The metaphor of time being a fabric, or a web:
Each person is a thread. The actions they take entangle them with other people, and those (very small) knots form a larger structure. Pull out some of those threads, slowly, it becomes thin, fragile. But yank on a bunch at once, and the entire structure resists, stays together, goes with it. Like unraveling knitting. Tug on a thread, it unravels. Tug on a sleeve, and nothing happens. But sometimes, if itβs already fragile, if itβs sudden and violent and localized enough, if you pull on a bunch of thread, the fabric tears instead of stretching.
Sometimes the knots are too tight to unravel. This is the scar of a paradox. Sometimes the threads have been cut, and attached to other places. This is another paradox. Sometimes the threads are tied in loops around themselves. This is why the time lords have the first law of timeβ it gets very messy very quickly if they get twisted around themselves. Itβs also why they can safely cause paradoxes if theyβre very careful. They can see where each string should go.
The fabric is a specific shape, this is the metastructure. Letβs call it a shirt. So this shirt has to bend in certain places, around the sleeves and collar. It has to fold over on itself, and be reinforced, and have all the little knots line up in the right pattern to make it curve correctly. It has seams, these are fixed points.
If you cut it in half, you wonβt have a shirt anymore, but the fabricβs still there. Soβs the intent. Thatβs the War in Heaven. There are places where the shirt has been torn and sewn back together, it has patches, it has stains. You could try to repair it, but it wonβt quite be the same.






















