Let me guess—you thought the armor was for intimidation? Nah, babe. It’s for flair. You don’t strut into a con half-armored and belly-first unless you’ve got the thighs to carry it and the attitude to back it up.

Name’s Viera, but you can call me Vee. Born and raised in Elgin, Oregon—a blink-and-you-miss-it kinda place tucked into the Blue Mountains. Timber town, tiny school, cold winters, and nothing much but logging stories and long-ass roads. I got out the first chance I could… and then came back when I realized there’s no better place to set up a cosplay studio without your neighbors judging your measurements.

Yeah, I cosplay. A lot. Knights. Queens. Demons. Space bounty hunters. Fantasy warriors with chainmail bikinis three sizes too small and no backstory. And yes, this belly? It comes with me to every shoot, every con, every damn panel. If a seam pops, that’s a feature. If a breastplate rides up, it’s just giving the gut room to breathe.

You think I care if my armor creaks when I pose? Hell no. I like the noise. I like when people stop and stare—not ‘cause I’m slim or sculpted, but because I roll into frame with a soft dome under polished steel and own it.

I’m not here to play dainty. I’m here to crush boots under my hips and swing foam swords with enough jiggle to rattle a camera crew.