She was dominant by nature, with high self-esteem rooted in her Norwegian identity – proud of her Viking roots, she collected artifacts like axes etched with ancient runes, ornate knives evoking ancestral warriors, an issued army rifle mounted on her Oslo apartment wall, and three Glocks stored with military precision. Snowy forest hikes were her therapy: the biting cold air on her skin, the crunch of snow under boots, the silence broken only by wind, linking her to a heritage of resilience. Beyond physical prowess, Astrid was sharp-minded, with deep knowledge of international agreements and legal matters – she studied military treaties and Geneva Conventions in her downtime, turning her mind into a weapon as keen as her body.

>>513212304 (OP)
Women are too weak for actual combat roles.
No country sends women to the trenches.
They are only used for recruitment pictures.

>>513212304 (OP)
They've turned the services into a welfare program.

It was during a break in the expedition, in a small coastal town in southern France, that she met Julien Moreau. It was a rainy autumn afternoon, the humid air thick with the smell of strong coffee and fresh bread in a modest cafe near the base. Julien, 18, sat alone at a corner table, trying to blend into the furniture. His messy brown hair fell over warm brown eyes that avoided any prolonged contact. His young, athletic body – earned through solitary gym sessions and morning runs to escape his thoughts – was hidden under a baggy t-shirt and worn jeans, as if he wanted to minimize his presence in the world. The only child of a poor family, Julien lived in isolation, filling empty days with Linux programming, diving into hacking communities out of pure technical curiosity – exploring system vulnerabilities like an intellectual puzzle, no malicious intent, but drawn to the sense of control in a world where he felt powerless. He also consumed controversial historical material, like documentaries and texts on Hitler, fascinated by the mechanics of power and collapse, a solitary way to process his own insignificance. His low self-esteem was a constant weight: an inner voice whispering he was unworthy, boring, insufficient. Talking about himself was agony – every word felt like exposing his fragility, and he feared being invasive, as if his mere existence could impose on others unwantedly.

Astrid entered the cafe, shaking rain from her military jacket, and ordered a strong black coffee. Her piercing eyes scanned the room and locked on Julien, who was flipping through a book on algorithms but stealing glances at her, blushing violently when their gazes met. He lowered his head, heart racing, the inner voice screaming: She's going to think you're pathetic, why would someone like her care about someone like you? But Astrid felt an immediate attraction, not to his looks, but to the raw vulnerability radiating from him – that low self-esteem making him shrink was like a puzzle her high confidence yearned to solve. Her natural dominance pushed her to connect, to guide someone so fragile with patience and genuine desire. She approached, sitting opposite without hesitation.
"You look lost in deep thoughts," she said in fluent English, with a light Norwegian accent, her voice firm and inviting, conveying subtle romantic interest.
Julien blinked, surprised, his hands trembling slightly on the book. "I... Sorry, I didn't mean to invade your space," he muttered, voice low and hesitant, eyes glued to the table. His low self-esteem paralyzed him: Why is she talking to me? I must be boring. "I'm not very good at conversations," he added, embarrassed, his face burning with shame.

>>513212341
why would a Croatian girl have a neck tattoo in English?

>>513212304 (OP)
that's a man.

Astrid smiled, leaning forward, her brown eyes piercing into him. "You didn't invade anything. I came to you. What are you reading?" Her dominance was subtle, insistent, as if she knew she needed to pierce layers of self-deprecation to reach him. She saw his fragility as something beautiful, a contrast to her own strength that drew her in deeply – she wanted to connect, emotionally and romantically, with this young man who saw himself as nothing.
They talked for hours. Julien stammered at first, hesitant to share, his inner voice censoring him: Don't talk too much, you'll bore her. He briefly mentioned his solitary life: Linux programming as an escape, runs to clear his mind, the loneliness of being poor and family-less. When he touched on his hacking interests – "It's just curiosity, nothing serious" – and material about Hitler – "I read about history, like... how power corrupts, but it's dumb, I know" – he blushed with shame, thinking he sounded ridiculous. Astrid listened intently, finding it cute – an naive solitary expression that contrasted with her real-world experience as a soldier, dealing with international agreements and geopolitical conflicts. "It's fascinating," she said, dominant but tender. "I want to know more about you. Don't hide – I see potential there." She shared stories of her life: total dedication to the army, her legal knowledge of treaties like the Hague Convention, and her Norwegian pride, the snowy hikes that made her feel invincible. Her high self-esteem shone, but not oppressively; it was a beacon that made her insist on the connection, gently guiding him out of his shell.

The attraction grew fast. In a few days, between mission breaks, they met. Julien hesitated to touch her, his low self-esteem whispering: You don't deserve this. But Astrid took the initiative, grabbing his hand, pulling him close. "You don't need to be afraid with me," she whispered, connecting to his fragility like it was a treasure. When the rain stopped, she invited him for a walk, and he accepted, despite the fear of not being enough. They strolled the wet town, the fresh air heavy with promise, and she kept probing, insisting romantically for him to open up.
When the expedition ended, Astrid decided to take him to Norway. "Come with me. I want to show you my world and connect for real," she said, decisive, eyes full of desire. Julien, passionate but tormented by insecurity, agreed, his heart full of nervous butterflies.

In Norway, Astrid's Oslo apartment was a sanctuary of her identity: surrounded by snowy forests and cold lakes, with Viking artifacts adorning the walls – polished axes with runes, curved knives telling ancient stories, the issued rifle and three Glocks lined up like sentinels. She loved snowy forest hikes, and took Julien on those trails, the cold air biting skin, snow crunching under feet, wind whispering secrets. "Feel this," she said, holding his hand when he stumbled, embarrassed by his inexperience. "I'm not good at this... Sorry if I slow you down," he muttered, low self-esteem evident, as if failing was proof of his inadequacy. Astrid insisted, dominant: "You're here with me, and that's perfect. I want to guide you."
She set him up on the sofa-bed at first, respecting his fragility, but soon invited him to her bed. "No need to make it weird," she said, pulling him close on the first night. They slept entwined, his young athletic body pressed against hers – pale toned skin, visible ribs under light touch, defined abs. Julien trembled, his inner voice questioning: Why does she want me? I'm nothing. When she asked about his day, he deflected, ashamed: "I didn't do anything important... I don't want to bore you." Astrid insisted, piercing eyes full of romantic desire: "You never bore me. Tell me about your hacking – I think it's cute how you explore that." He blushed, sharing bits about Linux communities and his fascination with controversial history, feeling shame, but she saw it as an innocent curiosity, contrasting with her real missions and legal knowledge of war laws.

>>513212304 (OP)
The same as women outside the military. Only good for cooking meals and fucking.

Days included intense gym sessions at the local facility: smell of sweat and rubber, clanging weights, humid air. Astrid, in tight leggings highlighting her thigh gap and abs, led with military precision. "Push-ups now," she commanded, demonstrating – long arms extending, ribs showing with each drop, pale skin glistening with sweat. Julien followed, hesitant, his voice doubting: "I'm not as strong as you." She corrected his form, firm hands on his back, feeling his skin's heat, building tactile intimacy. "You're stronger than you think," she replied, connecting to his fragility with patience.
Deep conversations came after workouts or hikes, sitting on sweaty floors or soft snow. Astrid talked of her profession – total dedication, knowledge of agreements like the Oslo Pact on landmines – and her Norwegian pride. Julien opened up slowly, shame in his voice describing his loneliness: "I feel so insignificant... Like I don't deserve attention." She responded with tender insistence: "I see you, Julien. Your fragility draws me in – I want to connect deeper." Romance bloomed: kisses started in the gym, after exhausting workouts – she pulled him into a corner, lips firm on his, tongue exploring confidently. Julien responded shyly, hands hesitant on her toned waist, stomach butterflies persistent despite closeness.

First sex came one night after a workout and snowy hike. They returned sweaty and chilled, Astrid dominant, pushing him against the wall near the Viking axes. "I want you," she said, breathing heavy, heart pounding like an ancestral drum, piercing eyes burning with romantic and raw desire. Julien blushed, insecurity overflowing: "I... don't want to be invasive. I'm not good enough for you." She guided his hands to her small perky breasts, nipples hardening under touch – a raw female erection, throbbing like a hard cock with primal excitement, heat radiating through pale skin, contrasting the snow's residual cold. Her breath quickened, heart hammering, a romantic fire mixed with physical urgency, as if her body shouted the desire her mind already knew. "Feel this," she whispered, voice husky, guiding him deeper into connection, insisting despite his fragile timidity. He felt the nipples' stiffness, her pulse echoing in him, blending shame and arousal. Sex was raw: she mounted him on the floor, slim fit body moving with military precision, deep moans echoing as he penetrated, feeling the wet tight grip around his young throbbing cock. Hardened nipples brushed his chest, sweat dripping like pleasure tears, heavy breaths intertwining in romantic primal rhythm, hearts beating in unison. He came quick, spurting inside with a shameful groan, but she calmed him, kissing deeply, deepening emotional connection: "You're exactly what I want."

>>513212304 (OP)
kad vam pocinje obavezna sluzba?

>>513214185
nikad

>>513212304 (OP)

I think it's a badass aspect of Jewish and Kurdish societies.