f1sHd0h
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Bookmarked by f1sHd0h
30 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH THESE ARE SO GOOOODDDDDD 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🏡
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Dear Mr. Bedard,
I hope this email finds you well! My name is Quentin Musty, and I'm a member of the editorial team at Architectural Digest. We're currently developing an upcoming feature that highlights the homes of individuals who have made an impact in their respective fields, and we would be delighted to include your Chicago residence in this issue.
Your home stood out to our team as an intriguing and thoughtful intersection between personal history and architectural design. We were particularly drawn to the story behind its design and the collaboration between you and architect Fraser Minten. For the feature, we would love to photograph the home and speak with you about the design process and your part in it.
If this is something of interest to you and your team, we would be happy to discuss timing, logistics, and any other questions you may have at your convenience! Thank you for your time, and we look forward to hearing from you.
Warmly,
Quentin Musty
Architectural DigestSeries
- Part 1 of no room in frame for two
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There was a boy who worked at the circulation desk at the library...
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Bookmarked by f1sHd0h
13 Jul 2026
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“Hey—” Connor started, but the greeting died in his throat.
Fraser stood there, framed by the dim hallway light, looking like he had just stepped out of a dream—or a very confusing hallucination. He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and his baseball cap pulled low, but it was the expression on his face that stopped Connor’s heart. It wasn't the exhausted look of a man who had just flown across the country; it was a look of pure, concentrated anticipation.
Connor’s brain simply stalled. He didn't move; he didn't even seem to breathe. He just stood there, hand still gripping the door handle, staring at the physical impossibility of Fraser standing in a Chicago hallway on a random Tuesday in the middle of the season.
Or how Connor and Fraser go from summer reunions to forever
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“No you fucker, I don’t want my boyfriend thinking I’m trying to cheat on him,” Gabe snapped before he could stop himself. The words hung in the humid air between them, sharp as the rusted fishing hooks dangling from the ceiling.
“Your what?” Mack asked, once he regained his abilty to speak.
Gabe groaned, dragging his hands down his face hard enough to leave red streaks. "Forget I said that."
Or when Will locks Mack and Gabe together in an attempt to make them get along Gabe lets a secret slip
Bookmarked by f1sHd0h
06 Jul 2026