SHIT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
IT SHAPES YOU, STAINS YOU.

“KISS THE FROG” isn’t a fairytale—it’s a trap dressed as temptation. On BadAss Planet, kisses don’t turn frogs into princes—they expose the prince for what he really is: a projection, a performance, a programmed lie. This figure is part monster, part meme, part mirror. He’s not waiting to be loved—he’s daring you to try. The crown isn’t earned. It’s stolen.

The visual language flips romantic myth on its head. Chaos is scribbled in declarations: “Sometimes you kiss a frog to find a prince”—but here, the frog kisses back, and bites. There's no magic in this story, only miscommunication, lust, and layered irony. The colors are dirty-sweet: childlike greens, corrupted blacks, and fractured symbols that toy with pop culture and heartbreak. This isn’t Disney. It’s a post-modern punch in the teeth.

In this world, desire is dangerous, and transformation is a joke. “KISS THE FROG” challenges the viewer to question what they’ve been conditioned to want—and what happens when that want looks back at them with wild eyes. On BadAss Planet, love doesn’t save. It reveals. And nothing that kisses you here, leaves you the same.