you drew the pineapple!

They had fled from the party and into the grounds. Crowley's hand faintly chilly in his. Through the frost bitten air and their clouds of puffed breath, to the thunder and plash of the fountain. They had, both of them, partaken of rather too much Christmas spirit, but when Crowley had scrambled up onto the ledge Aziraphale had retained enough good sense to tell him no. He had said it whilst chuckling, however, and Crowley had grinned, and he'd known they were done for. The demon had reached out to seize him and missed, caught a handful of coat sleeve with nothing inside, and heaved himself into the water when it slipped from his grasp. Aziraphale remembered trying so hard not to laugh that it ached in the seams of his waistcoat. He recalled Crowley's head breaking surface, a sputter of water that speckled his best pair of trousers, and Crowley’s incoherent noises of annoyance, deficient in vowels.

A gift commission for Caspian and Jem's lovely fic, As Soon Go Kindle Fire With Snow

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This is what Roerich's paintings look like:

Simons being absolutely crushed between a buff stick and a rock.