This is a fandom event dedicated entirely to original characters (OCs) created by Beyblade fans.
This event is meant to appreciate original characters and spotlight the creativity of the fandom, whether your OC comes from the classic series, Metal Fight, Burst, X or spin-offs. All formats, all styles, all eras are welcome. If it’s Beyblade and it’s your OC, it has a space here.
HOW DOES IT WORK?
Beyblade OC Week is a 7-day event that takes place from March 1st to March 7th.
A list of seven prompts, one for each day, will be released in advance on February 1st. Participants can create content inspired by the prompts featuring their Beyblade original characters. The prompts are not mandatory - they are fun proposals but you can completely disregard them and create at your will.
During the event’s duration, this blog will track and reblog the posts to showcase everyone’s work.
HOW TO PARTICIPATE?
Simply create any type of content involving your OCs and post it here on Tumblr, during the event’s duration, under the hashtag #beybladeocweek2026! No need to register, send a message or join any groups. You can participate on one day or all seven, submit how many posts you want, and you don’t even need to follow the prompts - just post a content during the event’s duration and it’s in!
WHAT YOU CAN CREATE?
All creative formats are welcome, including but not limited to:
🎨 Art (illustrations, sketches, doodles, digital or traditional)
📋 Character profiles / references
🎵 Moodboards / playlists
📖 Meta, analysis, or worldbuilding posts
WHAT WE WON’T INTERACT WITH?
To keep Beyblade OC Week a safe, inclusive and all-ages-friendly event, this blog will not reblog content that includes any of the following:
AI-generated content: This includes AI-generated images, writing, or heavily AI-assisted works. The event is meant to celebrate human creativity within the fandom.
NSFW / Adult content: Sexual or erotic content of any kind; explicit nudity or heavily sexualized imagery.
Uncredited use of other people’s creation: All content must be your own or clearly credited with permission.
Excessively violent content: Gore, graphic injuries, torture, sexual violence or abuse shown in detail.
Hate speech or discriminatory content: Content that promotes, endorses, or glorifies racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, misogyny, harassment or dehumanization of real people or groups.
Fictional portrayals of discrimination are allowed only if:
- The narrative does not endorse or glorify the harmful behavior
- The content is clearly framed as negative, harmful, or something to be challenged
For example:
- A villain who is racist/misogynistic -> ✅ allowed
- A story that frames discrimination as justified or “correct” -> ❌ not allowed
Dark or mature themes such as trauma, abuse, death, or mental health topics are allowed, as long as it's on an appropriate level so readers can engage safely. ❤️🩹
WHO’S THE EVENT ORGANIZER?
@adailytea
IMPORTANT NOTES
Use this exact hashtag in your posts: #beybladeocweek2026. Watch out for typos and spaces.
Make sure your blog/account’s configurations allow your posts to appear under hashtags.
If your post isn’t reblogged within 24 hours, please send me a DM. Tumblr eats tags sometimes.
The Beyblade OC Week was a success! A huge thank you to everyone who participated in it! We had a very fun week filled with art, writing and original content created for the Beyblade fandom - the activity really surprised me and I couldn't be more glad.
It’s been wonderful getting to meet so many creative characters and the people behind them!
See you all in March 2027! 🌀Thank you again for making this event so special!
👉 Let me know in the comments or via direct message any feedback or suggestions you might have for the next events. Did you like the prompt + QotD dynamic? Any other dynamics we could add?
this one’s sorta a return gift for my friendo @lovechomps! Thank you SO MUCH for ur drawing earlier, it warmed my heart so much you couldn’t even imagine
"Do you know how many people end up injured due to Beyblade related injuries? Forget the pay-- I just want to help people in a sport I enjoyed as a kid."
During the era of Shogun Steel, Nefertiti is in New York, happily married to Chris, and works on the WBBA's medical staff as a nurse. She started studying during the Masters era, not too long after she took custody of Nile after their parents died.
It was wonderful to retrace this path.
I realize that I have never stopped walking with them and, for once, I'm glad not to see the end of the journey.
«…and with the power granted to me by the holy Church…»
«It's late»
Boris suddenly snapped to attention. He wiped the drool that threatened to spill over and pulled himself to a sitting position with a grunt.
«What» he muttered under his breath. «Where are we at?»
«It's late»
Next to him he sensed a composed form hurriedly compacting herself with boredom. He shifted the corner of his eyes to Rose -perfectly seated and rigid in her blue tulle dress. The tapping of the heel of her sugar paper-colored decolleté marked uneasy seconds.
Suddenly she whispered: «I have to work». She puffed her cheeks. «I had promised to enter the grades within two days»
Boris would have liked to tell her that it was Sunday, and that thinking about work on the weekend poisoned the soul; but Sergej coughed right beside him -and when he did it was a signal to listen quietly:
«I told you» typical of him to start like that «to do it yesterday»
«They're essays! It takes forever»
«Exactly. You should have started earlier»
«But yesterday was Saturday. There was Julia-»
«Next time-» Yuriy burst into the discussion like a bolt from the blue -a rumbling whisper on the notes of the last song of that endless mass- «that Fernandez uses our bathroom, tell her to do me the favor of not smearing her damned perfume-»
«She just dried her hands»
«It smells like a gift shop in there! I can't shit with the stench of-»
«You can't shit anyway»
Yuriy grabbed the prayer book abandoned on the pew and threw it at Kai several times, heedless of the rumbling of the pews along the naves.
A moment of joy fell, the crowning of shouts of felicitations for the promises sealed at the altar. Festive grandmothers and unknown cousins surrounded the team with yells and unsolicited photos; in that chaos, Ivan spotted something at the back of the church. He pointed to the stand with military precision amid that chaos:
«there are the confetti»
It was a clear order.
The group stood up as one. They knew the formation: Kai would dodge the approach of strangers in the mood for new friendships; Boris and Sergej would break through the enemy lines to make their way to the objective; Ivan and Rose -intelligence- stayed protected in the middle, ready to be launched to grab the loot; Yuriy led the troop.
Outside there was a nice spring breeze blowing.
Rose patted her purse contentedly: «I want to bring them to the kids» she announced, satisfied.
«What classes do you have?»
«Two seconds. And one third»
«They'll be happy»
«Confetti are better than essay grades»
«The essay…» Ivan crunched sugared almonds «what's the prompt?»
«Talk about yourself. How do you expect your future life to be»
«At twelve years old they already know?»
«Did we know?»
«Yes» Boris answered automatically, but he immediately wanted to retract. «Well…no. Maybe»
«We knew what others wanted from us»
«You can't remember how young you were» Rose tapped Ivan on the head. «Seventeen years have passed, it's a sea of time to grow and I still don't know where I'll end up»
«You're working in a school»
The van rented by Kai -a spaceship equipped with every technology existing in the world- started up silently. The guys threw themselves inside as if they were afraid of being reached by yet another sermon from the priest.
«Isn't that what you wanted?»
«Oh yes. It was worth spilling blood on the competitions»
«That's why you left Beyblade»
«I left Bey because I'm not capable»
«You never liked it» Yuriy scolded her as he could do with smart students who don't apply. «We were teaching you»
She huddled between blue tulle and crossed arms: «I'm - not - capable»
«Will you be there in August?»
She answered without even waiting for the end of the question: «of course I'll be there»
Sergej seemed to relax the mountain of shoulders in jacket and shirt. He smeared himself better on the seat, letting his eyes wander along the panorama blurred by the crazy speed with which Kai was escaping.
«A piece would be missing without you»
Rose blushed. She beamed; then -sneakily- took Ser by the arm, slipping a hand under his bicep. Then she did the same with Ivan.
And she felt safe.
«Thanks»
For being here, she would have liked to add.
For never having left me.
For having smiled and cried with me in the bad and the good, in the sweet and the bitter.
They had adopted a red kitten and raised it, cuddled it and said goodbye when it was the end. They had fought a thousand tournaments -defeated and won countless times- and when she studied they listened to her, and when they trained she watched them.
Rose basked in that moment of sweetness. She closed her eyes and smiled like an idiot.
Then Boris fired, completely out of context:
«good!»
He clapped his hands, rolling up his shirt sleeves:
«what do we do for lunch?»
“He was a golden boy in a world of brass and tin.”
- Douglass Clegg
Characters Used: Freddy (CC), Cairo Yozora (OC)
Cairo Yozora is a Beyblade Burst Turbo OC. He is a subordinate to Kristina Kuroda and a temporary BeyTrainer for BC Sol, even being enlisted as a trainer & rival among the Battleship Cruise. His beyblade is Vixen Icarus, a combination of a field fox & the tragic Greek mythological hero, and is attack & defense (iirc).
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I chose to use him for “today’s” prompt (yes I know I’m 4 days behind, college 💥), because I think using his established Icarus symbolism, in both his avatar and (you guys don’t know this yet) his lore, is fitting, since Icarus is often painted in warm colors, associated with melting wax wings and flying too close to our sun (which is an orange-yellow star). Furthermore, that’s why he has a sun/star earring and wing tattoos.
I also added Freddy of the Super Stars because that is Cairo’s bandmate in my (to be released) idol group fanon plot. Also, I personally associate Freddy with the color yellow because of the man he’s inspired by.
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Cairo is my favorite of all my ocs to ever exist, and I definitely do plan on releasing more content and art of him to tumblr one day, hopefully when I’m less busy. In the meantime, feel free to ask me about him!
Here are some fun facts:
He’s half-Argentinian and half-Japanese! And like Kris, he lives in Spain. This is because his parents wanted to meet half way when settling down.
He has a twin sister! She’s the extrovert between the two.
His sexuality is Achillean.
He eventually moves on to form an idol band with the Super Stars (Zac, Orochi, Freddy, Mick, & Bowie), as well as Akira Yamatoga.
Part of the first chapter, which I have finally written enough backstory to properly rework :D
Tanya no longer has to lie about being sixteen. Her birthday has come and gone, and all she'd had to subsist on that day was restless orange sand and wavering dreams about that broad-shouldered man. The one whose suit was always perfect, his hair combed, his eyes sharp behind glasses with no prescription. Doji, she’d thought, turning her sand-coated back to the cliff.
She’d met him in the same place she’d left him: Tanya, sixteen, with no past to speak of, who climbed a mountain to see what would happen, who witnessed from a great distance the landing helicopter, and the man inside, guarded by glass, sipping champagne. Who gazed from the peak of a mountain he’d not had to climb over a world that, surely, he must own. From his perch above the peak, he must see everything. From there, he’d chosen to look at her.
Who are you?
Tanya had been grimy and exhausted, her backpack torn and bloody, her clothes the same gravel-grey are her callused palms, rubbed with dirt as a chalk replacement. She’d tried not to sway in the thin night air, and pretended her breath wasn’t shallow and strained. Despite it, the man offered his attention for a precious instant. She offered hers in return. Tanya saw his pressed suit, his pleasant smile, tempered by cruelty. His shoulders were straight, his lines well-tailored, his temper already taunt. He could afford to lose his temper. He could afford to walk away. Who would he answer to, when he was so clearly above the indifferent world?
He has the sort of freedom she covets. The sort of power. She will have it.
I am yours.
Doji, Tanya thought on her sixteenth birthday, laying at the bottom of the Fangs of the Heart trial, where he had thrown her from the helicopter three weeks ago. She reached for Tide Aquarius, who had not been at her side for nearly a month, and closed her eyes, pretending that the aquamarine thread weaving its way out of the canyon was somehow within reach. I’m going to kill him.
He raised his purple gaze on her, ready to smirk at puffed-red cheecks and watery eyes.
But Kai was so wrong. And he realized all of a sudden that he had stepped onto a shit.
Dead serious skies were glaring at him, ready to war. Rose clenched her teeth:
<don't you dare> she repeated, looking fierce and -so unusual for her- goddamn scary.
Kai waisted a minute of his precious time without being aware of how much he was looking at her. He asked himself if he really had ever seen how Rose -standing proudly in front of the Russian team in the opposite side of the stadium- was tailored to be with them.
With that four crazy forces of nature.
Then, she pointed a finger at him like a loaded gun, whispering heavy and so cold that words could have burned down the arena:
The locker room was eerily silent as the clock ticked closer to four pm.
From the bench by the window, Steph watched the second hand flicker around the clock face, Seraphina clutched tightly in her left hand. The polished metal of her blade pressed cool against her palm, grounding her just enough to keep the anxious twist in her stomach from showing on her face.
Around her, her teammates pretended to be busy with their pre-game routines. Max was checking and re-checking the screws on Draciel with so much focus it was obvious he was barely seeing them. Becky had her headphones in at max volume, the familiar pulse of Linkin Park’s Numb buzzing tinny and faint from each earpiece. Ray strapped his wrists with the concentration of a ship captain navigating the Suez Canal. Kai stood against the wall, arms folded, gaze lowered and unreadable.
And Tyson…
Their trump card paced the centre of the room, restless energy radiating from him with each turn. He would stop every few seconds like he meant to say something, then think better of it and move again, trainers squeaking softly against the floor.
Another minute ticked past.
He’s not going to show, Steph thought with dismay, glaring at the locker room door as if she could will it open through sheer irritation.
Patience, little one, Seraphina urged.
Steph tightened her grip on the blade. Easy for the bit-beast to say.
Four o’clock ticked by.
The handle turned.
Every head in the room lifted as the door opened.
Hiro stepped inside quietly and closed the door behind him.
No one said anything.
No one told him to leave either.
For a long second, he just stood there with his hand still resting on the handle, like he understood exactly how much ground there was between the door and the rest of the room and knew he had no right to cross it lightly.
Then he let go of the handle and took a step forward.
Addressing them as a team, Hiro said, “What’s done is done. I want to be your coach again.”
The words landed heavily in the silence.
Steph felt the room react before anyone moved. Max looked up sharply from Draciel. Becky slid one side of her headphones off her ear. Tyson stopped pacing. Even Kai lifted his gaze.
It was Ray who spoke first.
“You want to coach a bunch of has-beens?”
The challenge hung in the air.
Steph glanced at him in surprise. It was the kind of blunt, cutting comment she would have expected from Tyson, maybe Kai on a bad day — not Ray, who usually chose his words with care. But that was what made it hit harder. If even Ray was willing to say it out loud, then the wound in the room had gone deeper than any of them had admitted.
Hiro knew it too.
Steph saw it in the way his shoulders slumped, just slightly, accepting the accusation without resistance. With regret.
“No,” he said. “I want to coach the Bladebreakers.”
That shifted something.
Not enough to break the tension, but enough to change its shape. Steph saw Max’s expression soften at the edges. Becky lowered her headphones completely now, letting them rest around her neck. Tyson’s jaw stayed tight, but he hadn’t started pacing again.
Hiro stepped forward another pace.
“I’m not going to pretend I haven’t made mistakes,” he said. “I should have been honest with you all from the start, not just about BEGA, but about this tournament.”
No one interrupted him.
“Reforming the team was never about winning a championship title,” he continued. “Maybe it was the right thing to keep that from you when you were kids, but you’re adults now, and you deserve honesty. You deserve a choice.”
Steph watched his gaze move across all of them, deliberate and steady, lingering nowhere and everywhere at once. There was no strategist in him now, no careful manipulation, no attempt to steer their reactions before they had them. Just Hiro, stripped of excuses.
“I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake here. If the Bladesharks and the JBO succeed, the entire future of the WBBA is in jeopardy.”
The words sank into the room with a weight none of them could ignore.
“I told you I wanted to help you put an end to the Bladesharks once and for all, and that hasn’t changed,” Hiro said. “But you and I all know it’s so much bigger than that now.”
Steph felt Seraphina’s presence stir against her thoughts, warm and approving. Hiro was finally saying it plainly.
Becky’s voice broke the quiet.
“So why did you leave?”
There was no accusation in it. Just a clean, direct question, asked with the same blunt clarity Becky brought to everything when she wanted the truth and nothing else.
Hiro met her gaze.
“I thought it was the best thing for the team,” he admitted. “I wasn’t honest with you, and it was putting the team at odds. You weren’t fighting because you didn’t trust each other — you were fighting because I hadn’t given you a reason to trust in the team.”
Steph felt that one land.
Max looked down at Draciel in his hands, thoughtful now rather than tense. Ray’s brow furrowed slightly, but not in anger. In reflection. Becky’s posture eased, just a fraction.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness for my mistakes,” Hiro went on. “And walking out on you was a mistake I’ve made more times than I should have.” His voice dipped lower, steadier for the admission. “But I’d like to be your coach again, if you’ll still have me.”
The silence that followed was different from the one before.
Less brittle. Less defensive. The room was listening now.
Steph glanced at her teammates. Max was quiet, contemplating Hiro’s words with the earnest seriousness he wore whenever something mattered to him more than he knew how to say. Ray’s expression had softened, the challenge from earlier giving way to contemplation. Becky’s glance shifted from Kai, to Hiro, and back to Kai again, assessing, calculating, weighing whether this was real.
Kai, after a long second, lowered his chin in a nod — slight, but intentional.
Then he asked, “What about Barthez?”
Hiro gave a small shrug, not dismissive, just honest. “Barthez’s involvement complicates things,” he admitted. “It raises the stakes. This isn’t just about becoming a championship team again, it’s about becoming a team that can defend the integrity of the sport.” His gaze swept the room once more. “I know that together, we can do that. Right?”
This time the answer came not in words, but in the shift of bodies and expressions around the room.
Ray nodded first, small but honest. Becky followed with a shrug that said she was in whether she liked how they got here or not. Max muttered a barely audible, “Of course,” under his breath. Kai’s nod this time was unmistakable.
And Tyson—
He’s not convinced, Seraphina observed, her impatience unmistakable.
But Steph saw the shift in Tyson’s stance, the softening in his expression. Not enough to call it acceptance. Not yet. But the anger wasn’t leading anymore. Beneath it was hurt, and beneath that, something more fragile still — the part of Tyson that had wanted Hiro to come back and hated him for being the reason he had to want it.
Hiro sensed it too, doubling down.
“I made you all a promise,” he said. “And I’m sticking with you.”
Now there was nowhere left for either of them to hide.
Hiro turned to face Tyson fully.
The room seemed to narrow around the two brothers. Steph watched the change in Hiro then — all the careful composure still there, but with something rawer under it now. He was not speaking to his captain. Not even to his best blader. He was speaking to Tyson.
Hiro’s voice was softer when he said, “What do you say, Tyson?”
Tyson held his gaze for a long moment.
Steph could almost see the argument playing out behind his eyes. All the old hurt. All the anger. All the times Hiro had made choices for him and expected him to understand later. But there was relief there too, buried deep and impossible to miss once she saw it. Relief that Hiro had come back. Relief that he was finally saying the things Tyson had needed to hear all along.
Tyson scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and let out a breath.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we practiced first.”
For half a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Hiro grinned.
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear.”
The tension in the room cracked all at once.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hiro asked, the first real spark of his old energy returning to his voice. “Let’s get out there.”
Max leaped to his feet first with a whoop of relief, almost knocking Becky over in his enthusiasm. She grinned and shoved him back with her shoulder, muttering something under her breath that made Ray snort softly as he stood. Kai pushed off the wall and reached for his blade without a word. Tyson rolled his shoulders once, the weight in him lighter now, and bent to grab Dragoon.
Single file, they left the locker room, the heavy silence finally replaced by movement, purpose, and the low murmur of a team pulling itself back together.
Steph hung behind, giving Seraphina’s blade a relieved squeeze.
Hiro lingered too, just long enough for their eyes to meet.
She offered him a small smile. “Good job, Coach.”
Something eased in his face at the title. Gratitude, quiet and immediate.
His answering smile was tired but real.
Steph nodded once, then turned and followed her teammates out into the noise beyond the locker room doors.
