#left for dead

[mannofscience]

happy pride valve community

#half life #left for dead #tf2 #portal #gordon freeman #barney calhoun #l4d louis #l4d rochelle #tf2 demoman #tf2 soldier #alyx vance #chell portal #freehoun #chellyx #boots n bombs

[linecrosser]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 19 - Left Behind

(luckily he was found after a few days, before he was too much dehydrated)

#whumptober #whumptober2023 #left behind #captive #prisoner #tied up #abandoned #left for dead #achaar djaanib #shakkau

[krazyyy]

I used to ship these two characters in Left 4 Dead 2 when the game first came out and playing it recently is slightly bringing that obsession back...

#left 4 dead 2 #left for dead #nick l4d2 #rochelle l4d2 #nick x rochelle #valve #fanart #idk there dynamic in the game was cute to me idk why #sorry if this is weird lmao #mrskrazy art

[kabie-whump]

♡Febuwhump Day 26: "Help them." + Human Weapon (alt) ♡

@febuwhump

A combo post? Sure.

Content: betrayal, human weapon whumpee, sleeper agent whumpee, blood, left for dead

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Why are you all just standing there? Help them!"

Leader's grip is firm as they grab Caretaker's shoulder, stopping them from running to Whumpee's side.

"That's not Whumpee," Leader says.

Whumpee, lying curled up on the floor in front of the team, lets out a pitiful sob. There's a puddle of blood under them and it's growing too fast but no one is doing anything and Caretaker wants to scream.

"What do you mean?" Whumpee tries to sit up but fails as they put weight on their clearly broken wrist. They settle for staring up at Leader, eyes wide and full of tears. "It is me. Please, I need help!"

Laeder's hand is shaking on Caretaker's shoulder.

"This is what Whumper does," Leader says, their voice haunted. "Whumpee doesn't even know it, but there's a monster planted in their mind, and it's already taken over. It's sleeping right now but it'll wake up the second we take them inside and then we're all done for."

"But they're hurt," Caretaker insists. "We have to help them. We don't know that they're going to turn on us."

"Why else would Whumper just give them back to us? I'd rather not wait until one of us is being stabbed in our sleep to find out."

Whumpee is outright crying now, something Caretaker has never seen them do so openly. "I won't! I promise I won't! I'll be good. Please, I just wanna go home. It hurts so bad."

Leader turns away, pulling Caretaker with them. "Trust me," they whisper. "I've been down this road before. It's not worth it. They can't be saved."

"But-"

"Whumpee's dead. That's a ghost."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #whump ideas #human weapon #sleeper agent #whump prompt #conditioned whumpee #tw blood #left for dead #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday26

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 13

13. (Jan 25-26) Left to die / Barely Conscious / "I'm Fine" 

cw stabbing, left for dead, intimate whumper, implied captivity 

“You're so pretty like this,” they said, stroking Whumpee’s hair. “Scared. Desperate. Hopeless. It’s a good look on you.” 

Whumpee sputtered, coughing up a mouthful of blood when Whumper pulled the knife out of their stomach. “W-why...” Their fingers slipped from Whumper’s shirt as they sank to their knees. 

Whumper shrugged. “I’m tired of you. I think it’s time I found a new plaything.”  

“B-but you...” Whumpee struggled to get the words out, hands clutching the wound that was steadily gushing blood. 

Whumper gave them a look of mock surprise and cooed, “Oh, honey—did you really believe me when I said I loved you? You’re dumber than I thought.” 

Whumpee’s tear-filled eyes drifted down to their hands, but the sight of so much blood made them dizzy. Their eyes rolled back, and they swayed on their knees. 

“What a shame,” Whumper sighed as they collapsed to the ground. “You were certainly the most obedient pet I've had in a while. But I get bored so easily.” 

taglist: @morning-star-whump

((lmk if you want to be added!!))

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno13 #left for dead #stabbing #intimate whumper #implied captivity #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #snippet

[whumpshaped]

OH I love the guard dog drabble!!! can I request a continuation or something from the whumpee‘s pov? I wanna see their conditioned thought process :)

prev

tw pet whump, conditioned whumpee, left for dead, caretaker new master, amputation, abandonment, self-deprecation, self-blame, ableist language directed at self, murder, dehumanisation

Whumpee tried to breathe evenly. There was no one to chastise it for panting anymore, but it still believed that if it held itself to the rules of its former master, said master might come to rescue it. Maybe they'd have a change of heart. Maybe they'd decide Whumpee didn't deserve to die shivering and in pain, abandoned in a dirty alley.

When the stranger appeared, it found it had no strength left to pull itself into the shadows to avoid being noticed. All it could do was lie there obediently and occasionally whine as the person touched it and muttered concerned-sounding questions.

It didn't know how to react. Its master wasn't here anymore to tell it whether to bite or nuzzle, and Whumpee didn't have the capability to decide on it itself.

Maybe this was good? The mention of a vet was promising, but could this stranger really be telling the truth? Even if they were... was it allowed to accept help? Its master left it for dead; every breath it'd drawn since was an act of rebellion, further marking it as a failed dog who couldn't even die when it was told to.

But then the mysterious person noticed its ankle, and Whumpee realised it wouldn't have to make the choice. Now that they knew it was faulty, it was only a matter of time before they turned on their heel and decided to forget about the encounter.

At least that was what it thought, before its saviour quickly reassured it.

Help... It would get help. It would be fixed for a new master to take home and make use of.

Would its old master resent it if it went along with this? It wasn't its duty to ponder that. Dogs were to follow the orders of their masters, and Whumpee didn't have an owner anymore. Up until this moment.

-

Whumpee tried very hard to be good for its new master. But when Caretaker brought it to a clinic, one of the first assassments the doctors had made were that its leg was unsalvageable.

It would have to be cut off.

It couldn't keep the panic at bay, it snarled and growled and made a huge fuss. It only managed to settle down when Caretaker firmly told it to, when they guided it back to the comfortable hospital bed and ordered it to let the professionals help.

Surgery was a blur, a blank spot, and more of a blur after, and Whumpee thought everybody had changed their minds with the way its ankle still hurt when the first round of painkillers wore off. Phantom pains, its owner had called it.

Caretaker was still kind after the surgery, softly reassuring it over and over that they wouldn't leave it. They should've, by all accounts. It was weak for a guard dog, ugly for a lapdog, useless for any sort of companion Caretaker might've wanted out of it.

And yet, they stayed. Whumpee couldn't talk, but its silent resolve and pledge of loyalty was as strong as any made with words.

-

Pain. Pain. Pain.

There was nothing but pain and exhaustion in Whumpee's world as it pushed its body to its limits, deciding that a simple setback — such as a missing foot — could never be an excuse for giving up and disappointing its owner. Caretaker took pity on a faulty guard dog, and Whumpee would pay them back by becoming the best among the faulty guard dogs.

It didn't need its foot to be strong. It didn't need its foot to stay alert and obedient.

It didn't care about the instructions of anybody but Caretaker. And when Caretaker wasn't there to supervise its training and rest, it didn't listen to a single nurse who dared assume it would simply accept a new reality in which it was of no use to such a kind, benevolent master.

-

There were no words to describe the joy Whumpee felt when Caretaker allowed it into their home. It was overwhelming, it made it want to cry and laugh at the same time.

It had a home again! It had a home, and a master, and a duty. Caretaker wasn't super clear on what that duty would be yet, but for now, it was just happy to be wanted.

Its new pet bed was an unimaginable step up from the hardwood floor of its former master's bedroom, as well as the wet ground of the alleyway. It was a place to curl up and sleep comfortably, a luxury it'd thought only a prized show dog would ever receive.

And Caretaker still spoke so softly to it. Even though it was recovered now, able to walk and do whatever was needed of it, they still saw it fit to show it kindness. It was abundantly clear that Whumpee would never ever be able to pay it all back, but all it could do was try its best.

-

It jolted awake at the sound of someone rattling the doorknob. Master wasn't home — which meant the duty of defending the home rested upon its shoulders. It growled instinctively, getting into a position from which it could attack with ease, if the intruder were to proceed.

And they did, pushing the door open a mere ten seconds later. Whumpee didn't hesitate.

It tackled the attacker to the floor, holding them down as it tore their throat out. They never got to use the knife they'd clearly brought in case of a potential confrontation, all they could do was grasp it for a few twitchy moments before they dropped it again in favour of clasping both hands over their ruined trachea.

Whumpee stood up and stomped down on their stomach, once, twice, as many times as it took for its foot to break the soft flesh of their abdomen. And then some more. It was so absorbed in its mission that it didn't hear Master entering the apartment, only when they addressed it with clear horror in their voice.

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, nononono–

Had it done something wrong? It dropped to its knees, whining like it had been wounded again, and sobbing like it had any right to do so. If it had made a mistake trying to defend Master's home, then it didn't have any sort of right to pity itself, it had to be punished.

It didn't want to be punished.

Master didn't understand. Whumpee quickly brought out evidence: the lockpick, the knife... Master had to know that Whumpee hadn't gotten violent for no reason. They had to understand.

Please, please understand. I'm a guard dog. This is the only thing I know how to do. I bring death and destruction, but only when Master's safety is threatened, only when it's just, only when it's necessary.

All I wanted was to protect Master.

"You're– you're a guard dog," Master said softly, and Whumpee's relief at being understood mixed with the fear of being abandoned for it. "This... Oh, dear. This is not... This is not good."

It stopped breathing for a moment.

It was happening all over again.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

#whump #whump drabble #pet whump #conditioned whumpee #caretaker new master #amputation whump #abandonment #self-deprecation #self-blame #recovery fic #murder #dehumanisation #left for dead

[spontaneousspirit]

Bout to buy from Steam's 20th anniversary Valve sales, so uh, is this a good purchase?

#i dont play many games let alone games so old #are they actually fun to play or do ppl just like the lore? #tf2 #left for dead #l4d #half life #l4d2 #portal #portal 2 #half life 2

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1281

Whumptober #13: "Just Hold On."

“Just hold on.” They said.

“We’ll be back soon!” They said.

But as darkness falls and their wound begins to ooze, the whumpee is left wondering whether or not they’re actually going to return.

(This could go two ways: the nearest town could be further than the caretakers imagined/the caretakers run into trouble, or, the whumpee truly has been abandoned.)

#your choice :) #whumptober2023 #whump #writing #prompts #angst #abandoned #left for dead #“just hold on”

[whumpetywhump]

Bad And Crazy - Ep. 9 & 10

#bad and crazy #kdrama #stabbed #bleeding #collapse #passing out #left for dead #lee dong wook #whump #kwhump #asian whump

[rancidsloth]

my friend has an obsession with Gnome Chompski (why wouldn't he though?!)

#l4d2 #left for dead #coach #coach l4d2 #gnome chompski #im sad that this pencil from autodesk is REALLY good but the set it comes with doesnt have an eraser :[

[paininseries]

Open Range | 2003 (-1- / -2- / -3-)

Soo many good tropes here;

- ambushed unbeknownst to caretakers

- left for dead

- worried fatherfigure

- fading in and out of consciousness

- bridal carry

Found this movie through @whumpywhumpas 🌟

More gif sets for this movie coming!!!

#open range 2003 #open range #movie #movie whump #whump #diego luna #shot #gsw #heavily injured #left for dead #unconscious #blood loss #field treatment #bridal carry #worry #near death #weak #head wound #blood #bloody #sick #ill #bleeding out #mine #Cowboy #Wild West

[bubbasbubblebutt]

People who hate Bubba Sawyer, Tarhos Kovacs, Bill Overbeck, and Ashley J Williams for the way people play them in dbd I wish you a very

SHUT THE FUCK UP

#dead by daylight #dbd #bubba sawyer #tarhos kovacs #tarhos kovács #leatherface #bill overbeck #bill l4d #ash vs evil dead #ashley j williams #ash evil dead #evil dead #left for dead #left 4 dead #texas chainsaw massacre

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 27 - Left for Dead

Worst. Uncle. Ever!

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday27 #Left for Dead #abandoned in hostile territory #Mobei Jun #Linguang Jun #svsss #scum villain #whump #whump art

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Febwhump - DAY 27: left for dead, with Scott

Left For Dead

Part Two

(Part One is here)

Pain.

The entirely of Scott’s dark world was pain, and it was only long practice that allowed him to pull his mind back from the darkness it wanted to retreat to, and assess his body.

Right Leg: source of most of the pain. Obviously broken. The faint sensation of warm wetness suggested that he was bleeding. Either that or he had lost control of his bladder. Either way, less than ideal.

Left Leg: painful, but not nowhere near as much as the right. Hopefully only bruised. One broken leg was annoying. Two was … well, Scott really didn’t want to think about it.

Abdomen: a dull ache that was only apparent to him if he concentrated. Maybe some bruising? Currently among the least of his worries.

Chest: hurt like hell. The familiar pain of broken ribs, coupled with the equally familiar feel of a harness. Coupled with the padded surface he was, yes, sitting in, Scott was able to surmise that he was strapped into a cockpit chair.

A plane. He was in a plane. He had crashed a plane!

It was that thought that forced Scott’s eyes open, and yep, the intense light sensitivity confirmed his suspicion of a head injury, possibly a mild concussion.

As his eyes reluctantly focused, the battered remains of the family plane’s cockpit swam into being around him. A bleary look out the crazed cockpit windscreen showed sand.

Memories shuffled back into his skull, lining up into a vague semblance of order. Norway. The meeting. The urgent need to get home and truly secure his ‘cargo’. Loss of power. Lining up on the smooth sands …

… the fall.

Scott groaned. How had he missed that drop off?

“Shut him up, would you? Opening this box, ain’t easy.”

Scott started, and struggled to turn in the embrace of his restraints. He managed to loosen the pilot’s harness off enough to turn …

… only to find himself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Hold!”

The commanding voice came from somewhere in the main cabin. Footsteps and then a figure wearing black from his combat boots to his balaclava. Identical to the figure holding the weapon steady, aimed between Scott’s eyes; and the figure standing at the rear bulkhead, a stethoscope in place as he listened to the faint sounds from the muffled tumblers of the old style of safe Jeff favoured on the professional advice of Parker.

“You know the orders, man. Fingers off triggers. No evidence.”

The gun didn’t waver.

“Stand down!” There was no mistaking the anger in that voice.

The gun was lowered. “Sir.”

“Back to your station.” The gunman stalked back to the main cabin.

“Who are you?” Scott’s voice was faint, and raspy. Not the commanding presence he wanted to project to these intruders.

“Just a simple man trying to make his way in this world.”

The voice was smirking, and after living with John for most of his life, there was no way he could mistake the ‘Star Wars’ line. Great. A wanna-be Jango Fett.

“Mercenary.”

A shrug. “Businessman. I provide security services and procure items on order.”

“By knocking planes out of the sky? How many people have died so you can ‘procure objects to order’?”

Another shrug. “If it is necessary.”

“What do you think I have?”

“You know what I am after. And I know you have it. For now.”

“Who’s paying you?”

“I cannot tell you that. I assure total discretion.”

“How much to make you break that contract?’

“I do not break contracts. Once I accept a contract, I keep it. If I do not double-cross my clients, my clients do not double-cross me.” A glare. “I thought Tracy Industries worked on a basis of honestly and integrity. Or is the great Scott Tracy above that?”

Scott grit his teeth. “Nobody in Tracy Industries is above the values of honestly and integrity.” He eyed the interloper. “Surprised to find a mercenary who understood the concepts, though.”

A snort.

“Will ya’ll kindly Shut. The. Fuck. Up?”

The other man seemed inclined to oblige. Scott was desperate to slow down the opening of the safe.

“What makes you think you can get away with this? I’ve got a direct line to International Rescue, Thunderbird Two will be here any minute.”

A definite smile behind the balaclava. “I doubt it. You have not been in radio contact with anyone since departing Trondheim.”

“Thunderbird Five would have logged and monitored my flightpath. They’d have seen the change in the transponder squawk and launched.”

“Even if our blocker failed, they think you are taking the eastern track back to your ‘secret’ island base. So be a good boy and be quiet.”

Scott stared at him in disbelief. The eastern track? How …

John wouldn’t have had a particular reason to track his actual flightpath. Nobody had known he was going to Norway. There were no hotel bookings, no car hire, and the runway permits had been requested the bare minimum hour out. So John would have relied on the filed flightpath, and the reported positions from his tap into CATCH.

His brothers didn’t know where he was. They didn’t know he was in trouble.

He was on his own. Injured.

At the mercy of mercenaries.

The mercenary stepped closer to him, Scott watched warily, noting a logo, barely visible in the darkest possible grey on the black shirt. A kind of upwards lightning strike, double ‘Z’, with a triangle arrowhead on the top line. Scott didn’t recognise it, but he was certain Kayo or Penny would.

Another black clad figure approached the leader and made a suppressed gesture, like he was suppressing a salute. Scott made note of the fact, it would be a useful clue when it came to trying to ID these men.

“Sir, restoration mission complete. All hardware removed. There is no trace that anything was ever there.”

“And the electricals?”

“All anyone will find is some old wiring that frayed and shorted out the avionics controls, resulting in a loss of control.”

“Very good. Restoration Team to fall back staging position.”

The man nodded, twitching again as though he wanted to salute, and turned smartly on his heel, marching briskly out of the cockpit, and Scott heard numerous footsteps filing out of the cabin and crunching onto loose sand.

“Got it!” Scott twisted back again, and his stomach fell at the sight of the safe door swinging open. The distraction caused by the departure of the ‘Restoration Team’ had been enough for the ‘Cracksman’ to finalise the combination.

“Very good.” The sealed attaché case was brought out and presented to the leader. He briefly examined the wax seal pressed over the biometric sensor. “Open it.”

The cracksman nodded, set the case upright on a stable section of the dash, and pressed the short edge against his stomach. From a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a small device, and grasped it in both hands. The object resolved into two short handles and a length of fine wire. Clearly separating the handles activated some form of electronics as the wire slowly began to glow a cherry red.

Carefully, the wire was brought to the base of the wax seal, and after a second as the cracksman breathed out slowly, and on the rapid inhale, he pulled the heated wire quickly under the seal, cleanly separating it from the case without damaging the World Government’s seal.

Scott stared, horrified. The seal was supposed to be a tamper proof bonding, not merely old-fashioned wax, but a new programable polymer, that could only be separated from the case with the application of a specific electromagnetic output – that would be provided once Scott had the case and its contents secured in Tracy Island’s most secure workshop.

Calmly setting aside the seal, the cracksman pressed his finger to the biometric sensor. Scott’s horror gave way to disbelief as the case beeped obligingly and the locks disengaged.

The cracksman presented the open case to the leader. He lifted out the folder, and quickly riffled through the pages, before nodding his satisfaction. “This is what we require. Very good. Resecure everything, and then Acquisition Team fall back to staging point.”

A nod and the cracksman shut and locked the case, before carefully lifting the seal and pressing it back over the sensor, before bringing the device out of its pouch, and wedging one handle into his belt, carefully held the seal in place as he once more drew the wire under it. After returning the device to its storage place, he tested the seal.

It held.

Sliding the attaché case back into the safe he shut the door and spun the dial, locking it securely.

Turning back to his leader, he accepted the folder. The leader didn’t release it, staring into his man’s eyes. “Guard this with your life.”

“My life. Yes, sir.” The folder was relinquished to him and he turned and exited the cabin.

Only one set of footsteps this time. Despite being termed a ‘team’, Acquisitions was this single man.

The leader turned is attention back to Scott, as yet another man entered the cockpit. “All secured, sir. Restoration and Acquisitions clear of the site, Security are following them.”

A nod. The newcomer looked at Scott. “He’s conscious.” The shock was evident, as was the unspoken ‘He’s alive.’

“Surprisingly, yes. We clearly underestimated Mr Tracy’s skill as a pilot. And evidently this plane has some … undocumented design features. A pity we can’t exploit them.”

“Your orders?”

A long moment as both men stared consideringly at Scott. His mouth went dry as his palms turned wet. A large knot formed in his throat.

“He would fetch a large ransom …” the underling ventured, uncertainly.

“He would.” Scott relaxed minutely. “But that is not our objective here. We have a contract to do one thing, and we do one thing only. Lining our own pockets on the side creates a trail, one that can be followed not only to us, but to our client; and that would have an extremely negative effect on our life expectancies.”

The other man nodded, and once more Scott was staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Hold.” The order was sighed. “Think, man. It would be difficult to explain a bullet in his brain if the plane is supposed to have crashed.”

“What are we going to do with him?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Both Scott and the underling echoed the word.

“We do not need to. He is injured, half the world away from where he should be, with no way of calling for help. This is the middle of the Gobi Desert. No one comes here of their own free will. He may be found, eventually. But he will not be able to tell anyone what happened here. The only story will be the one we have told.”

A nod, and the underling departed, leaving Scott and the leader of the mercenaries alone in the plane.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but people will coming looking for you,” Scott said, not quite knowing what he was hoping to achieve.

“Nobody will. You will go missing with the World Government’s top secret plans. Eventually, it will become evident that somebody has the computer system and encryption protocol, somebody who should not. People will take two clear and simple facts and drawn a clear and simple conclusion.”

Scott shook his head. “My brothers …”

“Will not know where you are. For all your family’s power and technology and vaulted prowess, they will not be to account for your absence. They will be under suspicion as much as you. After all, such a close knit family, if one is a traitor, all must be traitors. How else would they have amassed so much money?”

“No. We’re International Rescue. They will find me. We are trusted. We are respected.”

“They may find you, certainly they will look. And you may be found. Alone, half the world away from where you were supposed to be, with an empty attaché case where the top secret plans should be sealed as per the World Government’s Protocol for the transfer, locked in your safe, on your plane.” A shrug. “We are, if I am permitted to say so myself, very good at what we do. No, we are The Best at what we do. No one will ever know we were here.”

Scott shook his head. “No, there is always evidence. Your man touched the biosensor with gloves on, that will smudge any fingerprint I may have left on the sensor …”

Scott had a feeling the man was grinning. “Forgive me if I do not divulge all my secrets. ‘Monologuing’ is a bad habit for a man in my position to get into.”

“Only the villains monologue,” Scott grumbled, before trying again. “Nobody will truly believe that I stole those plans …”

This time there was a definite grin. “Why? Because you are hero? Because the people love you? Mr Scott Tracy, CEO and Commander of International Rescue, Pilot of Thunderbird One, do you know the thing – the ONE THING that the people love more than a hero?”

Scott shook his head. “The only thing, Mr Tracy, that people love more than a hero, is to see him humbled. The whole world loves to watch a hero fall. And you have so very far before you hit the ground.”

The man walked to the cockpit door, before turning back to Scott. “It is a pity you will not be around to see what happens next. It will be quite the show. Enjoy your stay in China, Mr Tracy. The view here is to die for.”

And then Scott was alone.

Notes:

At long last, we got to the relevant part! I really hope this lives up to your expectations, seeing as you enjoyed Part One so much.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #left for dead #febuwhump2024 #plane crash aftermath

[demondamage]

I was going to write a drabble but shit happened. Have post fall Kotarou left for the birds for @figuwhump

I will respond to my many unanswered messages later I am so sorry

Art tag: @whump-tr0pes @whump-queen @whumpsday @whumpinthepot @kixngiggles @onlywhumpcomments @project-xiii @quietly-by-myself @ka1imba @suspicious-whumping-egg @cyborg0109 @whatwhumpcomments @whumpcomica @i-eat-worlds @regrets-realization-acceptance @dont-look-me-in-the-eye

#whump #gore #whump art #gore art #left for dead #Kotarou #Post Fall Kotarou

[upthelagan]

Ben and Joyce. Midsomer Murders. Left for Dead.

#midsomer murders #midsomer murders S11E03 #left for dead #jason hughes #ben jones #jane wymark #joyce barnaby #such a cute moment between them #love how joyce looks after ben #tv #actors #utl seen in 2023