THE POLITIC GAMES (desantis x trump)

The Reapings

Ron DeSantis was sixteen the first time that his name was ever reaped. He was nineteen the next time it happened. A lot has changed in those three long years and nothing will change the fact that Ron is going to make it home. Nothing and no one will be able to stop him not even Donald Trump.

Donald Trump has no plans to take away that opportunity to get home from Ron. His intentions are actually quite the opposite. He has his reasons to get Ron out of the arena and back home.

Joe Biden was seventeen when he volunteered to take the place of his little brothers place in the arena. God, if he could do it again. He would. But at the age of twenty, he could do no such thing. 

Two names were called out, a mentor who couldn't even manage to stutter a defiant reply...secrets to uncover and grief that could tear them apart. 

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The 95th annual reaping was supposed to be Ron's last.

He's nineteen and his birthday resides two days before the reaping. So he's safe. Or so he apparently thought.

Donald Trump does not have Ron's luck. He's just three months away from turning twenty six and if only his father had managed a couple months earlier...he would've been safe. He could have escaped this horrible fate.

Ron stared at the stage, his eyes barely escaping the screening that showed how the hunger games had 'really' started. 

If anything, Bernie Sanders was absolutely filled with shit. He was the master of everything, the games...the capitol...even the rules for football!

His beady eyes searched the stage, watching Jacob Chansley. A man who stood in the most vulgar of outfits.

Today it was a deer themed fit, antlers concealing his ears that Ron just KNEW were big...fur coats shaped in a vest. It truly brought out his stomach which was a hairy thing covered in red, white, and blue war paint. His shorts were probably the most awful though, denim jorts dyed in the same vulgar colors. He wasn't even wearing shoes!! It was a 'natural look'... Ron knew better though.

As the film cut out, Jacob screamed the words-

"AND MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR!! AM I RIGHT LADIES???"

He was left with his hairy arms in the air and silence.

The ladies were looking away...and definitely not going to confirm what he just said.

Ron had to hold back a giggle, Jake deserved it. He was trying his best to be a 'ladies man'...it wasn't working out very well for him.

As Jake lowered his arms, he let out a sniff. "I guess it's time to name the first tribute then! Let's gooooo Am'rica!"

Nobody cheered. Or even really reacted. Most just upturned their noses and crossed their arms.

It turns out, that the first tribute, was his older brother's best friend. It was Donald, Donald Trump.

Ron's eyes darted over to where he knew that Donald was standing. He was standing with his family and...Joe. Who technically should've been standing with Ron and Karen and Ronald Sr.

Joe was technically disowned though. After his games, he couldn't get over the trauma of the games and Karen Rogers just had to kick his ass out. Yeah, you go queen!

Oh. Right. Back at the current matter.

Donald was reaped. He was standing, barely moving while Joe tried to push him towards the stage. Joe was obviously trying to hold himself back from protecting Donald from the dangers that were about to happen while Donald's parents quietly weeped over their son who might as well already be dead at their feet.

The campaigners were stepping near with their pistols in hand. Those were the dog's of the capitol. They worked for Sanders.

Finally, Donald shook Joe off of him and he pushes himself out into the open. Ron sympathized for Donald, he had been Joe's best friend.

Though, Ron also sympathized for Joe. His best friend was going into the games. He would have to teach his best friend, his faux brother, how to survive in the games. Joe would have to manipulate the donators and sponsorships to send gifts for Donald and whoever whom the next tribute be survive in the games.

Joe would do his best as a mentor to teach Donald how to cook and survive in whichever circumstances that the game makers would chose this year.

Finally, Donald stepped upon the stage and stood to the right of Jacob. 

"A rather handsome man that you are...are you interested in football?" 

Donald ignored those comments and his eyes stayed upon the crowd and the cameras.

Ron watched as Joe finally joined them all on the stage, he was supposed to have been there from the start as a mentor, but he usually just strayed off into the crowd.

"Okay then..."Jacob muttered awkwardly.

The deer suited man moved towards the next bowl of red white and blue colored letters that held names.

He thrust his hand into the bowl and shuffled it a bit until he grabbed a letter and held it up proudly.

Before he opened the letter, he sniffed it. Apparently, each year- the letters smelled a bit different according to Jacob.

"This one smells of body odor...or SUCCESS!!" Jacob ripped the letter open and saw the name inside and Ron could see him wince in disgust.

"Uhhh...Ronald DeSantis? God...that's an interesting name."

Of course. Luck always had it out for him. The second time in the last four years, and his family was generally well off, he almost never had to put his name in for yeast earnings.

Ron's mother grew a bright smile on her face and so did his father.

"Nobody to volunteer for you now son! Go make this family proud." They each placed a hand upon his shoulders and pushed him forward.

Wait. This meant that he was going through the games with...Donald Trump? How ironic.

He stepped through the crowd as they created a path for him. Some recognized him and even in the distance, Ron saw his best friend- James Uthmeier.

James grimaced and gave him a sympathetic look.

Ron looked away from James and stepped up onto the stage up near Jacob. On his left.

"Now you...you are more handsome than the last!" Jacob smelled of body spray. The kind that said things about werewolf power and deep woods.

"WE HAVE OUR UNO TRIBUTESSSS!" Jacob screamed, grabbing both Donald and Ron's hands. Ron tried to get his hand out but Jacob persisted. (Even Ron wasn't going to mention that uno meant one, and he in fact had TWO tributes.)

He lifted their hands into the air and grinned a fierce smile.

"and may the odds...be ever in your favor." He leaned in to kiss the both of them, but they dodged.

This was the beginning of The Hunger Games.

Ron hated this already.