#nolan invincible

Let's get the obvious out of the way, this interaction is a clear parallel to Nolan's fight with his own son.

Guess it runs in the family.

As a rite of passage, Nolan is expected to fight both his parents on his 18th birthday. His parents will then evaluate his performance throughout, and if it's to their standard, he will be allowed to live and be initiated as a soldier, coming of age. This is a ritual that every Viltrumite must go through.

The level of brutality in their attacks are normal. They also gang up on him and create an unfair fight, which is realistic preparation for what Nolan will encounter in the future. Though his father doesn't pull his punches, his mother is noticeably more vicious. When Nolan's father expresses satisfaction, his mother rejects it and instead makes what is arguably an attempt to kill Nolan.

Viltrumites take, 'I brought you into this world, and I can take you out', very literally.

Now, it's Mark's turn to be an adult.

When Nolan starts fighting Mark, he begins in this manner. He gets cocky that Mark even thinks he can harm him, and is quite violent with his attacks. Mark's physical and mental pain doesn't outwardly bother him, and Mark's attempts to appeal to him emotionally are unsuccessful. Nolan also psychologically traumatizes Mark on purpose by causing human deaths and verbally trivializing humanity and his family. This 'kill switch' is Nolan embracing his Viltrumite side, which he gets from his mother.

Nolan's father represents what will eventually grows into Nolan's human side. This comes out in the other half of the fight, concluding with Nolan sparing Mark's life just as his father had spared his. There were cracks in his behavior that made him softer than most by Viltrumite standards. However, his kindness was by no means overt.

[Nolan instinctively reaches for his father but is not helped.]

In this flashback, we see Nolan taking after his father from the very beginning, whether he realizes it or not. When educating the Viltrumite children, he focuses on a girl who is initially struggling to answer.

Her hesitance is a reason to kill her, which he verbally reminds. He considers it briefly, but he ultimately does not go through with it, sparing her life.

Both Nolan and his father are considered weak by his mother, and there are likely many other instances where they showed behavior that indicated weakness.

"You are just as pathetic as he is. I hope to never see either of you again."

Viltrumites do not have typical family structures and are paired up only for the sake of reproduction. Family members have no emotional commitments to each other and any childcare is an investment into the future of the empire.

Nolan is abandoned by his mother when he turns out to not be the son she wants. He will never see her again. She is free to kill him and leave at a moments notice, she can simply have another child if she wishes. Considering their lifespan, this is not a significant cost of their time. Children are trained and tested from birth, and should be discarded the moment they're deemed defective. You can always start again.

Does this sound familiar?

"What's seventeen more years?"

When Nolan realizes that Mark is not going to join him in his quest to control Earth, he considers him defective. Many are attached to lost causes simply because of the time and effort they've put into it already, but Nolan remarks, boasts even, that this is not a problem for him. Mark is too injured to continue fighting at this point, and yet, he is continuously beaten.

Nolan is no longer teaching Mark, he is no longer punishing him. He is killing him, and that's his right as a parent.

After Nolan leaves Earth, he has a difficult time working through his emotions and even desires to give up his life. As part of his own version of healing, Nolan starts a new family.

Despite not intending to replace Mark, and still loving Debbie, this upbringing where commitment isn't prioritized is why Nolan finds it so easy to start afresh. He is happy with his new life and is able to settle in quickly without guilt surrounding his old family. At this point in the story, Nolan doesn't intend to see Debbie ever again. It takes him later to process that he still misses her, and to feel regret for leaving her.

Returning to Mark and Nolan's fight, the very last scene is easily the most poignant. It's one of the most iconic dialogue exchanges to come out of the whole show.

Nolan is desperate to convince Mark that his resistance to occupation is pointless. He reminds him of the length of his lifespan and that he will outlive every person he is trying to protect. He tells him that Earth will eventually fall and be forgotten. He asks him, "what will you have in 500 years?", with the implied answer being nothing and no one.

Nolan already knows what it's like to lose everything...

...and it's genuinely not what he wants for Mark.

This is not a mere hypothetical. This is a lived experience that traumatized Nolan. If that can happen to Viltrum, then Earth must be pre-destined for doom, in his eyes. He sees himself in Mark, who never even considered what could happen to his home in the next few centuries.

"You, Dad. I'd still have you."

Nolan is so devastated by this response that he can't continue, and it shifts the entire course of his life from that point onward.

Nolan did not have his dad.

Deep down, having his father may have been the one thing Nolan wanted. It may have been the single thing that would have made Viltrum's extermination bearable for him.

When Nolan discovers that he is dead, we see a moment of shock. He only gets a few moments to process this information before throwing his body away, having to move on to his next task unemotionally. Nolan is forced to let go of him, maybe reject him, see his father as someone who was weaker than him and succumbed. Whatever kindness was in him did not get him anywhere, right? Nolan can now rise above that and be greater.

Nolan's grief may have resurfaced in this moment with Mark. Nolan now has to confront the fact Mark loves him, even with all the suffering he's caused him. Mark also expects to be loved back. That's what it means to be his father.

Nolan taught him that.

As much as Nolan wants to ignore it, being on Earth caused him to grow into a person capable of compassion. This was the side of himself that he showed to Mark all those years, and he's now realizing that it was his true self, not an act.

Nolan has internalized for centuries that he can always be better. He is great and can be greater. He grew up with one image of what that should look like.

For the first time in his life, Nolan considers something else.

This.

____

To anyone who liked this analysis, I think a fic I wrote a year ago is worth a read :) it is an introspective character study on Nolan surrounding the topic of rape and Viltrum's society.

Acts are not described. This is not graphic. It is a wider exploration of the concept in relation to Nolan's psyche.

Still, please be mindful of the topic <3

The same way this is my first analysis, that fic was my first one in the fandom, thought I have written more fics after!

The first splatter of Nolan's blood hit the cracked concrete like a misplaced brushstroke, too vivid, too alive against the gray wreckage of the training arena. He'd dodged too slow this time, your fist clipping his jaw with just enough force to split skin, not bone. Not yet.

His tongue darted out to catch the crimson dripping from his lip, eyes flashing something reckless beneath the sweat-slicked strands of his hair. "You're holding back," he taunted, spitting red onto your boots. "Or are you just weak when you’re distracted?"

You saw the flicker in his expression, the way his throat bobbed when your fingers flexed, the way his breath hitched just before you moved. He wanted this. Not the fight. The other thing. The thing neither of you named when you trained this late, alone.

Your next strike wasn't a feint. It was a hand around his throat, slamming him into the nearest pillar hard enough to crack the steel supports. Nolan gasped, but his legs were already wrapping around your waist, heels digging into the small of your back like an invitation.

"You talk too much," you growled, tightening your grip until his pulse hammered against your palm. His laugh came out ragged, choked, delighted. "Prove it," he dared, bucking up against you with all the grace of a feral thing caught in a trap it never wanted to escape. The heat of him was obscene through the torn fabric of his uniform. You could feel every hitch of his ribs, every stuttered exhale, proof that for all his bravado, he was just as ruined by this as you were.

With a snarl, you wrenched free of his legs and stepped back just long enough to tear your pants open, the fabric splitting like wet paper under Viltrumite strength. Nolan's eyes dropped instantly, dark with something that wasn't surrender. "On your knees," you ordered.

He hesitated, just to piss you off, just to make you work for it, before sinking down slow, dragging his nails down your thighs on the way. The scrape of his teeth against your hipbone was barely a warning before he bit down, hard enough to draw blood.

You yanked his head back by the hair, forcing him to meet your gaze. His mouth was smeared red again, but this time it wasn't from the fight. "That how you want to play?" you hissed. His grin was all sharp edges and hunger. "You tell me," he taunted, licking his lips clean. "Or are you scared I'll ruin you first?"

The punch landed before he could finish the sentence, snapping his head to the side with a wet crack. He reeled, caught himself on one hand, and laughed through the fresh blood dripping from his nose. "Finally," he gasped, spreading his thighs wider. "Now fuck me before I change my mind."

You didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. Just dragged him up by the hair and shoved him face-first into the pillar, the impact shuddering through his frame. His breath hitched when you kicked his legs apart, the rough grind of your cock against his ass drawing a ragged sound from his throat.

"You wanted this," you reminded him, spitting into your palm before slicking yourself up in one rough stroke. His answering groan was half pain, half something desperate as you shoved in without preamble, the tight clench of him almost enough to make you lose it right there.

Nolan's fingers scrabbled against the cracked concrete, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself up as you set a brutal pace. Every snap of your hips drew another choked sound from him, the wet slap of skin on skin drowning out whatever taunt he might've mustered. You leaned over him, biting down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder hard enough to taste copper. "Still talking shit?" you growled against his skin.

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a broken moan instead. "Fuck you," he managed, pushing back against you like he couldn't help himself. The way his body yielded to yours, the way he arched into every thrust like he was starving for it, you'd never seen anything more pathetic. Or more perfect.

Your hands found his hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as you dragged him back onto your cock, deeper, rougher. The sharp gasp he let out was music, better than any praise, any surrender. You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You're fucking shaking," you murmured, voice thick with something between disgust and awe.

His thighs trembled against yours, sweat and blood slick between your bodies. When you reached around to wrap a hand around his throat again, his pulse jumped wildly beneath your palm. You tightened your grip just enough to hear his breath stutter, just enough to feel the way his cock twitched against his stomach, leaking untouched.

"You're sick," you breathed, and Nolan's laugh was wet, ruined. "Yeah," he panted, rocking back onto you with a filthy grind. "And you're still inside me."

You dragged your free hand down his spine, feeling the muscles clench beneath your fingers as you dug nails into the ridges of his vertebrae. The sharp hiss he let out dissolved into a groan when you thumbed over the bite mark you'd left earlier, smearing blood across his skin like war paint.

His throat worked under your palm when you squeezed, just enough to make his vision blur, just enough to make his cock jerk against his stomach in a helpless spurt of precome. The choked noise he made wasn't a word, wasn't a protest, just raw, animal need.

You fucked him through it, relentless, until his legs gave out and his forehead hit the pillar with a dull thud. Nolan's fingers scrambled for purchase, blunt nails catching on cracks in the concrete like he was afraid you'd let him fall. You wouldn't. Not yet.

His blood smeared across your knuckles when you dragged your hand from his throat to his hair, twisting tight enough to make him whimper. "Look at you," you muttered, watching his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. "Fucking wrecked."

He bared his teeth in something that wasn't a smile, panting like a wounded thing. "Still—" he gasped, hips jerking weakly against yours, "— still standing."

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, comes shopping with you in a grumpy mood—while giving every person who walks past the strangest looks imaginable, staring at them until they're completely out of sight.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, still hasn't figured out how weaker people end up getting the front of the line. Never—absolutely never—ask him to hold a spot in line for you. "Nolan, can u hold our place in line?" While you're picking up another box of cereal and examining it, he says, "Yeah I'll handle it." You watch in horror as he walks toward the line—and before even reaching the very front, he rips off the head of the man standing there and throws it at the others like a ball, with deadly force. After that, you had to run. And you might have thrown up quite a lot too. Which made him think you were pregnant.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, keeps up with your endless demands nonstop. To an extremely annoying degree. You'll try to find a reason to get mad at him, but before you can even continue, he'll already fix the problem. "Damn it Nolan, what are these stains on the carpet!?" With a neutral expression, he'll tilt his head slightly toward the carpet—then in the next second he's moving right in front of your eyes, already holding a brush and before you can even close your mouth in surprise, the carpet is completely clean.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, will take care of the baby during the nights and early mornings instead of you. Afterwards, he'll complain about how tired he is—just so you'll give him some attention. (Honestly this might a bit more for women but you could have get the baby in other ways too. I'll leave it to your imagination.)

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, even tries to steal the baby's attention time. "Nolan, cut it out—you two aren't even on the same level." As you try to get past his body to pick the baby up from the bed, he keeps stepping in your way, mimicking your movements and blocking you. "As long as it's cared for enough to survive, the rest doesn't really matter." he insists. According to him, no one dies from a lack of affection. But at the end of the day, the one who's actually needy for your affection is him.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, turns the playful ass slapping you started into a full on competition. Whether you're doing chores, walking outside, passing by him or lying down in bed—everywhere, that hand will land at least once, smacking you hard enough to make your flesh jiggle.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, reads travel magazines to learn the meaning and usefulness of different places—so that every night, he can take you somewhere new and romantic.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, almost blew the brains out of the person in front of him just because they argued with you.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, will read the books you're reading—even if he's not actually interested in them. While doing it, he'll complain that it isn't worth his time and that he could be doing far more important things, but he'll still keep going. Then he'll come back to you with criticisms about the ending of the book, and the two of you will end up talking about it.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, offers to carry you in his arms whether you can fly or not. Your body warmth and knowing you're in his arms—helps calm the nerves that are constantly on edge.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, once made you soup using a nicely packaged laundry detergent he found in the bathroom—just because your food smelled good while you were cooking. Thankfully, you didn't die.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, can't stand your family but because you told him you'd reward him, he'll behave with respect, as if a Viltrumite commander were standing right in front of him.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, buried your neighbor's head in the garden soil like an ostrich—just because they asked if you needed help because of Nolan..

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, will join you if you offer while you're doing housework—and then complain that you're not doing it correctly. Even though he has no idea himself. And no, he refuses to admit that.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, is quite selfish and deeply loyal to his ideals—so whenever arguments break out, he"s gotten into the habit of ending them with his charm when it comes to you.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, will shamelessly open the door and walk right in while you're in the bathroom or on the toilet.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, almost drowned you in the bubbly water while washing your hair during a bath you were taking together. It might have traumatically reminded you of how your mother used to wash you when you were a kid. "I was just curious how long you could hold your breath," he said in defense after dunking your head down like a bucket and keeping it there until your air ran out. In reality, he wants to take you back to his home world, so he wanted to learn how long you could hold your breath…

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, doesn't understand money or the concept of buying things. He just picks up whatever he wants and walks off as if everything is free. And you end up trying your best to protect the poor shopkeepers who attempt to stop him—from everything except the deadly glare he's throwing at them behind your back.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, absolutely loves discount days like an old lady. It's the perfect time for him to lightly smack someone and get away with it without anyone holding him accountable. In that kind of crowd, you probably wouldn't even notice.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, keeps thinking that the fabrics in the human world don't even deserve your beauty. He'll watch with great interest and curiosity as you show off every outfit you try on, almost like you're putting on a little performance just for him.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, has broken so many beds with you that he can now find the furniture company's address with his eyes closed. They probably see you two more often than they see their own families. "How are you even still alive?" That's what you heard while signing the document they handed you, just before the employee pulled his hat down even lower over his head.

Nolan, the husband you half-reluctantly married, is so competitive in board games that he could drive a person insane. "No, you can't arrange the damn cards in numerical order and throw them down all at once!" He stubbornly pushes the cards you shoved aside back to the center, a ridiculous frown on his face. "Yes, I can. They're all the same color. The rules say so. Don't be rebellious.", "I'm not being rebellious, Nolan! And do you realize you read the rules wrong-" "You must obey the rules, Y/n." You grimace at the military look he throws at you. Your hands move in the air awkwardly, not even sure what to do with them. "You…fine then, Mr. Know It All Frowny Face. Tell me, why exactly did you make a move like that?" His expression softens, as if he thinks you've already accepted your mistake. He waves his hand knowingly in the air. "Obviously according to military order. They're all the same color, can't you see? Soldiers are like that too." 1, 2, 3, 4...you stare at all the red cards with tired frustration. You really wanted to slap this guy. And yet even though you know every game will end like this, you're always the one who suggests bringing out the board games. Because you've seen that pure, beautiful emotion in his eyes and at the corners of his lips.