**PLEASE DO NOT SUBMIT AGAIN IF ALREADY HAVE SELF-TAPED FOR THIS ROLE/PROJECT Caucasian/Female. (15) Tone: Spoiled, emotional, reactive, not malicious but immature. Raised in comfort and unaware of her father’s sacrifices, Sophia sees Julian as the provider she never felt Nathan was. She speaks before thinking, often hurting Nathan without understanding the damage. A near-tragedy forces her to confront how deeply she relied on her father’s invisible care. Performance notes: Strong emotional swings—brattiness, entitlement, vulnerability, and eventual self-awareness.

(Female, Late 20s–30s) (ANY ETHNICITY – wheelchair user preferred) Poised, sharp, and quietly unyielding. Maddie has spent years navigating a world that treats her presence as an inconvenience. She arrives at the restaurant simply wanting lunch—but when she’s subtly pushed aside and openly discriminated against, she refuses to disappear quietly. She fights not with shouting, but with composure, intelligence, and devastating calm. Across the series, Maddie evolves from patient diner to someone who allows the camera—and the world—to witness what usually happens in silence. Wardrobe: Clean, casual-chic daywear. Polished but comfortable. One subtle statement piece (bold lip, jewelry, etc.) that hints at her inner fire. Screen Time: Full (central POV) Performance Arc: Polite guest ? targeted by micro-aggressions ? victim of blatant discrimination ? strategic decision to let the moment go public ? emotionally tired, but respected and empowered. Special Skills: Comfort performing in a manual wheelchair. Priority given to actors with lived disability experience. Must handle tight blocking and extreme close-ups naturally.

(Female, Late 20s–30s, Any Ethnicity) Icy, polished, and image-obsessed, Lauren believes “high-end” means “highly exclusive.” She equates worth with money, clothes, and optics, and she’s terrified of the restaurant failing. She thinks “protecting the brand” justifies everything—from ignoring Maddie at the door to calling disabled guests “bad for the vibe.” Across the series, she unravels from composed gatekeeper to someone watching her own cruelty go viral. Wardrobe: Razor-sharp FOH look—sleek blazer, fitted blouse or shell, tailored pants or pencil skirt, heels or polished flats. Hair neatly styled, makeup precise, on-trend jewelry. Reads as “aspirational manager” who thinks her appearance proves she’s right. Screen Time: Heavy Performance Arc: Starts as a calm, slightly condescending professional hiding behind “policy” ? escalates into open micro-aggressions and slurs once she feels cornered ? tries to physically push Maddie out, insisting she’s “protecting the experience” ? panics as she realizes the teen has the whole thing on video and that Serena is DISHIN ? ends exposed, fired, and staring at a DM with the full unedited clip, understanding nothing will disappear. Key Scene Moments: Ignoring Maddie at the stand; the first eye-roll and fake “we’re fully booked.” Weaponizing “standards” and “aesthetic” in code words that turn explicit. Under-her-breath line about “people like you” and “welfare cases” that the camera catches. Grabbing the wheelchair handles and being called out in front of the room. Realization beat when she Googles Maddie and realizes she targeted someone with a platform. Required Range: Needs to embody entitlement and fear in a way that feels real, not cartoonish. Strong command of tiny beats: the glance to see who’s watching, the moment she realizes she’s on video, the shift from confidence to scrambling. Must be able to flip between “guest voice” and private venom in a single breath. Comfortable playing unlikeable without winking at the audience. Special Skills: Comfort working in close proximity to a wheelchair performer (with care and consent), including placing hands on handles as scripted. Must be precise with overlapping dialogue and subtle shifts for tight vertical shots.

(Female, Late 20s–30s, Any Ethnicity) Lana is a survivor who did the unthinkable to protect her child: she left him in the system to get them both away from an abusive partner, then spent years rebuilding her life so she could safely bring him home. She carries guilt and stigma, but underneath is steel. She doesn’t scream; she explains, even when her voice shakes. Her love is steady, humble, and fiercely protective. Wardrobe: Thrifted-but-clean clothes—simple blouse or T-shirt, cardigan or light jacket, jeans or work pants. Could read as someone who works retail, service, or entry-level professional. Nothing flashy, but intentional. Screen Time: Moderate–Heavy Performance Arc: Begins watching from across the restaurant, too scared to approach ? steps in when she hears Jenna rewrite the story of “abandonment” ? calmly lays out why she left and how long she’s been fighting to come back ? intentionally steps back during the choice, refusing to guilt Owen ? ends holding her son as he chooses her, promising a life where he’s never a paycheck again. Key Scene Moments: Sitting alone with her phone, staring at old photos and the caseworker’s text. Saying Owen’s name and freezing when he finally recognizes her. Explaining the abuse and escape in a few, raw lines. “You don’t owe me anything…I’ll love you no matter what you decide.” Final walkout and stinger booth scene, where she quietly watches Owen take his first bite of cake that’s truly his. Required Range: Grounded, emotional, and controlled. Needs to convey years of regret and love in very few words—often through eyes and breath rather than big speeches. Must be able to cry or sit on the edge of tears without losing clarity. Strong listening partner for the child actor and Miss Jenna, anchoring the story’s emotional truth. Special Skills: Comfort playing emotionally heavy scenes opposite a child; able to sustain prolonged hugs and physical closeness on camera.

(Female, 30s–40s, Any Ethnicity) Miss Jenna treats foster care like a side hustle and Owen like an account balance. She can flip from sugary, Instagram-mom sweetness with her bio daughter to ice-cold contempt for Owen in a single breath. She’s obsessed with appearances—her nails, her clothes, her “good mom” image—and terrified of losing the foster checks that pad her life. Underneath the polish is raw entitlement and desperation. Wardrobe: Try-hard “put together”—trendy blouse, fitted jeans or skirt, statement nails, big lashes, jewelry that reads a little “too much” for a casual lunch. She looks like she wants everyone to see how well she’s doing. Screen Time: Heavy Performance Arc: Starts as controlling but “nice” foster mom, doling out dessert and phones to her daughter while denying Owen crumbs ? escalates into emotional abuse (“you’re a meal ticket,” “no one wants you”) ? cycles through victimhood, rage, charm, and bargaining as the contract disappears ? cracks completely in the final episode, grabbing Owen and blurting that she’ll “just get another one,” then realizing how monstrous that sounds. Key Scene Moments: Slapping Owen’s hand away from the sundae while cooing at Sutton. The “my meal ticket, not here to eat my money” line landing. Flipping personas: sweet to others, vicious in a whisper to Owen, then syrupy again for Ms. Carter. Screaming that she “needs” his income, not him, as a person. The “I’ll just get another one” line and seeing the whole restaurant go still. Required Range: Must handle rapid emotional flips—plausible charm, manipulative guilt trips, and raw meltdown—while keeping it grounded and believable. Needs strong micro-beats (eyes to the check, to Owen, to the phone) and the ability to play both overt abuse and quieter, insidious digs. Comfortable being unlikeable without sliding into caricature or camp. Special Skills: Comfort working closely with a child actor in an emotionally intense context, maintaining professional boundaries. Able to manage overlapping dialogue and precise blocking in a tight booth space.

(Male, 10–12, Any Ethnicity) Owen is a foster kid who’s learned to make himself small. He sits in the booth like he’s bracing for weather—watching Miss Jenna for signs of a storm, trying not to want too much, trying not to cry where anyone can see. There’s a heartbreaking mix of hurt and hope in him; he still believes his mom loves him, even as he’s told she abandoned him. This story lives on his face. Wardrobe: Slightly worn, practical clothes that don’t quite fit as well as Sutton’s—T-shirt or hoodie a little big, jeans, scuffed sneakers. Reads as “taken care of enough,” but clearly second-tier next to the bio kid. Screen Time: Full (central POV; present in every episode) Performance Arc: From sensitive, eager-to-please kid quietly absorbing abuse ? trying to hide tears and convince himself his mom still cares ? stunned, disbelieving when Lana appears ? torn between safety, guilt, and the promise of real love ? finally choosing his mother and saying “I don’t want more stuff. I want a mom,” then taking that first bite of cake he was never allowed. Key Scene Moments: Hand slapped away from the sundae; the first micro-flinch. “She didn’t abandon me” repeated even as he’s being told no one wants him. Seeing Lana in the restaurant—shock pause before running into her arms. Listening while the adults argue, quietly clocking who sees him vs. who uses him. The choice line and walk toward his mom; stinger moment opening the napkin-wrapped cake. Required Range: Strong naturalism and emotional depth. Needs to play subtle self-protection (hiding tears, focusing on the menu) and big outbursts (sobbing “I choose my mom”) with authenticity. Must feel like a real kid, not a precocious mini-adult—small gestures, half-swallowed lines, and long, reactive takes. Comfortable carrying the emotional spine of the piece in very tight close-ups. Special Skills: Comfort working opposite intense adult performances; able to cry on camera or credibly play on-the-edge emotion; able to take direction for eyelines and repeated physical beats (reaching for dessert, sliding out of booth, hugging).

(Male, Early 30s, Any Ethnicity) Mason is a sensitive, artsy kid who never fully grew out of people-pleasing. He grew up with a cheating father and a mother who never healed—she calcified. Now a husband and dad, he’s terrified of repeating his parents’ mistakes, but that fear makes him easy to manipulate. One visit with Lydia and one glossy pamphlet is all it takes for him to secretly test his own child and blow up his marriage. Wardrobe: Grounded, everyday mid-class dad: jeans, soft T-shirts, flannels/hoodies, worn sneakers or socks at home. In earlier scenes, casual but put-together. As things spiral, slightly more rumpled—unshaven, shirts half-tucked, hint that he’s not really sleeping. Screen Time: Heavy (central POV; appears in every episode and the stinger). Performance Arc: Soft, slightly anxious dad who wants everyone happy ? son torn between his wife and mother, trying to “keep the peace” ? man who actually believes his worst fear when Sienna says Max isn’t his ? shattered father learning Max isbiologically his and realizing he destroyed his family over doubt ? broken, accountable husband begging for a chance to rebuild ? final version: a man willing to set hard boundaries with his own mother to protect his child and marriage, even as he learns he may have been a victim of this pattern as a kid. Key Scene Moments: Living room beat watching Max play while Lydia quietly chips away at him. Kitchen confrontation where Lydia says, “Wake up, Mason. I’m not his grandmother,” and slides over the paternity pamphlet. The moment he admits to Sienna, “When I look at him… I don’t see me.” Breakdown when Sienna tells him “Max isn’t your son” and leaves with the boy. Phone call from the clinic: “Yes. Max Cole is biologically your child.” Final boundary moment: blocking Lydia’s number while Sienna watches, then joining Max in a group hug. Stinger: reading the hospital document that suggests his own paternity was questioned. Required Range: Needs to play deep shame, panic, and conflicted loyalty in extremely tight close-ups. Must be able to turn on a dime from defensiveness and anger to gut-punched vulnerability. Strong at listening, sputtering half-starts, and living in silence—this role lives in hands shaking around a phone, eyes over a picture frame, breath catching when he realizes he’s become his parents. Emotional crying required. Special Skills: Comfort with emotionally intense confrontations, child co-star work, and handling phones/paperwork as props in precise blocking.

(Female, Late 20s–Early 30s, Any Ethnicity) Sienna is the warm, steady center of the family—quietly fierce when it comes to protecting her son. She adores Max, loves Mason, and has never once given him a reason to doubt her. Which makes his decision to test their child behind her back a soul-level betrayal. Her love doesn’t vanish overnight, but her trust does. Her choice to lie—“Max isn’t your son”—isn’t about cruelty; it’s about forcing Mason to feel the free-fall she just experienced when the clinic called her first. Wardrobe: Soft, practical, lived-in: leggings or jeans, oversized sweaters, tees, house socks. Reads as “real mom,” not curated influencer. At Jenna’s apartment, slightly more guarded—hoodie, ponytail, minimal makeup. By the final episode, a subtle return of color and softness as she cautiously leans back toward hope. Screen Time: Heavy (present in every episode except parts of the solo-Mason/Lydia scenes; featured strongly in 2, 3, 5, and 6). Performance Arc: Content, slightly tired mom who thinks her family is solid ? blindsided wife hearing the word “paternity” from a clinic caller ? woman hollowed out by the idea that her husband chose his mother’s voice over hers ? steel-spined Sienna dropping “Max isn’t your son” and walking out with her child ? calm, almost eerily controlled ex sitting at Jenna’s, explaining why she lied ? cautious partner considering reconciliation on her terms, not his, as she watches Mason block Lydia. Key Scene Moments: Discovering the test through a clinic confirmation call and confronting Mason: “You still chose her voice over mine.” Delivering the line, “If you really believe that… then you won’t have to wait for the test.” The bombshell: “Your mother’s right. Max isn’t your son,” played with devastating calm. Confession at Jenna’s: admitting she lied to make him feel the fear she felt, and that she’s never given him a reason to doubt her. Moment with the divorce papers hovering under her hand. Final couch scene: agreeing to counseling and clear boundaries, but reminding him forgiveness isn’t the same as forgetting. Stinger hallway look when she realizes Lydia once did the same thing to Mason. Required Range: Subtle, grounded, emotionally precise. Needs to move from sobbing betrayal to icy stillness without ever feeling theatrical. Must be capable of weaponizing calm—the quieter she is, the scarier it feels. Strong silent acting: listening to Mason, deciding mid-beat whether to stay or go, leaving questions in her eyes even when her mouth says “maybe.” Special Skills: Comfort with intense close-up emotional work, child interaction, and physical closeness with the Mason actor (hugs, hand touches, bed tuck-in scenes; no explicit intimacy).

(Female, Late 20s–30s, Any Ethnicity) Holly has spent years quietly torturing her own body to save her marriage: injections, procedures, hope followed by negative tests. She’s soft-spoken, warm, and deeply loyal—but not weak. When Derek leaves her for his pregnant mistress and blames her infertility, something in her finally breaks… and then rebuilds stronger. We track her journey from devastated wife on a fertility-clinic lobby chair to a woman with a new partner, a longed-for pregnancy, and a rock-solid sense of self-worth. Wardrobe: Everyday, relatable: jeans or casual trousers, simple tops, cardigans, comfy house clothes. In early clinic scenes, slightly rumpled, practical. In later scenes, subtle glow-up: soft dresses or elevated casual that reflect newfound peace and stability. Screen Time: Full (central POV; appears in every episode except parts of 2–3 hospital sequence). Performance Arc: Polite, hopeful partner begging her husband to stay ? gutted woman throwing away fertility meds and her wedding ring ? quietly rebuilding a life off-screen that we glimpse in warm, grounded new-home scenes ? strong, pregnant wife who can look her ex in the eye and tell him the truth: he was always the problem ? final beat: a woman who doesn’t hate him, but loves herself more. Key Scene Moments: Fertility clinic confrontation when she first meets Alexandra and realizes Derek is leaving her here of all places. Kitchen scene, dropping hormone syringes and her wedding ring into the trash. Doorway confrontation where Derek calls her his “true love” and expects her to be waiting. Reveal that she’s pregnant and married to Trent now, delivering the line: “I was never the problem, Derek.” Final goodbye: “I don’t hate you. I just finally love myself more.” as she closes the door on him. Required Range: Needs to play grief, humiliation, and physical/emotional exhaustion in tight close-ups—then slowly shift into grounded joy without becoming saccharine. Must have strong silent beats: listening while being blamed, holding back tears, making the decision to choose herself. Emotional crying, but also clean, quiet resolve. Special Skills: Comfort handling prop syringes and fertility-med paraphernalia (no actual needles). Strong on-screen chemistry with both Derek (painful history) and Trent (gentle, secure love).

(Male, Mid 30s, Any Ethnicity) Derek is charming on the surface and deeply selfish underneath. He’s the guy who wants the Instagram-perfect family photo more than he wants to do the messy emotional work. Convinced Holly is “failing” him, he cheats with Alexandra, gets her pregnant, and files for divorce while Holly is still surrounded by hormone injections and pamphlets. The twist—that he’s infertile and always has been—shatters his self-image and leaves him scrambling to reclaim the woman he threw away. Wardrobe: Early: business-casual or slightly flashy—nice shirts, watch, “provider” aesthetic. In later episodes, more rumpled: T-shirt, hoodie, unshaven, apartment clutter. Visual slide from put-together “family man” to someone whose life has fallen apart. Screen Time: Heavy (present in all episodes, including stinger). Performance Arc: Confident, dismissive husband who blames Holly and announces a divorce with shocking detachment ? giddy expectant father mugging for Alexandra’s TikTok ? hollowed-out man hearing “You’re not his biological father” from Dr. Franklin ? humiliated ex watching Alexandra with the baby’s real father through the nursery glass ? desperate, guilt-ridden ex begging Holly for another chance ? final image: alone with a crumpled lab report, an infertility diagnosis, and a text from Alexandra cutting him off. Key Scene Moments: “Love isn’t enough if you can’t give me the family I want” at the clinic. Hospital hallway with the baby onesie when Dr. Franklin drops the paternity bomb. Nursery-window moment seeing Alexandra kissing another man and holding the baby. Realization at Holly’s door that she’s married, pregnant, and thriving without him. Confession in Holly’s living room: “I’m infertile. I always was.” Post-credits stinger: reacting to Alexandra’s text, “Stop calling me. He knows.” Required Range: Must be willing to play unlikeable early on without softening the blow—but also find real, messy vulnerability later. Needs to handle sharp turns from bravado to panic, denial to sobbing admission, entitlement to hollow regret. Micro-expressive acting important in hospital and doorway scenes. Special Skills: Comfort with emotionally intense confrontation scenes, crying on camera, and working with babies/newborn stand-ins (nursery window beats).

Sophia is an emotionally guarded teenager who lives through her phone and struggles to be present with the people around her. She is navigating new, heavy emotions while trying to understand what they mean and who she is. Over the course of the story, Sophia evolves from an irritable and distracted girl to a compassionate and self-aware person.

Ava is playful and curious. She uses her humour to connect with the people around her. She craves attention, often teasing Sophia to get a reaction. But, beneath her mischief is a deeply caring child who steps up when it matters most.

Gigi is Ava's and Sophia's grandmother. She is warm, loving and grounded. She’s the kind of grandmother who shows up with cookies on a random Saturday and stands up for you in front of your parents, even when you might be in the wrong. Though she struggles to understand her granddaughters’ digital world, she simply wants to connect with them and rebuild the connection that has drifted as they have gotten older.

Wren is Ava’s and Sophia’s mother. Ambitious and career-driven, she often prioritizes work over time with her children. She, too, has fallen into the digital world, spending much of her time on her phone, working or scrolling, at the expense of meaningful connections with her family.

James is Ava’s and Sophia’s father and Gigi’s son. As the manager of a prestigious company, he spends most of his time working and is less involved in day-to-day parenting, often unsure how to handle conflicts between the girls or what to say.

Llegando de San Petersburgo a Tijuana, ahora busca asilo en Estados Unidos después de huir de la guerra contra Ucrania y de la creciente hostilidad hacia las personas LGBT. A pesar de la naturaleza de su situación política, rechaza el ser visto como víctima, y evita categorizarse como refugiado, inmigrante o un queer desamparado. Es blanco, alto y delgado, pero con rasgos suaves; más tierno que rudo, pese a su personalidad explosiva e ingeniosa. Su cuerpo parece desproporcionado, como si hubiera crecido más rápido que su alma, más rápido que sus propias experiencias. Es atractivo de una manera inusual—no como un modelo, pero sí de una forma que llama la atención. Su juventud es evidente, aunque está al borde de la madurez. La curiosidad lo define, y se ve reflejada en su mirada incluso cuando tiene miedo o siente ira. No es tonto ni ignorante, pero queda claro que le falta mucho por aprender. Suele confiar en sus impulsos y emociones antes que en el pensamiento racional. Evita el contacto visual, especialmente ante personas que ejercen poder sobre él (mentores, tutores u otras figuras de autoridad). Cuando su mirada sí se sostiene, es porque realmente desea comprender a la otra persona. Ingresó a la universidad, pero no terminó. Habla inglés, aunque un inglés globalizado. Su personalidad es digital antes que física: creció en espacios queer online. Le gustan los memes y el humor seco que juega con lo ofensivo. Su ropa suele quedarle grande, en parte por elección, y en parte porque suele venir de las donaciones recibidas en los albergues por los que ha pasado en su transcurso hacia Estados Unidos. Le atrae la tecnología análoga, quizá como una forma de escapar de lo que le resulta demasiado natural: las redes sociales, las apps de encuentros gay, la naturaleza transaccional de la validación digital, y la obligación social de dejar una huella virtual. En las apps, se permite explorar alter egos: alguien difícil de conseguir, más maduro, incluso misterioso; pero lo hace como un mecanismo de defensa ante la intimidad real, que teme no saber sostener. A lo largo de la película, Maksim experimenta con su apariencia física: se pinta las uñas, se viste de formas menos binarias, e incluso cambia el color de su cabello.

Llegando de San Petersburgo a Tijuana, ahora busca asilo en Estados Unidos después de huir de la guerra contra Ucrania y de la creciente hostilidad hacia las personas LGBT. A pesar de la naturaleza de su situación política, rechaza el ser visto como víctima, y evita categorizarse como refugiado, inmigrante o un queer desamparado. Es blanco, alto y delgado, pero con rasgos suaves; más tierno que rudo, pese a su personalidad explosiva e ingeniosa. Su cuerpo parece desproporcionado, como si hubiera crecido más rápido que su alma, más rápido que sus propias experiencias. Es atractivo de una manera inusual—no como un modelo, pero sí de una forma que llama la atención. Su juventud es evidente, aunque está al borde de la madurez. La curiosidad lo define, y se ve reflejada en su mirada incluso cuando tiene miedo o siente ira. No es tonto ni ignorante, pero queda claro que le falta mucho por aprender. Suele confiar en sus impulsos y emociones antes que en el pensamiento racional. Evita el contacto visual, especialmente ante personas que ejercen poder sobre él (mentores, tutores u otras figuras de autoridad). Cuando su mirada sí se sostiene, es porque realmente desea comprender a la otra persona. Ingresó a la universidad, pero no terminó. Habla inglés, aunque un inglés globalizado. Su personalidad es digital antes que física: creció en espacios queer online. Le gustan los memes y el humor seco que juega con lo ofensivo. Su ropa suele quedarle grande, en parte por elección, y en parte porque suele venir de las donaciones recibidas en los albergues por los que ha pasado en su transcurso hacia Estados Unidos. Le atrae la tecnología análoga, quizá como una forma de escapar de lo que le resulta demasiado natural: las redes sociales, las apps de encuentros gay, la naturaleza transaccional de la validación digital, y la obligación social de dejar una huella virtual. En las apps, se permite explorar alter egos: alguien difícil de conseguir, más maduro, incluso misterioso; pero lo hace como un mecanismo de defensa ante la intimidad real, que teme no saber sostener. A lo largo de la película, Maksim experimenta con su apariencia física: se pinta las uñas, se viste de formas menos binarias, e incluso cambia el color de su cabello.

Indigenous stand-up comic and sex club employee. Slightly perverted; isn't afraid of letting out her animalistic side...and helping others do the same. Role includes scenes of intimacy; coordinator will be onset.

Mino's sex club coworker.

Mino's sassy sex club coworker.