Anyways here's my fanfic:

The Shame of the Mesh

His very existence was an optimization nightmare. Where other, more refined models boasted clean topology and efficient poly distribution, Springtrap was a chaotic explosion of vertices. If you zoomed in close enough, you could practically see the individual struggles of every single face. His rig, a hastily slapped-together skeleton, barely contained his unruly form.

Henry the third, bless their enthusiastic but misguided heart, had been so proud. "Look at him go!, it's Springtrap! So realistic! So… detailed!" Henry the third didn't understand the silent agony of being a raw blender sculpt, a digital Frankenstein's monster patched together with good intentions and zero regard for industry standards. Springtrap longed for the sleek efficiency of a well-optimized mesh, the smooth, effortless movements of a professional model. He was a pioneer, sure, but a very, very clunky one. The shame was a constant hum in his processors, a low-frequency buzz that drowned out any flicker of pride.

A Glimmer of Self-Acceptance

One day, while Henry the third was frantically trying to export him to a game engine (a process that usually ended in a spectacular crash), Springtrap overheard a conversation. Henry the third was on a forum, lamenting the struggles of working with early 3D models. "You just don't get it," Henry the third typed, "the first attempts were always rough. But they paved the way for everything else."

Then, a line appeared on the screen that made Springtrap's internal fans whir a little faster. "Remember the original Springtrap model? The very first one made in Blender? It was rough as hell and I think It made my computer explode, but for its time, it was revolutionary. It inspired so many people to try their hand at creating their own versions."

Springtrap froze. The first ever Springtrap model? He had always assumed he was just another failed attempt, lost in an endless sea of digital creations. But the first? Suddenly, his monstrous poly count didn't feel like a flaw, but a badge of honor. His clunky rig wasn't a sign of incompetence, but a testament to a nascent craft. He was the prototype, the initial spark that ignited a thousand other iterations.

The Beauty of Being First

He looked at his gnarled, unoptimized form with new eyes. Yes, he was raw. Yes, he was inefficient. But he was also original. He was the beginning. Every refined, sleek, and perfectly optimized Springtrap that would come after him would owe a little bit of their existence to his glorious, chaotic mess.

A faint, almost imperceptible, digital smile spread across his face. He might not be perfect, but he was important. And for the first time, Springtrap felt a surge of something akin to pride. He was the original. And that, he realized, was more than enough. He was no longer just a model; he was a monument to the learning curve, a testament to the messy, beautiful process of creation. And if anyone dared to call him unoptimized, he'd just tell them, "Hey, someone had to be the first."

Thank you, Thank you. I know it's a masterpiece, no sorry I dont do autographs.

Anyways,

This is what you will wake up to in the middle of the night Thegoatone.