Fletcher Scully

Words cannot express how joyously overwhelmed I am by the reception to my last post. Thank you so much for all the kind words and excitement surrounding GOOD BOY. All of the EOIs and self-tapes have been incredible — keep them coming. I can’t wait to get this series *on its feet* very soon. I’ve never thought of myself as much of an influencer but let’s see if we can get this post or the OG post to 100k views! The more eyes on it, the more donations and the more donations, the better this show will be (and it’s already pretty good if I do say so myself). Next step: call-back auditions and crew interviews. Then… well, you’ll just have to be a good boy (or girl or person) and wait to see ;) GOOD BOY is supported through the Australian Cultural Fund @ausculturalfund . Every donation over $2 is tax-deductible (within Australia). #makingculturehappen 📸 @abrahamdesouza

GOOD BOY Coming soon… 📸 @abrahamdesouza Cast + Crew EOIs are encouraged from individuals of all backgrounds, regardless of gender identity, race, ethnicity, age (18+), religion, sexual orientation, ability, etc. More info is on the way but if I can make the process more accessible for you, please feel free to reach out. Filming TBC June/July, subject to key creatives’ availability. Link in bio to apply.

When I was a kid, I had 2 dreams: to be famous and to fall in love (in that order). Last week, backstage at the State Theatre Centre of WA, I had a bit of a pinch-me moment. After warming up in my dressing room, I walked into the dimly-lit wings and had a peek out at the soon-to-be-filled seats. The dream was no longer a reality. By no means am I famous—but even seeing my face on a poster on the street was enough to satisfy the inner child who dreamt of my name in lights. And while falling in love didn’t exactly go to plan, it somehow led me here. Back to the stage. I still have the same dreams. My heart still beats the same. It beats even stronger because of my divas, who held me through all of this. From Tokyo to Kamakura to Sydney to Perth. Big love to all who came + supported! I’ll see you on the next stage <3 STOP THE HEART @fringeworldperth Director @lauragoodlets Playwright/Performer/Producer @fletcherscully Dramaturg / Stage Manager @sam._.rumpel Lighting Designer @matt_erren Photography @franklinphotography_ Venue @statetheatrecentre

STOP THE HEART 🗓️ 21-25 January 2026 📍 Studio Underground, State Theatre Centre 🎟️ Link in bio After a successful debut at Sydney Fringe Festival, we’re back for round 2 with @fringeworldperth . Girls… do I have a story for you… expect bigger raves, sexier scenes and even more Lady Gaga memes. Don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love… with a Trump supporter?! This Japan-set love affair questions the politics of pleasure and ethics of loving someone with misaligning values. Winner: Fringe World Tour Ready Award Nominee: Best Emerging Artist This work was supported by the @atyp_theatre Peer 2 Pier program with free development space. Writer/Performer/Producer @fletcherscully Director @lauragoodlets Dramaturg @sam._.rumpel Get your tickets now! .au/whats-on/stop-the-heart-fw2026

Almost two years ago, a psychic told me I would fall in love at the start of 2025. In January, I went to Japan and fell in love… with a Trump supporter. “Don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love,” as Ethel sings. To process the relationship, I wrote a play. I have this terrible habit of searching for love in every room I walk in. To quote my fellow Aussie twink, Troye Sivan, “I see love in every space. I see sex in every city, every town.” Being a hopeful romantic is a burden I take very seriously. When I was sixteen, I wrote a poem about how I wish I could take out the batteries inside my heart. I never expected my hopeful romanticism to lead me to a politically charged love affair akin to Romeo + Juliet. I couldn’t stop the heart. When I said goodbye to this man in Japan, I wrote him an abridged version of the poem. The poem that inspired this play. Stop the Heart is a labour of love. It comes from the beating hearts of three brilliant beings (@lauragoodlets , @sam._.rumpel + I). A boy playing with his girls (gender neutral) to create something joyous. I do it all for my girls; some who I’ve known forever, some I only know for a day. The divas who held me up on drunken walks in Shibuya, who listen to me sob about boys over the phone, who send me Carrie Bradshaw TikToks with the caption “you.” The girls who remind me that my life is filled with love, even when men let me down. Because that’s what I realised after it all. That I could sacrifice my morals when it only impacted me—but that’s not the world we live in. We’re in this together. And my girls hold me even when I feel like wet rubbish. I would do anything for them. I can’t love someone who wouldn’t do the same. STOP THE HEART Playwright / Producer / Performer @fletcherscully Director @lauragoodlets Dramaturg @sam._.rumpel Technician @daniel.story_ Venue @qtopia_sydney Presented with @sydneyfringe Peer 2 Pier Residency @atyp_theatre Production Stills by @gloomyquinn26 Marketing Model / Extra @finnhg_ Production Assistant @xxabbienorris

I’m sitting in the sun, writing. But it’s not the same as when I was sitting in the sun, writing, last week. My phone rests between my fingers instead of abandoned in my room. There’s no new friends to laugh with, just old habits. I’ll kill them off one day. @atyp_theatre National Studio reminded me that I am an artist. Albeit emerging, still an artist. My youth does not discredit my practice. Because at the end of the day, I’m not too different from the teen I was. I used to cringe at the old YouTube videos I made or when reading old journals. But now, I look back and see an artist in development. He always had a clear vision and executed it exactly how he wanted. He experimented with form and style. And he had fun doing it. A lot of fun. My heart still pangs and flutters the same as when I was seventeen. I still pick at pimples and have nervous breakdowns like my fourteen year old self. I still find Riverdale the epitome of camp and quote Nicole Kidman’s Oscar-winning performance in The Hours weekly. I’m forever grateful to the fellow artists I met at Bundanon. Who let me do untrained tarot readings and host (slightly more trained) mafia games and read out their wonderful plays. And a huge thank you to the mentors for taking me seriously as an artist. For treating us as yellamundie, as the storytellers we are. How lucky we are to have shared the story of last week with each other <3

I came out five years ago today. I told @xxabbienorris in Debbie, my first car. “I finally get to talk about boys!” But coming out was never about the boys I would go onto kiss and date and love. It was only ever about one boy. The boy who wrote letters to his tooth fairy. The boy who ordered the “girl toy” with his happy meal. The boy who dressed as Ursula for Halloween. The boy who imagined reality TV level storylines for his Littlest Pet Shops. The boy who was bullied for being gay before he’d ever heard the word. The boy who wrote smutty poems and love letters and hid them under his bed. The boy who stared at the guy in every sex scene. The boy who snuck into the girls’ bathroom to listen to ‘Sweetener’ for the first time with his friends. The boy who has now kissed a few princes and frogs. The boy who openly, loudly fawns over @omar.apollo (dm me anytime, babe). The boy who still plays pretend and imagines—for a living now. The boy who still goes to sleep in the “God is a Woman” jumper he got after the release of ‘Sweetener.’ The cuffs and neckline are stretched out now, the colours faded. But the boy is still the same—no matter how much he’s changed. I still do it all for him <333 Thanks to the girls who played Littlest Pet Shop with me and snuck me into the bathroom to listen to Ariana Grande. To the woman who sewed that Ursula costume—and every costume after that. To the man who stood next to me in the Omar Apollo mosh pit last year. We used to play a game we called “Anything You Want.” And that’s why I feel free to be exactly that now. Happy pride month. Go do something gay tonight.

Don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love… STOP THE HEART By Fletcher Scully @sydneyfringe Queer Hub @qtopia_sydney The Substation September 2nd-6th, 6pm Writer/Performer/Producer @fletcherscully Director @lauragoodlets Dramaturg @sam._.rumpel Photographer/Videographer @lauragoodlets Model/Editor @fletcherscully Model/Extra @finnhg_ Production Assistant @xxabbienorris Tickets out now. Link in bio. /events/stop-the-heart/ More info at fletcherscully.com #theatre #gay #mlm #sydney #sydneyfringefestival

The girls all say I’m cute but I shirk them off with a wholesome grin and shrug of the shoulders. They don’t know the outfit I’ve worn for four days in a row sticks to my body the same way the blood from a bitten tongue stains my teeth. I wear a shade of green I wish was cleaner, my teeth stain a red I wish was wine. Wagging class and wagging my tail like a dog. “The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.” “Don’t you want to judge me; even just a little bit?” I ask, with my eyes, to the businesswoman working on the train while I type this, one-handed, on my phone. Bloodshot eyes, smoky bars, stained sheets. The desperation of a hand, outstretched, turned into a playful shove. Another stick and poke tattoo. Messages from my school friends left unread, unreplied to until I have wifi again. Or at least that’s my excuse while I’m travelling. Early mornings in Shinjuku preceding late nights in Kamakura. My signature—a scratched digi cam in my pocket. We scream, “No sleep. Bus. Club. Another club.” And fall on the floor, wide mouthed from laughter. I miss my girls back home. I do it all for them. We’ll make stories together someday but for now it’s texts in different time zones and long gossipy brunches when we can. “一期一会,” I repeat to myself. 一期一会

‘Bout time for new headshots. Glad I took the fedora off ten years later. Although I don’t still have the braces unseen in the last shot, I’d like to think I still have the attitude. Captured brilliantly thanks to the wonderful @katesyourmate 📸

I’ve never been the last to leave the party. I’d leave Christmas lunches early to beat traffic and girls’ birthday parties because boys weren’t allowed to sleep over. I never really wanted to be the last to leave either—as a teen, I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than cleaning up empty cans and vomit in the early hours. Now, I feel like I’m being dragged away from a playdate, wanting it to last forever. The past three years have been tough. I won’t go into the details of my depression and the perils of growing up, the loneliness of leaving everything I’ve ever known. It felt like I was starting from scratch. Now, my canvas is full and I’ve had many artists add to it along the way. A fancy philosopher once said something like, “Life cannot be done alone, true living is done with friends.” How lucky I am to have made so many these past three years. I could write a novel about all the in-jokes and memories our cohort has made but it wouldn’t do us justice. No one else would understand the backflips or breaking constraints, the bog or medicine, Park King drive or the Floscars. Three years ago, after I’d dropped off my luggage at Sydney airport, said a sniffly goodbye to my parents and stepped through security, I looked around the terminal—bright-eyed, opened my notes app and typed, “It feels like my entire life I’ve been swimming in a kiddie-pool—and now that pool is the size of the ocean.” I didn’t think it possible but the ocean just got bigger. After grad, I was sleepier than I’d ever been. I wanted to stay longer, be the last to leave. I faded into the sides of the couch, telling myself, “I’m awake,” like a child drifting off in front of the TV past their bedtime. I was picked up and placed in the arms of a higher being, telling me it’s alright. It’s time to go home. In a week, I’ll be the first to leave the party. I’ve been taught to let go lightly but I don’t want it to end. Here’s to the past three years and to keeping the party going. Don’t let the group chats die! Know you have a room in my heart and that I’m eternally kissing you on the cheek. Keep making art and memories and whoever is the last to leave, give me a call if you need help cleaning up ❤️

TILT: Cowboys & Indians I’m often surprised that there’s no Gemini in my birth chart. Half of it is fire—the other half, water. I love swimming in the ocean but am terrified of sea creatures. I don’t think I’m really all that funny yet I make myself laugh every day. I can’t tell if I talk too much or too little—I gossip too much for someone who claims to be kind. I worry I’m not attractive but dance like I’m the hottest guy in the room. I’m a walking paradox, a drunkenly swinging pendulum. The cowboys and Indians never fought—this was just another myth made up by Hollywood. How do I define my heritage if I’m both colonised and coloniser? Native to one land but living on another? I don’t have all the answers. I’m still at the beginning of my journey down the river. What’s that saying about the journey and the destination? But what I’ve learned so far, through asking plenty of questions, is that it’s better to be you than to be like everyone else. Even if it is a bit more complicated. Identity is rarely black or white—it’s braided. Multiple truths can coexist… Confused and confident and comedic and melancholic and lover and fighter and invader and invaded and cowboy and Indian. A huge group hug to my fellow devisers—thanks for joining me on our journey down the river. Maybe the real cowboys and Indians were the friends we made along the way. Director: @shontaee_ Movement/Sound/Performer: @_kurtisbrown Costume/Performer: @_tiahnajohnson Set/Performer: @cthulhu_sleeps Performer: @rueben.mongoo Lighting: @jolenewhibley 📸 @stephenheathphotography 💙 @theblueroomtheatre In honour of Mother. May I meet you on the other side and hear your story.