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One OTP to rule them all... (LITERALLY)
Via Owls.
From DWM:
RICHARD ELLIOT asks: How do you think the other Masters would react to Missy if they ever met?
MOFFAT: Oh, I’ve given it thought! Surely there’s fan fiction already? There must be - to your work, if not! The impossible one, of course, is the Delgado/Gomez simmer-fest - but oh, imagine! Hooded gazes at dawn! Sneers like sword slashes! Sexy prowls, cat-like circling! In no time flat, a country cottage, three kids and a Volvo.
One summer evening, as they both puff away in the cigar gazebo, watching the children (identical girl triplets, dead white and levitating) rebuilding the lawn mower into a nuclear reactor using Master Plan Q, the question inevitably arises…
THE MASTER: My dear, you've never exactly told me who you are.
MISSY: You're always so busy, trying to drain the world's
oceans, or rob banks with dinosaurs -
THE MASTER: I just want the kids to have a future.
MISSY: Then why do you keep trying to blow up the planet?
THE MASTER Must we always take this attitude to my work?
MISSY: Or freeze the polar ice caps.
THE MASTER: That was a simple administrative error.
MISSY: Don't you think there might be a clue in my name?
THE MASTER: Missy?
MISSY: Tiny bit of a clue?
THE MASTER: I have long suspected there was some cunning word
play involved. Some abtruse hint as to your true identity, of
some fiendish complexity and subtlety that it eludes even my
mighty Time Lord brain. Is it short for Mistress, though?
MISSY: Yep.
IN THE GARDEN, THE TRIPLETS OBSERVE THE TWO CIGAR TIPS GLOWING
MORE BRIGHTLY FOR A MOMENT IN THE SHADOWS OF THE GARDEN.
THE MASTER: My dear, do you think the triplets ever get lonely?
AND FROM THE HAPPY HOME, THE REST IS SILENCE. EXCEPT FOR THE
NIGHTLY SING-A-LONG OF THE ADDAMS FAMILY.
~~~~
(!!!! Addendum. From Time of Angels:
DOCTOR: Of course, then they started having laws against self-marrying. I mean, what was that about? But that's the Church for you. Er, no offence, Bishop. )
From DWM:
RICHARD ELLIOT asks: How do you think the other Masters would react to Missy if they ever met?
MOFFAT: Oh, I’ve given it thought! Surely there’s fan fiction already? There must be - to your work, if not! The impossible one, of course, is the Delgado/Gomez simmer-fest - but oh, imagine! Hooded gazes at dawn! Sneers like sword slashes! Sexy prowls, cat-like circling! In no time flat, a country cottage, three kids and a Volvo.
One summer evening, as they both puff away in the cigar gazebo, watching the children (identical girl triplets, dead white and levitating) rebuilding the lawn mower into a nuclear reactor using Master Plan Q, the question inevitably arises…
THE MASTER: My dear, you've never exactly told me who you are.
MISSY: You're always so busy, trying to drain the world's
oceans, or rob banks with dinosaurs -
THE MASTER: I just want the kids to have a future.
MISSY: Then why do you keep trying to blow up the planet?
THE MASTER Must we always take this attitude to my work?
MISSY: Or freeze the polar ice caps.
THE MASTER: That was a simple administrative error.
MISSY: Don't you think there might be a clue in my name?
THE MASTER: Missy?
MISSY: Tiny bit of a clue?
THE MASTER: I have long suspected there was some cunning word
play involved. Some abtruse hint as to your true identity, of
some fiendish complexity and subtlety that it eludes even my
mighty Time Lord brain. Is it short for Mistress, though?
MISSY: Yep.
IN THE GARDEN, THE TRIPLETS OBSERVE THE TWO CIGAR TIPS GLOWING
MORE BRIGHTLY FOR A MOMENT IN THE SHADOWS OF THE GARDEN.
THE MASTER: My dear, do you think the triplets ever get lonely?
AND FROM THE HAPPY HOME, THE REST IS SILENCE. EXCEPT FOR THE
NIGHTLY SING-A-LONG OF THE ADDAMS FAMILY.
~~~~
(!!!! Addendum. From Time of Angels:
DOCTOR: Of course, then they started having laws against self-marrying. I mean, what was that about? But that's the Church for you. Er, no offence, Bishop. )