As a Rafayel girlie, I don't want his new myth PV or even the banner to drop right now. I have Rafayel's Lemurian Sea God at R3. Of course I would want to get his new myth eventually, but not now. I want Valko first and foremost for fellow Valko girlies and myself.
I've been looking forward to Valko being added since Caleb's release. I believed a rumor that the last love interest would be involved with EVER and right now, I just want to see if this is true or if Infold went a different route. Either way, I know the backstory for Valko would be good since all the others have a good backstory.
I think releasing Rafayel's new myth during this time would look even more like a cash grab than it would any other time (because this is a gacha at the end of the day).
And once again, to anyone complaining about people who want to comment about Valko under posts that Infold makes in the future, sorry not sorry. We're allowed to comment about him anywhere and everywhere for Infold's posts. PlayStation players are getting their voices heard right now because of the amount of posts PlayStation has AND PlayStation isn't closing the comment sections.
We are allowed to be heard. This narrative of other love interests getting hurt by Valko comments is so stupid and honestly, it sounds unbelievably selfish of other players. Put yourself in Valko fans' shoes. You would want your voice heard, right?
HEARTLABYUL'S HOUSEWARDEN, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS, created a secluded rule that was never officially put forth in the Queen of Hearts' formal rulebook. The rule would be applied only during unbirthday parties in the Heartslabyul dormitory, where you are (unknowingly) permitted to have your preferred pastries or sweets served only to you, while the other students must settle for the standard fare. Of course, any modifications that you wish to make from your palette are keenly tracked by Riddle himself, ensuring that your tastes are always catered to during these gatherings.
SAVANACLAW'S HOUSEWARDEN, LEONA KINGSCHOLAR, had given you exclusive access that no one else in his dormitory had ever received before, disturbing him without consequences that could bring a lifetime of humiliation. To the oblivious eyes, the whole ordeal may be treated as trivial, but to those who have explicitly known the mighty beast, it's a golden opportunity to enjoy a rare privilege. You can bother him anytime you want, even if it's the stupidest thing in humankind, and he will never bat an eye and will willingly give you his undivided attention without question.
OCTAVINELLE'S HOUSEWARDEN, AZUL ASHENGROTTO, is a businessman who is familiar with the rulebook of satisfying his customers, especially those that are considered valuable to the Mostro Lounge. Recently, a new extension to the campus cafe was secretly implemented, and only one lucky customer is authorized to enjoy the exclusive benefits it offers. A private dining area with personalized and first-priority service and a specially curated menu that complements your palate awaits you. Surprisingly, the merman is gracious enough to deduct the costs of your meal from your total bill, transitioning it into special discounts and perks for being a preferred patron.
SCARABIA'S HOUSEWARDEN, KALIM AL-ASIM, is the epitome of generosity. True to his nature, he is happily inclined to deposit a heaping amount of allowance money into your bank account every month, ensuring that you are well taken care of and never have to worry about financial constraints! He's beaming every time a notification shows the number of items you've purchased with the money he gave you. If that wasn't enough, he would casually permit you to have exclusive entry into most of his prized belongings, for instance, like ancient artifacts or rare jewelry that could only be accessed by a select few.
POMEFIORE'S HOUSEWARDEN, VIL SCHOENHEIT, often never keeps the surplus of beauty products he sponsored for himself due to cluttering his own living space, instead opting to deliver the products that match your complexion and personal preferences directly to your doorstep. Whenever he was away to do shooting, regardless of how busy he was, he would often strictly instruct you to have a video call with him to assist you on how to properly use the products, ensuring that you achieve the desired results. There are some occasions when he would drag you to have beauty appointments with him and receive personalized treatments from his favorite aestheticians, all in an effort to help you look and feel your best.
IGNIHYDE'S HOUSEWARDEN, IDIA SHROUD, never dared to let anyone enter his room. However, the whole world has to hold its breath when you are given the green light to freely enter and exit his room whenever you want. At any time you visited him, his once messy room had gradually transformed into a meticulously organized space, which was a surprise change that only you seemed to be able to bring out in him. As if you weren't lucky enough, during gaming sessions, he sometimes lends you his account that he has spent years building up, giving you access to rare items and exclusive content that you could never obtain on your own.
DIASOMNIA'S HOUSEWARDEN, MALLEUS DRACONIA, knows a character with a sincere heart when he sees one. From the several interactions you had with him, he only knows goodness emanates from you, as you always treated him as an equal rather than just a royal heir, which left an impression on him. To reward your kindness and genuine nature, Malleus has decided to bestow upon you a special curse that may aid you in your future adventures. This curse will grant you his eternal protection and guidance, ensuring that no foolish foes are able to harm you as long as you carry his mark on your skin.
Soo... yeaahhh. Valko headcanons. Somehow it's three pages long. I think I blacked out somewhere in the middle.
Also first time ever writing headcanons.
Valko, who caught your scent when you decided to quickly ran to a nearest store to satisfy your late night craving of something sweet. You remember the full moon being especially bright that night, when you walked back to your home with a huge amount of various sweets in your hands, completely oblivious to a wolf following you from the roofs.
Valko, who started a full-blown internet investigation on you the second the effects of a full moon disappeared. He was very annoyed by a surprisingly small amount of information about you. Your main social media page looked like you update it once in a blue moon (haha). Your second page under a fake name revealed a bit more about your interests, but not enough to satisfy his curiosity.
Valko, who spent several days brainstorming ways to "accidentally" bump into you and somehow came up completely blank. Seriously, why do you spend so much time at home? Why can't you go for a walk? Visit a cafe? Wander aimlessly through a bookstore? Give him something to work with.
Valko, who monitored your online activity with the patience of a wolf stalking its prey and nearly jumped out of his chair when you signed up for a Twilight marathon at a local movie theater. He immediately canceled two meetings, moved another three, delegated an entire afternoon of work, and somehow convinced everyone it was a matter of national importance.
Valko, who claimed the seat right next to you and tried very, very hard to focus on the first movie, but your scent is distracting enough to make concentration impossible. Who would have thought he would end up sympathizing with a fictional vampire by the end of the night, suddenly understanding the struggle on a deeply personal level.
Valko, who noticed how shy and introverted you were, but also how your entire face lit up whenever someone genuinely asked about your interests. He immediately weaponized this knowledge by peppering you with question after question during the break, listening to every word as though each answer was the most fascinating thing he had ever heard.
Valko, who became deeply offended during the second film when you quietly fangirl over Jacob. He starts nitpicking every scene Jacob appears in, pointing out more and more ways a real werewolf would not behave like that. His criticism became increasingly specific, suspiciously passionate, and oddly informed
Valko, who had to fight cuteness aggression when after his long ramble about how werewolves are portrayed all wrong in media, you tilted your head at him with your big eyes and completely dismantled his argument with a soft “But he has fluffy ears.” He had to look away for a second.
Valko, who silently wondered if you would react the same to his ears.
Valko, who offered to walk you home because it is dark and you should not be alone. And definitely not because he wanted just a little more time with you. Absolutely not.
Valko, who mentally applauded you when you stopped outside an apartment complex he knew wasn't yours. A safety precaution. Smart. Very smart. He simply smiled, wished you goodnight, and walked away without a second glance so you wouldn't have to awkwardly pretend to search for your keys while waiting for him to leave.
Valko, who immediately climbed onto the nearest rooftop the moment he rounded the corner and followed you from above anyway, making sure you safely got home.
Valko, who spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at himself in the mirror, wondering if his ears are fluffier than Jacob’s.
Valko, who became the target of endless family jokes after his cousin caught him examining himself in the mirror and heard him absentmindedly mumble "Are they fluffy enough?" No amount of threatening stares could erase that moment from family history
Valko, who continued monitoring your online activity and just so happened to start appearing at places you frequented until exchanging phone numbers with him felt completely natural. You didn't need to know he'd already memorized your number weeks ago and had to actively resist texting you first.
Valko, who started to bombard you with texts, because he needs to share every single second of his day with you.
Valko, who quickly learned all your favorite games and spent all his free time (And sometimes even his work time. Chairman priveleges.) to play them and learn everything about them.
Valko, who intentionally got obscure lore details wrong just to watch you burst out of your shell and passionately explain exactly why he's incorrect. He just wanted to hear you talk.
Valko, who spent days making mods for your favorite game, adding features you absolutely needed, fixing bugs that had been plaguing the game for a decade now, and then sending the developers an absurdly detailed bug report with screenshots, steps to recreate the bug, three different solutions, two follow-up notes and a passive-aggressive little “hope this helps.”
Valko, who discovered that your apartment building allows pets and spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering whether turning into a giant wolf and pretending to be a stray would increase his chances of receiving head pats.
Valko, who accidentally developed an entire internal ranking system for your smiles. Tiny smile? Good. Laugh? Excellent. Snort-laugh? Achievement unlocked. Full-body wheezing because of one of his dumb jokes? He'll be riding that high for the next month.
Valko, who somehow always knows when you've had a bad day before you even say anything. You assume he's incredibly emotionally perceptive. In reality, stress literally changes your scent.
Valko, who had to exercise an inhuman level of restraint the first time he stepped into your apartment to stop himself from openly sniffing everything. Every blanket, every pillow, a hoodie draped over a chair... they all smelled like you. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to bury his face in your couch cushions.
Valko, who suddenly got very cold and used the blanket on your couch “to keep warm.” In reality it was the perfect excuse to wrap himself in your scent and pretend that was completely normal behavior.
Valko, who preferred to sit cross-legged on the floor by your legs, claiming it was more comfortable whenever you tried to usher him onto the couch with you.
Valko, who somehow always ended up leaning against your legs while sitting on the floor. He didn't even realize he was doing it until you casually rested your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself while standing up.
Valko, who began dragging you out of your apartment at every possible opportunity, claiming you needed sunlight.
Valko, who, despite his golden retriever energy, somehow always found the quietest café or the most secluded bookstore whenever your social battery started running low. He could somehow tell before even you realized you were getting overwhelmed.
Valko, who stood just behind your shoulder whenever strangers bothered you on the street, silently staring without blinking. If they still refused to take the hint, the corners of his lips would slowly curl upward just enough to reveal his canines, accompanied by a low, almost inaudible growl that somehow made people suddenly remember they had somewhere else to be.
Valko, who nearly short-circuited the first time you absentmindedly called him "good boy" after he fixed your computer. He froze. Completely. You blinked at him in confusion while he desperately fought every instinct telling him to wag something he definitely did not have in human form.
Valko, who reacted to the sound of a snack bag opening like it was a dinner bell. No matter where he was, he would appear instantly.
Valko, who was suddenly very grateful for your chaotic sleep schedule because it meant he could spend almost the entire night playing games with you, watching movies, or simply existing in comfortable silence while you both ignored the fact that it was somehow four in the morning.
Valko, who challenged you to games over the last chocolate milk in your fridge every single time, but still shared it with you no matter the outcome.
Valko, who completely short-circuited during one of your movie nights when you absentmindedly started playing with his hair. His eyes slowly drifted shut before snapping back open as every instinct screamed at him to shift and flop into your lap. He spent the next twenty minutes sitting unnaturally still.
Valko, who became irrationally competitive with every dog you stopped to pet during walks. "He's cute." "He's drooling." "He's a bulldog, Valko." "Exactly."
Valko, who instinctively positioned himself between you and every large dog that barked at you. Most of them stopped barking the moment they looked at him. Their owners found it very strange.
Valko, who knew the exact moment you realized you liked him, even if you were too shy to say it out loud.
Valko, who became increasingly affectionate afterward, always finding little excuses to bump shoulders with you, sit a bit closer or casually drape an arm over your shoulders.
Valko, who would occasionally stare blankly at a wall for several minutes. If questioned, he would insist he was thinking about work. In reality, he was trying to figure out how exactly one tells the person they like, "By the way, I'm a werewolf."
Valko, who took you for a hike in the forest to clear his mind in a more familiar and comforting surroundings.
Valko, who did not expect a pack of wolves to suddenly cross your path and completely ignore his warning stare, instead snarling at both of you.
Valko, who heard your frightened yelp and lost all reason. His ears and tail appeared and he loudly growled, staring at the wolves, until they backed down and retreated.
Valko, who caught a hint of satisfaction from the wolves before they disappeared. Were they trying to help him?
Valko, whose heart stopped, when he realized that his secret was out.
Valko, who slowly turned to you with slumped shoulders, a tail hanging lifelessly behind him, and ears flattened against his head. He plopped onto the ground in a futile attempt to make himself smaller.
Valko, whose eyes kept darting between you and the ground, looking like a kicked puppy. You were sure you could even hear a quiet whine from him.
Valko, who forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, when you carefully traced his ears with your fingertips before giggling and scratching at the base of his ear just right.
Valko, whose entire worldview shifted the moment he realized your immediate response to discovering he was a werewolf wasn't fear. It was “You're so fluffy.” He was going to marry you. Immediately.
Valko, who from that day forward, was no longer trying to hide his wolfish tendencies at all, because apparently you thought they were adorable and he had no self-control whatsoever.
Before I jump into the AM report, I want to take a second to thank all of you for the support on these posts. I started them simply because I wanted to use the small platform I have to get as many people involved in this movement as possible. I'm truly honored that so many of you appreciate them. I promise I won't let you down 🫡
AM Report 7/2/2026
As of 9:30am CDT:
LADS following count: Instagram 920k, X 657.5k, TikTok 895.3k, YouTube 325k
Petitions: 219.5k and 90.8k
Vorpal Sword Entertainment Syndicate (a voice acting studio that works with Infold) posted in support of #bringvalkoback
#bringvalkoback is trending in 43 countries!
I'm not sure where this is, but a large crowd gathered to see a billboard of Valko here
Another X user is starting a fundraiser for a wolf conservation center here
Valko's theme has become LADS's most popular song on Spotify and Apple Music
CyYu has spoken up about the situation, as well as several other well-known creators
AX2026 has changed their Twitch settings so that only people who have been following them for a week or more can access the chat. After the way we flooded the live chat yesterday, we can only assume it's because of us
The CN fans have reached a new total spending amount of 84.3 million RMB (over 12M USD)
Several people who work in business and marketing (including myself) are agreeing that the most logical thing for Infold to do is bring Valko back. If they don't, the effects could be catastrophic for their company—and that's not an overstatement
RUMOR: people have pointed out that the wording and lack of official seal on Infold's statement about Valko are suspicious. Many people have started believing this could all be a PR stunt to test our reactions.
New Protest Strategies
Chinese Cultural heritage: we need to be more vocal about how LADS has helped players learn about Chinese heritage and culture. This will help to calm the bad press Infold is getting in China.
Respecting the Craft & Creative Freedom: emphasize the amount of work that went into creating Valko and his storyline. We CANNOT be okay with the work of developers, artists, VAs, etc. getting thrown away so easily.
Unity: it's very important we continue to work as a group. Personally, I have never seen the LADS fandom so united. We also need to emphasize the importance of representation and diversity in the fandom and game.
A Stance Against Bullying. Love over Hate: Infold literally folded under pressure from bullies. This is LOVE and Deepspace. The six love interests are meant to allow everyone to find something they like. We also need to continue donating to and raising awareness for charities, like the wolf conservation centers.
Chocolate: Since the fandom has agreed Valko loves chocolate, we can try to get some chocolate companies involved.
DO NOT LOG IN! We're still trying to affect their DAU metric.
Don't expect a statement from Infold until Wednesday. With Anime Expo this weekend, and a historical day in China on the 7th, it's unlikely they will say anything about the situation until then.
Keep fighting! Antis worked for seven days to get Valko's release cancelled. We have to continue to make noise in order to be louder than them. Many companies will wait out protests for a few days to see if they fizzle out.
Don't lose hope! We're making a HUGE impact already!
Take care of yourselves. Take breaks, eat, drink water, and get plenty of rest.
Resources ↓
Notes Do NOT log into the game. We need to affect their DAU metric (daily active users) Unfollow on social media (Instagram, X, TikTok, etc.
To all of my fellow Americans, have a happy fourth! I'm going to do my best to still give you a midday and PM report. The fight for Valko continues! Sending my love!
For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺
𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table.
cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing.
read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr
Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.
It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.
His hand tightened around yours.
“Dobro,” he said.
Another crash.
From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”
Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.
He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”
“More than people?”
“Depends on the people.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.
Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.
Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.
Do not say you're full.
And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.
You had asked what the soup incident was.
He had started to walk faster.
Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.
“Valko,” you said softly.
“Yes?”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm not shaking.”
“You are.”
“I’m containing myself.”
“From what?”
“Hereditary embarrassment.”
The door flew open.
A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.
A slow smile cut across her face.
“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”
Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.
“I changed once.”
“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”
His ears went red.
The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”
“Unfortunately,” Valko added.
“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”
“It isn't optional.”
“Because of me.”
You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.
Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.
Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”
Valko muttered, “We were.”
She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”
You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.
Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.
“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”
You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.
“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”
“I hear everything,” the old woman said.
Valko went still.
Milena smiled into her shoulder.
The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.
“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.
She, of course, ignored him.
Instead, she took your face between both hands.
Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.
“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”
“I eat,” Valko protested.
Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”
“That was taken out of context.”
“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.
Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.
Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”
Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”
No one listened to him.
You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.
“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.
Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.
The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.
Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”
“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”
Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”
Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.
Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.
Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.
“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.
You obeyed.
The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.
You chewed. Swallowed.
“It’s delicious.”
Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”
Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”
Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”
“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.
“No.”
“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”
The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.
“That was private.”
“You said it in the kitchen.”
“That makes it private.”
Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”
Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.
The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.
He had spoken of you here.
At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.
Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.
“He was always like this,” she said.
“Baba, please.”
“He was a strange child,” she said.
Valko groaned. “Please.”
“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.
“A dramatic child,” Luka said.
“A biting child,” Milena added.
Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”
“You looked biteable.”
“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.
He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.
There he was.
Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.
Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.
“Are you keeping him?”
The kitchen stopped.
Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.
Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”
“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”
His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.
You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.
Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.
His fingers closed around yours at once.
“I’d like to,” you said.
The house held itself still for half a breath.
Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.
“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”
Valko bowed his head.
His shoulders shook.
At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.
Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”
Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”
Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”
“For Valko?” you asked.
“For all of us.”
Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.
Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.
“That's just Valko,” Milena said.
“I am not a dog.”
“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”
Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.
A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.
You noticed on the fourth offering.
His family noticed on the first.
Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.
“Ah,” she said.
Valko froze.
It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.
“What?” he said.
“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”
Mika threw his head back.
You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”
He looked at the cake.
Then he looked at you.
His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.
Milena saw it.
Her teasing quieted.
For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.
Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”
Valko blinked. “Me?”
“Her.” Milena pointed at you.
Valko frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It has worked on you for years.”
You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.
She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.
Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”
The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.
For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.
“He likes you,” she said.
You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”
“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”
A laugh escaped you.
Milena folded her arms.
“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”
Your throat tightened.
From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”
Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”
“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”
Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”
You laughed softly.
She looked at you again, sharper now.
“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”
“The goat?”
“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”
You glanced back towards the kitchen.
He had asked if his laugh was strange.
Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.
You looked down.
“He didn’t need to worry,”
“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”
“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”
There it was.
The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.
“I’m not here to hurt him,”
“Most people aren’t, at first.”
“Milena.”
Milena’s gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.
“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”
Milena stared at you.
Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”
You looked down, caught.
She seemed satisfied. “Good.”
“Is that approval?”
“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”
“You were being difficult?”
“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”
When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.
His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”
Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”
He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”
You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”
“That was Baba.”
“Family consensus.”
His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to be intimidated.”
“By Mika?”
“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”
“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”
Valko sighed.
You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”
He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.
“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”
Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
His smile softened.
For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.
“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”
“I do”
“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”
He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.
“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”
Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.
“No.”
“Yes,”
“No photographs.”
“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.
Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”
Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”
He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”
You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.
“Sit,” she said.
Valko sat.
It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.
For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.
Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.
There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.
Each photograph was another small door.
You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.
At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.
“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.
You turned a page.
A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.
“Yes,” you said. “I do.”
He stared at you.
Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.
Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.
The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.
Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You looked at him. “For what?”'
“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”
“I like Milena.”
“That means she behaved.”
“She said she was being polite.”
He winced. “Then she liked you.”
You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.
Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.
She waved back.
Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”
“She loves you.”
“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”
“It’s a good one.”
He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”
The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.
You reached for him.
This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.
“I meant it,”
His eyes searched yours.
“For tonight?”
“For longer than that.”
He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.
Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”
Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”
You laughed.
He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish
“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.
You touched his cheek.
Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.
Guys I'm only going to be writing for valko from now on. Until all of this nonsense ends. He needs representation and I'm going to provide it. I don't know how long this will last. I've been working tirelessly on getting him back, along with many other players. I've hardly gotten any sleep, food, or water at all. I don't care how many likes my fanfics get, but please try to support me and the other artists as much as you can. I've weathered so many hateful and racist comments, especially on rednote. I have hope that valko will be back.
Also, when someone is rude to you, be rude back. Don't tolerate disrespect and racism!
a bit of a rant im sorry. but I can't believe valko antis are trying to guilt trip his supporters by accusing us of "not taking 731 seriously." u dumb hypocrite fuck it was YOUR ringleaders from the CN fandom who disrespected the suffering of so many people INCLUDING THEIR OWN ANCESTORS by using such horrifying events to CANCEL A VIDEO GAME CHARACTER.
without a shred of doubt the reason valko was immediately announced as "cancelled" by infold is because a bunch of toxic people (be it paid by a rival company or not, it doesn't matter, the damage is done) brought up the ISAIAH related world underneath where human experimentation is obviously shown NEGATIVELY, only now.
the fact that so many valko antis are bringing this up now and many even think it's related to him shows that a whole lot in this fandom lack reading comprehension or perhaps don't even know how to read. if you were invested in the lore instead of busy encouraging classist dick-measuring contests about which side spends more, you would've known better.
it's also the reason why majority of yall valko antis don't understand the myriad of consequences that come with scrapping a fully developed and perfected character and his lore. so you're telling us a literal male lead, the chairman of a tech company that deals with PROTOCORES has nothing to do with the story? can you not fathom how many senseless plotholes, how much unnecessary retconning of the other 5 love interests, the main story will end up with?
valko's team had been planning, designing, writing, acting, voicing him, etc etc for YEARS because it TAKES YEARS to do all that, especially for a game like love and deepspace which has such high quality graphics. and now you're trying to convince us they came up with him overnight and rushed him on a whim? you're only gaslighting yourself and it's just SAD ASF
and don't even get me started about the "why yall attached to him his trailer was released 5 days ago." do you not understand how stupid that sounds coming from anybody who actually plays or has played the game? specifically if you consider that the PRETTY MEN were marketed to us first, and then everything else? because it is an OTOME game?
i literally saw one meme. one MEME. of rafayel on pinterest and immediately began digging for more, here I am now. because that's how it's supposed to work. do you not remember the frenzy caused by sylus and caleb trailers? imagine if infold decided to scrap sylus entirely after posting his official teaser because of the leaks. or better yet if infold confirmed caleb wouldn't be returning from the explosion as a love interest like a week after posting his teaser in jan2025. IMAGINE😂🙏
tl;dr : infold's lack of communication dominoed all the way to this mess and valko is being dragged because a bunch of jaahil chudettes can't read.
gonna end this rant by saying keep boycotting. ignore all the rumors begging yall not to boycott, they're just doing that because what we're doing IS making a difference. the game won't be deleted by ccp just cause we're boycotting or because it's got like 1 star reviews btw so keep boycotting and making noise, don't be guilt tripped by anybody
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