Episodios
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A suspiciously creamy trophy, a lactose-fuelled rivalry, and a quiz that went horribly off the rails. Birthdays aren’t always a piece of cake — sometimes they’re a pint of trouble.
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Too many teeth, one suspicious grin, and a misunderstanding involving a mime. Smiles were shared — not all of them willingly.
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A hat went flying, a crowd went running, and someone definitely lied. The cables held, but not everyone’s nerves did.
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A frozen toe, a lost sandwich, and a very loud argument about altitude. Not everyone makes it to the summit — some don't even make it to lunch.
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Fins and fur at play, buns stacked high on both sides of the world—some days are meant for sinking, others for sinking your teeth in
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A figure in the fog of history, power woven into every word, and a nation held in the balance—his legacy is still writing itself.
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Wheels tumble down the hill, paper glides on unseen winds, and gravity’s not the only force at play today.
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A chain of strangers, a gesture too bold for its time, and the silence between the hands speaks louder than words ever could.
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Dots and dashes tell a story too quiet to hear, a dish that’s hard to swallow, and a year that still echoes with unspoken truths.
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Two names, one getaway car, and a trail of fire that never fades. The law’s chasing, but it’s always two steps behind.
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A storm brews, ink flows darker, and the night knows their names—Gothic shadows linger where passion and madness once collided.
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The water’s deep with rivalry, the ships still carry whispers of a battle long past, and no one’s sure which port will claim victory.
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A hive hums with secrets, a keeper watches from the edge of a forest, and the honey’s sweeter than you think.
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A breathy tune drifts through the curtains, diamonds glint under half-truths, and someone’s singing—but not for you.
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The numbers don’t add up, the plates won’t stay clean, and the sky’s acting suspicious—someone’s pulling strings, and it isn’t the weather.
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Flags rise, shadows twitch, and the air hums with something defiant—some days ask you to choose a side, others demand you already have.
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The lights flicker, cells stir with intent, and footsteps echo from a future best left unopened.
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A second glance, a missing whisper, and a crown that doesn’t sit quite right—history taps on the window.
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Something’s off with the olives, the finale echoes too loudly, and nobody’s really sure who invited Thursday.
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An anchoress smiles through time, nutty fudge crumbles under pressure, and something strange happens on a Thursday. All shall be well—probably.
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