Autism doesn't always look like the stereotype, and that's exactly why so many of us get missed for decades. I scrolled past the videos for years, sure they weren't about me. Then a phantom smell, a stunned husband, and a RAADS-R score forced me to look closer, at what autism, especially in adult women, actually is.

If it were socially acceptable, all my plans would require a form. I was diagnosed autistic recently, and here's what I'm learning about explaining, detail, and what happens when someone tells me to stop.

Setup, cleanup, and sterilization cost the same whether you're getting a tiny star or a full sleeve. Here's the real math on why small tattoos cost more per square inch, not less, and why the shop minimum isn't personal.

Care and boundaries aren't opposites, they're both required. After being taken advantage of by the same openness that makes Reclamation a safe space, I tightened the policies, but not the compassion. Here's what changed, and why waived fees were never an unlimited invitation.

Craft nights, workshops, and a gallery wall that isn't just for a subset of makers. Here's what SPICY Sessions actually looks like, and how to get involved.

We are building a tattoo shop, an oddities market, a living gallery, and a community workshop space all under one roof. Here is what we are making and how to get in on the ground floor. We want you to be a part of it.

Queer joy is protest. Stonewall was born in rage, and Pride still is. Here's what that means for your body, your ink, and your right to take up space.

What started as a better tattoo experience has grown into something I didn't fully have words for until recently. SPICY is a vision for repeatable, teachable practices that make spaces safer, more welcoming, and genuinely accessible for neurodivergent people.

You've been thinking about this for a while. Maybe years. The hesitation was real, and so is the fact that the right environment changes everything. Here's what working with a trauma-informed, sensory-aware private studio actually looks like, from your first message to healed ink.

An upcoming monthly workshop series for neurodivergent, LGBTQIA+, and trauma-affected adults who are done showing up to spaces that weren't built for them.

I'm not trying to build an empire. I'm trying to build a network. If you're creating space for the same people I am, let's talk.

Original art, a tattoo raffle, and a reason to show up. The Massive Art Sale is May 15-17 at Reclamation Tattoo in Littleton.

A private tattoo studio and a community apothecary, under one roof. Built for nervous systems that mainstream spaces never considered.

My spicy li’l mind has been a bit boggled lately. Until it hits me that my thought patterns differ from other humans, I get stuck in an endless thought experiment. Between my professional history in graphic design and my neurospicy brain, I have a very specific "system error" when it comes to copying artwork. To me, a mood board is magic, but a request for a replica is a conversation ender. I am not the art police, but I do have personal policies that protect the integrity of your story and my craft. Let’s talk about why authenticity, justice sensitivity, and the physics of actual skin matter more than a Pinterest screenshot.

Saying no isn’t rejection. It’s respect. Sometimes a design idea doesn’t align with my style, your anatomy, or the long-term vision for how the tattoo will heal and age. When I decline or send back a project, it isn’t about control or ego. It’s about creating space for the right collaboration, where both client and artist feel safe, heard, and inspired. Boundaries protect the art, the body, and the relationship behind it.

There are things I just don’t tattoo. Some for ethical reasons, some for comfort and safety, and some because my work is rooted in healing and self-love, not harm or judgment. Setting these boundaries isn’t about saying no for the sake of it… it’s about protecting the integrity of the art, the client, and myself.

This post outlines what I won’t tattoo and why, from hate symbols and religious imagery to unsafe placements and fleeting choices, all in service of keeping tattooing intentional, ethical, and deeply human.

Trauma-informed tattooing means more than art on skin. It is about choice, consent, and creating a space where clients feel safe, seen, and respected. I bring empathy from my own history as a survivor, and I continue to educate myself on practices that help every client feel grounded and empowered. Tattoos can be healing, and my goal is to make that healing accessible.

Tattoos can be a powerful way to affirm, reject, or reshape gender expression. This post explores how I support clients in marking their bodies on their own terms—without assumptions or pressure.

Tattooing over self-harm scars isn’t about hiding the past—it’s about reclaiming the skin you survived in. This post breaks down how I approach the process with care, consent, and no pressure.

Anxious about getting tattooed? You’re not alone. Here’s how to prepare—physically, mentally, and emotionally—to make the experience more manageable and less overwhelming.