Goodness, there isn't enough love for the US Colonial Marines out there (and I've looked!) so I'm loving all of your headcanons! I did see the one you did for Hicks and autumn/Halloween, which was so cute... would you be wanting/willing to do a headcanon for the Marines with a SO who is alllll about the enthusiasm for the Christmas holidays and getting into the festive activities? (If not, that's perfectly a-okay!) 💛
Let me give it a try, it's been awhile and I'm hella rusty so excuse that. Also, I'm drunk af. Again, sorry.
US Colonial Marines Dealing With You Being A Huge Nerd About the Holidays
Headcanon - USCM x reader - SFW
Pvt. Drake
Drake is all about being aggressively prepared for the holidays.
He can get a little too into neighborhood decoration contests.
He goes out of this way to make sure you both have the best decorations on the block and establish holiday dominance.
He is 1000% Clark Griswold about the holidays. His love language is effort and the Holidays are his way of putting in the work for his loved ones and the perfect Christmas.
Also, he prides himself on making the best hot chocolate and made a point of saving his grandmother's secret recipe.
Lt. Gorman
Gorman is absolutely the type to stress himself out about getting you the perfect gift, like to the point that it is messing with him if he doesn't feel confident about the gift.
He gets nervous about doing any of the creative processes involved with the holidays, like decorating. He largely leaves you to the planning of it while he supports and does what you feel is best. Decisions stress him the fuck out and he trusts you. Whatever you end up doing he thinks is amazing.
While it stresses him out immensely, when it goes right, it makes his year.
Pvt. Hudson
Hudson can be really dense. He definitely can let the subtleties go over his head which can be stressful.
But at the end of the day, he has good intentions and is very sweet.
He definitely says low-key inappropriate shit in front of your family. But after they get to know him, they love him regardless of him being rough around the edges.
He might get you a really dumb gift but usually the thought behind it is actually so sweet.
Pvt. Vasquez
Vasquez isn't big on Christmas. But if you're into it, she goes along with it, even if it isn't her thing personally.
She isn't the biggest fan but eventually the spirit gets to her. Whether it is the 15th cup of hot cocoa or a really great night by the fire, eventually she gets a little into it and enjoys herself.
She loves cuddling by the fire and how you know how to make her cocoa just how she likes it.
The way the holidays affect you is what she loves. She loves that you want to make her feel included and special.
Cpl. Hicks
Hicks is definitely someone who thinks Christmas has become too commercialized. Charlie Brown hit him hard as a kid.
Yet, he still loves the holidays, he's just weary of the commercial aspect. He doesn't entirely see the point of expensive decorations and gifts, but you do prove him wrong when you turn the front yard into a Christmas wonderland.
He wants to focus on family largely and prioritizes time over novelties.
He loves watching old Christmas movies and is a master at hiding presents and Christmas surprises.
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A Consequence Of Tragedy
“Newt had liked the way the uniform looked, and the medal on his chest seemed to make up for the mess of marred skin on his face. He’d gotten a hundred handshakes from ambassadors and representatives from each branch, stationed on the nearby satellites and planets.”
Alien Quadrilogy, Aliens (1986)
Gen: Hicks & Ripley, Ripley & Newt, Newt & Hicks, Dwayne Hicks, Ellen Ripley, Rebecca “Newt” Jorden
(Angst, injury recovery, post-Aliens (1986), scars, trauma, found family, 888 words)
***
The government had agreed to pay for his treatments, probably less out of care for his well being than a hope to keep him quiet.
It got him a purple heart out of the deal too, and at the ceremony he’d worn the pressed dress uniform he so rarely had any chance to make use of.
Newt had liked the way the uniform looked, and the medal on his chest seemed to make up for the mess of marred skin on his face. He’d gotten a hundred handshakes from ambassadors and representatives from each branch, stationed on the nearby satellites and planets.
They all wanted to hear the heroic story of Dwayne Hicks, the marine who made it out. Despite his inelegance in those kinds of situations, he stuck by, smiled when he was supposed to smile– despite the tightness in his lip and cheek– and had told it as it was.
He brought up all of their names at some point, each one he’d served with and had seen die, or get pulled away into the depths of the colony.
To the higher-ups, it may have seemed like the ramblings of a damaged man, but they had listened as long as he’d spoken.
A few weeks later he was promoted, taken out of the field as an NCO to be stationed on a local moon base. Wasn’t ideal, but it was stable enough, it gave him time to recover, and a reasonable place for Ripley and Newt to settle down and get their bearings.
They got a flat on the base, three bedroom, two bath, state of the art as far as he was concerned.
Showers were hard with the recovering mobility in his scarred shoulder, but a bath released the pressure in his neck and back better than anything else.
Hicks woke up most nights, shaking, sweating, and in pain.
Newt and Ripley did too, they took turns helping the girl back to sleep, waiting up with her. The chair in Newt’s room was more natural to fall asleep in than the padded bed in his own.
He was assigned to work with the youth of the base, the ones who’d lost someone, the ones who struggled in school, and the ones who didn’t know where to go in life.
It was Hicks’ job to encourage and spread the word on the USCMC, tell the kids that the best choice for their future would be to enlist early and get covered scholarships, room and board.
But the memory of Hudson, just a few weeks until the end of his assignments, ready up with a full pension plan that would be scattered to his grieving family after his body was dragged through the floorboards.
Newt seemed interested. The more they got to know her, the more she spoke about her likes, dislikes and the future. And she liked the idea of following in Hicks’ footsteps, joining the corps and helping people where she could.
“Don’t let her.” Ripley told him one night. “Don’t you dare fucking let her.”
The haunted look in her eyes was enough to tell him everything he needed, his own wants for Newt’s future filling in the gaps easily.
He’d given everything he could for the corps, his friends had given their lives, and how many more had died for preventable causes?
How could he keep Newt from being one of those bodies?
The kids he worked with, trying halfheartedly to spread the word of the wonders of joining the USCMs got harder every day, as the lingering aches in his skin and muscles, burnt from the blood of those creatures, served as a constant reminder of all the things he’d lost.
Bishop got fixed, stationed somewhere else for recovery– or whatever the artificial equivalent was.
He called them sometimes, when they had time. Ripley took another job working in cargo, and Newt went to school.
Hicks had weekends off, and Ripley worked nights. So he stayed with Newt most times.
He read books out to her, showed her the movies he thought she should see, and held her close when she needed it.
It was more than he’d thought he’d ever have. A home, a family of sorts and enough trauma to startle the most weathered of soldiers.
He was blind in one eye, but he could see fine through the other, and after a bit of adjustment, it was easy to forget what it had been like, once.
The mirror reminded him, though.
Leather-y, winding, raised and aggravated, the skin along the side of his body was ruined.
Why he wasn’t used as a cautionary tale to the youth on the base instead of a poster child, he wasn’t sure. He looked just like the corpses he’d seen across the stars, one lifeless eye like a reminder of death itself.
But no one looked at him that way, with death in their eyes. Like he was an omen or a man with one foot in the grave.
The corps, his higher-ups, the kids he worked with, Bishop, Ripley, Newt. They all looked at him like he was something more than that, like the lives he’d lost and the trauma that followed him was nothing more than a consequence of a tragedy, and not his own failing of keeping his friends alive.
**
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