Patience Undertale Novels & Stories

“After summer. When it gets cold again.” “That’s so long! I want him to come out NOW!” “He needs to grow bigger first. So he’s strong and healthy when he’s born.” Charlotte considered this. “Okay. But tell him to hurry up. I’ve been waiting FOREVER.” “You’ve been waiting four months. That’s not forever.” “It FEELS like forever.” Patricia appeared, apologetic. “I’m sorry. She’s very good at escaping during quiet time.” “It’s okay. We were just talking to James.” Seraphine kissed Charlotte’s head. “But now you need to go back with Patricia. Mama has to work.”

"You did. In approximately three hours less time than Lucia." She looked at him across the table. At the specific quality of the way he was looking at her, not the operational regard, the other one, the full and unguarded weight of someone who had decided she was something specific and was not going to manage that decision into something smaller. "I need to tell you something," she said. He waited with the particular quality of patience that was his most disarming characteristic, the absolute unhurried certainty of a man who understood that some things could not be rushed without being broken.

As a t*** was still needed for her to complete. Hah! 'Patience Shane. Patience.' Shane murmured under his breath. 'If we were not patient' Shane paused on saying before starting to walk and then continuing the words that were paused. 'Our dreams will never be able to be achieved.' Shane continued on to say. Not noticing that someone had more or less heard what she thought. Arranging his glasses, the man lifted the corner of his lips and also thought. "This Luna, was a very interesting person"

He looked like patience given form—dangerous, beautiful patience—blue eyes already dark with intent as they tracked me across the room. Taide, wearing nothing but the soft gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, dropped onto the center of my bed like he owned it. He propped one arm behind his head, the other resting loose across his stomach, and made a show of getting comfortable. “Go rid yourselves of your filth,” he said, voice rich with amusement. “We’ll wait.” A pillow found its way under his neck. His eyes slipped closed, but the smile that curved his mouth was anything but sleepy. Then, he mumbled quieter, almost lazyily, “And Reigh? Have fun… but try to make sure you save your brot

I was about to pass out if she called him Uncle Tristan. “Can you excuse us, ma’am? We were having an adult conversation before you came here.” I said to Patience, and then she saw her brother busy with something, and she ran to join him immediately. “She’s nothing like you; I guess she takes after her dad, or none of you.” “Andrew, do not start this today because I’m not interested in your silly talks. Patience is a little girl, and she tends to say whatever pops in her head.” “Including when you ran away after seeing me in the hospital?” Andrew asked.

I chuckled quietly as I kept stepping on my feet towards the park. My steps have stalled. My blue eyes caught an empty park bench near to where I was standing. I sat watching the snow fall slowly, closing my eyes for a moment. It etches a smile on my lips. It was great to see Claire find someone she loved. ‘When can I find mine too?’ “You mean, you want to be fooled?” asked someone from my side. ‘This voice....’

PATREA. "Do you think that if I promise to be gentle, you will let me kiss you?" My eyes widened before my forehead creased. "Aren’t we going too fast?" "If six months is too fast, then yeah, I’m going too fast." He spoke in a voice devoid of any emotion before he pressed his fingers to his closed eyes. "You’re upset." "I am. I’m a demon, Patrea. I don’t have the patience of a saint or even of a human."

"Fine, I'll go. But only because you're so stubborn. You're worse than my mom." As Mace watched Seraphina begrudgingly head to her room to get ready, he couldn't help but shake his head. The clash between the uncle and his spirited niece was a testament to the complexities of their relationship. He hoped that, in time, she would come to understand the valuable lessons he was trying to impart, even if it meant butting heads along the way.

At school, I had a nickname. They called me "Mister Wait-Your-Turn." I waited for the sneakers my brother had grown tired of, the backpack my sister thought was ugly, and the phones my parents had already cracked the screens of. Even when it came to taking a shower, I had to wait until everyone else was done. A week ago, Mom had promised me, "On the day of your college entrance exam, you won't have to wait your turn for the shower." So when I finally stumbled into the bathroom, drenched in sweat and smelling awful, I thought my turn had finally come. I was halfway through working up a lather when someone started pounding on the door. "Come out. Let your brother go in." My eyes stung,

“This is crazy.” “I have waited centuries,” I say, the control in my voice thinning despite myself. “I have been patient. Hoping fate would give me what it gave Father. And if not that, an heir would be enough. But fate seems to take delight in mocking me.” I move toward the window, staring out at the darkened grounds. “Our kind speaks of bonds like they are guaranteed,” I continue. “As if patience is rewarded. As if endurance earns meaning.” A bitter exhale escapes me. “It does not.”