#rocco & carlo

[alexturntable]

Getting Ready with Ferrari's Gladiators, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz Jr. - Esquire

[notyourmusebby]

It's official, Carlos and Charles renewed their vows instead of getting a divorce 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[forzaformulaone]

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

finally numb enough to write bout the events of vinci-moretti war 😍

[gregor-samsung]

“ Disteso sul pagliericcio del carcere, mi sentivo a casa mia, dissi a Chiellino, nel sogno ora stavo bene, ma lui mi svegliò veramente dal bel torpore dell’ultimo sonno con le parole “La campagna si fa lunga”. Il carcere era per lui, come quella della Libia e del fronte italiano, un’altra campagna. Caddi dalla branda. Volli prendere lo straccio, non so se mi spettava, e se pure mi spettava, Chiellino in mia vece era già accoccolato e così, piegato sulle ginocchia, indietreggiava man mano che con lo straccio puliva il pavimento e la striscia bagnata arrivava ai suoi piedi. «No, no, deve venire uno specchio, tu lo lisci, devi calcare; calca forte» mi diceva Chiellino. Calcavo forte e nello sventagliare lo straccio due opposti pensieri, a destra e a sinistra, mi salivano in capo: perché dobbiamo pulirci noi il pavimento? Ecco l’origine della schiavitù. Giappone, perciò, non si abbassa mai, è lì che fischietta e sorveglia, da padrone: lui, ed anch’io, faremmo crescere la polvere dei mesi e degli anni, lui per protestare e chiedere il colloquio e dire al procuratore di provvedere con uno spazzino o con una guardia, io per richiudermi nello sdegno e nell’isolamento, per non darla vinta ai boia, ai comandanti, ai giudici: essi non ci hanno soltanto messi in galera per scacciarci dalle strade, ma così ottengono che ci avvezziamo all’umile ordine interno e che ricreiamo tra noi la gerarchia dei servizi, la necessità di una legge. Loro ci volano sopra, sorridenti e beati come il generale passa a cavallo a dire col mento, col mento suo e con quello del cavallo: “Bravi, voi siete il mio ordine e la mia volontà, il mio regolamento. Fra poco morirete da cani in battaglia; anche questo è previsto”. Noi siamo le pecore e i buoi dei macellai e dei proprietari di bestiame. Così essi mantengono la loro ragione sugli operai, sui contadini, sui pezzenti e il sempre nuovo annuncio del vangelo, ogni giorno e ogni domenica, ripete la legge degli uomini e ognuno dice a se stesso: “Io sono la via, la verità, la vita” e subito corre a comandare alla moglie, ai figli, al fratello più piccolo, al più debole di sé. Il pavimento si bagnava, potevo vedermi la faccia dentro e mi arrestai nel vederla. “

Rocco Scotellaro, L' uva puttanella-Contadini del Sud, Laterza (collana Universale, n° 4; prefazione di Carlo Levi), 1977⁴, pp. 79-80.

[Prime Edizioni originali, postume: Laterza (collana Libri del tempo), 1956-1954]

[conformi]

Queen’s Chamber | Great Pyramid of Giza, Egypt, 2570 BC VS BBPR, Tomb of Rocco Scotellaro, Tricarico, Italy, 1957

[pier-carlo-universe]

Sicurezza stradale a Rivoli: presentate tre mozioni per limitare la velocità in Via Bruere, Via Balegno e Via Mongioie.

Il consigliere Depetris (Fratelli d'Italia) propone l’installazione di dossi artificiali per ridurre i rischi stradali.

Il consigliere Depetris (Fratelli d’Italia) propone l’installazione di dossi artificiali per ridurre i rischi stradali. Un’azione concreta per la sicurezza dei cittadini.A Rivoli, il consigliere comunale Federico Depetris (Fratelli d’Italia) ha presentato tre mozioni per l’installazione di dossi artificiali in alcune aree della città, al fine di garantire il rispetto dei limiti di velocità e…

[tremaghi]

Aspettando il derby di Milano senza emozione

Mancano poche all’accensione delle luci di San Siro su Milan-Inter e la mia attesa è apatica come molti anni a questa parte.Tifosa milanista fin da bambina, se voglio emozionarmi devo rispolverare i ricordi di quando andavo allo stadio e sulla panchina rossonera c’era seduto un certo Nereo Rocco e soprattutto l’era del grande Milan, quello di Sacchi, Capello e Ancelotti.Ma se devo dirla tutta non…

[lepetitlugourmand]

ZIA at Odyssey - La table solaire, gourmande et éphèmère de cet été au Métropole Monte-Carlo - Chefs Manon Santini et Rocco Seminara

Zia at Odyssey à l’Hôtel Métropole Monte-Carlo est l’adresse éphémère de l’été à ne surtout pas rater et à découvrir jusqu’au 31 août. Les pop-up culinaires de l’Hôtel Métropole Monte-Carlo qui se déroulent chaque année à l’Odyssey, le restaurant de la piscine, sont devenus des rendez-vous incontournables de la saison estivale. Situé en plein cœur de la Principauté, l‘Odyssey est un lieu magique…

[alexturntable]

real

[giuseppearagno]

Processo al carcere

Difendendo i primi operai socialisti in un processo politico, nel 1892 Giovanni Bovio provò invano a dar voce alle loro ragioni e ad ammonire le classi dirigenti; «Per carità di voi stessi, giudici, per quel pudore che è l’ultimo custode delle società umane, non fateci dubitare della Giustizia. Noi fummo nati al lavoro, non fate noi delinquenti e voi giudici!». I tribunali però li «fecero…

[bagnabraghe]

La forza del poeta di Tricarico è appunto la sua fede nella capacità dei contadini di liberarsi da quel mondo arcaico descritto da Levi

La ricezione <1 all’estero di Rocco Scotellaro, uno dei più grandi poeti della Basilicata, morto prematuramente nel 1953 all’età di appena trent’anni, da parte di un pubblico sensibile ai valori umani e letterari di cui egli è stato portatore, è testimoniata in Germania dagli scritti di numerosi autori.Nel 1956, Rocco Scotellaro fu presentato per la prima volta ai lettori tedeschi da Hans…

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

1933. Everybody knows the war is over; everybody knows the good guys lost

ultimate reaction:

[adrianomaini]

La forza del poeta di Tricarico è appunto la sua fede nella capacità dei contadini di liberarsi da quel mondo arcaico descritto da Levi

La ricezione <1 all’estero di Rocco Scotellaro, uno dei più grandi poeti della Basilicata, morto prematuramente nel 1953 all’età di appena trent’anni, da parte di un pubblico sensibile ai valori umani e letterari di cui egli è stato portatore, è testimoniata in Germania dagli scritti di numerosi autori.Nel 1956, Rocco Scotellaro fu presentato per la prima volta ai lettori tedeschi da Hans…

[idesofrevolution]

Quality Time

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.

"Sniff, boy. When you're done with that, you can do the same for my brother." The boyfriend eagerly started to huff the stinking sock, moaning in pleasure as he did. "And you..." He put his phone down onto the table, turning to Victoria with a wry smirk. "Come show daddy some love."

[sayitaliano]

Sanremo 2025 - Partecipants

As common tradition, Carlo Conti read the list of the 30 partecipants to the next Sanremo on the news today.

Achille Lauro

Gaia

Coma_Cose

Francesco Gabbani

Willie Peyote

Noemi

Rkomi

Modà

Rose Villain

Brunori SAS

Irama

Clara

Massimo Ranieri

Emis Killa

Sarah Toscano

Fedez

Simone Cristicchi

Joan Thiele

The Kolors

Bresh

Marcella Bella

Tony Effe

Elodie

Olly

Francesca Michielin

Lucio Corsi

Shablo ft. Guè, Joshua, Tormento

Serena Brancale

Rocco Hunt

Giorgia

E anche quest'anno si dormirà l'anno prossimo...