This is a metafic about a disabled Inquisitor and the changes the disability not only brings for them, but also for their companions, their advisors, the Inquisition as a whole, and the people of Thedas. One of my goals for this was for it to be as inclusive as possible: your Inquisitor's race and gender don't matter. Every possible class is addressed. Topics include: addiction, amputation, bigots, blindness, depression, muteness, tranquil mages, transsexuality, veterans, withdrawal.

Rey is different from Finn; all sharp angles with kinetic energy beneath pale skin, eyes wide enough to take in the sky. A completely different kind of beauty from Finn, but beautiful all the same. Oh no, thinks Poe Dameron, with a sinking realisation.

"Luf--fy!" Nami sings out. "It's tiiiime!" The rubber whirlwind bounces into the room and pings off three walls on its way to the bed. "Zoro! Hey, Zoro, are you okay? Did they give you MEAT yet, because I told them they should. Can I get you--"