Seedance 2.0 Tanıtımı
Topluluktan başarılı kamu üretimlerini göz atın ve istemi, ayarları ve çıktıyı incelemek için herhangi bir öğeyi açın.
Sora 2 Prompt – Hair Transformation (No Product, iPhone, Green Screen, Single Take, Black Hair Base) iPhone-filmed st...
Sora 2 Prompt – Hair Transformation (No Product, iPhone, Green Screen, Single Take, Black Hair Base) iPhone-filmed style, single continuous take, no cuts, no transitions. Clean solid green screen background. Medium close-up framing (chest-up only, no waist visible). Natural lighting, sharp focus, slight handheld iPhone feel but mostly stable. A confident young Indian woman stands centered, looking directly into the camera. Her hair overall appears black and shiny, but with subtle visible grey strands on one side for contrast. No product is shown at any point. She speaks clearly, using expressive hand gestures like she’s explaining a simple hack: “Imagine karo… aap bas apne baalon ko comb karo… aur baal dheere-dheere black hote jaaye… amazing hoga na?” She mimics holding an imaginary comb with her hand and starts combing through the section with grey strands. As her hand moves through the hair, a realistic transformation happens: the visible grey strands smoothly blend into the rest of her naturally black, shiny hair — perfectly synced with her hand motion. She continues confidently: “Yahi magic hota hai… jab aapko kahin bhi nikalna ho, aur minutes mein hair fix karna ho…” She uses hand gestures to emphasize speed and ease, then lightly combs through the other side for consistency and polish. “…bas comb karo… aur aapke hair ho jaate hain perfect… shiny black finish ke saath.” She tilts her head slightly to highlight the seamless blend and even tone across her hair. End: She runs her fingers through her smooth, shiny black hair, confident smile, subtle nod. No props, no product shown, no cuts. Clean, minimal, illusion-based transformation. Focus on performance, gestures, and a natural blend effect rather than dramatic color change.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dress...
In the Grand Meridian Hotel lobby in Manhattan at night, warm chandelier light glows on polished marble as well-dressed white American guests pause mid-step. Ryan Caldwell (42, white, tailored navy suit, slick hair, tense jaw) nods sharply at two security guards as they grip the arms of Arthur Whitmore (early 70s, white, worn jacket, dusty shoes, calm but firm). The camera starts in a wide shot showing the guards steering Arthur toward the revolving doors, then pushes into a tight close-up as Arthur raises an old key card and points toward a framed grand-opening photo on the wall; Ryan’s smirk falters and his eyes flick up, startled. Arthur says evenly, “I built this hotel.” Ryan scoffs, leaning in with contempt: “Sure you did.” The room goes dead-quiet, guests staring, tension spiking in the hush. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays.
Sora 2 Prompt – Hair Transformation (No Product, iPhone, Green Screen, Single Take) iPhone-filmed style, single conti...
Sora 2 Prompt – Hair Transformation (No Product, iPhone, Green Screen, Single Take) iPhone-filmed style, single continuous take, no cuts, no transitions. Clean solid green screen background. Medium close-up framing (chest-up only, no waist visible). Natural lighting, sharp focus, slight handheld iPhone feel but mostly stable. A confident young Indian woman stands centered, looking directly into the camera. Her hair has visible grey strands on one side. No product is shown at any point. She speaks clearly, using expressive hand gestures like she’s explaining a simple hack: “Imagine karo… aap bas apne baalon ko comb karo… aur baal dheere-dheere black hote jaaye… amazing hoga na?” She mimics holding an imaginary comb with her hand and starts combing through one side of her hair. As her hand moves through the hair, a realistic transformation happens: grey strands gradually turning into natural black with a soft shine — synced perfectly with her hand motion. She continues confidently: “Yahi magic hota hai… jab aapko kahin bhi Nikalna ho, aur minutes mein hair fix karna ho…” She uses hand gestures to emphasize speed and ease, then continues the combing motion on the other side. “…bas comb karo… aur aapke hair ho jaate hain perfect… shiny black finish ke saath.” She tilts her head slightly to show a clear before/after contrast. End: She runs her fingers through her now smooth black hair, confident smile, subtle nod. No props, no product shown, no cuts. Clean, minimal, illusion-based transformation. Focus on performance, gestures, and visual change.
um papagaio todo verde está na janela de uma casa no interior da bahia no brasil, passa um homem na rua de meia idade...
um papagaio todo verde está na janela de uma casa no interior da bahia no brasil, passa um homem na rua de meia idade e o papagaio diz: "olha o boi, olha o boi", o homem olha para o papagaio revoltado e diz: "boi é teu pai teu linguarudo", o papagaio diz novamente: "olha o boi", na mesma hora aparece um boi bravo vindo correndo em direção ao homem, o homem avista o boi e sai correndo desesperado.
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