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He hadn’t even opened his eyes, and Steven Universe knew that there was something very, very wrong.

He was lying down on something hard - not that the back seat of the Dondai was particularly comfortable, but it was at least softer than this. It was cold to the touch, and he felt exposed skin touching the surface; he’d gone to sleep in his jacket and jeans, so that certainly didn’t feel right at all.

He rolled over, and his centre of gravity felt distinctly, totally wrong. It was such a peculiar sensation that it jolted him, and his eyes shot open.

Wherever he was, it was overwhelmingly pink. The ceiling was high, high above him, little pink bubbles floating gently around. Was this the palace on Homeworld? How did he get here?

Maybe White had finally decided to kidnap him. That seemed depressingly possible.

He sat up, and a strange sense of wrongness washed over him. Everything felt totally and completely off - his head wasn’t the right height from the ground, his arms and legs felt wrong, there was something sticking in the bottom of his vision that he couldn’t quite make out. Had he possessed someone? He hadn’t dreamed of anybody last night - in fact, he was fairly sure he hadn’t dreamt at all.

He closed his eyes, positioning himself. He scrunched his fingers; two hands. He tried to wiggle his toes, but instead felt a single mass moving under what felt like a sock or slipper. No toes, but feet. Feet was good, worry about toes later.

He rubbed his head. Hair, done up, bits poking out the side. Spinel, maybe? If he’d accidentally possessed Spinel, she’d never let him live it down. He did think he felt gloves, so that was possible.

He opened his mouth. “Aaaaaahhh…”

A light voice, almost melodic, not quite Spinel’s. Had she made friends? Was he a new friend? That would be pretty awkward. Could he possess people he didn’t - of course he could, he’d possessed watermelons more than once.

He heard the door open, and his eyes shot open.