#vance drew

[missin-you-already]

Sanitation || Resident Evil (2002)

[crashandswirl]

MUSE INFO

Name: Vance Drew

Vance comes from the 2002 film Resident Evil. Some influence the novelization Resident Evil: Genesis. When interacting with him, there might be violence, blood, gore, body horror, and death. Except for violence, all of these things will be tagged as cw: [subject] when applicable.

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Dark brown

Face claim: Torsten Jerabek

Pronouns: He/him

Age: Dependent on the verse.

In the Anderson flicks, twenty-seven at the time of the Hive Incident in 2002.

Also in the Anderson flicks, in his thirties in Extinction through to The Final Chapter, which ends in 2012.

In the game universe, twenty-seven during the time of the Raccoon City Incident in 1998.

Height: 6'1"/185 cm

Sexual/Romantic orientation: Heterosexual/heteroromantic

Occupation:

Former NYPD police officer.

Paramilitary commando for the Umbrella Corporation. U.S.S. (Umbrella Security Service).

In Apocalypse to The Final Chapter, he primarily spends his time going around and trying to aid survivors.

In the gameverse, a member of TerraSave.

Personality: Vance is best described as quiet and phlegmatic. His stone-faced demeanor and tendency to contribute very little to conversations have earned him a bit of a reputation as a hardass. However, Vance is hardly that. He simply isn't animated or talkative.

With a lot of focus and drive, Vance isn't afraid of a little hard work. He has a strong sense of duty and takes his work seriously. Outside of the action, he prefers to relax and partake in more low energy activities, yet hardly stops his friends from dragging him out places. He never minds much. He enjoys existing around others.

If you need an ear to listen, he's a good person to turn to.

Vance worked in Umbrella's security division up until a mission went horribly wrong in an underground research center of theirs. He lost most of his teammates in what would eventually be known as the Hive Incident. And not long after, the Raccoon City Incident occurred.

Some other stuff:

Vance loves reading. He often has a book with him and will be going through four or five titles at the same time.

In Resident Evil, Drew dies when Umbrella's security system dices him apart with a laser (the laser corridor can be seen in the top middle gif). Depending on how I have him survive that, he might be missing a good chunk of the fingers on his right hand. Sans his thumb. And if your muse wants to try and save him, I'm down for that!

He grew up as an only child with both parents.

His best friend is his fellow teammate at Umbrella, Alfonso Warner.

Their unit is known as Sanitation. It's led by Commander James "One" Shade. Other teammates include Rain Ocampo, J.D. Salinas, Chad Kaplan, and Olga Danilova.

[ningadudexx]

1...!!!! 2....!!!! ......!!!!! what comes after.... 2!!!!!! .....!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tobisoundx3]

Alyx makes a friend

[skellagirl]

Gordon/Barney/Alyx is really really funny to me conceptually bc it's like, two hot geniuses in their 20s who look at the 40-something smartass who hangs around and go 'yeah that guy. we both want him carnally'

[ohnoitsz1m]

Halflife ponies. Btw.

A warning to any MLP enjoyers: if this ends up on derpibooru or any similar site I'll gnaw you into splinters like a cheap plastic dog toy. I'm on the DNP lists under animatorfun and I'll request a new link for this blog specifically if I havw to. Please stop reuploading my shit 💀

Edit: i forgot to reenable the layer with Gordon's glasses it's so over. I was wondering why she looked weird oughhgggh

Edit2: fixed gordon <3

[denstarry]

i don’t think i ever recovered after watching this movie,

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

A sketch of Alyx since i've never drawn her before, plus a bonus lil gordon doodle

[keroa]

I’ve been playing with the Bluey style lately

[swearingcactus]

lil v is a friendly guy! unless you're a corpo who's walking around on HIS streets in HIS wardrobe and has the audacity to look BETTER than him doing it. then it's on sight. // inspired by @mail-me-a-snail's photoshoot of streetkid vance!

[missin-you-already]

Torsten Jerabek as Vance Drew || Resident Evil (2002)

[vulpixelates]

thank you to @ladyinthebluebox for tagging me to make a poll of my favorite video game ladies! 💖 i think there is one going around where it's just favorite fictional women in general but i had to limit it to video games or i'd be here for a year

tagging the following and anyone else who wants to (but no pressure!): @butchdollyparton @bardofheartdive @serawasnever @sunlians @littlebirdofprey

[afrozenmicrowave]

felt sappy while washing dishes and I had to do something about that

[sourlemonsz]

BOYFRIENDS !!!🫵🏾🫵🏾

(Also sorry for the sloppy coloring/shading I wasn’t feeling very productive ( ´ ▽ ` ) )

[oddtree-art]

art dump part 1 :P

[jomiddlemarch]

Each be other’s comfort kind

In some ways, Jem found being married to Mary née Vance was the easiest thing in the world.

To begin with, if he ever referred to her as Mary née Vance, she cuffed him lightly on the shoulder before she rolled her eyes and then drew him back down for a kiss. 

He’d learned the only place to refer to her as Mary née Vance was their bed.

Which he must refer to simply as their bed, not their marriage-bed or anything of a similar high-falutin’ tone which she would accept from his mother and tolerate from Rilla and would otherwise laugh at almost merrily.

As someone not much given to flights of fancy well before the War had made him watch his friends and fellow soldiers gassed and killed, his brother gone without the chance of a farewell, his mind and body scarred in ways he knew as a physician would never fully heal, he found Mary’s unmitigated pragmatism as refreshing as water in the desert.

It also put his father at ease, as Dad said Mary reminded him not a little of his own mother, though Mary was notably less concerned with the vast quantity of pie the Doctors Blythe could consume of an evening, and her piecrust was arguably the equal of Susan Baker’s, though they’d all agreed not to utter such heresy at Ingleside.

In the privacy of their non-marriage, most ordinary bed, with its soft white linens and goose-feather pillows, Jem was free to tell Mary her pastry was actually better than Susan’s, as she had a lighter hand and her piecrust never once reflected any sense of consternation or outrage over some doings in Glen St. Mary, which could not be said of Susan’s best tarts.

Mary was practical and matter of fact. She had a good head for accounts and was far more intelligent that he, any of the Blythes or Merediths (with the exception of Carl) had ever given her credit for. It was easy to discuss the running of his practice and the economic advantages posed by a move to one of the larger towns, the intellectual stimulation offered by hospital work.

Mary did not worry about leaving Mrs. Marshall Elliott behind and she did listen when Jem spoke of his mother’s broken heart with oblique allusions to Walter’s death and more direct remarks about Shirley’s move to Montreal. Even more, she was willing to allow his mother precedence in ways Faith Meredith would never have countenanced. 

(Who knew what Faith would truly have countenanced? She’d eloped with Bertie Shakespeare Drew shortly after their mutual return from England and had immediately bobbed the golden-brown hair Walter had once referred to as her crowning glory in a sonnet Jem was never meant to see.)

Mary was patient and funny, an impossibly good mimic. She had a seemingly infinite supply of riddles and could curse a blue streak with the fishermen down in the harbor, who respected Young Doctor Blythe all the more for his sharp-tongued wife.

She complained very little, never as much as she ought about what mattered most, and only to the degree she would amuse him about things that didn’t matter at all. 

She was never troubled by his nightmares, by being woken by Jem clutching her tightly, his tears falling onto her neck, salt on his lips when he kissed her.

Mary liked to be read to of an evening, but not poetry. She liked Dickens, which didn’t surprise him, and Eliot, which did. She liked mysteries the best, pulp, which made him chuckle, and Lupin instead of Holmes, but she didn’t press him on nights when anything French was the door opened to memories he couldn’t bear.

She was warm, save for her cold feet. She’d tuck them against his shins and it wasn’t like anything else in the whole world.

She was reliable, steady, quick to take his side. Quick to see his side, even before he did. 

She was pretty and she didn’t count it worth much, without any of the vanity of any of the Blythe women.

She was eminently, exceptionally lovable—except that she was difficult to love.

She shrugged off praise.

She didn’t care for ornaments or nosegays, perfume or sweets or what Rilla called a stunning new cloche just the exact color of blackberry fool. 

She looked after him and their home so well, there was little left for him to do.

He was at a loss, one she was aware of and found entertaining, when Rilla remarked one day how much Rosemary Meredith’s new cat reminded her of Mary.

Then he knew.

Mary liked to have a cup of tea made just so, with plenty of milk.

She liked to end the day sitting with her stocking feet tucked up under her.

She liked to have her hair stroked, even if his hand trembled, which stopped much sooner when he was paying all his attention to the silkiness of her fair hair and the delicate skin at her temple, her throat.

She liked to sleep early on cold winter nights.

And sometimes, when they were together in the shadows, she liked to be called Puss. She liked it exceedingly well.