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Asher Chattaway

"Sometimes it gets lonely, but being here really isn't half bad."

0 · 436 views · located in The Black

a character in “Back of Beyond”, originally authored by ISpeakTheTruth, as played by RolePlayGateway



Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers


Asher John Flattington-Chattaway

Physical Age]

Mental Age]

Actual Age]

5'9" five feet & nine inches


Also red

Music || Writing || Computers ||
Books || Donuts || Watching Hockey

Dollar stores || Cats || Yo-yo's ||
Playing sports || Hot chocolate || Heavy Metal

Looking back at sunsets on the East side
We lost track of the time
Dreams aren't what they used to be
Some things sat by so carelessly

Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it


[Basic Personality]
Asher likes to have fun. That... well, that pretty much sums the boy up. Of course, the fact that he died three years ago occasionally rains on his parade, but that's when umbrella's come in handy.
He has a creative mind and once liked to jot down all his thoughts on paper. When he was alive, Asher aspired to become a professional author, bringing all the stories that he wrote to life on actual pages instead of on the back of math homework.
However, in recent times he hasn't been as enthusiastic with his dream as he had been before. Although killing off characters and creating new ones is still enjoyable and all, the boy doesn't find it quite as fun.

Random outbursts aren't unusual for him, as normally Asher has about twenty things running around in his head, and rather unhelpfully he tends to like to hear himself talk more than he likes to listen. Honestly, the kid could be able to go on for hours with him talking about one subject. Of course, he'd drag it on, exaggerate details, and make up a few facts on the spot just to keep things going, but no doubt he'd be able to do it. He likes his voice, definitely, but he also likes it when the people around him listen. However, what he fails to understand is that if he keeps having one sided conversations, there's going to be a point where the person on the other end stops trying to talk back.

In life, his parents raised him well and most of the time Asher does have good mannerisms. It's true that he will get bored easily and will rush off to something more interesting, and it's also true that he doesn't have an impressive memory, and it's also true that. . .
It's much easier just to say that Asher has the attention span of a walnut.
Still, he's proven in the past to be a good friend to those who don't mind him. Knowing first hand what being back stabbed feels like, loyalty is important to him and the friendships he makes in the Black are ones that he intends to keep.

Positive Traits] Cheerful || Energetic || Trusting || Friendly || Talkative

Negative Traits] Impulsive || Unreliable || Impatient || Gullible

Fears/Weaknesses] Hydrophobia - fear of water

Acrophobia - fear of heights

Kenophobia - fear of voids or empty spaces

And someone is playing a game
In the house that I grew up in

And someone will drive her around
Down the same streets that I did
On the same streets that I did

Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it


Son of Bianca Flattington and Ronald Chattaway, Asher was the fourth born and youngest child in the Flattington-Chattaway family. His brothers Argus, Logan, and Matt, were never really his friends throughout his childhood, so Asher usually found himself watching late-night hockey with his father or having drawing contests with his mother. He didn't mind spending time with his parents, they would let him stay up past midnight and listen to him talk,
but only losers were buds with their mom and dad.
Asher felt like the biggest loser of all.
Between his three brothers, though, Asher always felt like it was a competition to see who was better. Argus had always been the best at athletics, Logan never brought home a report card that didn't have perfect marks on it, and Matt was the star when it came to music. As for Asher? No brother cared about his rambles when it came to storytelling. He was simply a bore, a waste of their time.

School wise, Asher didn't do so hot either. Drawing on the desks, not paying attention in class, writing way too much when the page only asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. There were so many better things to do than sit and work all day, and always Asher was stuck doing something he didn't want to.
Anything creative, though, that's what Asher liked, yet he still couldn't do it right. The problem wasn't him, however. It was his teachers. He didn't want to write about what they wanted, he wanted to create stories and plots and characters that he wanted. Restrictions to the mind weren't fun, it was like a ball and chain were always dragging him down.
High school was when things for the boy began to advance. He was given freedom in his work, only having to follow the basic outline but otherwise doing whatever he wanted with the make-believe people living through the pages.
Math, science, P.E. and any other subject, Asher still sucked at those. And miserably, at that. C-'s weren't anything to brag about, but at least he had one thing he could do right for once.

And then, just weeks after he became the editor of the school's newspaper and head of the writing club, Asher had gone screwed it all up. How? He lied and said he knew how to swim.

Water tubing isn't the most heroic way to die. Constantly after the incident Asher had wished that he could have went because of something more memorable, or at least because of something that was less terrifying. Cut off from air and no one being able to hear you call for them? No thanks! Asher would have taken a bullet or been run over before he'd ever choose to drown. Still, nothing ever stopped him from sinking further and further into the lake.
The worst part about his little death experience, though, was that Asher didn't see any lights at the end of the tunnel. That's what everyone who died and came back to life claimed seeing, but for Asher it was as if darkness had swallowed him. It could have been like that for days or months for all he knew, time didn't mean a thing. Then, almost as if magically, he opened his eyes to find himself outside his house in Stony Brook. The only major difference was that everyone else in town was dead... including him.

Out of all of this, Asher remembers his life as if it had no problems. He hadn't been bullied in elementary school, his brothers hadn't pretended he was invisible for three months, and he certainly had more than two friends who didn't end up abandoning him. Maybe it's just that when people die, it's easier looking back on their lives as if they didn't totally suck.

So begins...

Asher Chattaway's Story


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After years of being stepped on, bashed, and having four hectic boys stomp all over it, the faded blue house had become dented and looked rather beat up compared to the beauty it had once been. Walls had scratch marks, purple food colouring stains marked spots in the kitchen, and many of the pictures on the shelves had either broken glass or super-glued frames. Not that Asher minded all the ugly markings, though. The had made itself home to him.
Home. He didn't think such a nice word could hurt so much.

He walked towards the front door, kicking Lego's and Hot Wheels cars as he went, and tugged on a pair of sneakers before slipping on his jacket. When he opened the door, he was greeted with the usual breeze and the sight of an empty front yard and a dark wall of fog where the sidewalk should have been. There was a car parked in the driveway, one that hadn't been driven since it got there, but other than that and the cut grass there were next to no signs that anyone was actually around. Mainly because there wasn't. Aside from Asher, no one else was there.

As he headed towards the fog it wasn't very hard to remember that everything he was seeing was just a copy of the original. Back home, there would be kids playing street hockey and Mr. Farkly would be inviting the neighbors to the weekend barbecue that never ended up happening. Here, still on his house property, the place was dead silent. Eerie, almost, and to be honest it gave Asher the creeps.

When he was only about a few feet away from the wall, the darkness lightened up and changed into a swirling mass of colours. Red, blue, bright orange, yellow, purple... it was like a rainbow had thrown a party and started to dance. At one point Asher would have stopped and gawked at it, but now he walked straight on through without giving it a second glance. Within seconds the sound of people talking and cars speeding past flooded his ears, and then the scene shifted into view and Asher saw his old neighborhood. Mr. Farkly wasn't there yet, and nor were the kids, but everything else was close enough to how he remembered it, he almost had trouble reminding himself that it was just part of the vision. Almost.

"Asher!" Someone called out, and the boy turned around to see the former mailman jogging towards him. Apparently the guy had gotten hit by his own truck, but honestly he didn't look all that bad for someone who had his spine run over. Then again, no one really looked like how they did when they... died. Man, finding a different word for that would be fantastic.
Asher shot the mailman a smile and gave a wave. "Hey, Bill." He said. "What's new?"

"Well you're finally out of the house, if that counts for anything." Bill snorted, clapping Asher on the shoulder. "As for news, eh. Watchers leaving, people visiting, normal stuff you would know if you weren't such a grump. Oh! And someone broke into Garden Poultry a few days back, my guess is they just wanted free fries." On the last note Bill's words jumbled into laughter, then suddenly he broke into a cough. Asher lowered an eyebrow and took a step back, trying to avoid the spit shooting from the mailman's mouth.

"You okay?" He asked, trying to hide his disgust as Bill spat a ball of mucus onto the sidewalk. The man nodded quickly, waving Asher away. "Fine." He wheezed, sucking in a deep breath of air. "I've had this nasty cold for days and can't seem to shake it, that's all." He explained, shaking his head and wiping the spittle on his chin. When he looked back to Asher, his eyes caught sight of something else and the colour seemed to drain from his face. "Anywho... gotta run. Mail won't deliver itself." Bill said hurriedly, giving another sharp nod before scurrying away.

Confused, Asher turned around to try and see what had spooked the mailman into leaving so fast. Almost immediately his eyes found what he was looking for, and Asher found himself staring right into the blank face of a Watcher. It was well enough away, trying to keep out of sight by lingering near some bushes, but there was no mistake that the boy had seen it before it dissolved into the air.
"Useless things." He muttered, rolling his eyes as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Miles Wilcox Character Portrait: Avaline Yoroshima Character Portrait: Roxanne Powers Character Portrait: Asher Chattaway Character Portrait: Elijah Barker Character Portrait:
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Nothing interesting ever happened in the Black, Asher had come to realize. Sure, you could go pretty much anywhere, meet pretty much anyone, and do pretty much anything you wanted, but after a certain amount of time 'pretty much' was replaced with 'boring', and Asher was beginning to realize just how bored he was with the usual boring. Couldn't there be, like... parties or something? No one ever said that the people in the afterlife had to be so dull. A party for being dead. He thought, nodding his head. There could be balloons and cake, maybe even a few cut-out gravestones and plastic ghosts if the guests had a sense of humor. The idea, to him, wasn't all that bad. He'd have to remember it for later.

He passed by a few people as he continued his walk, but none of which he recognized. The downside to choosing to leave his vision very rarely was that he hadn't given himself any time to meet his neighbors. Not that any of them seemed like they were interesting enough to get to know, though. Most of the people he saw were either old or flat out ancient. In other words, weren't in Asher's interest.

He kicked a stray rock out onto the road and watched as it rolled across the pavement. It hit the curb, tipped over, and Asher scowled before walking away. Of course. What had he expected? The rock would get up and do a little dance? Oho, look a me! A tiny rock doing an Irish Jig! Hahaha, what fun! Asher scoffed at the thought. Even in a world where everything was left to the mind, rocks still wouldn't provide entertainment. Obviously.

Asher shook his head and took a step forward, except this time when his foot hit the ground, it didn't make contact with the pavement. Nothing would have been out of the ordinary if Asher had intentionally switched to a different vision, one that took place in the park a few blocks from his house. Except, he hadn't. And where he was wasn't in a vision at all. He was in the Light. Confused, Asher looked around and worried that someone would be able to see him. No one in the park began to freak out and scream 'GHOST!!', though, so naturally he assumed he was invisible to them. That was good. No freaky I saw the dead Asher Chattway news reports were to be written anytime soon, thank god. Watchers would be all over him if the people in the Light began to talk about seeing the people in the Black.

When he tried to take a look around, Asher found himself back in the vision. Not intentionally, again. He was in the Light one second and then back in the Black the next. If he hadn't been out in public, Asher would have thought that he was going off his rocker, but the eruption of voices around him assured that he wasn't the only one it had happened to.

Asher reached out for the first person that walked past him, but he couldn't get a single word out before the street fell silent. The person's face went white and her eyes widened, and Asher turned his head two see two Watchers on both sides of the road. Aha! What a bunch of wimps.

"What was that all about?" He shouted, pushing past the gathering crowd in attempt to get close to the first Watcher. "If the rules are we don't go to the Light, then why the hell did that just happen?" He demanded, spreading out his arms. Like all the times before, when Asher got too close the Watcher disappeared into the air. He glanced back at the remaining one, but it too was gone. Right. Unhelpful and useless as always. He turned fully around to face the crowd, and to his surprise every one of them was staring at him. "What?" He snapped, feeling a bit awkward to have so many sets of eyes trained on him.
"Redhead, you're uh... you're fading." One woman spoke up.
One man snickered, and a second later Asher heard "Bet he's getting sent to the Blood for speaking out like that"
He narrowed his eyes and ignored him, but then a set of surprised gasps erupted from the crowd and Asher had to focus in order to hear what everyone was saying.

"Everything's fading!"
"Quick, change visions!"
"Hurry, go!"

In the midst of the panic, Asher took the advice and jumped to a different vision. It wasn't his home where he ended up, though. It was a large field, once again in the Light, and was completely packed of spirits from the Black.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Asher Chattaway Character Portrait: Elijah Barker Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Eli sighed and turned away from the window when the fog began to roll back in across the fields, wandering to an aged bookshelf in one of the three sitting rooms the ancient house boasted. The books here were a mixture of new and old, a myriad of genres and texts. He picked one at random, ran a finger down it's spine, and then pulled it free. He sighed again as he moved to a low couch, and relaxed back, before opening up to the first page.

It was one that he'd read several times already. Really, he'd read all of the books here at least twice, and some of them over seven or eight times. It was hard to find something to entertain yourself when almost all of infinity stretched in front of him. He read the words almost blindly, using the dull sentences to pass the time. He'd only just read half of the small piece of literature, when the black ink began to fade. Frowning, Elijah glanced aside, and rubbed his eyes before looking back, only to see that the words were even closer to invisibility than before. His frown deepened as he watched them, before his heart started to race. The words were almost completely gone.

Abruptly, Elijah rose and threw the book across the room in horror. His house seemed to blink, as though dipping in and out of reality, and for a moment he thought that he could perceive the sudden noise and movement of the Light. The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Elijah was once again in the oppressive silence of his own house, but his eyes were bright and alive, though filled with confusion as the room he had just been sitting in so peacefully seemed to fade before his eyes.

The man spun on his heels and ran. He passed the doorway to his room, and found that the corridor in front was already beginning to fade. "Damn..." Eli grimaced and ran faster, running through another doorway, and tripping as he fell through it. However, instead of the normal, hard flooring greeting him, he found himself landing on the comparatively soft green grass of a lush field. Blinking, Eli sighed in relief, and looked up. The light was brighter than usual, and as he turned his head up to the sunlight, he realized that he really was in the Light...for real. He pushed himself to his feet and looked around uncertainly at all the others around him who milled around with just as much confusion.