It's Us Crew Oneshots

Unfinished Oneshots (#5): Bojack Horseman AU [D-Gang Oneshot]

[I was never able to finish this and probably never will finish this.

ONE-SHOT NAME: Bojack Horseman AU (no real title)]
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Neon lights painted the water in a milky, red magenta and highlights of blue, pool floats dancing peacefully above on the surface. The underside of a toy boat was a shadowy white when compared to the bright lights up above, and the muffled sound of house music played beyond the pool waters. He floated aimlessly under this, drinking in the sight with strained eyes from the chlorine. A girl in a bikini swam across his vision before even she disappeared eventually. Don wondered if he could stay here and disappear from everyone's sight as well, no one knowing if he had really been here to begin with, or if he had merely just been a passing memory, swimming lazily pasts their gaze before dissipating into the shadows forever. Everything was too loud and too bright all of a sudden, and it felt as though someone was stepping on his chest. His body tried to struggle, but he was too tired all of a sudden. And finally, the gripping reality of what was about to happen hit him, and Don opened his mouth in a desperate gasp for air only to suck in buckets of pool water. Regret weighed down on his brain, but it looked as though this wouldn't last forever as the lights and sounds burnt out to shadows. A bubble of air slipped from his lips. And then there was nothing.

Until the next thing he knew, he was hacking up gallons of chlorine water onto the wooden paneled deck of his back-porch pool as the harsh, South Californian, summer sun beat down on his soaked and skinny frame. Don was turned onto his side, and he had barely enough strength to hold his head up after having emptied his stomach of liquids until he collapsed from exhaustion back onto the lap of whoever saved him. Don let out a tired sigh, his arms and legs shaking involuntarily. As soon as he relaxed, a sharp slap was delivered across his face, and the man was dumped back onto the floor.

Don looked up at his couch-crasher of a roommate and exhaled roughly through his nose, unamused. "What's goin... What's... What's happening..." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, having trouble stringing together words into a sentence. "What happened?" Don finally articulated. The man before him zipped up his red jacket and pulled his yellow-knit beanie further over his black hair in an attempt to calm himself.

"Okay, Donathan, you know how much I hate being the voice of reason because it's exhausting, but you need to get your sh*t together!" Richard exclaimed. The usual chilled-out dude was fired up over something, and he still had yet to explain what happened. Richard pulled Don to his feet by the collar of the shorter male's blue sweater, water squelching in Richard's fist and trickling down his arm. The pale man then poked a finger at Don's chest, narrowing his eyes. "In case you forgot, you tried to drown yourself last night! And when Duni went and saved you, that wasn't enough for you apparently! So then you got drunk again after having sobered up from the traumatic event and fell into the pool, and you nearly drowned AGAIN! Lucky for you this time, I was there when it happened and saved you!"

Don blinked and wiped his gray jacket sleeve across his face to dry the water droplets on his face. It didn't help. "So?" he said with a sniff, and Richard groaned.

"Dick's right, you know!" a new voice piped up, making both men jump out of their skins and let out totally-manly screams. Don's agent approached him from the sliding glass door of the living room, her white hair glistening in the morning rays of the sun and making Don squint. Dashlie reached the two boys and crossed her arms, tapping her pink, acrylic nails against her yellow jacket sleeve. "You need to get your sh*t together!"

"Why?" Don said, still not entirely understanding. Dashlie sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"You may be a clone and don't exactly continue aging past 22, but you're not going to live forever! It's time you stopped pulling these shenanigans and actually focus on what's important. You haven't done anything since your debut in Horsing Around YEARS ago and other appearances you've made following that, and even then, that was y e a r s ago. You need to get your—"

"Yeah, I need to get my sh*t together, I got that," Don finished quickly, rubbing his temples.

"Actually, I was going to say that you need to get your face out there again and finally just accept at least one of these job offers I keep throwing your way, but yeah" -Dashlie narrowed her red eyes- "ya need to get your sh*t together." Don opened his mouth to retaliate with something witty, but any of his remarks were cut off by the woman's phone ringing. Dashlie held up her finger and pulled out her phone. "I need to take this," she said before heading back inside, the sliding glass door slamming shut and shaking the deck.

Don let out a sigh, breaking the silence between Richard and him before taking out a flask and drinking from it. "But why'd you do it?" Richard said, making Don look at him.

"Hm?" he said. The taller man looked his friend up and down, from his soaking wet black beanie, to his ginger hair and cinnamon skin, all the way down to his teal jeans and red converse. Richard sucked air between his teeth at the sight, but he had no say in the way of fashion considering he wore sandals with jeans.

"It's just..." Richard started, searching for something to say. "The first time — the one that wasn't an accident — why'd you try and drown yourself? I know you aren't exactly happy, but—"

Anything meaningful in Richard's usually meaningless words were drowned out by the sound of yet another newcomer opening the porch door. A familiar brown-furred pug jumped out into the sunlight, a pair of sunglasses clipped onto the end of a fashionable, black v-neck shirt. "Donathan Horseman and Duni Peanutbutter in the same room?" he shouted, a wide smile spread across his face as he approached the two men. "What is this—?"

"Don't say it," Don ordered sternly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"—A crossover episode?" the pug exclaimed with a laugh.

"GODDA—" started Don, but he was cut off by Dashlie entering the scene again.

"That was an interesting phone call," she murmured. "I'd never experienced anything like it..."

"No one cares; I don't really wanna hear about it," Don said bluntly and distastefully, but she continued anyways.

"At first it was the actress from that one inconspicuous and convenient film everyone in Hollywood knows the name of offering a time and place for a meeting later this week, but then it got interrupted by someone from a different line..."

"Literally no one cares; please stop talking."

"...It was this guy that kinda sounded like you, Don, but with a higher voice and he sounded a little drunk. He kept mixing up the name of some other kid in the background with the names... I wanna say Morty or Nick?"

"Please, can we just focus on me again? Remember? The one who 'needs to get his sh*t together'?"

"...It might've just been some crackhead calling, though, because he kept cursing me out and saying something about how he really screwed things up this time with the timeline and whatever... And then he and the kid had an argument that was eventually walked in on and that's when the line cut out. Yeah... that kind of freaked me out." Dashlie shrugged and smiled, putting her phone away. She looked up. "Oh, hey, Duni. When did you get here?"

"Okay, when did my house suddenly become open to everyone?" Don said frustratedly, curling his fists tightly into a ball until his knuckles turned white. His amber gaze flickered over to Duni and Dashlie. "How did you two even get here?"

"Well, anyways, with that out the way, let's talk business," said Dashlie with a dismissive wave.

"But you still didn't answer my ques—"

"