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Writes. Professes. Edits.
TRossi (she/her)








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Can’t say enough about this gorgeous story!
What would happen if you dreamed a new life and moved away from the old? Find out —read “Something,” @nickdmytrow.bsky.social ‘s first published work of fiction!
Lessons in how to love another, rendered exquisitely by Joseph Randolph.
Empathy is at the heart of this devastating flash from N. D. Stone.
In a different world, our feed would be full of art and beauty, like @kplumhoff.bsky.social ‘s illuminating spark. Read it and catch the light!
Let good literature mold your mind. Start here:
“*You’re funny*, said Beatrice. Her ex-boyfriend was dull and didn’t like to joke. *You’re beautiful*, said the ant. *Like a flower.*” @noramaynard.bsky.social in @variantlit.bsky.social variantlit.com/the-peony-ant/
“A bottle slides just enough to break the pattern when his sleeve catches it, and he stills it with two fingers like it is fragile, like it contains the part of his brother that might still be reachable." from Micro Series by Joseph Randolph variantlit.com/micro-joseph...
Huge congratulations Ben Kline! It Was Never Supposed To Be is the 2026 Lambda Literary Award Winner for Gay Poetry!! @benkline.bsky.social
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Visit the post for more.
variantlit.com
The Peony Ant
Visit the post for more.
Micro Series
variantlit.com
TRossi (she/her)
TRossi (she/her)
TRossi (she/her)
TRossi (she/her)
TRossi (she/her)
TRossi (she/her)
Pat Foran
“A bottle slides just enough to break the pattern when his sleeve catches it, and he stills it with two fingers like it is fragile, like it contains the part of his brother that might still be reachable." from Micro Series by Joseph Randolph variantlit.com/micro-joseph...
Variant Literature
Variant Literature
"Around town, they called the factory Mother. Mother had a hundred divisions. Sometimes, when Yvette came home after a shift, her breath smelled like metal. Smelled like the opaque white plumes from the incinerators and the agitating spaces." Read "Exposure" by David Ryan variantlit.com/exposure/
“They’re Irish, the others…. They pull up quietly, disrobe, and walk the sloped path right into the ocean…. Like stepping into their showers, they do this. He’s not sure if that makes them more crazy or less.” Read all of “Something” by @nickdmytrow.bsky.social in @variantlit.bsky.social Issue 23.
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