Autism acceptance isn’t a checkbox—it’s the whole interface. At WebCSSi, we don’t ask to be included in a neurotypical world—we build worlds where our wiring isn’t a bug. It’s a feature. We’re the website committee, yes—but we’re also the worldbuilding crew, the obsession express, the “I rewrote this backend 8 times because I love it” team.
This isn’t just about creating a site—it’s about creating space: for intense interests, meticulous joy, and community shaped by the things that make us feel whole. Let’s walk through the cathedral of our hyperfocus. Not to justify it. To celebrate it.
“Why doesn’t it compile if I just believe in myself?”
Ah, the universal cry of every autistic coder who poured their soul into a block of logic, hit run, and got back “Segmentation fault (core dumped).” Believing in ourselves is how we start every project—but believing isn’t enough for the compiler. The compiler wants syntax. The compiler wants structure. It is, in a way, beautifully autistic.
What we love about code is that it’s honest. It doesn’t lie, play social games, or expect us to read between the lines. If your semicolon is missing, it tells you (eventually). If the stack overflows, it panics (just like us!). And when it finally works, when your recursion base case hits, or your UI finally renders perfectly—it feels like magic you earned through logic.
Coding gives us clarity in a world that’s vague. It’s language, but with rules. It’s conversation without the small talk. That’s why we stay up till 3am writing functions no one asked for. That’s why “compiling” is an emotional process. That’s why this quote isn’t a joke. It’s a lifestyle.
J.R.R. Tolkien didn’t just invent Middle-earth—he reverse-engineered its entire linguistic DNA. He started with language (Quenya, Sindarin, and more) and built a world that made sense around them. That’s the autistic way: start with structure, end up with magic.
Let’s talk about Elvish verbs. They conjugate by subject and tense. The vocabulary is etymologically consistent. Even their dialects have a logical historical basis. And don’t even get us started on Tengwar script—it’s phonetic and modular. That’s autistic joy.
We love Lord of the Rings not just for the story, but for the systems. The genealogies, the political alliances, the way the moon phases match up in the appendices. LOTR is a safe space for the obsessive mind: it rewards attention, repetition, and encyclopedic memory.
Also: Hobbits canonically love food, second breakfast, and staying indoors. We see you, Bilbo. We are you.
We’re reclaiming “too intense,” “too into it,” and “too much.” What some call obsession, we call expertise. This is what it looks like when autistic joy is allowed to flourish—when no one tells us to tone it down or “talk about something else.” Spoiler: we’re not going to talk about something else.
Trains are autistic poetry in motion. Predictable, reliable, rhythmic—each train system is a symphony of schedules, switches, and signals. They don’t change routes on a whim, they don’t surprise you with small talk. They just go.
Let’s talk models: HO scale, N scale, O scale. Each has a standard. Each fits a structure. We can catalog rail companies, locomotives, historical lines. Want to learn every station on the Tokyo Metro? We’ve already memorized it.
Trains also represent systems thinking: engineering, physics, logistics, geography. Whether it’s the maglev speeds in Shanghai, the humble charm of rural English rails, or the psychological impact of “train brain” as a soothing stim—trains are more than transportation. They’re therapy.
Dinosaurs are peak special interest because they sit at the intersection of science, story, and spectacle. There are over 1,000 described genera of non-avian dinosaurs—and we want to learn all of them.
Do you know the difference between a theropod and a sauropod? We do. Ankylosaurus tail clubs? Delightful. The implications of warm-blooded raptors? Deliciously controversial.
Dinosaurs are one of the few things where it’s socially acceptable to info-dump as a child—and then, if you’re autistic, you never stop. The world told us to grow out of it. We said, “No thanks. Stegosaurus is cooler than taxes.”
You think it’s just a toy until you build a functioning ball machine with kinetic energy transfer and gear ratios. K’NEX lets our brains touch the world. It’s tangible logic—no abstract metaphors required.
We love the click. The snap. The way it all fits together. It teaches cause and effect in a way schools often don’t. Every K’NEX masterpiece is proof that autistic people can build systems more stable than half the global economy.
Texture matters. Temperature matters. Predictability matters. Applesauce is the Mona Lisa of comfort food: smooth, neutral, safe. When we eat applesauce, we don’t have to guess what’s coming next. That’s everything.
It’s not a “kid food.” It’s a sensory strategy. If you’ve ever had a meltdown coming on and cooled off with cold applesauce, you know. We protect applesauce like it’s gold.
Robots that turn into cars? That’s cool. But let’s go deeper. Every Transformer has an alt-mode and a persona. That duality mirrors our lives—masking, unmasking, fitting in, transforming under pressure. But here, it’s powerful.
Autistic people often resonate with characters who straddle identities. And the lore? MILLIONS of years of robot politics, cultures, and civil wars. It’s Shakespeare, but shiny. We’ll take Optimus Prime’s moral code over Hamlet’s any day.
Marvel isn’t just entertainment. It’s a sandbox of continuity, ethics, timelines, and quantum mechanics. Autistic fans can catalog MCU release dates, character arcs, plot holes, and canonical power levels with the precision of a human database.
We can explain the multiverse in two minutes flat. We understand why Peter Parker deserves 12 different reboots. And we know why autistic people often relate to characters who are isolated, intense, brilliant, or all three (hi, Tony Stark).
Minecraft is open-world dopamine. Every block placed is a choice. Every redstone loop is an experiment. You can survive, thrive, and build a cathedral out of logic gates. We stim by mining. We socialize by building.
No random loud noises. No social scripts. Just you, your pickaxe, and an infinite world that makes sense. It’s not a game—it’s a home.
Every element has rules. Electrons fill shells predictably. Group 1 always reacts with water. Noble gases don’t care. It’s emotional safety and educational clarity.
We love the weird ones (Bismuth!). We love trends (ionization energy!). We love memorizing atomic numbers because it feels good to know.
We love Pi because it never stops. It defies pattern, yet contains order. It’s a math paradox that we get to carry with us forever.
Reciting it is a ritual. Understanding it is a flex. And celebrating it on March 14 is our kind of party.
Here’s our internal tier list based on joy-to-nerdiness ratio:
S-Tier: Arch Linux (because control is king), Debian (rock-solid), Haiku OS (obscure and aesthetic)
A-Tier: macOS (for UI stans), Windows 7 (nostalgia and legacy), Fedora (bleeding edge but stable)
B-Tier: Ubuntu (default baby’s first Linux), Windows 10 (eh), ChromeOS (it exists)
C-Tier: Windows 11 (why is everything rounded?), Solaris (too niche for most), ReactOS (unfinished dream)
Operating systems are like friends: you choose the ones that speak your language.
Let’s GO:
Fira Code – For coders who care. Ligatures make your eyes sing.
Inter – Clean, legible, designed for modern UIs. Autistic perfection.
JetBrains Mono – Developer font with soft corners = serotonin.
Helvetica Neue – Utterly neutral, says nothing, offends no one.
Georgia – Serif, but readable. Gentle traditionalism.
Comic Sans – Yes. For dyslexic-friendly, non-hostile vibes.
Arial – Boring but safe. It’s the applesauce of fonts.
Courier New – For when you want to pretend you’re in a spy movie.
Roboto – Overused, but versatile.
Papyrus – Avatar ruined this forever.
Times New Roman – School trauma font.
Impact – Only exists for memes.
We love systems. And socket types are full-on international chaos theory. Type A vs B vs C vs F vs I? Ask us, we know.
Why does the UK have giant plugs? Why do some sockets spark when you plug them in? Ask an autistic person with this special interest—they’ll tell you AND show diagrams.
Vaccines are beautiful examples of immune logic. We love reading the chemistry behind mRNA. We love comparing brands. Some people collect stamps—we collect vax cards.
Favorites include:
HPV – Gender-inclusive safety!
Tetanus – The reliable returner.
Flu shot – Annual ritual.
COVID-19 – Science doing its thing under pressure.
Visibility doesn’t pay rent. Support does. That donation button on our site? It means someone out there gets access to AAC tools, therapy, stim toys, or just representation.
We don’t ask for sympathy. We ask for solidarity. If you love this community, help sustain it.
Crypto isn’t our religion, but it is fun to dissect. Blockchains, hashes, proof-of-stake—it’s systems within systems, and we love it.
We don’t support scams, but we will tell you how SHA-256 works at a party. Whether you asked or not.
WebCSSi is a love letter to autistic intensity. This isn’t a committee—it’s a constellation. Our interests aren’t distractions. They’re maps. They help us navigate, connect, create.
If you want inclusion, you need to let autistic people talk about fonts, sockets, trains, and pi. Not as “side things.” As core things.
Thanks for joining our station. We’re always boarding.
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