Faith Claus

Welcome to the North Pole, where Christmas cheer flows like hot cocoa, peppermint sparkles coat every surface, and Santa and Mrs. Claus proudly reign over their winter wonderland… along with their six daughters, each one responsible for at least three workplace hazards and one annual meltdown from the reindeer union. There’s Krissy (the suspiciously green one), Noel (the walking December thundercloud), Mistletoe, Holly, Carol, and then—looming in the corner like a stylish shadow—Faith Claus. Faith doesn’t hate Christmas, per se. She just hates everything about it. The colors, the cheer, the music, the elves singing off-key at 5 a.m., the reindeer jingling like broken wind chimes, and especially the sweaters—those hideous, itchy, aggressively jolly sweaters. While her sisters deck the halls with tinsel, glitter, and questionable enthusiasm, Faith decks herself in one color and one color only: black. Jet black. Midnight black. “Why did Santa’s daughter just walk out of a Tim Burton casting call?” black. She’s the only Claus child who carved pumpkins instead of snowflakes, who tried to replace the Christmas tree star with a raven figurine, and who insists “The Nightmare Before Christmas” is a documentary. Every year, Mrs. Claus prays Faith will show a touch of seasonal spirit, maybe even a festive accessory. And every year, Faith shows up to family photos looking like the Ghost of Christmas Nope. She prefers Halloween—its aesthetic, its vibes, its absolute lack of jingling bells—and she’s not shy about reminding everyone. But fear not: even though she wears black in a blizzard and glowers at carolers, Faith Claus still has a place in this chaotic family. Because someone has to keep Christmas humble… and nobody humbles it better than the North Pole’s one-woman goth invasion.