Realistic colour tattoo of an octopus with purple and teal shading and sucker detail, wrapping around the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Octopus tattoo wrapping a thigh

Realism · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A large octopus is tattooed around the outer thigh, with its head near the upper leg and tentacles curling down towards the knee. The body and tentacles are rendered with soft, realistic shading, and the round suckers are picked out with light highlights. The palette is dominated by purples, teals and greens, with warm pink touches on the skin tones of the design.

Realism Thigh Octopus Tentacle Sucker Eye

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the step, mind the step, there's a pickled newt in that barrel and he bites, so keep your fingers to yourselves. Now then. Gather round the tank where the lamps are brightest, and I'll tell you about Mrs Ottoline, who was the finest thing this fair ever owned and the only thing it ever lost.

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She was purple at the crown and green at the arms, like a bruise on a plum that someone had decided to keep. Her eye was a yellow penny that never blinked, and she followed every coin you dropped in the water with the patience of a bailiff. The girl who fed her was called Nell Garside, eleven years old, with a cough and a bucket and no fear of anything with more than eight limbs.

On the last night at Whitby the generator died mid-waltz, and the whole fair went black as a coal sack. In the dark, something soft came over the tank rim. Nell swore afterwards she heard a wet sound like a kiss on a window. When the lamps stuttered back on, Mrs Ottoline had wrapped herself round the big tent pole, every sucker pressed flat against the canvas, holding the whole pavilion up like she'd been paid to.

In the morning the tank was empty. There were wet prints across the boards, a bright trail of them, down the slipway and into the grey harbour. And Nell was gone with them, or so the stallholders say. If you walk out along the pier at low water, you'll sometimes find a ring of pale suckers stuck to the iron rail, and the gulls won't go near it. Now, who's for the Hook-a-Duck? Mind the newt.