Disclaimer: I don't think it matters if I have one of these or not for a fairytale story, but for the record, I don't own Beauty and the Beast, or Cinderella. ;) Or any of the other fairytales I might put in . . . But it'll probably just be Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella.
A/N: This is my first fairytale and my first story with chapters. I don't know how this will go; it might be terrible . . . But hopefully not! Anyway, let me know what you think! Also, in all honesty, I don't care how long I've had something up and someone wants to review. Even if it's been four months, I don't mind if you review. I promise not to think any less of you! ;) Don't be scared! I want to know what everybody thinks - good, bad, or in between!
About the story: I'm not going to summarize anymore, 'cause that would just give stuff away, but I will say this: 1) The story is set modern times. 2) I'll be using the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast, since I personally like it better. 3) This will have more Beauty and the Beast in it than Cinderella. I just thought I should mention that. 4) The story won't be based off Beauty and the Beast/Cinderella, but rather my own story with Beauty and the Beast/Cinderella details put in. To anybody that knows the movies, a lot of the details I put in should be fairly obvious and recognizable. *Takes a deep breath* I'm long-winded today.
P.S.: She's supposed to sound conceited, though not mean. I dunno how well it went . . .
*Amaryllis*

Beauty is a Beast
Meeting Acelynn Abrielle Blanche

My name is Acelynn Abrielle Blanche. I'm French, but after my parents divorced and Papa got remarried, we moved to the United States. I'm fluent in both French and English. My mère, mother, got remarried as well, but she lives in France, so I visit on long holidays, like Christmas.

My parents and my stepsister's parents divorced at such a close time to each other that my sister and I were born just two weeks apart. Vella was born on February first; I was born on February fourteenth. Maybe that's why I'm so beautiful. I was born on the holiday of love.

Anyway, back to my name. 'Acelynn' is the American part, meaning 'Beautiful one'. My middle name is French. 'Abrielle' means 'God is my strength'. My family is religious. I take it seriously, and I know it's important. And, in all honesty, what name could suit me better? 'Blanche', my last name, just means 'White'. My stepsister's name is Vella Ophelie Blanche.

Once remarried, Estee, my stepmother, had her last name completely changed, no hyphens or anything. My father had custody of me, and my stepmother of Vella, so we ended up together. So my sister and I are both Blanche's.

'Vella', the American half of Vella Ophelie, means 'Beautiful'. 'Ophelie', my sister's French middle name, means 'helper'. Beautiful helper. If anything, Vella's name suits her better than mine. Almost. Now, Vella is pretty. But not drop-dead-gorgeous, as I am. She has kind of a classic look, with dark ebony curls that go almost to her waist, and large, bright blue eyes. She has skin that's even paler than mine, but in a luminescent sort of way. My sister, though, doesn't have a single freckle, unlike myself. Her face is sweet, and she's very petite. Vella is only about five foot.

No matter how much I love Vella, she's just a bit prettier than average - nothing like me. But she's a wonderful person. She can read a recipe for the first time, memorize it, and cook it perfectly. In one go. Vella is, hands down, the nicest person that anybody could ever meet. She and I volunteer at the soup kitchen. Vella organizes all sorts of charity events, all the time. Maybe she should take my middle name as a second one. Because Vella never loses her cool. Always nice to the poor people. To the whiny kids I can't stand in church. She is patient, almost to a fault. All that strength has to come from somewhere. In a different sense, she's just as perfect as I am. She's sweet, and rather quiet, though not timid. Vella just prefers silence. Now, she's the brain of the family. Vella always has some sort of nonfiction book, takes AP college courses, and has rectangular glasses she puts on to read. Suffice it to say, Vella usually has glasses on. But they contribute to her appearance. If I put on anything besides sunglasses, I'd be demoted from 'I'd-kill-to-look-half-as-good-as-you', to 'Oh, wow. Are you a model?'

But I'd still look great!

I sigh contently and push back my quilts. I had been having a really great dream. My boyfriend had proposed to me. His name is Arty, but he prefers 'Aries'. That's his stage name. He's a rising actor.

In my dream, he'd proposed near a frozen lake. It was night and snow was falling . . . Stars were twinkling . . . It had been so romantic. But that's how I knew it wasn't real. Arty isn't a romantic. Not even on my birthday, Valentine's Day. Oh, well. Sometimes there have to be negotiations, right?

It's early, around eight-thirty. Well, for a Saturday it's early. But this doesn't bother me; I love to wake up early. On weekdays, I wake up at seven sharp, and I don't even need to get up until at least nine. Either way, it's not like I need the beauty sleep.

It's perfectly true, too. I'm just one of those people - naturally graceful and effortlessly flawless. I am alluring and angelic, exquisitely so. I am also quite intelligent. Not like Vella, really, but smart enough. The list goes on in the ways I am perfect. Ha! Not even the word perfect can describe how purely utopian I am.

I have gorgeous dead-straight chestnut colored hair. It's easy to style, never frizzes, and isn't ever dry or greasy. My eyes are a bright, sparkling green, and my skin is silky smooth and clear, except for a cute dusting of freckles across my nose and along my cheekbones. Said cheekbones were a perfect size, not too prominent for my face, or too small as to be nonexistent. I'm five foot three and a half, not too tall, and not too short. I have a decidedly wonderful weight. Yes, not too skinny (Anorexia is so not healthy) and not too large (Over eating isn't healthy, either).

Now, I suppose you could look at all this "not too this, not too that" business as me extraordinarily embellishing my appearance. Or me being average. But I'm not. When I walk down the street, boys stare at my unreal perfection. Girls seethe in jealousy. Even men forty years old, twice my age, unashamedly watch me as I flow gracefully from one step to the next. Cars nearly crash, since the drivers are looking at me (now, I do feel a bit guilty about those. But it's not my fault I'm unworldly!). Everyone thinks I am angel come down from above.

And I couldn't agree more.

No, I'm not an angel.Though people have a hard time believing that. And maybe cars don't almost crash, but people really do stare. I'm not delusional – I look like an airbrushed super-model that walked off the cover of a magazine.

Maybe it's because I'm a health-nut. I probably have a healthy glow or something. I eat balanced meals, exercise – the whole package. I am the 'entire package!'

And I come wrapped in gold foil, with a neat little bow on top.

A/N2: Was it confusing? I don't know exactly when I'll update again, since it depends on my schedule. Probably sometime in the next week Chapter 2 will be up. This was pretty much just an intro, so I'm sorry there wasn't much that was all that interesting to read. In the next chapter you'll learn more about Acelynn's stepmother, father, and maybe her boyfriend and her other best friend. It'll be more clear later, but Vella and Acelynn are very close, and she, Vella, and her other best friend are a close-knit group. It's sort of like the 'Golden Trio' relationship, if you're into Harry Potter (Hint, hint). Please review! ;)

*TheAmaryllisBlossom*

31st October 2011