#cripps pink apple

[saldontdoit]

today's apple is the Pink Lady, the trademark name of the Cripps Pink, developed by John Cripps in 1970s Australia. it has several sports (mutations), such as the Rosy Glow and Lady In Red varieties. 65% of Cripps Pink apples do not meet the tight Pink Lady standards and are sold under their cultivar name instead.

sources: orange pippin (and here's the wikipedia article for cripps pink!)

(i am doing this entirely for fun! that's why you'll see i only do very cursory research. that said, if any info is incorrect, please tell me and i'll update my post!)

[limeadeislife]

I think we should have brutal arguments on the Wikipedia talk page for "Apple" about which variety of apple gets featured in the infobox image. Kind of like the arguments they've apparently had about the image on "Human"

[moonyasnow]

Apple Skin:

~pulchritudomania~

Rough draft of chapter 1

A.K.A. the Snow White Otome!

Here I'm mostly just gonna introduce the main characters!

I have art I myself made for some of them, but for others...the little art I DID make of them does just NOT look good...I'd just gotten back to drawing after a LOOONG break So it's gonna be a bit of a mix between actual art I myself drew and the inpiration/reference images I've been using as placeholders

BUT! Keep in mind not all the reference images have the correct color features! Gonna include an image for what I imagine the hair & eye colors to be at the end

(I'm sorry, but they aren't actually dwarves...)

Princess Snowdrop / 'Snow'

Character: Snow White

She's very kind, and sees the best in others, though quite insecure in various aspects of herself, mainly her appearance. She loves her mother very much and wants to make her happy.

Kriemhild Beryl

Character: Evil Queen

The very embodiment, by her own lifelong dedication, of the description 'coldly beautiful'. Wife of the late king, and has been regent during the reign of terror of an infamous 'serial killer' who curses beautiful people with eternal sleep.

'Uncle' Berengar

Character: Huntsman

Brother to the late king, now serving as the Queen regent's master of the hunt. Practically raised Snow, and always has her well-being in mind.

Brandon Smith

Dwarf: Grumpy Apple type: Granny smith Dere type: Tsundere (getting the obvious one out of the way first)

He puts on a tough-guy act, but is actually quite caring to those he holds close to him- just puts his foot in his mouth a lot and gets embarrassed and defensive easily.

Christopher 'Chris' Pinkrand

Dwarf: Dopey Apple type: Cripps Pink Dere type: Bakadere

Nonverbal autistic, misses social cues, gullible, doesn't understand when he's being mocked, very honest in showing affection though does so in a way sometimes perceived as weird.

Carmine de Lucius

Dwarf: Doc Apple type: Red Delicious Dere type: Deredere

Very polite and friendly; by all accounts perfectly pleasant. He has a stutter he tries very, very hard to control, but it comes out in moments of heightened emotion.

Damion Ambrose

Dwarf: Sleepy Apple type: Ambrosia Dere type: Kuudere

Due to his narcolepsy possibly putting him at risk of danger otherwise, Damion works in the house as the household book-keeper and Carmine's assistant, and so, doesn't get out much.

Arlie Rosenhyde

Dwarf: Bashful Apple type: Hidden Rose Dere type: Dandere

Anxiety. He was quite lonely growing up because other kids would ridicule him for the large burn scar across his right eye, and he often hid behind his older brother Jazz.

Amber de Lucius

Dwarf: Sneezy Apple type: Golden delicious Dere type: Oujidere

Was given the nickname 'sneezy' as a child because his frail health always lead to him being sick with something or other for most of the year. Refusing to accept that he's no longer a noble lord with servants that keep his room spotless and cater to his every whim.

Jazz Galburn

Dwarf: Happy Apple type: Jazz Dere type: Goudere

Loves helping people out and cracking jokes, loves seeing others happy, very reliable friend, but has trouble prioritizing himself. Very caring toward his younger brother Arlie.

Schwartz Diamant

Character: The Prince Apple type: Black Diamond Dere type: Yandere

Childhood friend of Snow, whom he's quite attached to due to a difficult childhood, and frequent errand boy of the Queen. He really likes fairy tales.

And here are all the hair & eye colors I planned for the characters to have!

There are some background characters too, but they're either tied to specific routes or they barley show up

[cryptablog]

[netherzon]

A shameless snippet post from Apfelkuchen or Apple Pie because I got distracted this morning and have spent the whole day rereading a bunch of my favorite GerAme fics, so here’s one of my favorite parts of the only finished fic I’ve published for them cause I just love them a lot

~

“We’re going apple picking this afternoon, and then we’re gonna make apple pie, real apple pie.”

This did nothing to change Germany’s frown. “You want to go apple picking right now? While we’re wearing suits?”

“People go apple picking in suits all the time!” America replied cheerfully. His smile did not falter for even a moment under the weight of Germany’s incredulity.

“I’m quite sure that’s not true, America.”

“Have you gone apple picking a lot in these parts? How would you know? Maybe that’s just how we do it at my place,” America replied, his smile slightly more mischievous now.

Germany hoped his face showed as much skepticism as he felt.

“I’m telling you Germany, apple picking is a formal affair. You’re expected to wear your Sunday best,” America insisted.

A dubious Mmhmm was the only acknowledgement Germany gave him. He’s not going to back down, and time will prove one of us right anyway. Probably me.

~

They were the only two people wearing suits when they got to the orchard.

Germany turned to America, shaking his head a little. “Why do you bother lying when you know the truth will come out so soon after?” he asked, with a tone similar to the one he used whenever Berlitz would try to use her paws to open the refrigerator, even though he knew, and she knew that she didn’t have the necessary opposable thumbs.

“I wasn’t lyin, we just happened to come on Casual Friday ‘s all,” America replied. His smile was pure mischief now. He even winked. Germany refused to dignify this with a response.

America shucked off his suit jacket and tie, and elbowed him lightly. “Come on, you know we wouldn’t have made it in time if we had to change first, and this is too important to miss. Lookin silly for an hour is a small price to pay if ya ask me,” he said breezily while he moved to grab some bags for them.

Germany accepted this in silence. They had narrowly missed the worst of rush hour on the drive out, so he was probably right about that detail. Whether the funny looks they got from all the families here would be worth it remained to be seen, but he realized he was slightly grateful he wasn’t alone in being out of place. America had clearly been planning this outing, but he hadn’t brought a change of clothes for himself either, earning him just as many funny looks as Germany got. Was that on purpose so I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious, or did he just not think of it beforehand, Germany wondered.

Most nations wouldn’t even ask that question, having already written off America as an unprepared fool. Germany knew better than that, though. America was as capable of being thoughtful as often as he acted without thinking. The two possibilities were equally likely.

Germany removed his suit jacket and tie also, and turned to follow America into the rows of trees.

The orchard was bigger than Germany had originally realized, with neat rows of more apple varieties than he could count growing together. Each row had a sign at the beginning giving the name of the apple. Red Delicious, MacIntosh, Gala, Cripps Pink Lady, Golden Delicious. His mental list kept growing the deeper they went into the organized forest. At first he had thought they were only walking in because the first rows of trees must have been picked by other visitors already. All of the trees they passed at the first edge looked almost barren at this point in the season. Obviously they wouldn’t find anything there. Eventually though, Germany spied a large, spotless apple in a tree to his left, high enough that children had been unable to reach it, but not high enough to prevent him from plucking it.

Before he had the chance to grab it, America stepped in front of him, both arms out like he wanted to shield the tree from view.

“Not that one,” America declared firmly.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Germany asked.

“That’s a Fuji tree,” America replied, like this should explain absolutely everything.

“What?” was all Germany could say in response.

In a sudden role reversal, America was the one sighing with exasperation. “We don’t want Fujis for our pie, the filling will be too soft then,” he stated definitively. “We’re looking for the Cortland section for texture, and then a couple Granny Smiths to add a little tanginess, but not too many of those either cause then the whole thing will be sour,” he explained, with the seriousness of someone relaying the alchemical recipe for turning lead into gold.

It was extremely odd for Germany to be lectured on something by America, but he decided to let him have this one. Germany didn’t have as much experience baking with apples ---he was more likely to use plums--- and he could only remember seeing the Pink Lady variety at home. The others were unfamiliar to him, so America probably did know more about which ones to use in pie.

Now that the instructions were more clear, Germany suggested they split up to locate the Cortland section more quickly. When they found it they worked each from one end of a row collecting apples before they would meet in the middle and then move to the next row. It was an efficient system, or it should have been if they both agreed on the appropriate lengths to go to for the perfect apple.

“America, really, your shoes have no traction. I don’t want you to slip and break your neck. What will I tell the paramedics when you pop back up twenty minutes later?”

Instead of taking Germany’s sage warning as he had intended, and deciding not to climb the tree, America took this as a suggestion that he just climb the tree without shoes.

Germany cringed watching how dirty America’s socks got, and the bits of moss he collected on the knees of his pants and the arms of his shirt. They would probably stain.

America did not fall and break his neck though, and when he jumped down clutching the apple firmly and smiling at Germany with unabashed pride over such a small achievement, he had to admit it was a pretty nice apple, and maybe Germany had smiled back at him fondly.

[cheekedupwhiteboy]

PULLMAN, Wash. — Washington State University’s newest apple variety, WA 64, is a sweet, tart, firmly crisp hybrid of Honeycrisp and Cripps Pink [...]

Officially released for commercial licensing this summer, WA 64 is expected to reach stores in 2029.

This is going to be fucking crazy

[homestylealchemy]

Apple Cinnamon Cheesecake

Type your email… Subscribe It is finally apple season! I am typically mesmerized by the abundance of apple varieties available at my local market. I prefer some good heirloom varieties such as Sweet Bough, Grimes Golden, and Duchess of Oldenburg. However, my favorite commercially available apple is the Cripps Pink. I use any of these apples to create one of my favorite cheesecakes: Apple…

[spock-buys-houses]

Cripps pink apples are the most delicious way to eat something that tastes exactly like soap

[arinrowan]

COSMIC CRISP IS AN OVERHYPED, TARTED UP FUJI APPLE

[w3apon0fchoice]

me too woahh!!! my favorite type is a cripps pink/pink lady apple!! what’s yours? ^_^

what is your favorite fruit??? also you’re super cool

Aww this is soooo sweet of you! ♥♥♥

And apples are my favourite fruit. :3

[pepperhatter]

🍎apples🍏

[nerevarswritingstuff]

Alla Prima Pt. 1 - Lucifer/Reader

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee! 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t honored to be gifted with the opportunity to paint a mural for the King of Hell himself. You were honored, beyond words in fact. You never expected him nor his family to have noticed you or your paintings. You knew there were plenty more out there that far surpassed your skills, but hey the pay is… well, “nice” would be understating it too much.

The pay was great. It’d let you buy a new studio, new supplies, new everything. You were allowed to stay within the mansion (which was also another understatement, this place was huge) in one of the guest wings, and given all the privacy and time required to finish. It was practically a dream come true, considering how previous clients would give you unrealistic deadlines for big pieces.

However, there was one problem. You wished it was just not having the right amount of paint for it or not enough time, but no. It was the worst possible scenario any painter or artist could ever have happen to them.

Lucifer gave you fuck all to go off of for what he wanted.

In your less than five minute conversation of him greeting you in the antechamber, all he said that he wanted was a mural of an apple tree in the ballroom. Then he had his servants show you where you were to paint it and where your guest room would be.

The vagueness of what he wanted for this commission made you want to break your brushes over your knee and give him a piece of your mind. “An apple tree mural” could be so many things! Did he want a landscape? In a specific style? Is it just one tree or an orchard? Is it in Hell or the living world? Night? Day? The list is endless. There was so little to go off of you had no idea where to fucking start.

Sure, you like a bit of artistic freedom, but not this much freedom. What if your client hated it and demanded a refund? Too many variables can lead to complications and you hate complications. Of course, you’ve always handled these types of clients easily enough, as some of their blood makes a wonderful mixture for paints.

But you couldn’t exactly deal with Lucifer the same way if he hated your painting. If anything he might just kill you. He could probably just kill you with his thumb. He most likely did do just that to some poor idiot once before. All you could do was bite your tongue and deal with it.

Oh, and that ballroom he wanted you to paint in? Huge. The wall itself was about sixty feet wide and thirty feet up before reaching the ceiling. This was probably the biggest ballroom he had, which only adds more sourness to your mood. The only extra thing Lucifer said he wanted was for the mural to be on the wall opposite of the entrance so guests would see it the minute they’d walk in.

You feel like you could choke someone right now. You’d love to choke Lucifer for being so unhelpful with what he wanted. Why are the demons who ask you to paint something big always so vague? But you knew better than to backsass Lucifer of all people. Again, he could most likely sneeze and you’d become nothing more than a smear on the wall.

You just had to think on the more positive side. You weren’t given a time limit and most importantly you’d have all the privacy needed. You hated people watching you paint. You hated people interrupting you while you paint. People who do usually get a paintbrush jammed into their eye. You’re glad you kept your composure when Lucifer told you you’d have any and all privacy needed for this painting, because you know otherwise you would’ve screamed with joy and relief.

So now here you were, everything set up for you to get ready for painting, sitting back in a chair, staring at this huge ass wall and rapidly tapping your pencil against your sketchbook.

You’ve tried several various sketches, exploring what you could do for a possible mural, only to growl in frustration and try again. And again. And a-fucking-gain. The cycle went for several hours. The entire time no one bothered you. No servants knocked on the door, no other guests or even the royal family. You kind of wish someone did interrupt you so you had someone to take your frustrations out on, but no one came.

Dropping your sketchbook and rubbing at your face, you lean back and groan. Unbeknownst to you, while you sat there, seething, thinking, staring at the wall and wondering just what the fuck you should paint, the door to the ballroom opened. The heels clicking behind you did make you whirl around, lips pulled back into a snarl.

“I thought it was made clear I wasn’t to be—” You choke on your own words, your threat dying in your throat as you stare at your client.

He wasn’t even looking at you, instead glancing down at the floor where you dropped your sketchbook, then looking up at the wall. Then his eyes dart to you, a single, dark brow raised. His lips curled up into a mischievous smile, asking, “Wasn’t to be what, hmm?” He twirls his cane in one hand, the other neatly folded behind his back. When you don’t say anything, he taps the end of his cane under your chin to close your mouth. “I’m waiting.”

You hesitantly say, “Disturbed…” It definitely didn’t sound as threatening as you wanted it to be.

Either way, Lucifer seemed to have found it absolutely hilarious, as he throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, my darling little fool!” He pats you on the head with the end of his cane. “You really think I’d leave you alone for the whole, oh—” he idly waves his free hand as he speaks, still tapping his fucking cane against your head “—however long it’s going to take you to finish this mural? Little Cripps, I know better than to allow a stranger to be all alone and unsupervised in this manor.” Another twirl of his cane and he’s walking past you, looking at the array of paints you’ve organized, then at the blank wall.

“I came here to see how things were going with the mural, but seeing as you haven’t even started…” He turns to you, raising a brow once more. 

You rubbed your head, watching him all the while and frowning. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t your fault you had so little to go off of and didn’t know where to start. He should’ve specified exactly what he wanted. But instead you say through gritted teeth, “With big murals, I don’t immediately start painting. I plan them out. Today I’ll most likely be thinking and planning.”

It honestly might take you more than a day, considering how unhelpful Lucifer was wording his request.

Lucifer hums, strolling back over to you to pick up your sketchbook and starts flipping through it. You sputter, “Hey!” Before you could even think, you swiped it out of his hand, baring your teeth. “Don’t fucking touch my sketchbook!” You tuck it under your arm and jab a finger in his direction. “If you want to see the concepts I have, you fucking ask first. Do not touch my shit.”

Anger subsiding and realizing what you did and who you said all of that towards, you quickly back off, mind going a mile a minute as to how you can apologize. But before you could even spout out some pathetic apology, Lucifer started chuckling. “You really are as quick-tempered as I’ve heard.” He starts circling around you now, looking you up and down.

In your short time talking to him, he barely spared a glance at you, but now?

Now he was taking in every last detail, interest shining in his eyes—

Hold on a second.

“What?” You watch him circle around you, turning with him. “What are you on about?”

Lucifer stops right in front of you, smacking you on the head with his cane again. Something you were getting really tired of. “You don’t think I don’t know about some of my more interesting darling subjects? I’ve heard plenty about you, Little Cripps.” He takes a step back, taking his hat off briefly to brush of nonexistent dust. “Your paintings, your techniques, and of course, your temper. The latter I found the most amusing.”

You frown. King of Hell or no, you don’t really appreciate being fucked with like this. “You hired me just because I was amusing?”

“Oh, darling of course not!” Lucifer waves his hand. “I hired you because I’ve seen your pieces and found them quite extravagant. I don’t allow just any demon into my home to paint a mural, after all.” His eyes shined with impish glee. “Your amusing temper and attitude was just a bonus.”

You blink once. Twice. Thrice. Slowly it all starts to come to you. Why he was so vague, so unhelpful, and being such a dick right now. “Are you telling me… you gave me practically nothing to work off of and are acting this way… to get a reaction out of me?”

“Yes.” You weren’t expecting such a blunt reply from him, but you really should’ve. “I wanted to see for myself. You have a surprising amount of control, however.”

You clap your hands together, close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Your Majesty… were you anyone else… I would’ve stabbed you in the eyes by this point with my paint brushes…”

“It’s never too late to try,” Lucifer jeers.

“While most sinners have a final deathwish, I don’t.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan. “So are you actually going to be helpful and tell me what the fuck you want me to paint?”

“Little Cripps…” He goes to tap you on the head with his cane again but you grab it.

You lock eyes with him. “I will break this over my knee.”

His smile only grows. “You’ll only end up breaking your knee. But as I was saying…” He effortlessly pulls his cane free and twirls it, constantly almost hitting you in the face. “I did tell you what I wanted.”

You have to take another deep breath, constantly reminding yourself that even if Lucifer is amused by your outbursts, you’re positive he too has a limit to how much back talking he’s willing to take. “Your Majesty… ‘an apple tree mural’ is the vaguest request I’ve ever had in my long long years of being a painter. I need more to go off of.”

Lucifer hums, tossing his cane into the air and catching it in his other hand. “No.” Then he starts walking towards the door, the heels of his boots clicking on the door, not even turning to watch your mouth drop. “You’re a talented little thing. You’ll figure it out! I do hope you start painting soon. Enjoy the artistic freedom I’m granting you, as I don’t do this often!”

“You realize there’s such a thing as too much artistic freedom?” You retort just as he’s halfway out the door.

He tilts his head, thoughtful, humming. “True. But that makes it all the more fun and interesting, doesn’t it?” He smiles at you again, his entire face radiating with a quiet challenge. “I look forward to seeing your progress tomorrow, Little Cripps.”

And the door clicked shut.

[individualapplereviews]

Today's Pink Lady Apple

It was here and gone so fast. I totally forgot to review it.

It was a good looking apple, but a bit greener than I would like.

A little on the hard side. But it tastes good! No complaints.

I rate this apple "satisfactory" on the Not Honeycrisp scale.

[balcony-garden]

[bumpscosity]

Stanley parable oc stuff under the cut bc I just wrote this out last night and I’m just gonna throw it out there

Employee 434/Melrose Cripp

Inspired by a small part of a narrator monologue I heard in an otherwise nonsensical dream: “‘Today’s the day’ she thought to herself. ‘Today’s the day I quit this horrible job. Today is the day I free myself and my life truly begins’. And then she thought the same thing the next day. And the day after that. And the next day after that. This is what Melrose thought to herself every day, of every month, of every year.”

She moves boxes. All day, every day. That is her ONLY job.

She was the main character before Stanley.

The narrator tried and tried to budge her to go on an adventure, to go through either door, even get to the 2 doors room.

But she never even goes thru the 417 hallway, moving the boxes meticulously in the small section of the office that is her jurisdiction.

Narrator slowly starts to break his script, trying to make sure she can hear him at all. she can. She’s very annoyed with him at first but as he slowly abandons his script and instead starts trying to understand her and why she does what she does she warms up to him (though his jokes, puns, and nicknames about her first and last names both being kinds of apples never gets less obnoxious)

As much as she always wanted this change, this chance to escape this horrible job, she’s terrified of it. At least the bad parts here are predictable. she knows what to expect here, who knows what out there, past those doors, is like.

After MANY different tries and angles to try and get her to free herself, The narrator realizes the only way to het her out of her comfort zone was to play a different game….

Melrose started to realize boxes were going missing. This frightened her a little but something about the narrators tone always sounded like he knew where they were.

The Narrator had started taking boxes and hiding them in other areas of the building to try and coax her out of her main office. Sometimes hiding at the bottom of a stairwell, or on a catwalk, sometimes in more dangerous places like the tops of warehouse shelves with just enough of a plywood bridge to get across.

Once her box supply in the main office got dangerously low she started adventuring outwards to look for them, but never really enjoying it, only boxes on her mind.

Once she got a box or two she’d freeze, she was so focused on box-hunting she didn’t even realize she had left the office until her mind was clearer. The narrator had to reset manually every time.

They did this for a LONG while, with her hoping narrator would understand her thought process and narrator hoping she’d get the freedom she deserved needed for a satisfying ending.

Eventually narrator realized she wouldn’t change, she couldn’t, it wasn’t in her nature. He decided she needed a kind retirement.

She was hesitant to go anywhere as usual but he laid her boxes out like breadcrumbs and took her to the memory zone, back then there weren’t too many memories in it but it was still the nice nature-filled landscape and a-frame building we know today.

The narrator had one more surprise for her, a room made just for her, to commemorate her, for her to stay for all of eternity.

It was a pink room. A large, pink, room. With a skylight and beautiful architecture, but most obviously, a large stone apple as a centerpiece.

The longer she stayed in that room the more the room became her, until she didn’t even exist physically anymore.

The narrator always swore he wouldn’t forget her, but of course he did. However, the idea for for the figleys (collectibles hidden in strange places) always felt so familiar…

(Trivia: Because of where her desk is she got a front row seat to The 432 Experiment 🫤)

[calciferstims]

Ok so for a while my hyperfixation/special interest was apples. Yeah I know weird thing to be that into. But did you know that there's about 7,500 different types of apples in the world? Only about a thousand of which are sold commercially. I was determined to try as many as I could, I ended up trying about 20 different kinds I think. Big fan of Cripps Pink aka Pink Lady apples. Ambrosia apples are really good too, they have almost like a bit of a honey flavor. There are a few apples that are pink or red on the inside, the most well know being Pink Pearl apples. I'm still determined to try one of those eventually, though they're hard to find around here.

lmao see that is what I’m TALKING about baby GJSGSHS

I did NOT know that! That is so many apples! I never knew some were pink or red inside omg that’s crazy :O /gen

I live and grew up in an area with a lot of apple orchards and stuff so I’ve always been an apple fan 😌 high key sad that I have not been apple picking in so long I miss it :((

I’m a big fan of the really sweet ones!! :D golden delicious my beloved….