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So in the second book, Edward bought himself a motorcycle so he could ride with Bella, but when she has to give it up, Edward says he'll give the motorcycle to Jasper. So, yeah. I drew it. I tried to draw a specific model of motorcycle(Harley-Davidson VRSCA V-Rod, Google said that’s model from books but idk), but, well, I'm hopeless at it. It barely resembles a motorcycle.
And hey, remember, you're not immortal vampires! Wear your helmets!
Alice looks a little too tall, right? I like and hate this second art in this same time xD
Inspiration/Reference note: I want to be fair, I always want to link to the photo I used as a reference, but I usually forget. Here, I need to clearly state my inspiration. As I mentioned, I can't draw motorcycles, and to draw these here, I needed a little help. The reference for the first art was this fanart. I should point out right away that THIS IS NOT tracing. I drew based on the original. I want to be fair to the original artist, but I haven't been able to find the original source for this fanart. I hope that's okay, but if you have a different opinion, I will respect that and remove this drawing.
The inspiration for the second drawing was this photo.
An exchange student heads to Forks for the year as part of her school’s cultural immersion program. She doesn’t realise what kind of immersion she’s in for when she’s matched with the Cullen family.
If I close my eyes, I can still smell the rain on the runway — the sharp, metallic scent of wet concrete, the heavy sigh of jet engines, the muffled announcements echoing through the terminal.
It was the seventh of September and my hometown had been gray that morning — the kind of gray that pressed down on your shoulders. My mother hugged me like she was trying to anchor me to the ground before I slipped away entirely. Dad said something about how proud he was, but his voice cracked halfway through it. And then there was just me, my overstuffed rucksack, and a ticket that said Seattle–Tacoma International Airport.
It didn’t feel real until I was already in the air.
The flight stretched forever. Hours over the Atlantic, the window beside me a shifting mirror of cloud and night. I watched the light fade and return again as we crossed time zones — half-asleep, half-numb, headphones silent because I couldn’t seem to settle on a song that matched the hollow rhythm of my pulse. Somewhere over Canada, I thought about what it would be like to start over in a place where no one knew my name, where the air smelled like pine instead of petrol.
I told myself it would be good. A reset.
When the plane began its descent into Seattle, the world outside had turned into a watercolor — blurred grays and muted greens, clouds hanging low enough to touch. The captain said it was fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, which meant cold. I pressed my forehead to the window as we dipped beneath the cloud line. Everything below shimmered with rain.
Seattle–Tacoma Airport smelled like coffee and wet wool. The crowds moved too quickly, voices echoing in that strange, hollow way big terminals always have. I retrieved my single checked bag from the carousel and followed the signs toward ground transportation. The exchange program had arranged a driver to take me to Forks — three, maybe four hours away, depending on the weather.
The driver’s name was Tom, and he looked like he’d been born tired. “You the one headed to Forks?” he asked, squinting through the drizzle.
“That’s me,” I said, trying not to sound nervous.
He nodded toward the door. “Better hope you like rain.”
⸻
The drive was quiet, except for the hum of the tires and the steady percussion of raindrops against the roof. The further we went, the narrower the roads became. The city melted away into forests — endless rows of Douglas firs and western red cedars, their trunks slick with moss. Every now and then, the fog would lift enough to show a flash of something beautiful — a river curling like silver between the trees, the distant shadow of mountains.
It should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like driving into another world — one that didn’t particularly care whether I belonged there.
“Not much happens in Forks,” Tom said after a while, as if reading my thoughts. “Quiet little town. Good people. Bit odd sometimes, but harmless.”
“Odd how?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Small-town kind of odd. You’ll see.”
It was nearly dusk when the road began to twist more sharply, the light dimming from gray to blue. My phone had lost signal an hour ago. Every so often, I’d catch the reflection of my own face in the window — pale and uncertain, framed by the blur of trees.
When we finally turned onto a gravel drive and the headlights swept across a stretch of modern glass and pale wood, I actually thought we were lost.
“This it?” Tom muttered, double-checking the address.
It was.
The house didn’t belong to the world around it — it rose from the forest like something out of a photograph, glowing faintly from within. Tall windows reflected the last traces of daylight, and for a moment, I could see my own small figure in the glass — a pale ghost with rain in her hair.
Tom helped me with my suitcase, then climbed back into his car with a brief nod. “Good luck, kid.”
And then he was gone, tires hissing down the drive until even that sound disappeared.
For a second, I just stood there in the damp quiet, my breath a visible puff in the cold air. It smelled like cedar and wet earth and something faintly sweet, almost electric.
The door opened before I could knock.
⸻
Dr. Carlisle Cullen stepped into the light spilling from the house. He was tall, graceful in that effortless way that made me immediately aware of my own clumsiness. His smile was warm — too warm for the temperature outside — and his eyes were a color I couldn’t quite place. Gold, maybe. Honey.
“Y/N,” he said, and my name in his voice sounded like he’d practiced saying it. “Welcome to Forks.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to shiver. “Sorry, my flight got in a bit late.”
“No trouble at all.” His voice was soft, measured. “Come in. You must be freezing.”
The warmth of the house hit me first — not from a fire, but from the faint scent of wood and something floral, familiar but distant. The interior was open and light, despite the hour. Everything gleamed: polished floors, tall shelves of books, walls of glass that looked out onto the forest beyond.
Esme appeared from somewhere deeper in the house, her smile gentle and luminous. “Oh, Y/N, you must be exhausted. Let’s get you settled in. Carlisle’s been very excited to meet you.”
“More than excited,” he said lightly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made the whole moment feel strangely normal — domestic, even.
Then the others appeared.
Rosalie came first — impossibly beautiful, the kind of beauty that made you forget how to speak. Her blonde hair caught the light like spun gold, and her eyes were sharp, assessing. She gave a polite nod, nothing more.
Emmett followed, broad-shouldered and grinning. “Hey, new kid. Brave of you to move to Forks. Hope you like rain.”
Jasper hung back near the stairs, his gaze flicking toward me and away again, posture tight like he was holding himself perfectly still.
Alice appeared next — all energy and brightness, her dark hair framing her heart-shaped face. She practically bounced forward and took my hand before I could react. “You’re even better in person!” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
Her hand was cool — startlingly so — but her smile made it hard to care.
And then there was Edward.
He stood a little apart from the others, half in shadow. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes — that same molten gold — lingered on me like he was trying to figure out what I was. His presence was quiet but heavy, a kind of gravity that pulled the air tighter.
“Hello,” he said softly.
It shouldn’t have felt like a question. But it did.
“Hi,” I managed. “You must be Edward.”
His lips curved slightly. “I must be.”
Alice nudged him playfully as she took my bag. “Don’t let him scare you. He just likes to look mysterious.”
“I don’t try to,” Edward murmured, but his gaze never left me.
⸻
Dinner was mostly for show. Esme insisted on feeding me — pasta, bread, salad — though none of them ate. They just sat with me, talking easily, as if pretending it was the most natural thing in the world. The air felt strange, charged, though I couldn’t say why. Maybe it was jet lag, or maybe it was just that I couldn’t quite believe people could look like this — perfect, polished, untouched by the same cold that numbed my fingers.
When I asked if they weren’t hungry, Esme only smiled. “We already ate, dear. But we didn’t want you to feel alone.”
It was a kind answer, but it made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
After dinner, Alice led me upstairs. “You’ll love your room,” she said, practically glowing. “It’s the best view in the house.”
The room was beautiful — soft green walls, pale wood furniture, a window that overlooked the forest. Beyond the glass, the trees swayed in the wind like slow-moving shadows. “It’s perfect,” I said, setting my bag down. “Thank you.”
Alice grinned, eyes sparkling. “You’ll fit right in.”
I laughed under my breath. “Not likely.”
“You’d be surprised,” she said, and with that, she disappeared down the hall.
⸻
Later, when I was alone, I sat by the window and watched the rain start again — gentle, persistent, threading silver lines across the glass. The forest outside glowed faintly under the porch light, endless and quiet. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard the faint notes of a piano — slow, haunting, beautiful.
When I finally crawled into bed, the music lingered.
By the time I woke, dawn had just begun to thin the darkness. The world outside was blue and still, the kind of stillness that makes you hold your breath. I got up, pushed aside the curtain — and froze.
At the edge of the forest, half-shrouded in mist, stood Edward Cullen.
He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t even looking at me, not at first. But the light caught his skin in a way that didn’t look human — too smooth, too pale. My breath fogged the glass, and that small movement was enough.
He turned. His eyes found mine.
For a moment, the world held still — the rain, the trees, my heartbeat.
And then, as suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone.
જ⁀➴ Fics
'Exchange '(Edward Cullen x Exchange Student! reader)
A sharp-witted student heads to Forks, WA, for the year as part of her school’s cultural exchange program. She doesn’t realise what kind of immersion she’s in for when she’s matched with the Cullen family.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
જ⁀➴ Imagines
Poly!Cullens
Halloween (Cullens x Reader)
Poly!Alice & Jasper
Nightmare (Jasper & Alice x Human! Reader)
Carlise Cullen
Fake Relationship (Carlisle x Human! Reader)
Poly!Carlisle & Esme
School Stress (Carlisle & Esme x Human! reader)
જ⁀➴ Headcanons
Various
Modern! Edward at College
Poly! Cullens Nursing a Sick! reader
Dating Poly! Cullens 🔥
Reuniting with Carlisle
Being Poly! Emmett & Rosalie’s Third
Being Poly! Carlisle & Esme’s Third🔥🔥
Being Yandere! Jasper & Alice’s Third
Zealandia was once part of the ancient supercontinent Gondwana. GNS Science says it later broke away, moved north, and thinned, which helped leave most of it underwater today.
Dragonfly nymphs can be powerful mosquito hunters underwater. One scientific review found that a single dragonfly or damselfly naiad ate about 40 mosquito larvae per day on average in experimental containers.
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izzy806
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