#osamu Dazai

[hachis-strawberry]

Fairy Tail - Hiro Mashima (ft. The Setting Sun - Osamu Dazai lolol)

[zzzx009]

Celebration

[genericgirl420]

I have no actual basis on what Fyodor does or how his personality is like on a deeper level, because I didn't get to that part of bsd yet. But I do think about him regularly for whatever reason. So here's another thought that could be wrong because I don't know that man.

On one hand, we have Fyodor, who strikes me as someone who would rather go through all the pain his body can withstand than die. On the other hand, we have Dazai, who wants to die but won't because he hates pain.

Does anyone get my vision or am I point blank wrong..

[octagava]

A bit more of ability swap au.... I clearly locked in

[pearlcomics]

New Indie Comic Anthology Kickstarter :0!

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With the rise of corporations prioritizing profit over creative liberties, Pearl is instead purely a passion project created to give back to the art community we love. <333 If you're interested, find the Kickstarter campaign here:

[soukokuforthesoul]

soukoku and chuuya’s first kiss was shirase and dazai hasn’t had a first kiss yet (because he never cared, and because in the mafia everyone was scared of him), and so when they do kiss and then get over the fact that the kissed (it was embarrassing to say it out loud. so they didn’t), chuuya explains about shirase. and dazai gets flustered that chuuya was his first and makes up some random person and then goes on to be offended to have kissed someone whose lips had touched fucking shirase and makes a show of wiping his mouth

anyway eventually dazai caves and tells chuuya what had actually happened (like, years later and only because he was drunk), and from then on that’s the biggest thing chuuya has ever held against dazai and he’s so fucking proud of it

[saykamachuhirik]

Skk Art Student AU pt4

[jay72664]

Smile

It’s slightly suggestive.

Chuuya smiled at him, how could he not, he was so cute and-

Chuuya pulled back, stunned, Dazai had just licked him, out of no where.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed as Dazai grinned at him.

“I wanted to know what your smile tasted like,” Dazai explained simply.

“You can just do things like that out of no where!” Chuuya further grumbled, a dark blush on his face.

“But I lick you all the time,” Dazai defended; and it was true, but it was usually in more… suggestive settings.

“You’re so weird,” Chuuya sighs, putting his face in his hands.

Dazai moves so his head is on Chuuya’s lap. “It tasted normal.”

“I didn’t ask,” Chuuya deadpans, removing his hands to trail through his husband’s hair.

“You should only smile at me, it makes you too attractive,” Dazai states, as if that was a completely logical conclusion to come to.

Chuuya laughed, his smile coming back. “You’re ridiculous,” though he said this there was really no reprimand in his voice.

Dazai smiled back; yeah, Dazai is really pretty.

[mina-posts-nonsense]

ALSO WAN 199 (translated by @/Jounossloverr on x):

(dazai and atsushi have lost their memory, dazai jogs his memory by remembering what’s in his heart😭🫶🏾)

please let this be the end of nonchalant dazai i hereby accusé that man of giving af!!!

q&a source from here!!

[flancondulcedeleche]

draw and donate would be so cool if people ACTUALLY DONATED.....but anyway. i have the one and only 24 karat gold chuuya

[kiiyovee]

HD version of the polaroid pic from my illustration last week~!!

[symphonyofsilence]

Okay so somethings about Asagiri's latest very interesting Q&A.

This makes Chuuya drinking after Dazai left and even him saying that he KNEW it was Dazai who blew up his car even sadder because he must have desperately clinged to the hope that it must have been Dazai who blew up his car so he must be alive somewhere while in the back of his mind he had already accepted that Dazai's dead. And seeing it from Chuuya's perspective, Oda was dead, so it made sense that Dazai would off himself. (It's even sadder if you take that Wan chapter about Chuuya always finding Dazai wherever he was into account. Because if Chuuya couldn't find him, then he was nowhere to be found.)

And really, fuck Dazai for not even texting Chuuya about his departure. That little shit. Chuuya is so forgiving I swear!

But also!

At the end of the Dark Era Light Novel Mori left Dazai's seat among the executives empty hoping that one day Dazai will come back to take it. Did Chuuya not know why Dazai's seat was left empty or did he assume that Mori's in denial and has gone off the rail with grief? Did Mori and Chuuya not talk about Dazai for four years (because it's very unlikely that Mori didn't know where Dazai was especially with Ango cleaning Dazai's criminal records)? Or did they have the worst case of miscommunication like Mori saying "Dazai's gone." And Chuuya thinking :"oh, no that bastard has really done it..." and then Chuuya talking about the seat Mori has left empty for Dazai saying :"boss, it's time for you to accept the truth." And Mori thinking that Chuuya is talking about Dazai never coming back to PM and being like :"oh, give it some time. He might still come back someday." And Chuuya thinking:"oh, no he's completely lost it."

Didn't he say in "Dazai, Chuuya, age 15" that Dazai wasn't an orphan?

Do you think that Mori and Yosano will have some kind of an arc down the line to resolve what went on between them? Not only Yosano, but Mori's also not over it. Judging by how he's characterized Elise after child Yosano to pamper Elise and soothe his conscience about how he treated Yosano. In Beast where he became the director of Atsushi's orphanage and finally had the chance to take care of real children to atone, Elise was a grown woman. As though Mori had got over his his baggages too. (And the character of Elise in Mori Ougai's "the dancing girl" is also a guilt and regret that the MC will always carry with him.)

[octagava]

They make me sick

[poorwhayfairingstranger]

AaaaaaaaaaaAaAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaAaaaaaaAa

I genuinely thought that you just ignored this because you didn't want to do it! But it's so good jfIgsigsigsigsk

Your writing is so good that I want to eat it.

Thank you, thank you. Thank you. Have a wonderful day.

imagine the reader at one of those Stone chest tables that they have at public parks sometimes. They're playing a game by themselves staring at the board contemplatively. And then one of those overly smart characters comes by and thinks the reader is a idiot because there's an obvious move for how to win the game. So they go up to the reader,

and they're like. "There's an obvious way to win this. Why don't you just move the pieces?"

And reader is like. "Would you like to join me for a game?"

So, smart-ass sits down thinking this will be easy and the reader resets the board. The game goes on a bit longer than character. Thought it was going too, and the reader isn't exactly giving them a lot of clues. they seem to be making moves seemingly at random, Talking about nonsense not really taking the game seriously.

But when they finally get to the end and character puts Reader in check, Reader pulls out the dry erase marker that they had been keeping tucked behind their ear or in their hair. draws lines together, connecting the pieces to spell out the word horse. Before cackling to themselves, getting up and walking away.

Leaving character dumbfounded.

I've been thinking of this mostly with bsd characters like Fyodor Ranpo and Dazai, but you can add in characters from other fandoms if you think they would go well with this prompt.

ok this one's literally from feb 1 im so sorry bro. Already written but was lying idle in drafts. i'm really sorry, but i hope you like it!!

...

It’s a quiet afternoon in the park, all golden light and drifting clouds. The stone chess table is cracked slightly along one edge—years of sun and rain eroding its dignity—but it still holds its ground.

Just like you do.

You sit with your sleeves pushed up and your expression unreadable, elbows resting on the cool surface. The board is already set. One side white. One side black. Only one player.

Your opponent? Nowhere in sight.

You don’t mind. There’s a strange peace in playing alone. Or maybe it’s not about the game at all.

You’re dressed plainly—something loose, forgettable. Ink smudges your fingertips. A dry-erase marker is tucked behind your ear like a cigarette waiting to be lit. You stare down at the pieces like they’re telling you secrets only you understand.

And then—

Footsteps. Slow. Rhythmic. Swaggering.

The kind of footsteps that don’t belong to anyone who needs to be somewhere.

Dazai Osamu appears in your peripheral like a well-timed plot twist. Trench coat swaying. Hands in pockets. That smile—mischief wrapped in velvet. He tilts his head, watching you as if you’ve wandered out of one of his more indulgent daydreams.

“Oh?” he says, voice sweet and sharp. “A game for one? That’s almost poetic. Lonely, but poetic.”

You don’t look up. “Who said I’m alone?”

He leans in, just enough that you can smell something warm and vaguely spiced on him. “Well, now you’re not.”

You don’t react. Not yet. But he sees your eyebrow twitch.

He circles the table like a curious predator. “Let me guess. You’re mourning a loss? Or punishing yourself for a win that felt too easy?”

“I just like the silence.”

He hums, low and amused. “I could be silent for you. But I won’t be. I’m too curious.”

He peers over your shoulder at the board, lips quirking.

“There’s an obvious win here. If you move your rook to C6… you’ve got it. That’s game.”

You finally glance at him. Your gaze is slow, assessing. It lingers on his collarbone for just a second too long—whether intentional or not.

“Would you like to join me?” you ask.

He smirks like he’s already won something far more interesting. “Only if you promise not to fall in love with me when I destroy you.”

You clear the board without a word. Pieces reset with almost lazy precision. There’s a sensuality to the movement—not overt, just something soft and sure. Like muscle memory. Like foreplay.

He watches every motion like he’s storing it away for later.

Dazai slides into the seat opposite you with an exaggerated sigh of pleasure. “God, I love when people don’t try to impress me,” he says. “It makes it so much easier to fall for them.”

“Is this your strategy?” you ask mildly. “Talk until I get bored and surrender?”

He grins, sharp and boyish. “Is it working?”

You tilt your head. “You haven’t made a move.”

“Oh, but I have,” he says, placing a pawn forward with theatrical flair. “Emotionally.”

You play without hesitation, flicking your knight forward with one finger. You don’t even look at the board when you do.

He narrows his eyes. “Reckless.”

“Confident.”

He hums. “Dangerous.”

You smirk. “Flattering.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses lightly.

“Doing what?”

“Making nonsense look strategic. You’re trying to seduce me with chaos.”

You quirk a brow. “Is it working?”

He holds your gaze a little too long. “...Alarmingly.”

The game stretches longer than he expects. Every time he thinks he’s caught you, you wriggle free with a move that shouldn’t make sense but somehow doesn't hurt you either. It's like trying to win a swordfight against someone who's dueling with spaghetti—until you realize the spaghetti is laced with poison and you're already dizzy.

Eventually, after several bold sacrifices, one prolonged monologue about why flamingos probably hate themselves, and your refusal to take anything seriously—he traps your king.

“Check,” he says, voice smug, fingers steepled under his chin. His smile is victorious. But his eyes are searching.

You don’t look at the board. You reach up slowly. Unhook the marker from behind your ear.

Dazai’s brow furrows. “...What are you doing?”

You don’t answer.

You lean forward. Pop the cap off the marker. In slow, careful strokes, you begin connecting the chess pieces with lines. The knight. The pawn. The bishop. Another knight. The black queen.

A soft curve here. A slanted angle there. You draw on the board itself, marking the weather-worn stone. Marking him.

You spell: H-O-R-S-E.

And then you start laughing. A light, uncontainable laugh. Bright and genuine and utterly pleased.

Not cruel. Not mocking.

Just… delighted. Like you just cracked your own riddle.

You stretch, cap the marker, tuck it back where it belongs—behind your ear, like a trick you might do again later.

“Thanks for the game,” you say.

And just like that, you walk away.

Dazai blinks. His mouth opens. Closes. He stares at the board like it’s trying to tell him a secret. And maybe it is.

He stares at the H-O-R-S-E spelled out in ghost-gray lines.

Dazai stares at the board for a full five minutes. Then ten. Then fifteen.

...

He gives Ranpo a lolipop and asks his opinion.

“…You lost to a word puzzle?” Ranpo says, voice flat.

Dazai doesn’t respond.

He slaps his hands to his knees. “That was a puzzle.”

That wasn’t a chess game. That was a goddamn map.

You let him win.

You wanted him to reach check just to land there. On Horse.

And the worst part? He still doesn’t fully get it.

He lets out a wheezy laugh. Then stands, snapping his lollipop stick in half with his teeth.

“Okay, okay… I see how it is.”

Ranpo cracks his knuckles.

“You have to find her again.”

"You don't have to remind me."