My name is Chelsea. 22, post-collegiate life. My weaknesses include craft beers, bearded men, and the Oxford comma.
Today I learned that Post-Apocalyptic battles turn me on. So there’s a thing.

There is nothing more pleasantly vexing than being called “sexy.”

(Source: postbluebeats)

Go home, you sexy son of a gun.

(Source: lena-urie-leto)

There is something astronomically sexy about a one-man, single-shot music video. Or maybe it’s just something about these two men for me.

(Source: postbluebeats)

That uncomfortable moment when you’re listening to The Maine while studying for your Sociology of Sex midterm and you just want to have sex with John O’Callaghan.

I’m pretty sure Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker is the sexiest awkward outcast superhero there ever was.

I meannnn,

I can’t be the only one addicted to his tendency to repeat his words, his love of skipping from time to time, and his unnatural connection to his skateboard.

Am I right?