argumate:

with that the Wolf tore off the clothes and with one bound was upon her!

“oh no!” screamed Little Red Riding Hood, “a thinly veiled metaphor for unrestrained sexuality! please don’t fuck me– I mean, please don’t eat me!”

the Wolf paused, “is that all I am to you? a cheap psychosexual pastiche?”

“well,”

disgusted: “I’m recontextualised multiple times in this story alone! sure, I’m sex, but I’m also death, I’m maturity, I’m the fear that lurks within, I’m inexorable time, I’m– I’m wearing your grandmother’s clothes for god’s sake! and it’s not just a kink thing!”