hood hoooooood é chapeu em ingles que mais posso dizer? falo portugues! o robin foi ao bosque, dizem os portugueses que traduziram mal hood a pensar que era wood.
maria
Liaq was hiding his face under the hood. He knew, that this little scrap of linen won’t hide him forever, but for now it was the best he could do. He took his dagger out and slowly went to take a closer look on his target.
there she was, the girl with the red hood. she hides behind that hood of hers, curious lighting blue eyes flashing from underneath. tell me, girl, what are you so afraid of?
a
Sometimes, curiosity can get to you especially when you urge to find what really goes down in the hood. What you see might either make you or break you. The truth will somehow change you and how you perceive life.
She sits on the bed and her knees are tucked in with a ratty old hooded jacket as she counts the numbers of plastic stars on the ceiling. Twentysomethings so far.
She moved quickly through the hallways, shroud in a hood of worries, mind preoccupied with events yet to come. It came as little surprise that she was oblivious of her surrounding and ran head long into the mad rounding the corner without hesitation.
The hood is where all them ghetto folk live. People get shot in the hood. You don’t wanna fuck with nobody in the hood. Watch out for them crack heads in the hood. They be tryin to take yo money and shit
George
I know an asian guy who thinks he’s black and lives in the hood. he lives in the whitest part of the city and has a 1$ bling chain.
Jazz
it fell across his forehead, barely hiding his dark eyes from view. They peeked up at me although his face was turned toward the ground.
The hood of the car
the smell of the gas
i breathed it in
the moment, it passed
i needed it back
i needed you back
i saw felt the sun on my head
i breathed in the air
i wanted to so much
to feel your care
roya
I grew up in a hood a neighborhood of all girls. We rode our bikes and sat three deep on a skateboard sown Erma’s long driveway hill. We buried a time capsule but took it back out again a few days later. We all moved away.
Abby Wahl
I didn’t know where to hide from him. Home was two miles away and it was 10pm. The streets were dark since reconstruction of the bridge began, and all the businesses seemed to be closed. I walked faster. But so did he. I was scared at this point. So scared I forgot I’d lost my keys.
They’re in Burma, chasing down the last mob boss when it happens. Sherlock has done his best to fabricate a quick mental map of the capital city, just from referencing the atlases and tour brochures. It’s nowhere near as complete and intimate as the one he has of London, but it’ll do in a pinch. He already knows the location of the warehouse that the criminal syndicate is based in, and has a hunch that the boss is headed there. He makes a guess at the roads and takes what he hopes is a shortcut, dragging John along by the cuff. John tries his best to keep up, short legs and advancing age not helping anything.
They reach a clear intersection and Sherlock bolts across, knowing John will follow. John can only watch in horror as Sherlock, too wrapped up in the scent of the chase to notice anything else, goes rolling across the hood of a rusty old car. The tires screech as it streams away into the night, leaving Sherlock in a crumpled mess in the middle of the intersection.
John runs to his side, shouting and trying to keep the tears from clouding his vision. “Sherlock!” he yells, getting a bad case of deja-vu from that fateful day fifteen years ago. There is less blood this time, and Sherlock’s head seems to be intact, but his left arm and leg look bad. Very bad. John pulls out his phone, his first instinct to dial 999, when he realizes it won’t work in Burma. “Shit,” he curses, trying to keep Sherlock conscious.
A little frown has worked its way onto Sherlock’s face as the pain seeps in, but he tries to ignore it, instead trying to recall his list of emergency numbers. “Four two double-O nine six,” he gasps at John, clenching onto his sleeve with his right hand.
John frantically dials the number, wondering how anyone could remember that in an emergency. He spends a good minute on the line, screaming for anyone who can speak English as Sherlock fades in and out of awareness. Finally, they dispatch an ambulance to assist, and John drops the phone to attend to Sherlock. He doesn’t seem to have much strength left, and John wonders if he might be bleeding internally.
“John,” a weak mumble makes its way to the panicked doctor’s ear, “If I make it out of this, I…” He pauses to wince for a moment, trying to catch his breath, “I think it may be time to consider retirement.”
In the hood, we either bang red or bang blue. You can call a crip or call us piru. You can tell i’m affiliated by my tear drop tattoo. Not layin people down in my hood is considered taboo. Put your gang signs up high. lets hear is suuwoooo
She pulled the hood over her head as small raindrops began to fall from the sky. It was early may, she was walking down a dark alley, late for her daytime job, and each time the droplets hit her skins she felt a shiver go up and down her back. She stopped short in her tracks when a man who aproached her from the side of a nearby building. He was covered with shadows from nearly head to toe, his cape swishing behind him.
Robin Hood of old story lore haunts the Sherwood forest with his band of merry men. Each trained in cudgel fights yet none but Little John can beat Robin Hood
Alexie
He pulled up the hood that hid his face and moved through the dark, a shadow hardly seen, except by the watchful eyes of Magaski. The boy never noticed the creature, but it noticed him.
Magaski licked a paw and wiped it across one ear. He would follow the boy by the roof line, here he had the best view without being seen or heard.
Helen
I pulled my hood up over my head as I trudged through the drizzling rain, the streetlight casting a long shadow before me. My boot smashed into the puddle I hadn’t seen. My sock was drenched, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t care enough to stop. What’s a wet sock matter if it was raining, anyway?
S Nicole
I hide my face in my hood because I don’t want others to see what I myself cannot bear to face. I slink around with my hands in my pockets and my eyes cast on the ground, because I am trying to blend in.
Red pushed her hood off her head, off her body. She glanced into the wolf’s deep green eyes and a smile spread across her face. Her hands dropped the hood and wandered over the soft fur
Her eyes were hooded
And nothing showed on her face
As she was told to leave.
She remembered being trusted
Once upon a time.
Maybe she souldn’t of cried wolf.
Straight outta compton!!! Down in the hood!!! I apologize, “hood” brings to mind all of that “gangsta rap” I’ve heard of. It reminds me Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, 2pac, etc..
His head was obscured under a hood. Sleek and red, it draped a shadow over his entire face. I’m sure he wanted it that way. There was no way to read anything about him. No tell. No facial twitches. No body language.
ilive in the hood ilike my neightbors they are pretty cool with me :) i have a girl that lives next door :D shhh dont tell mom :Pwef
wefew
It covered your identity. The black cotton that hid your horrible actions, and protected you. It isolates me, making me alone, with evil. With your hood, you were no longer a person. Just a horrible memory that I have nightmares of over and over again. Not knowing who you are ruins me. I guess that’s why I’m so messed up; what you did that changed my life forever. Only in my dreams are you wearing your shield.
I walked straight. More in the line of thinking that I was going to gain some clarity. But there were creatures of habit in my path that took me in the middle of the night, threw a hood over my head, and left me rugged and bloody in the rainy ally were all the rookies got there faces pounded. I’m that rookie.
Selene pulled her hood over her face. She looked across the street to find that Liam did the same. She felt her lips curl into a smile and relished in the knowledge that he couldn’t see. Liam didn’t know she remembered how to smile. Liam smiled every time he saw her and it made her feel just a little bit more human again. She kept up her cold, depressed facade and hoped that Liam never stopped smiling.
Across the street Liam saw Selene grin ever so faintly, and felt a bit of hope.
hood, meaning many thing for one short for neighbourhood. Hood where all the gangsters are if your from the”hood” your a gangster. Another meaning is hood that keeps your head warm and the rain away :)
Anon
A silent figure walking past your doorstep, hood flipped on his head as drops of rain drip down his brow. The warm buzzing of earbuds replace the emptiness of sound; her voice will not reach his ears tonight.
There was always something peculiar about her, something strange about the way she averted attention. She was perfectly content to be the shadow in the back of the classroom. Same gray sweatshirt every day, hood raised to cover her face from inquiring looks. Her hood shrouded her in unintentional mystery, keeping her eyes to herself and her most private thoughts in.
The hood of her fur coat bobbed against her dark hair. Mahalia peered toward the sky. It was a sinister dark grey color and the clouds looked like they were weighed down by the sheer size of rain that was to come. Her eyes, lidded with exasperation, lowered downward to the cracked pavement beneath her feet. Her legs were weary, her arms ached, and her throat yearned for the hot, soothing sensation of chamomile tea.
hood hoooooood é chapeu em ingles que mais posso dizer? falo portugues! o robin foi ao bosque, dizem os portugueses que traduziram mal hood a pensar que era wood.
Liaq was hiding his face under the hood. He knew, that this little scrap of linen won’t hide him forever, but for now it was the best he could do. He took his dagger out and slowly went to take a closer look on his target.
there she was, the girl with the red hood. she hides behind that hood of hers, curious lighting blue eyes flashing from underneath. tell me, girl, what are you so afraid of?
Sometimes, curiosity can get to you especially when you urge to find what really goes down in the hood. What you see might either make you or break you. The truth will somehow change you and how you perceive life.
You found me under the tree whilst the rain was beating hard. You put your hands around my neck and pulled my hood up. I buried my face in your chest.
You were the only one who has managed to find me.
She sits on the bed and her knees are tucked in with a ratty old hooded jacket as she counts the numbers of plastic stars on the ceiling. Twentysomethings so far.
one who accepts challenges
She moved quickly through the hallways, shroud in a hood of worries, mind preoccupied with events yet to come. It came as little surprise that she was oblivious of her surrounding and ran head long into the mad rounding the corner without hesitation.
The hood is where all them ghetto folk live. People get shot in the hood. You don’t wanna fuck with nobody in the hood. Watch out for them crack heads in the hood. They be tryin to take yo money and shit
I know an asian guy who thinks he’s black and lives in the hood. he lives in the whitest part of the city and has a 1$ bling chain.
it fell across his forehead, barely hiding his dark eyes from view. They peeked up at me although his face was turned toward the ground.
hoodlem
The hood of the car
the smell of the gas
i breathed it in
the moment, it passed
i needed it back
i needed you back
i saw felt the sun on my head
i breathed in the air
i wanted to so much
to feel your care
I grew up in a hood a neighborhood of all girls. We rode our bikes and sat three deep on a skateboard sown Erma’s long driveway hill. We buried a time capsule but took it back out again a few days later. We all moved away.
I didn’t know where to hide from him. Home was two miles away and it was 10pm. The streets were dark since reconstruction of the bridge began, and all the businesses seemed to be closed. I walked faster. But so did he. I was scared at this point. So scared I forgot I’d lost my keys.
They’re in Burma, chasing down the last mob boss when it happens. Sherlock has done his best to fabricate a quick mental map of the capital city, just from referencing the atlases and tour brochures. It’s nowhere near as complete and intimate as the one he has of London, but it’ll do in a pinch. He already knows the location of the warehouse that the criminal syndicate is based in, and has a hunch that the boss is headed there. He makes a guess at the roads and takes what he hopes is a shortcut, dragging John along by the cuff. John tries his best to keep up, short legs and advancing age not helping anything.
They reach a clear intersection and Sherlock bolts across, knowing John will follow. John can only watch in horror as Sherlock, too wrapped up in the scent of the chase to notice anything else, goes rolling across the hood of a rusty old car. The tires screech as it streams away into the night, leaving Sherlock in a crumpled mess in the middle of the intersection.
John runs to his side, shouting and trying to keep the tears from clouding his vision. “Sherlock!” he yells, getting a bad case of deja-vu from that fateful day fifteen years ago. There is less blood this time, and Sherlock’s head seems to be intact, but his left arm and leg look bad. Very bad. John pulls out his phone, his first instinct to dial 999, when he realizes it won’t work in Burma. “Shit,” he curses, trying to keep Sherlock conscious.
A little frown has worked its way onto Sherlock’s face as the pain seeps in, but he tries to ignore it, instead trying to recall his list of emergency numbers. “Four two double-O nine six,” he gasps at John, clenching onto his sleeve with his right hand.
John frantically dials the number, wondering how anyone could remember that in an emergency. He spends a good minute on the line, screaming for anyone who can speak English as Sherlock fades in and out of awareness. Finally, they dispatch an ambulance to assist, and John drops the phone to attend to Sherlock. He doesn’t seem to have much strength left, and John wonders if he might be bleeding internally.
“John,” a weak mumble makes its way to the panicked doctor’s ear, “If I make it out of this, I…” He pauses to wince for a moment, trying to catch his breath, “I think it may be time to consider retirement.”
In the hood, we either bang red or bang blue. You can call a crip or call us piru. You can tell i’m affiliated by my tear drop tattoo. Not layin people down in my hood is considered taboo. Put your gang signs up high. lets hear is suuwoooo
She pulled the hood over her head as small raindrops began to fall from the sky. It was early may, she was walking down a dark alley, late for her daytime job, and each time the droplets hit her skins she felt a shiver go up and down her back. She stopped short in her tracks when a man who aproached her from the side of a nearby building. He was covered with shadows from nearly head to toe, his cape swishing behind him.
The hood of the wood should be good to be understood.
the hood on the west side of town… red, blue… they are only colors…. white and black are only colors… cant we all just get along?
Robin Hood of old story lore haunts the Sherwood forest with his band of merry men. Each trained in cudgel fights yet none but Little John can beat Robin Hood
He pulled up the hood that hid his face and moved through the dark, a shadow hardly seen, except by the watchful eyes of Magaski. The boy never noticed the creature, but it noticed him.
Magaski licked a paw and wiped it across one ear. He would follow the boy by the roof line, here he had the best view without being seen or heard.
I pulled my hood up over my head as I trudged through the drizzling rain, the streetlight casting a long shadow before me. My boot smashed into the puddle I hadn’t seen. My sock was drenched, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t care enough to stop. What’s a wet sock matter if it was raining, anyway?
I hide my face in my hood because I don’t want others to see what I myself cannot bear to face. I slink around with my hands in my pockets and my eyes cast on the ground, because I am trying to blend in.
Red pushed her hood off her head, off her body. She glanced into the wolf’s deep green eyes and a smile spread across her face. Her hands dropped the hood and wandered over the soft fur
Her eyes were hooded
And nothing showed on her face
As she was told to leave.
She remembered being trusted
Once upon a time.
Maybe she souldn’t of cried wolf.
Once upon a time there was a man named Robin Hood. One day he went to the sherif’s house. The sherif was called Black Hood.
Hoodwinked. Hood up. In the hood. No hood, no good. You heard me. I’m hood.
No.
No.
No.
This’ll never do.
I can’t switch personalities like a hairdo.
I need something else, anything else.
I need to be someone new tonight. Today.
Straight outta compton!!! Down in the hood!!! I apologize, “hood” brings to mind all of that “gangsta rap” I’ve heard of. It reminds me Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, 2pac, etc..
His head was obscured under a hood. Sleek and red, it draped a shadow over his entire face. I’m sure he wanted it that way. There was no way to read anything about him. No tell. No facial twitches. No body language.
ilive in the hood ilike my neightbors they are pretty cool with me :) i have a girl that lives next door :D shhh dont tell mom :Pwef
It covered your identity. The black cotton that hid your horrible actions, and protected you. It isolates me, making me alone, with evil. With your hood, you were no longer a person. Just a horrible memory that I have nightmares of over and over again. Not knowing who you are ruins me. I guess that’s why I’m so messed up; what you did that changed my life forever. Only in my dreams are you wearing your shield.
I walked straight. More in the line of thinking that I was going to gain some clarity. But there were creatures of habit in my path that took me in the middle of the night, threw a hood over my head, and left me rugged and bloody in the rainy ally were all the rookies got there faces pounded. I’m that rookie.
Selene pulled her hood over her face. She looked across the street to find that Liam did the same. She felt her lips curl into a smile and relished in the knowledge that he couldn’t see. Liam didn’t know she remembered how to smile. Liam smiled every time he saw her and it made her feel just a little bit more human again. She kept up her cold, depressed facade and hoped that Liam never stopped smiling.
Across the street Liam saw Selene grin ever so faintly, and felt a bit of hope.
The sun was too bright.
The rain was too hard.
The eyes were too piercing.
The noise was too loud.
So I put on a hood to block it all out.
Now and then she looks at the sunrise. Thinks of all the things she should have, could have, would have done.
After every path taken, her hands, the grass, the sky – all stained red.
She wears it, neat and bunched around her hair.
hood, meaning many thing for one short for neighbourhood. Hood where all the gangsters are if your from the”hood” your a gangster. Another meaning is hood that keeps your head warm and the rain away :)
A silent figure walking past your doorstep, hood flipped on his head as drops of rain drip down his brow. The warm buzzing of earbuds replace the emptiness of sound; her voice will not reach his ears tonight.
There was always something peculiar about her, something strange about the way she averted attention. She was perfectly content to be the shadow in the back of the classroom. Same gray sweatshirt every day, hood raised to cover her face from inquiring looks. Her hood shrouded her in unintentional mystery, keeping her eyes to herself and her most private thoughts in.
The hood of her fur coat bobbed against her dark hair. Mahalia peered toward the sky. It was a sinister dark grey color and the clouds looked like they were weighed down by the sheer size of rain that was to come. Her eyes, lidded with exasperation, lowered downward to the cracked pavement beneath her feet. Her legs were weary, her arms ached, and her throat yearned for the hot, soothing sensation of chamomile tea.