Laughy Leon's Taffy Factory-Father Compote

Oh God. The blueberry fetish artist are gonna have a field-day with this one, aren't they?

The Gospel of Blueberry

There was once a lonely boy who lived in the shabbiest orphanage at the edge of town. He had no parents, was neglected by the staff, not a penny to his name, and not even a single friend in the world. There were only two solaces in his life. Even at such a tender age, he was a brilliant writer. Poetry was his refuge. When he poured his thoughts into the pages of his little journal, his troubles seemed to melt away.

And then there was Laughy Leon’s Taffy Factory.

He adored everything about it—the candy, the bright commercials, the wacky hijinks of Leon and The Jolly Jollies. To him, it was more than a confectionery empire. It was joy. It was warmth. It was belonging. Of them all, he idolized Brainy Bernie Blueberry the most. Then, as if destiny had finally chosen him, the factory announced the contest of a lifetime: an essay competition about what you loved most about the Taffy Factory. The grand prize was an exclusive private tour alongside your favorite Jolly Jolly—and the honor of tasting Leon’s newest secret candy creation.

The boy wrote tirelessly, day and night. He wrote about what it would mean to visit the factory, to meet the Jolly Jollies, to step inside the sugar-spun world that had brought him so much comfort. He poured his longing into every sentence. Months later, the announcement came. The boy had won. On that fateful day, the factory was everything he had dreamed of. A sugary wonderland stretched before him. Laughy Leon guided him personally, with Bernie at his side. For the first time in his life, the boy felt chosen. Special.

But it was all just a cruel trick.

At the end of the tour, Leon presented his latest invention: The Burstingly Booming Blueberry Taffy. The boy took one bite, and was transformed forever. His skin turned a sickly blue. Warts erupted across his body, oozing thick blueberry pulp. His limbs trembled as his body swelled grotesquely, bloated with juice that had nowhere to go. Bones strained. Flesh stretched. His small frame expanded to monstrous proportions. Laughy Leon had never wanted a visitor...He needed a guinea pig. The boy became a living time bomb—a fusion of flesh and blueberries, constantly generating volatile juice. To contain him, a suit of armor was forged, fitted with two massive juicers to siphon the excess liquid from his body. Leon observed the results… and declared the experiment a failure.

The boy was sealed away in the lowest depths of the factory—Level 6—buried beneath laughter and sugar, left in the dark to be forgotten. That is until the day of the factory fire. Years later, flames consumed the upper levels of the factory. Many perished. The few survivors left fled downward in desperation and stumbled into Level 6. Trapped. Bloated. Still alive. Injured and starving, with no hope of escape, the workers made a desperate choice: they drank from the extracted juice. They soon discovered its properties. It healed wounds. Restored strength. Prolonged life. But it came at a cost. Madness took root. Hallucinations followed. and just like the boy, Their bodies warped irreversibly, turning the surviving workers into blueberry tainted ghouls.

The boy was hailed as a savior. The survivors swore their allegiance to him, believing he had preserved them. In return, he vowed to protect his new flock. His true name faded with time.The orphan boy was no more.

He was now Father Compote, revered pastor and leader of the Church of Blueberry. With the same gift for words that had once won him a golden ticket, Father Compote began to preach. He declared Level 6 a sanctuary for wayward souls cast down from the upper floors—a holy refuge beneath the factory’s poisoned paradise. Above them ruled the Candy Devil, Laughy Leon. And at their side stood their messianic figurehead: Brainy Bernie Blueberry.

For 60 long years, Father Compote endured the pain if it meant protecting his new family. All who found their way to Level 6 were welcomed with open arms. Though whether they were ever permitted to leave… was another matter entirely. So when Father Compote's flock stumbles upon our hero James Keller and Father Compote hears of his treacherous journey throughout the factory—of his battles with the Candy Devil—he takes pity on the young man. Insuring him safety within the embrace of the Church of Blueberry. But James was a stubborn soul insistent on leaving. And for his own good, Father Compote can't allow that.

Spare the rod, spoil the child. Sometimes, to save those we care for, we must wound them. If James must curse his name to be saved, so be it. If Father Compote must be a monster to keep even one soul from the clutches of Laughy Leon—Then that will be his cross to bear.

So what do you guys think of this "not-so-jolly" blue giant? After all, We can't have a Willy Wonka inspired horror series without a blueberry character, now can we?

Father Compote is owned by me. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION. 

Check out the first Candylord: The Ice Scream Queen

By the way, I'm on Blue Sky now! You can find me right here!

Follow me on Instagram|Tumblr|Youtube

Facts about Father Compote

• Father Compote has a personal connection to Brainy Bernie Blueberry. What that connection is, however, remains to be seen.

• Father Compote speaks like a Southern Baptist preacher and affectionately refers to his followers as “his flock” or “his children.” He calls James “Brother James” and sometimes “son.”

• The middle dial on Father Compote’s suit functions as a pressure gauge. When it reaches red, he must manually turn the dial back to release the excess juice stored in his body. He must do this at least twice a day, or his body will expand to critical mass and explode.

• The juicers Father Compote carries are extremely heavy and cause him intense back pain.

• Father Compote still writes poetry in his private chambers, often translating those writings into his sermons. He also keeps secret journals that he shares with no one.

• The juice Father Compote produces does more than cause madness and mutations—it is also highly addictive. He can exhale a mist potent enough to induce hallucinations.

• My ideal voice for Father Compote is Patrick Page (best known as Hades in Hadestown, Judge Frollo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Satan in Helluva Boss).