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@irozanova
this is a heavily headcanon-based roleplay blog for Β IRINA ROZANOVAΒ Β of theΒ game changers universeΒ written byΒ cara. ( side blog to storiedheart & rozanovi81 )
quick links:Β Β carrdΒ |Β Β memes tagΒ Β | Β starter callsΒ Β | Β plotting callsΒ Β | Β all tags
thread tracker: threads that are cara's turn | threads that are your turn
ACTIVITY STATUS:Β moderately low activity!
pinned last updated: may 27, 2026
When the door opens, Ilya does recognize the man that is supposed to be his grandfather. He feels relief when he embraces his mother, but he still keeps close to her, like a little shadow. Though when he does speak to him, Ilya smiles and nods, giggling. "I am! Mama always calls me her little bear, so I guess I have to take after it!"
And then there's grandma. He hugs her tightly in return and squeezes his eyes shut. There's that familiar scent that he so vaguely remembers from when he was so much younger than he is now. He takes a moment to breathe it in before smiling at her. "Am I? I guess so. That's what Deda says, too."
Now that they're here, he yawns, feeling way more tired than he did before. While the adults talk, he walks over to the couch and climbs on it, curling up with his stuffed bear and closing his eyes. Whatever happens now, well, at least they're somewhere safe, right?
The first hour passes in somewhat of a whirlwind. Between the moving of bags and the preparation of her childhood bedroom, each of her parents tell her how glad they are that she is finally home and how proud they are of her for coming back. She knows that some things, they may never speak of, but there's an unspoken promise to talk more in the morning.
As soon as her room is ready, Irina returns to the couch where Ilya is, and she takes a seat beside him. Quietly, she scoops him up in her arms, footsteps slow and quiet as she carries him off to bed. He'll stay with her tonight, and in the morning they'll figure out a more permanent solution to where they'll be staying and what they'll do next.
She tucks him into her bed before climbing in on the other side, and before she sleeps, she presses a little kiss to his hair.
"I love you, my little duckling. So, so much," she whispers. Then she settles and slowly drifts off to sleep.
jean in beanie
β β β His mother's fingers in his hair always worked to soothe young Ilya. Tearing his gaze from the rug, he turned to looked up at her, wide hazel eyes full of curiosity. He'd hang on her every word whenever she spoke. Since the time he could walk, he'd become Irina's little second shadow, following his mama everywhere she went. He loved his father, even if sometimes he father's love was harsher, but his mother was always warm and caring. He felt safe with her. All worries of being in trouble drifted away as he listened to her try to explain.
None of it made sense to the six year old. If it's not good, why shouldn't he say it? Why only in Russia? What did it even mean? Sometimes when he asked too many questions, he'd get reprimanded by his dad, so he paused, making the careful choice of just one.
"<Is he calling me stupid?"> To Ilya, that was clearly the worst offense his mind could come up with.
Exhaling softly, Irina lowered her gaze to the boy at her side, and she offered him a smile as she kissed the spot between his eyes. "Listen, Ilyushechka," she began. "I am going to say a lot of things to try and explain. I want you to listen closely first, okay? Then you can ask your questions."
She brought her free hand up to cup his cheek, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone.
"You have a mama and a papa. But some kids have two mamas or two papas. This is very normal, but some people do not like this." She kept carding her fingertips through his hair as she went on. "Some people do not think it is right for two men or two women to love each other, but they are wrong. They are uncomfortable with the idea because it is not what they are used to..."
There was a small pause as a glimpse of a memory flashed across her mind. She and her best friend, Natalya, holding hands, grown men shouting slurs at them. It did not matter that they had been young girls of hardly seventeen. They had been deemed too old to be doing such things. And so, they would face the consequences. That memory had been so frightening that it had stuck with her after all these years. ( And not that it had mattered, but those men had been right about them. So maybe the memory it stung just a little more. )
When she refocused, Irina returned her gaze to her little boy, and she looked at him with all the love and seriousness she wanted to convey. "I want you to remember something, my beloved: loving somebody is never wrong."
Mama looks nervous, and Ilya wonders why. But he then remembers that they haven't seen her parents in a long time. Maybe that's why. When she tells him to come on, he smiles and nods, gathering his things before hopping out of the car.
It is late. How late, he doesn't know. Later than he's ever been allowed to be awake. The moon is high and full and clear. The night is chilly, but not unpleasantly so. He takes Irina's hand and follows her up to the house, giving it a tight squeeze.
"I'm right here with you, Mama," he whispers as they stand at the porch, waiting for an answer. Would they even be awake? He hopes so because where else would they go?
As they stand at the front door of her childhood home, Irina draws in a deep breath. Then she gazes down at Ilya, a reassuring smile on her lips as she squeezes his hand back.
She rings the doorbell once, feeling tension rise in her shoulders, and she waits. It's a long wait, but that's to be expected. It is the middle of the night, after all. So as they wait, she glances at Ilya again and reaches out to stroke his cheek.
Then finally, the door opens, and standing there is her father.
"Hi Papa," she greets him quietly. "I'm sorry for coming here like this, but Iβ"
And before she knows it, he's embracing her. That just about makes her cry, but somehow, she holds it together and just hugs him back.
When they part, there's a little bit of rapid back and forth, an exchange of information, but then he's ushering them inside.
"Hello, Ilyusha," the man smiled warmly as they entered the house. "It has been many years since I have seen you. You are so big now! Strong, like a bear."
At the same time, Irina's mother descended the stairs to greet them both. When she reached Ilya, she crouched down before him and embraced him warmly too. "You are all grown up, little one!"
Ilya yawns and sits up slowly, peering out the window of the car. There are only vague memories here and there, ones that he can barely even think of, no matter how hard he tries. He then looks back to his mother and smiles when he sees her smiling. It feels like a long time since he's seen her not look sad. She used to smile all the time when he was younger. These days, not so much. It worried him a lot. But now? Relief floods through him when he sees the familiar, warm sight of it.
"Are you happy, Mama?" he asks, leaning forward to poke his head into the front, resting his head against her seat. There's a lot of uncertainty, a lot of anxiety that he's not aware of but still feels regardless. "You look happy. I missed your smile."
"I am," she replies softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. She then reaches out to stroke his cheek, gazing at him with such tender fondness. She loved her little boy more than life itself. And that is exactly why she left.
Her gaze moves to the front door of the house, and she draws in a deep breath. The moment of truth is here. It's time to face her parents. She doesn't know what to expect, but she hopes they'll be happy to see her. She does feel terribly that she'll have to wake them so late in the night, but she doesn't have much of a choice.
Turning to Ilya again, she pats the side of his face. "Come, Ilyushka. We will go see babulya and dedulya now."
irina replies are queued!
ππππππ.
βΈ» ππππ πππππ
this is where it where it all began.
βΈΊ π¦π¨ππ‘ππ«π‘π¨π¨π.
#β§Ό π ΰΌ MAIN #*π | i'll give you everything i haveβ i'll teach you everything i know ( BEFORE ) #*π | i promise i'll do better ( AFTER )
irina had always dreamed of having a family one day, but she hadn't expected it to happen like this. but when new widower grigori rozanov offered her a job caring for his newborn son alexei, she just couldn't say no.
it was just a job. a good one. she was well versed in caring for children, and grigori paid her well. it was the ideal situation. all things considered, she could be doing much worse... but then she fell in love with him, and he with her.
after four years of this arrangement, they wed. and soon after, ilya was born.
but what should have been a beautiful dream slowly descended into nightmare. not a fiery, hellish one, but one that wore her down little by little. between grigori's change in mood and continued alexei's refusal of her, her mental health began declining.
for years, she has struggled to hold her family together, to keep them happy and safe. but how long can this go on?
βΈ» πππππππππ πππππππππ
in a world where irina's depression did not get the best of her, irina is ilya's greatest supporter.
βΈΊ π¬πππ«ππ’π§π π¨π―ππ«.
#β§Ό π ΰΌ STARTING OVER #*π | sometimesβ to run is the brave thing ( THE ESCAPE ) #*π | now that i'm cleanβ i'm never gonna risk it ( FREEDOM )
when she can no longer endure grigori's temper, irina takes her son(s) and runs. together, they rebuild a life for themselves.
βΈΊ π‘πππππ π«π’π―ππ₯π«π².
#β§Ό π ΰΌ HEATED RIVALRYΒ
at the beginning of ilya's career, irina traveled with her son to help him settle in. but she knew she couldn't stay forever, no matter how much he wanted her to. this was his life, his adventure, and it was time for him to leave the nest.
but with each passing day, some part of her wishes she had stayed in boston with him. each day, it's getting harder to stay in russia. with grigori. but she can't leave him, not like this. not when his memory is failing him.
so she endures... for now.
βΈΊ the long game.
#β§Ό π ΰΌ THE LONG GAME
when ilya moves to ottawa, irina does too. she, like her son, no longer belongs in moscow.
with his help, she's navigating life in a new country. she's helping him and shane, alongside shane's parents, with running their new charity foundation.
rip me
favorite people: naomi watts
i find myself gravitating towards drama. it interests me. in the books i read, the paintings i like, itβs always the darker stuff.
MADCHΓN AMICK as Shelly Johnson TWIN PEAKS | 1.03
rozanov family headcanons
I. grigori & irina. II. grigori & the rozanov boys. III. irina & the rozanov boys. IV. alexei & ilya.
"I hope they are. I'll be happy to see them, too," Ilya says as he makes himself even more comfortable in the back. He uses his bear as a pillow, pulling his blanket over his shoulders and closing his eyes. Despite how dire everything felt, he feels...strangely calm. Like whatever happens now is out of their hands.
As Irina begins to sing, he smiles to himself. This has to be a good sign, right? What are the chances of this very song playing when they both feel so uncertain? As she sings, he lets out a soft sigh, feeling himself drift off into a gentle, dreamless sleep.
He wakes up when he feels the car finally come to a full stop. Ilya yawns and rubs at his eyes, slowly sitting up. "Are we here, Mama?" he asks quietly, hopeful.
Singing has always been somewhat of a release for Irina. She had always loved it when she was a little girl. For much of her life, everywhere she would go, she would sing. She had even been part of her church's choir and earned a few solos here and there. But that all changed when she started growing up. It started changing when she came to work for Grigori.
In the years since then, she'd sing sometimes. Mostly to her sons or when she was simply in a good mood. But as time has passed, those moments have become more and more scarce. These days, she mostly sings to help Ilya sleep. But as she drives now, she sings. One song after another after another. It pours out of her, and she feels free.
A few hours later, they arrive at their destination, and her voice feels sore from use. She hasn't sung that much in a very, very long time. Once the car is parked, Irina glances into the backseat again and smiles at the sight of her son's sleep-mussed hair.
"We are here, little bear," she says with a warm smile. It's late now, well past Ilya's bedtime and even her own. But they are finally here.
