Post your 8-word Octopus love stories. Make us laugh or make us cry— but no matter what, make us care. Feel free to give your 8-word stories titles of any length. Titles can make the whole difference in stories this tiny. Put your title to work for you!
Eight is Lucky in Chinese; it’s a Fibonacci Number and a Perfect Cube as Well as the Atomic Number for Oxygen and (Arguably) the Count of Planets in our Solar System.
Mathematician and octopus share a common love: lobster.
Ode to Your Loving Arms
Yes. Yes , yes. Yes, yes, yes . . . . . yes.
Yes.
My 8-Arm Lover
He cheated. Care for some homemade octopus pasta‽
I can’t wrap enough arms around you, honey.
The Octopus Regrets the Inadequacy of Numbers
Eight arms, three hearts:
Still couldn’t hold you.
Black Widow Octy.
“What’s for dinner?”
“You, honey”
Single mother now.
The Argonaut Loads his Hectocotylus Arm, and then Detaches it
Socially distanced sex makes babies too. Masks optional.
When the Octopus’ Diagnosis is Gout
Diet of shrimp and lobsters gone, not forgotten.
Cephalopod
"Nymphomaniacs! Forever demurring! One-track-minded! Only interested in bodies!"
TITLE:
In the pulsating neon depths
of the ocean's underbelly—where
the sun dares not trespass, and the laws of man crumble like wet parchment—
there unfolded a love story;
so bizarre, so entangled
in the madness of its own existence,
it could only belong to Oliver, the eight-armed octopus,
with a penchant for existential dread,
and Sylvia, the squid, with eyes
like shattered galaxies and a soul drenched
in absinthe; Oliver,
a creature of profound complexity and sporadic bouts of melancholy,
found himself adrift
in the aquatic abyss—navigating the treacherous waters of life
and dodging the existential landmines
that littered his path—his world, a canvas of darkness,
punctuated by the fleeting embraces
of bioluminescent lovers and the constant threat
of being swallowed whole by the unfathomable emptiness
that engulfed him; then, enter Sylvia, a vision in the gloom,
her tentacles writing poetry in the water, her movement
a symphony of grace and defiance; she was the renegade
of the deep, a rebel heart
with a cause, tearing through the conventions
of cephalopod society like a flame through steel—their eyes met,
and in that moment, the ocean paused; the stars leaned in closer,
and the universe conspired to forge
a connection as profound as it was peculiar; together,
they embarked on a gonzo adventure—a wild ride
through underwater neon cities, dodging the jaws
of predatory sharks on acid, and gate-crashing
the most exclusive coral parties—becoming outlaws,
renegades, the Bonnie and Clyde of the deep sea,
living on the edge of sanity and survival; their love,
an anchor in the relentless storm of existence; in the heart
of the ocean, where the weird turn pro and the abyss
stares back, Oliver and Sylvia found not just love, but a kind of madness
that made sense of the chaos, a sanctuary
in the whirlwind of their lives—their story, a testament
to the power of finding someone who shares your brand of crazy,
was a beacon of hope for all the misfit creatures
lurking in the shadows; and so, in the depths
of the ocean, where dreams and nightmares swim side by side,
Oliver and Sylvia danced their mad dance, entwined
in each other's arms, defiant in the face of the cosmic joke—
living proof that even in the most alien of worlds, love,
in all its beautyglory, finds a way.
STORY:
Imagine: the starry eyes of love’s abyssal ballet.
fini
His Last Spoonful of Sugar
Octopus exposes his arm too soon. Love snack.
Eight is Lucky in Chinese; it’s a Fibonacci Number and a Perfect Cube as Well as the Atomic Number for Oxygen and (Arguably) the Count of Planets in our Solar System.
Mathematician and octopus share a common love: lobster.
And They Still Get Eaten...
Only one arm fucks.
The other seven cuddle.
Clyde the Octopus Encourages Bryan to Ask Janet Out on a Date
"You’ve always been a sucker for that gal."
Swimming Interruptus
Perfect mate spotted. Tentacles entwine. Then Medusa screams.