Components and blocks for products that should feel expensive: considered motion, real states, and source you own.
The pill above a headline. A line of light runs round it once as you reach for it, and the tag says what pressing it will do.
A metric against any day you choose. Click the line and that day becomes the level: above it prints blue, below it red, and the sentence reads again from there.
The closing call to action: one line to want it, an email to start with, and the queue it promises to clear, resolving beside it.
The tokens every Detent component is drawn with, in light and dark, as one stylesheet beside the components.
Code an agent wants to change, reviewed hunk by hunk. Lines stream in, verdicts stamp down, and unified slides into split.
The questions people ask before they start: search as you type with matches marked in place, topics, answers that open without moving the page, and a person to ask when it isn’t there.
Each goal as a soft bar with its percentage set large on top. Flick through the month and every bar and number moves as one. At 100% a bar holds under your hand, then breaks through amber.
Colour restarts at every curved edge, so one glow reads as glass. It follows your pointer.
The tools a product connects to, drifting in rows under a capsule of glass that shows each in its own colour. Press one and the glass opens into a panel to connect it; connected tools keep their colour, so the rows fill in as the stack comes together.
A checklist your whole team writes in at once. New items arrive in their group with the name of whoever added them, ticked ones settle into Done, and the card never changes height while it happens.
A metric that explains itself: the number, the change in words, the AI’s reading of why it moved, and the drivers behind it ranked by how much each one counted.
Pick a model and how hard it thinks. Effort is a real detent you drag and flick, with the time and cost of every model running with your finger, so you feel what thinking harder costs before you choose.
What happened is a line. What might happen is a band of ink that widens and thins as it runs out, so the part you can trust is the part that looks solid.
Settings written as one sentence. Only the words you can change are dark: tap a word to pick another, drag a number sideways to dial it, and the line under it says what your choice means.
A popup that opens around your finger. The current choice stays where you pressed it, so you slide to the next one and let go.
A white card on a quiet tray, round keys, and one dark key that speaks or sends. While it answers, the tray slides out from under the card and says what it’s doing.
A textarea you can rewind. Hold undo and drag, and your writing runs back under your hand, with the words you deleted coming back in colour.
Select a phrase, say how it should read, and watch it rewritten in place like a tracked change. Tab takes it.
One card for where your visitors come from, three ways to read it. Switch between List, Bars and Change and every bar, icon and number moves to its new place instead of redrawing, so you never lose the source you were looking at.
Google or GitHub in one press, or a code by email. Then pick a workspace and you’re in.
Strips fly in from both sides and align into letters. Move over it and it cuts apart around the pointer.
Testimonials with receipts: one customer at a time writes their quote in, with the number that moved beside it, over a wall of short quotes that each carry a result.
Files hovering tip the folder open; dropped files fall in as sheets.
A voice reply with a waveform of dots that inks in as it plays, a speed that steps to 2×, and a transcript that follows the voice word by word.