dmnursey:

Hazeapalooza 2k16

Whiskey/Tango

Rating: T (with maybe a bit of M at the end it depends on the type of person you are)

A Twango fic ft. Whiskey’s inner monologue, a blindfold that might be jock strap, and the magical Haus basement where dreams come true

_X_

“Tadpoles, this evening you partake in the most sacred of hockey rituals. Hazeapalooza bonds us in the Samwell brotherhood. Tonight you Taddies will crawl onto the shores of manhood naked, blindfolded, and– oh lord– bitch ass shit faced.” Bitty squinted at the index card in front of him, struggling to read aloud the rest of Shitty’s speech. “I’m sorry boys, I’ve had one too many beers tonight to pretend that I can read Shitty’s handwriting. The rest here is just chicken scratch. I’m gonna cut the spiel a little short.” Bitty conceded.

“Basically, we’re gonna walk y’all back to the house with blindfolds and we’re gonna make you drink a lot. Rans? Holtz? Do you guys wanna take it from here?” Bitty stepped away from center ice to begin distributing slices of pie, and the two captains proudly took his place.

Ransom puffs out his chest and looks confidently over the cluster of kneeling tadpoles, “Gladly, Bits. Now Listen up Taddies, ‘cause me and Holtzy are about to teach you fools a lesson on personal limits and knowing when to say no…”

Keep reading