i finished reading tua: young blood, and there are many quotes + extra thoughts i want to save for luther (more thought than i would ever give the comics, but i digress). not expecting anyone to read this because it’s just me rambling for a very long time, but where else am i to put this... ✨
Luther doesn’t need to ask Hargreeves for the exact numbers; he knows he saved the most victims. He’s Number One; the strongest, the leader. “Hurry up, Boy Scout,” Diego calls as he bounds ahead. He says it like it’s supposed to be an insult, but Luther takes it as a compliment—Boy Scouts are always prepared, they always do the right thing, they believe in community and civic duty. Not that Luther’s ever actually been a Boy Scout. But that’s what he’s heard about them. People often don’t realize how strong Luther is just by looking at him. He’s fit but not super-ripped—it’s not like his muscles burst his jacket every time he flexes. Then again, that could be because Mom custom-made his jacket and reworks it every time he grows so much as an inch.
this book is separated by their different perspectives, and every time we’re in luther’s, there’s a lot of overcompensating in his words — like you can hear the way he’s second guessing himself, but this is how it’s supposed to be, so this is how he's supposed to feel. he’s number one, so he’s supposed to be the best, he's supposed to save the most people. he and diego have very different views on what a mission is about; luther thinks it’s about protecting and rescuing, diego thinks it’s about justice.
so of course diego writes off luther’s behavior as being a boy scout. and of course luther hardly knows what a boy scout really is, given the way they were raised, but it feels right. the way he describes a boy scout is exactly how he aspires to be. not a soldier.
also, there’s a lot to be said about how luther doesn’t look like he has super strength. we see that in the flashbacks — he’s really skinny but really tall. he's aware that he doesn’t look super ripped, but he carries himself as if he is.
Luther can feel the blood pumping in his veins, the adrenaline winding down, the high that comes after all that action. He presses his feet into the hardwood floor, relishing the way the wood shifts under his weight, knowing he’s strong enough to kick a hole through the floor. He’s so pumped that he has to stop himself from throwing the cup down and watching it shatter into a thousand pieces on the floor. Carefully, he forces himself to put the glass gently back on Mom’s tray. Despite his best efforts, he cracks it after all, just from gripping it too tightly. “Don’t know my own strength.” […] Luther’s still not done growing, still not done putting on muscle, not done getting stronger. He hopes that his jacket will soon get tight beneath his arms, the collar of his shirt pinching beneath his Adam’s apple, and Mom will have to tailor his uniform all over again. He wonders just how big and strong he’ll end up. […] But tonight, Luther has to concentrate to keep his hands still. He wants to get back out there, save another life, solve another mystery. At the very least, he wants to head to the gym and pump some iron. He needs something to do with this energy.
i’ve mentioned this before but luther's body is the weapon, one that he doesn’t get to turn off and on, which means he will often make ‘mistakes’ like this because he’s not always aware of his own strength despite all the training— because he is not wielding a weapon or using some technique. it’s just him. he likes the idea that he is capable of doing these things, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants t.o. so when it happens inevitably, he thought it might have been impressive, but after his body alteration, it comes with a lot more shame, because he’s more unaware of how much space he takes up and does not know that body well enough and it makes him even clumsier, which is often embarrassing.
and of course after a mission is when his adrenaline is at an all time high. he likes a job well done (or so he thinks it is) because this is all he really has — their missions, using their training + powers, working as a team, helping people. this is all he gets out of life and he does it proudly.
also, the foreshadowing of not knowing how big or strong he’ll get hurts me so bad. because he gets that wish, in the worst way, used against him, and he only ever hates himself for it.
He’s too psyched to really be sorry about anything right now. He can still feel the arms around him from all the people who hugged him and thanked him for rescuing them. A waste of time, Hargreeves would say (the Hargreeves in his head did say), so Luther had to cut the hugs short even though he wanted to linger. Not like Klaus, who took in the adulation with glee. […] The best part of the mission, Luther thinks, was pulling people from the rubble. Breaking into the fracking company’s offices to expose them was fine and all—but nothing like the high of saving people’s lives in the moment. He wonders what those people are doing now. What they might say to the Umbrella Academy if given the chance. […] “It was still a rescue mission,” Luther interjects. He can feel dusty, desperate fingers intertwined with his own as he pulled survivors from the rubble. He can still hear people saying “Thank you!” and “You saved me!” and “How could this happen here?”
there’s a lot here — it’s not just praise or attention that luther seeks, it’s connecting with people and seeing that he helps actual people. they don't actually get to meet people on their missions. they do their job and they go on their way. but luther doesn’t want to save people just to look good or just to get the praise; he wants to save people because he cares about people.
and he is so desperate for connection because all he has is his siblings and no life beyond the academy. the missions are his only chance to actually talk to people — but he doesn’t really get to do that, because they have tasks to complete and then go on their way. that’s why these moments afterwards, when people are thanking them, are so important to him. he gets to see their impact and it’s really fulfilling — even more than the action itself, though i don’t think he always realizes that.
but still, he holds himself back from it. because it’s about what dad wants, not what luther needs. and he's constantly got his father’s voice in the back of his mind telling him how to behave — which means as much as he wants to connect with these people, he doesn’t get to, because that's not their job.
“From the beginning, Number One,” his father corrects, and Luther winces. He hates when Hargreeves’s temper is turned on him, even though it happens so rarely.
there are so many hints in the show that luther always knew his father wasn’t good and that he did actively hurt them — especially luther, though he didn’t see it — but he buried it so far down because he doesn't know how to accept it. and there are a lot of hints of that in this book too, most of which luther continues not to budge on.
he hates when the temper is turned on him because he’s not used to it — he’s used to seeing it on his other siblings, and he contributes to it, too, following dad’s lead and being hard on them when he has to be, too. but it’s not just because he thinks he’s the favorite child that can’t do anything wrong in his father’s eyes — he constantly feels like he could do something wrong, is constantly on edge, and does know his father hurts him. he just can’t accept it.
Luther’s power isn’t nearly as flashy or strange, but it’s every bit as useful: He’s really strong.
always see people say luther’s power is “obviously” the worst / least important. and while i do think the numbers are based on least powerful - most powerful + which of them is easiest - hardest to manipulate, i never really understand people counting out super strength in general, so i love this part of the book + it being in luther’s perspective, because he likely gets insecure about it too, but— it's a versatile power that can help him in many different ways, many different places, and it doesn’t matter if it’s “flashy” or unique.
If Luther had his way, they probably would’ve politely knocked on the oil company’s door. […] Luther doesn’t like to do the dirty work, but Diego doesn’t let anything stop him from finishing a job.
diego doesn't think luther likes to do the dirty work, because luther doesn’t really know how. he doesn’t know how to focus on the fight before the people. he doesn’t want to see the worst in people. he wants to believe that people are good, that they don’t have to fight and kill to stop them from doing the wrong thing — that maybe they’ll listen to them, that the umbrella academy will have enough influence on them that way. but that’s not how they were trained.
Luther looks incredulous, like he can’t imagine there’s a point to having powers beyond being vigilantes. […] “Not being normal is a privilege,” Luther says.
he does not think there’s anything for them to offer the world if they’re not superheroes. because their powers have to mean something (he’d spiral if he starts thinking about what’s left of them if they don’t.)
he thinks not being normal is a privilege because he knows nothing else. he’s programmed into believing that this is all he is, and it’s a gift. if he questions that, then he’ll have no idea who he is (but he already doesn’t know. he’s just not accepting that, either.)
“You’re wasting your breath, Allison,” Diego fumes. “Mr. Goody Two-Shoes is too scared to break even one little rule.” Now Luther stands. He’s so strong that when he knocks his chair over, it cracks even though Viktor’s sure he doesn’t mean for it to, just like the glass he broke earlier. “I’m not scared of anything,” Luther growls. […] “Of course we want to go,” Luther says, but he doesn’t sound certain. Klaus suspects that some part of Luther is hoping Hargreeves will stop them before they get out the door.
if anyone else said that, luther might’ve agreed in a way that reminded them all that their rules were important. but since it was diego, and it’s spoken like an insult, luther has to fight back — because that’s how it is with diego. and he definitely doesn't want to be perceived as scared to diego.
klaus thinks luther will be the first one to crack when they sneak out of the house. and he’s probably correct — luther is scared, he doesn’t know how to be a person beyond number one, but he doesn't want to say that out loud or be the one to stop his siblings’ fun, which is why it seems easier if their father is the one who stops them.
From the next dressing room, Luther steps out wearing a tuxedo that’s at least two sizes too small. […] Luther slips back on his familiar sport coat. It doesn’t match, and Allison knows it: It’s navy blue, clashing with the tuxedo’s sleek black pants, and the Umbrella Academy patch Mom sewed over Luther’s heart is unmistakable. But it feels better than the stranger’s jacket. Luther can’t help noticing just how much more comfortable it is, and not just because Mom tailored it to fit his body perfectly.
luther having the opportunity to pick any kind of clothing and going with a tux is so. he consistently doesn’t know (or frankly, care) about style.
but all he knows is the academy. so of course he feels more comfortable in his uniform, and not because of how it fits him perfectly. it feels more like him (or the version of him he thinks he has to be) and it helps ground him, makes him feel like they’re not totally losing themselves for a night out — even though that’s likely what his siblings wish he felt.
“What do you think Klaus meant, ‘You break it, you buy it’? We don’t have any money.” As Luther says it, he thinks for the first time that it might be strange: He’s seventeen years old, and he’s never actually handled cash, never had a credit card, never stepped up to a counter in a store to make a purchase. He remembers that when they were little, they had a toy cash register with plastic coins. He and Allison used to pretend they were running a grocery store, charging their siblings every time they sat down for breakfast and lunch. Come to think of it, that’s the closest Luther’s come to actually buying something. […] “We can’t just steal.” Luther is horrified. The Umbrella Academy captures thieves; they don’t become them. […] “Besides, we’ll leave our uniforms behind, so it’s like a give-a-penny, take-a-penny tray.” “A what?” Luther asks desperately. He hates this feeling—Klaus is the only one of them with experience out in the world, so he seems so much wiser than Luther. […] Luther resolves that he’ll come back here tomorrow. With money. Somehow. He’ll pay for what they took. And retrieve their uniforms. He picks his siblings’ discarded clothes up off the floor and brings them to the front desk. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises. “Can you hang on to these for me?” […] “They’re not costumes. They’re uniforms.” The clerk doesn’t respond, so Luther repeats it louder.
i love these notes about how different their lives are beyond just having superpowers. they really don’t know how life works. but luther still knows enough to know they’re doing something wrong.
he immediately puts them next to the usual bad guys they come across: they’re bad because they’re thieves, so what makes him and his siblings better in this case? and it’s really stressing him out to not understand the world, but he’s also so afraid of actually learning, too — even if he doesn’t necessarily realize that.
so of course the only solution he can think of is to come back the next day, even though sneaking out is already scary enough one time, because he wants to do what's right. because that’s important to him.
The clerk reaches out for the clothes just as Luther sees a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Thanks to Hargreeves’s training, Luther’s first instinct is to suspect danger and protect the innocent. Before he has time to think, Luther is diving over the desk to tackle the clerk to the ground. “What the hell?” the clerk screams, but his voice is overwhelmed by the rumble of thunder so loud, it’s like it’s coming from inside the planet instead of the sky above. The light flashes again. In an instant, Luther’s on his feet. […] “It was an emergency,” Luther insists. “It’s a thunderstorm,” Ben says. “You’ve just been so brainwashed into thinking every outing is a mission that you believe a little bit of thunder is a cause for alarm.” “A little bit of thunder?” Luther echoes incredulously. Whatever it is he’s hearing, it’s not a little bit of anything. Still, something in Ben’s voice makes him waver for a single heartbeat—did Ben say they were brainwashed?
luther didn’t hesitate to try to protect someone when he assumed they were in danger, because that’s how he’s trained—and this is probably exactly how he’d be if he actually left the academy when they were teens. he liked would’ve gotten in his own way more often than not (he didn’t here, he was saving someone, but he also jumped so fast that even his siblings were confused).
he doesn’t know how to be out without it being a mission and ben’s right, that’s how he’s trained. luther stopping at “did ben say they were brainwashed?” gives a hint that he has considered it, though likely not deeply or for long, because it feels like betrayal for him to even question their father.
Luther goes straight into mission mode: He struggles to lift bricks off the person’s body, just as he did hours ago upstate. He gets that same feeling—that good feeling, that right feeling—like he knows exactly what to do. […] “Always so quick to play hero,” Diego sneers. “I saw the way you ran in to save that clerk.” […] Luther shakes his head. What did he ever do to make his brother hate him so much? Hargreeves assigned him Number One; he didn’t choose it. It’s simply what he was meant to be, like Diego was meant to be Number Two. […] Ben would say he’s so used to saving the day that he’s trying to turn a coincidence into a mission. He doesn’t have time for silly distractions and invented conspiracies.
luther rarely knows what to do — especially on this outing — but when someone needs saved, it’s like muscle memory to him, and he can feel that pride again. it’s the first time since they left home that he does actually feel like himself again, because he’s doing what he thinks he’s supposed to be doing: saving people, completing a mission, acting on instinct.
it’s the only way he feels any kind of satisfaction. because it’s all he knows. always quick to play the hero because he doesn’t know what else he's supposed to be— even when he’s wrong.
more luther convincing himself that he’s supposed to be number one despite the question of doubt in the back of his mind wondering why.
Luther waves as his siblings walk away. “I’ll catch up in no time,” he promises, but the truth is, now that he’s all alone with an unconscious person at his feet, he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to do. Rushing into a crumbling building is easy. Luther and his siblings have been training for that their whole lives. Dealing with the aftermath is something else entirely. The Umbrella Academy have never stuck around after a mission to clean up the mess they left behind. […] “You called the ambulance and waited with him?” the other EMT asks. “Yeah,” Luther says. “Good job,” the paramedic says, patting him on the back. “Not everyone would do that for a stranger.” Luther glows under the praise, and he holds up a hand in a salute as the ambulance rides away. He hopes the boy will be okay. He kind of wishes he’d gotten his name, so he could check up on him tomorrow. But how could he check up on him once they’re back home? If Luther tried to go to the hospital, Hargreeves would want to know why, and Luther could never explain. Unlike Luther, Klaus would be able to come up with a cover story on the spot, but Luther’s a terrible liar.
he knew exactly what to do when he thought someone was in danger. and he knows they can’t just leave someone hurt and alone like this. but he also doesn’t know what happens in the aftermath. he’s always wanted to stick around, wanted to take care of people afterwards or get to know them or connect with anyone, but it's never been an option. though now when he gets to (both because he wants to and because he’s avoiding that frat party a little longer), he’s lost. and he’s not used to feeling lost.
Is this how Luther feels leading a mission? Like he’s doing everything right? Partying is the only thing that’s ever come naturally to Klaus. Maybe because he wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything else. Which means what Luther wants most is to lead a mission. Klaus can’t imagine wanting to be in charge that much.
Luther can’t remember the last time he’d been alone. Technically, he isn’t alone—there’s the boy on the ground, and the kid from the thrift shop is hovering nearby, having called the ambulance. But still, except for sleeping at night and getting ready in the morning, this is the longest Luther has been without the endless soundtrack of his siblings’ voices. […] The paramedics rush over, rolling the boy onto a flat board, then lifting him onto a stretcher. It takes two of them to do it. They could’ve just asked me to do it, Luther thinks.
Luther is Number One; Diego is Number Two. If Mom hadn’t given them names, they’d never have been anything else.
Of course it is. Of course everything went to hell without Luther in charge. That’s why the Umbrella Academy needs a Number One.
“Everybody!” she yells. “These guys are from the Umbrella Academy!” Luther relaxes, expecting that he’ll have to give an autograph or two, be asked how many people he can lift up at one time, that sort of thing. Everyone will listen when Luther tells them they need to evacuate the house while he and his siblings investigate. But instead, there’s a murmur across the crowd that sets Luther’s teeth on edge. “I remember the Umbrella Academy!” someone else shouts. “They were those freaks that went around fighting crimes like a miniature police department.” Laughter. They’re laughing. The Umbrella Academy is a joke to these kids.
so used to the praise they get because they’re on the scene that he doesn’t realize that they may just be a joke outside of it. because he doesn’t consider these people who may seem normal — he doesn’t know what the perception of them is beyond that.
he’s used to people looking at him like he’s the hero in those situations and it’s confusing when it's not like that. because they’re only ever out on missions, they’re never just… hanging out somewhere like this. it’s like a culture shock for him.
he was confused at the thrift shop when the clerk said their uniforms could be used as halloween costumes. he takes pride in it being a uniform.
Luther will never leave now that this feels like a mission. He’s practically programmed to fix problems instead of walk away from them, even problems that are none of his business.
this is genuinely such good foreshadowing for season one of the show. he’s supposed to be the one to fix problems, and even when he doesn’t have the answer, he feels like he still has to give one. he’s often getting in his own way because of that, inevitably hurting people instead of helping them, even though all he wants is to fix the problem.
he doesn’t know how to mind his own business at a party like that. because he can’t just do nothing — he's looking for threats, he’s waiting for some kind of sign that this will turn into a mission, because it's all he knows.
“It’s not fair,” Luther says suddenly. “What’s not fair?” Allison shouts above the din. “We had each other. We had Hargreeves teaching us how to use our powers. Ryan probably didn’t have anyone. And the rest of these kids definitely don’t have anyone.” […] “They’re not lucky like we are,” he insists. “They didn’t have Dad.” […] “We’re not his collection,” Luther insists. “We’re his kids.” “Not sure Dad knows the difference,” Ben says, so quietly that Luther isn’t sure he heard him correctly.
luther thinking they’re the lucky ones because they had dad vs. his siblings desperate to be normal like these people they’re meeting. luther genuinely thinking that their father is someone who is dad to them, who sees them as their kids vs. his siblings thinking they’re just a collection, just his soldiers.
he thinks the only safe place for them is in the academy. he thinks that’s where they belong. he has one night out, sees a kid like them, knows he’s in danger, and thinks the only solution is to bring him home. he’s never had another option so he can’t comprehend someone else might.
“Listen,” Luther takes a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “I’m in charge here. And I say we bring him home.” “You’re not in charge of anything,” Diego counters. “This isn’t a mission.” “It turned into one,” Luther insists. […] And leave it to Luther’s holier-than-thou, glass-half-full attitude to see this as a rescue mission instead of what it really is. At best, they could call it an extraction: Get Ryan out of here and back to the academy so Dad can take charge. [...] Luther and Diego practically looked like they’d won something the instant they realized they could turn tonight into a mission, even if they didn’t exactly agree about what the mission should be. It’s like they were relieved when something went wrong.
“Why is this happening?” Luther shout. Viktor knows that Luther expected Ryan to embrace him, because he thinks everyone wants to be like him. Not in an obnoxious, self-satisfied way. Okay, maybe he’s a little self-satisfied, but Viktor can’t blame Luther for that. For most of Luther’s life, everyone has wanted to be like him. Number One in the Umbrella Academy, the star of every mission, handsome, tall, strong. It’s as though Luther was built to be a mannequin for an old-fashioned “teen boys” section at a department store. If they’d gone to a regular high school, Viktor thinks suddenly, Luther would’ve been homecoming king. Star of the football team.
the idea of luther being the popular kid in high school is so real but also… so opposite of who he actually is. because the luther we know doesn’t know how to make friends that easily and doesn’t actually have that kind of confidence. of course it's how he's perceived; he’s perceived as powerful and popular and the kind of person everyone wants to be. but they don’t really know him. luther doesn’t even really know himself.
“Remember, these are kids just like us! We want to neutralize them, not kill them!” Diego shakes his head. Luther always wants to see the best in everyone, but Diego knows better.
that’s really his fatal flaw until he does try to act and acts wrongly because of it.
Maybe Hargreeves will give him an assignment like this someday. Guard some very important (non-dangerous) person and keep them safe. Luther thinks he’d be good at that. It’s a big part of his job already—being Number One means keeping an eye on his siblings during a mission, ensuring that everyone makes it out alive. And he’s succeeded so far. When Five disappeared, it wasn’t during a mission but in a fight with Hargreeves. Luther can’t be held responsible for that. Though he can’t help feeling guilty about it either. […] Yes, he would make an excellent bodyguard, if Hargreeves ever chose that sort of mission for him. After herding all of his siblings, being in charge of just one person would be like taking a break. It’s almost enough to make him laugh.
But for Luther, nothing feels better—or more fun—than leading a mission. It’s what he knows best. That’s why he’s Number One, right? Even though every mission is different from the one before, it’s like his body knows exactly what to do each time—like muscle memory in reverse, if such a thing exists.
luther thinks being a body guard would make sense for him, and he’s correct. he doesn't want to fight, he wants to protect people. he doesn’t want to stop the bad guys, he wants to be the one rescuing those in need. it’s something positive he can do with his powers and it actually would be fulfilling for him.
luther feeling guilty for five’s disappearance because he’s number one and he's the one who is supposed to keep his siblings safe — no it didn’t happen on a mission but he still feels responsible for them all no matter where they are. i stand by my theory that luther resented five for assuming he left intentionally, but he also felt guilty, like it was his job to keep him safe / keep him here. that resentment eventually turns into guilt, then to grief.
This is what happens, Luther thinks, when people with powers aren’t trained the way me and my siblings were. Hargreeves taught them to work as a team, to work in tandem, and to never leave a teammate behind. He taught them loyalty. But these people—Ryan’s so-called friends at this fancy college—Luther doubts they know the meaning of the word.
luther thinking he taught them loyalty when really, their father just manipulated the situation and made them feel in debt to him — his siblings broke free of that, but he never did, not until his father was dead. and it held him back for too long.
He recalls how it felt when that boy hugged him—the one who’d had snakes for hair like a gorgon. Hargreeves never lets them linger after a mission, reflecting on what they did right instead of what they did wrong. He certainly never let them actually spend time with any of the people they saved. It felt so good to actually connect with someone tonight.
“We saved lives tonight!” Luther can’t believe he has to point this out. Again. “Don’t you get how good this feels? Allison, come on—saving the world should feel good!” Luther rolls his shoulders down his back. He’s glad he ended up wearing his uniform sport coat all night. He’s proud of the insignia embroidered on the chest. Of course, he ended up leaving it behind at the fraternity house after he used it to extinguish some flames. He wonders if the fire department will find it in the rubble. “Yeah, it should,” Allison agrees halfheartedly. “It’s just . . .” “Just what?” Luther is genuinely confused. “Do you think it feels good because—I don’t know, because it’s what we’ve been trained to do?” “I don’t think you need training to feel good because you averted a disaster that could’ve sent the Earth spinning off its axis.” […] There’s nothing Luther would rather use his strength for. Maybe he wasn’t born a leader—maybe Hargreeves made him one. No, Hargreeves must’ve sensed Luther’s leadership skills from the day he brought him home as a baby. Otherwise, why would Luther be Number One? For the first time, Luther tries to imagine himself as an infant, brought to this enormous house. He tries to picture himself tiny and helpless: It’s impossible. Still, he knows that he was once small and vulnerable. He wonders if Hargreeves ever held him, but that’s even harder to imagine. He can picture Mom holding a baby, even Pogo, but not Dad.
luther has always questioned the ranking system. he just doesn’t allow himself to really dwell on it. he assumes it was always his destiny and that it always made sense. because if he starts to question it, then he’ll lose himself.
Tonight, Luther was a leader without Hargreeves pulling the strings. He led his siblings to a victory. And it felt great. That’s the truth, even if the others can’t understand it.
(via Diego's perspective) A real leader would do whatever it takes to keep his team safe, however unsavory. That’s why Luther will never be a real leader. His cheerful Boy Scout mentality will always get in the way. [...] (via Ben's perspective) Ben marvels that Luther’s voice still sounds cheerful. For a moment, he wonders if that’s Luther’s true superpower: the ability to see the best in everything.
obsessed with the different views from diego and ben re: luther. diego sees luther's ability to see good in everyone and want to protect rather than hurt as a hindrance to his leadership; ben sees it as a superpower. and both seem to be reflected in their dynamics.
also - they're both right. it is very powerful that luther can still see the world that way despite reginald's training. it also often gets in his way - not just on a mission - but in simpler decisions when it feels like instinct.
Viktor sees that Luther never feels better than when he’s successfully led a mission. When Hargreeves criticizes his performance, he reminds Viktor of a wounded dog, begging for another chance to prove he can do better.
in season 3, luther mentions reginald being hard on their performance reviews. five says he always got five stars, and luther was surprised by that. my interpretation of that scene has always been that reginald was intentional with his reviews - luther likely strived to be his very best with no mistakes every single time. he likely deserved 5 stars, but reginald had to keep him motivated, and if number one wasn't getting 5-star reviews, that meant luther was going to keep trying harder - because luther has always been reginald's easiest weapon to manipulate.
viktor describing him this way after the criticisms just supports that. based on that theory that's exactly what reginald wanted from him. he wanted to knock him down so luther would keep trying even harder to impress him, no matter how hard it hurt him.
