omg 😂😂😂

Greek kamaki is the old school flirting style of the Greek men. It's supposed to be smooth, funny but it is also cringe as hell, even back then, let alone now. We always talk about it humorously, it is definitely not a refined flirt ritual or something. "Kamaki" means "harpoon", alluding to the woman being the fish to be caught. Kamaki was also believed to be more successful to western female tourists because Greek women knew that shit well XD Kamaki was just the initial courtship. If the woman responded to it, it could either lead to a hookup, an occasional affair or evolve into a more serious relationship.

BTW everyone's kamaki is different however our understanding of a proper kamaki is that even when it's stupid, it is not supposed to make the man seem aggressively pushy. If the man uses derogatory language, that's not kamaki, that goes into catcall territory or worse. But let's be real, kamaki is a breath away from catcalling. The reason it is better or less problematic or not provoking as many negative emotions as catcalling is because it relies more on appreciative language and the man doing the kamaki is typically more open to be vulnerable and at least seemingly willing for a deeper attachment than just to have sex with the woman.

After social media, dating apps but also rising sensitivity regarding a woman's boundaries, kamaki is on the decrease anyway. However, nowadays the descendants of the kamaki pros are called γύπες (yípes) which means "vultures".

This is for @r6s-ywn, involving our OCs for R6S. Zhatka is hers, and Kamaki is mine. Enjoy this trashy angsty, Outbreak fic shit, my dude! :D

  Kamáki was roaming the halls of the hospital. She was alone. Finka had bailed, and Zhatka had been separated from the group. She had her AR-15 on full swivel, moving at a snail’s pace, to aid in keeping her position unbeknownst to potential infected. Her under-barrel light cast a cold, white glow down the hall, a thick wall of shadow just edging the corner she was approaching. She was worried sick about Zhatka, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would be killed. She didn’t doubt his abilities to fight, but even the strongest can be overpowered out here in the new, hellish version of Hope and Consequences, New Mexico.

  She approached the edge of the corner, peering around it slowly, rifle first. There was a small group of Grunts that were huddled in the corner across the alcove. Their Bioluminescent spines and markings cast eerie red glows across their deteriorating faces, her rifle light making their soot black skin shine like oil. She cursed mentally before pulling back around the corner. They hadn’t been alerted yet. She would use her still standing stealth to dispatch them. She fished a suppressor out of one of her armor compartments, screwing the device onto the muzzle of her rifle. Once ready, she peered back around the corner, beading in her sights before popping off silent rounds, nailing each creature in the head in quick succession. Once the Grunts dropped, she trotted further on, into the heart of the hospital now.

  Kamáki still saw no signs of her Russian counterpart, the worry still bubbling deep in her gut. She would have hailed him on the comms, but she didn’t want to risk compromising either of their positions. She was going to do her best to sneak around all of the Grunts, and she was doing well in her efforts so far. She made it into the virology wing now, everything still quiet. Too quiet. She didn’t like the silence the virology wing emitted. She veered off into a darkened room, sliding the door closed as quietly as it would allow her. She then exhaled lowly, wiping sweat from her brow. She leaned against the wall, beginning to check her supplies. She froze when she heard a clatter from the other side of the room, pale green eyes widening. She rose her rifle, shining the light in the direction the noise came from. She was met with a blur of a body, large and lumbering. She felt this entity push her up against the wall, a hand clasping over her lips to muffle any noise of surprise that came out of her. She had crammed her rifle between the being and her, ready to unload the clip she had loaded, but the light from her barrel revealed it to be none other than Zhatka, his blue eyes wide in the bright light, recognizing his signature mask.

  Relief washed over her and she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, whimpering lowly. “Don’t fucking scare me like that, Zat! I could’ve shot you!!” she hissed a whisper at him, looking up at the large man now. Zhatka shook his head, panting. He looked scared. She saw his expressions, her own turning worried now, “What’s wrong, love bug?” she whispered quietly, lifting her hand to caress his chin. She had glanced over at her sleeve as it had passed through the beam of light from her rifle, catching an out of place color. Her arm was smeared with blood. She stiffened before pushing him back gently, shining her light on the man. He had an arm coiled around his side, his flank and pant leg drenched in red. She blinked before looking back up at him, jaw slacked. “Zat, you’re…bleeding.” she grunted, a lump having formed in her throat, her voice in a rasp. “I got clipped.” he panted, shaking his head again, “Просто царапина, я в порядке. (Just a scratch, I’m fine.)” he said, pulling her further towards the center of the room, towards another set of doors. “We must leave. This mission is fucked.” he grunted, but Kamáki had stopped in her tracks, removing the light from her rifle before shouldering the weapon. She held the small light between her teeth as she grabbed Zhatka’s hand that covered his injury and lifted it. His wound was large, ragged. Deep. Whatever did this sheared clean through the trauma plates of his armor. “Oh my God, Zhatka!” she squeaked, paling lightly. Her stomach dropped. The large man strained a chuckle, “I’ve never heard your voice go that high pitched. That was cute..” he grimaced now, having to brace himself against a countertop. If he wasn’t injured, she would have slapped him. “This is no time to be funny, Zhatka, you’re hemorrhaging!” she snapped, eyes welling as she grit her teeth. Screeching and rustling could soon be heard, making them both tense. Zhatka craned his head over his shoulder before whispering a string of curses in Russian before grabbing her hand and pulling her behind a large piece of medical machinery, presumably an MRI machine, both laying flush with the floor behind its safety. Grunts had entered the room, followed by a few Breachers as well. The creatures still hadn’t officially found them, but when Kamáki rose her voice past a whisper, it had alerted the creatures to their location.

  Kamáki lay dead silent, but Zhatka was trying to keep his breathing in check, having to bury his mouth in his elbow to try and stifle the sounds of his struggles for air. Clawed feet could be heard clinking against the tiles of the room they were in, but none had ever ventured near the MRI they took refuge behind. Two solid minutes went by before silence ensued once more, the creatures having moved on to the next room to search for the source of the noise. Once she was sure the creatures were out of ear-shot, she pulled Zhatka into a sitting position, letting him lean against the MRI machine. He protested, trying to get to his feet, but she pulled him back down, “Let me look at it! I’m not anywhere near Doc’s medical inclination, but I know enough! Please…let me help you.” she said, meeting his gaze. He grit his teeth, but gave into her pleas. She propped her light up at an angle to where she could see what she was doing. She removed her gloves, pulling her face mask down now, lifting his mask just past his lips so he could breathe better. She was careful and gentle with her movements as she peeled back what she could of the edges of his torn armor, getting a better angle to see the wound. It had to be down to the bone. Blood oozed from it lazily. It was smeared all over the MRI where he had leaned against it. He had lost a lot of blood in the span they had reunited. Kamáki grit her teeth as she begun searching for bandaging. Her nerves were shot, she was starting to panic. Zhatka was going to bleed to death if she didn’t do something quickly. She finally found bandaging and gauze after digging around in nearby drawers, ripped the package open with her teeth before starting to pack it into his wound.

  “Kamáki, listen to me…” Zhatka wheezed, grabbing at her shoulder. She shook her head, trying her best to conceal the tears that started welling in her eyes, “Don’t you fucking start that shit!” she growled, continuing to pack the gauze. “Mariah!” Zhatka barked, squeezing her shoulder now. She froze in place at her real name, glancing back up at him slowly. “….I’m not leaving this place alive. One of those things…did this to me. I’m infected…” he wheezed again, his grip on her shoulder never loosening. “Я хочу, чтобы ты ушел, пока не стало слишком поздно… (I want you to leave, before it’s too late…)” he said, pain clear in is eyes. The life left her eyes. She couldn’t hold her tears back now. She shook her head, grasping his hands tightly, “No, I’m not leaving you, I’m gonna fix this!” she yelped. “I don’t want to lose you…” she whimpered, shoulders shaking as she cried quietly. Zhatka then pulled her into a hug, arms coiling around her tightly. “…You made my life worth living. This is not the end, Дорогой (Darling). We will see each other again, soon…” he rasped. He knew this was the end. He knew this was the last time he was going to see her, but he didn’t want her losing hope. It was a safe lie. With a shaking hand, he tilted her chin upwards towards him, closing the distance with a kiss. It was weak, but passionate. Tears still ran down her face, but she returned the kiss, desperately. After a moment, Zhatka broke from it, clutching her shoulders tightly as he locked gazes with her. “Get to your feet. I’m getting you out of here.” he said. Kamáki frowned, but knew he was going to stop every bit of her effort to stay with him. She cooperated, standing. She helped Zhatka to his feet now, the man’s legs weak from the blood loss, stumbling. He steadied himself against Kamáki, the woman coiling an arm around his waist as he draped his other arm over her shoulder. “Give me your rifle…I will provide cover.” he rasped, knowing she had to help him walk. She rose her arm, reaching behind her to grab her rifle, handing it off to him. He could easily handle the rifle with one arm. He nodded to her once he was ready to march on, both moving now. As they started for the exit, Grunts poured in at the sound of their much louder approaches. Screeches echoed through the hall, the monsters starting to file in, but Zhatka dispatched them quickly, not missing a single shot, even with one arm as they moved. He was starting to feel subtle effects of the virus coursing through him. His reflexes and strength were starting to heighten. His vision was starting to become clearer in the dark. He was turning.

  Zhatka rose Jäger on the comms, hissing at the man, “We need exfil, now!!” he barked, continuing to shoot Grunts and other undead that were after them. “Roger that, inbound!” Jäger reported back. They made it out of the hospital now, but they had leaped straight out of the frying pan and into the fire. Grunts, Breachers, and Rooters were all converging at their location.

Kamáki felt her stomach drop again, but Zhatka handed her rifle back to her, standing on his own now. “Zhatka, what are y-” Kamáki started, reaching a hand out for his, but he suddenly pushed her away, growling guterally. It sounded inhuman. “Stay back..!” he snarled, the skin on his face writhing. Blackened veins started etching across his face as he yelped in pain, his teeth growing jagged as gurgling, deep growls ripped through his throat now. Kamáki watched in horror as Zhatka started turning, eyes wide with terror. She was too occupied with watching the person she had come to love mutate to realize Grunts were now on top of her. She screamed as they attacked from behind. They didn’t have time to land and blows to the woman, however, because a barrage of jagged, soot black and glowing red spines shot up from the concrete below the Grunts, impaling and shredding them. The force of the spines erupting upward had thrown her off balance, sending her to the concrete below. She had escaped that mauling unscathed, but turned her attention back to Zhatka. He had now completely mutated. His uniform and armor were peppered with soot black spines and glowing red veins that spider-webbed across his form. Larger, more jagged spines jutted from his shoulders, elbows and back. He was seen crouched, claw like protrusions on what was assumed as his hands having been driven into the concrete. He had sent the massive ground spikes to shred the smaller Grunts. Kamáki scrambled to her feet now. She had never been more terrified in her life. The one man she had came so far as to even trust, now stared her down with a glowing red, ravenous gaze. She backed up, training her rifle on him now after much hesitation. “Z-Zhatka…?” she squeaked, tears rolling once more. “Ты все еще здесь..? (Are you still here..?)” she spoke in his native tongue, albeit very choppy and rudimentary. What used to be a man tilted his head as she spoke. The Grunts, Breachers and Rooters all stayed their distance from Zhatka and Kamáki now. It was like they sensed a foreboding, ominous aura coming from him. She continued to try and talk him down, buy herself some time. There was no way she was going to survive a fight with him, but she had to defend herself. “Zhatka, I know you can still hear me…please don’t do this…” she whimpered as he took a step closer. The concrete beneath him seemed to rot and deteriorate under each foot fall as he came closer to her. “….Kamáki…run…” he grunted, his voice doubled. He still had enough brain function to listen, to hear and understand. This only made things worse. She would rather him be completely mindless.

  “Zhatka, I want you to fight it! Don’t let it take you!” she yelped, her iron sights trained right at his head. He never stopped in his tracks, still stalking forwards towards her. She kept backing up. She had to keep distance between them. Where the fuck was Jäger when he was needed?! “I know you can understand me. You gotta keep it together! Do it for me!” she whimpered, having ran out of room to back up, being pushed up against a pillar of virus matter. Zhatka rose an arm slowly, the claws disintegrating to reveal cold, pale gray fingers as he reached up slowly to her face. She was ready for him to sink those claws into her skull at any moment, accepting her fate then and there as she stood stock still, staring him down. A sudden rumble from overhead caused Zhatka to flinch, then throw his head to the sky in a booming, doubled roar as a helicopter zoomed into the area. Jäger had arrived! Kamáki used that precious moment to flip her rifle, grabbed it by the barrel, and swung as hard as she possibly could, nailing Zhatka across the head with the butt of it. He hadn’t expected her rifle to connect with his head, the initial shock of it sending him stumbling to the side. She darted out from under him and back into the open area. She knew as soon as she did that, he was going to be pissed, but she’d fair better in the open, as opposed to being pinned down. Her assumptions were correct, however. He whipped his head around to Kamáki, baring his fangs as he hissed. In the event of her swinging her rifle, the butt-stock had shattered against his hardened head, making it all the harder to operate the rifle. She shook her head before tossing it to the ground. She doubted bullets would do any good here anyway.

  Zhatka was gone, she had convinced herself. There was no getting him back. She now had to focus on surviving until her exfil circles back around. She dug into a compartment on her armor quickly, chucking out a red smoke marker. Zhatka begun trudging towards her, with a little more haste than last time now. She was terrified, but never showed it as she reached behind her, retrieving her Shield-Buster. “Don’t make me do this…” she whispered. She was going to have to time her shots precisely with the Shield-Buster. One missed harpoon and she could be dead. She was already loading an explosive harpoon in the mouth of the launcher, but Zhatka decided to charge her. She had to leap into a rolling crouch to avoid him, still trying to load her weapon. Fuck, I’ve got to upgrade this thing’s reloading system! Kamáki thought to herself, but she finally got the explosive head loaded in. He was too close to her to get a shot off, however. She was going to have to dance around him to get to a far enough distance to make effective purchase with her harpoon. And being nimble with the Shield-Buster in arms wasn’t exactly the easiest feat. She saw the other sets of glowing eyes off to the sidelines. It’s like the Grunts were waiting for Zhatka to kill her off so they can share the spoils. Not even they were dumb enough to go toe-to-toe with this new, terrifying mutation. Zhatka continued to charge at her, swing his claws. He seemed to be just as clueless about his new-found abilities as Kamáki was, unable to get another batch of ground spikes worked up. She didn’t want to give him enough time to learn it, honestly. She continued to duck and dodge his swipes and attacks, gradually gaining ground, step by step. Jäger was seen hovering into the area now, the helicopter’s engines and blades whirring loudly, beginning to initiate the touchdown process.

  Zhatka, however, wasn’t going to stand for it. He leaped clean over Kamáki, latching himself onto the side of the helicopter. “Fuck, get this thing off of my chopper!!” Jäger barked over the comms. Kamáki hissed back, “Hang on!!” she said, having to fumble with the harpoon again. She couldn’t use the explosive head now, it would cause too much back splash damage to the helicopter. She unlocked and yanked the explosive head out of the launcher, switching it out with a barbed one. Once she had locked it in place again, she hefted the heavy launcher, aiming with a low growl. “Stay still, Zhatka…” she hissed lowly before getting a bead trained on him. She squeezed the trigger. With a loud pop of superheated, pneumatic pressure, the harpoon launched and hissed away, its tow cable attached to it whining as it was unraveled. The barbed head buried itself deep into Zhatka’s back with a crunch, right between the shoulderblades, the tip of it emerging from the trauma plate on his chest. A roar of pain came from him, but Kamáki wasn’t about to let him do any further damage to the helicopter. She begun yanking and pulling at her freshly turned teammate, using her strong legs and core to peel him off of Jäger, flinging and snapping the tow line attached to the harpoon head to send him crashing to the concrete. Zhatka had lost momentum and drive when he was pierced by the large, serrated piece of metal, screeching as he was dragged away by Kamáki. Jäger was able to land safely now, smoke billowing from the helicopter’s rotors, thanks to Zhatka’s shredding claws, but it was still functioning. Jäger then opened his door on the craft, yelling, “Get in!!” as he started unloading his pistol on the still downed Zhatka. Kamáki cursed in her native tongue now. The barb had so much pressure behind it on launch that it had completely buried itself in Zhatka, and the more she had pulled and tugged at it to get him off of the helicopter, the deeper it buried itself. She was going to have to sacrifice a harpoon head. With a growl, she retrieved her combat knife and begun hacking at the tow cable, but it was going to take a minute, it being reinforced with kevlar and an alloy weave. She didn’t have to do much hacking, however. Zhatka had recovered somewhat since being downed, whipping an arm around, slicing through the tow cable with a claw like it was a string of cotton, turning to face Kamáki once again.

  Kamáki knew when enough was enough, digging into a compartment on her vest and fishing out a concussion grenade, hurling it at Zhatka. It detonated, and he was sent stumbling once again. Kamáki couldn’t see or hear, but she knew where the helicopter’s last position was, and made a mad dash for it. She was either going to make it, or get cleaved in half by Zhatka. There was no in between at this point in time. To her, it felt like she was running for an eternity before she felt a hand snag her by the upper arm. It felt human. It was Jäger. He guided her up into the helicopter cabin, the effects of the concussion grenade just now wearing off. She rolled the door shut hurriedly, readying another harpoon in case Zhatka were to make a comeback. Jäger leaped into the cockpit now, slamming his door shut. He then crammed his foot to the pedals, pushing his damaged craft to its limits to get it off the ground. The helicopter now lifted off and was skyward bound, its underbelly just missing getting sliced by Zhatka’s claws by a hair’s width. Against her better judgement, Kamáki glanced out of the cabin door’s window. A roar could be heard over the rumble of the helicopter’s engines, Zhatka howling in anger. She could only stare in defeat and sorrow as she watched her lover turn to nothing but a dot on the ground as they escaped by the hairs on their heads.