Hey hey. Can you tell me how would you explain Bucky appearance? For example long hair, blue eyes ..
Yikes, sorry for taking so long! I’m not sure if this was what you were asking for, exactly, but…
When he first had himself back, he grew his hair. Long. Past his shoulders. If you asked why, he’d joke that he had missed out on getting to be a hippy. The truth was that Hydra had kept his hair that choppy shoulder length because they didn’t care enough to keep it cut short, but if it was longer it’d get caught in the plates of his arm. That would reduce his efficiency. The Asset must always be at peak condition (for fighting, not anything else, not ever.)
His eyes were darting, grey-blue, too wide. People gave him a wide berth.
The next summer, he cut it short. Not in the same way he’d had it in his youth– the thought made him feel queasy, because he was so far away from that man now– but something a little more modern. (He was also sick of the long strands getting caught between the plates of his fingers and ripping out. That fucking stung.) He kept glancing at his reflection in passing shop windows, in the bathroom mirror. He looked…. odd. Like a relative, perhaps. But not like Bucky. Not like James.
His eyes were half-lidded, almost disdainful as they passed over the strangers milling about in crowds. No one noticed him.
When winter finally started melting into spring, he felt a creeping certainty. Hair was just hair, but he wanted some fucking semblance of control over himself, dammit. Even if sudden movements still made him tense for pain that never came, or occasional lingering glances from people made him wonder if his cover had been blown – before remembering that he didn’t have one to maintain anymore. He ran the fingers of his flesh hand through his hair, which had grown out to an unruly chin length again. He knew just what to do.
“No. No, no, no, no, no, n-no, no,” Sam managed to choke out between helpless peals of laughter. Bucky was baffled.
“What?” he asked gruffly. Beside Sam, Steve was looking mildly amused but clueless.
“I think he looks swell,” Steve shrugged.
Sam’s only response was to bawl out “Swell!” and pound the kitchen table, doubling over. The man was actually crying with laughter.
“What’s the big deal?” Bucky muttered, unable to keep the tiniest smile off his face. Sam had that effect on a guy. “The big deal, Bucky Barnes, is that you have a fucking mullet,” Sam wheezed. He snapped a picture to send to his sister; Bucky gave a big grin and two thumbs up, hamming it up (it was easier nowadays to find that playful side of himself again.)
Sam’s sister sent back a picture within 2 minutes. To Bucky’s phone. Sam’s laughter cut short as he saw that his sister had sent his high school yearbook picture to Bucky.
“Sam,” Bucky frowned, confused. “What’s a… Jheri-curl?” “Let’s just go to lunch,” Sam said, evasive. Steve raised his eyebrows as he leaned over the other two, looking at the picture of 15 year old Sam, beaming at the camera with an impressive, shining head of curls.
“Say, I wonder if my hair can do that!”
(It could. Sam thought he would need hospitalization from laughing so hard when Steve came back from the hair salon.)
Now that all Facebook “Happy Birthday” comments have been acknowledged with a click of the “Like” button, and pinot noir and other substances promoting insobriety have been properly flushed from a key Jhuicyfruit member’s system, it is time that we return to our compelling series, Great Moments in Curl History.
This week’s GMICH honoree is none other than the inimitable Ola Ray. Most of us remember Ray as Michael Joseph Jackson’s love interest in the (still scary as fuck) “Thriller” video. What some of you may not know, however, is that Ray first gained notoriety as Playboy’s June 1980 Playmate of the month. But since this is a family blog and we refuse to speak ill of one Michael Joseph Jackson (he ain’t dead), we will not speculate that upon being asked who he would like to play his girlfriend in his upcoming mini-film, MJJ responded with, “Yo, get me that babe from Playboy." Instead, we’ll assess Ola’s Ray’s curl.
Frankly: this shit is sexy. And it’s versatile. Check the bangs, money. Seriously, yo, the popped collar under the mullet-esque curl–what we here at Jhuicyfruit like to call the jhullet–is what wet dreams are made of. What you see here is a most eloquent teasing of a jheri curl away from the face in order to adequately accentuate those sculpted and elegantly blushed cheek bones. The JHERI! CURL! BANGS! compel one into returning the staggeringly hypnotic gaze of Ms. Ola Ray. Ola Ray’s curl helps her say, "Look into my innocent, yet sultry, doe-like eyes. Don’t you want to take me back to your place in your Z-28, and see if you can get me to fall asleep before I remember that I left my extra curl cap in my other purse? You know you do.” If you are not moist in certain areas of the body within 10 seconds of setting eyes upon this look, then you need to check your pulse. Her name is Ola Ray and she has a curl. But she was in Playboy. And a Michael Jackson video. Do you understand what kind of flawless follicle game your curl has to be on in order to stand next to the man who had the greatest jheri curl of all time? Do you? Do you? That shit is so sexy, to this day we swear to god Ola Ray moisturized her curl with a mix of puppy tears and baby slobber, and that it smelled like sunrise.
Unfortunately, Ray’s career went the way of the said hairstyle: gone too soon. Nonetheless, we will refer to all the sexy jheri curl ladies as The Ola Rays (send your pictures to firstname.lastname@example.org).
Here’s to one thriller of a curl, Ola Ray. You fancy, hunh?