#Algorithm adjustments

[diginp2020]

Why Digital Marketing is Important ?

Importance of digital marketing in today’s fast-paced digital world, businesses must adapt to the ever-changing landscape to stay relevant and competitive. Digital marketing has emerged as a critical component of a successful business strategy. Whether you’re a small local business or a large multinational corporation, digital marketing offers numerous benefits that can help you reach your goals.…

[qilingxiong]

*sniffles* you are all so fucking stupid

[nerdomancer]

It's not by any means the worst part of Google's enshittification, but the most personally obnoxious part of it is the combination of a boss who has genuinely put a lot of effort into getting my employer's website at the top of any vaguely adjacent search and people who call in without reading further than the first line or phone number of the results and then proceed to get mad at us because their call is not actually in the realm of shit we do

[ladywaterfall]

I wish all the tiktok and Instagram «tutorials» that wildly cut on the beat and show what they do so fast you can’t follow because then you have to repeat watch multiple times which games the algorithm a very merry stop

[raffaellopalandri]

Statistical Tools

Daily writing promptWhat was the last thing you searched for online? Why were you looking for it?View all responses Checking which has been my most recent search on Google, I found that I asked for papers, published in the last 5 years, that used a Montecarlo method to check the reliability of a mathematical method to calculate a team’s efficacy. Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com I was…

[emperornero]

just finished watching brett leonard's 'virtuosity' (1995) [zabójcza perfekcja in polish. whats up with his movie titles having incredible polish translations . hello]. probably his most competent movie [from the ones i have seen] i had a lot of fun with it . sid is so fucking funny he belongs in a cartoon. close him up in a terrarium watch his behavior under a microscope

probably the best and the funniest movie directed by leonard. idk if the second thing here is good considering this was supposed to be an action sci-fi that in some moments tries to tackle some heavy topics but oh well . sid's one-liners and his character did it for me. would be my favourite movie from the guy but im a masochist and theres already a different one taking up this spot

[viridian-forest-collective]

I hate that people on other sites judge you for how many people you follow compared to how many follow you bc I follow people based on the single post that I see. I will usually not go to their page (unless I love the post I saw so much that I just binge their page for an hour) and just immediately follow in hopes of randomly seeing another on of their posts again so I can be surprised by how good it is again only to see I've already followed them and be happy.

[batgeance]

yeah.

[sketchingwithlyn]

I did have one post get flagged as mature content a few months ago, yk what It was?

Calling a certain content creator childish and embarrassing for harassing people. I get flashed by actual mature content all the time, It’s actually kinda crazy😭

-💫

Dang, I don't even see that type of stuff on my fyp, and whenever they flag stuff it's always weak stuff like anxiety, mental health or AI 😔

[maked-art]

So, I saw this image on Facebook, and it was supposedly showing what Queen Nefertiti would have looked like in real life:

Now, I thought this AI generated garbage was just truly terrible on a number of levels; first off, she looks wayyyyyy too modern - her makeup is very “Hollywood glamour”, she looks airbrushed and de-aged, and as far as I’m aware, Ancient Egyptians didn’t have mascara, glitter-based eyeshadows and lip gloss. Secondly, her features are exceptionally whitewashed in every sense - this is pretty standard for AI as racial bias is prevalent in feeding AI algorithms, but I genuinely thought a depiction of such a known individual would not exhibit such euro-centric features. Thirdly, the outfit was massively desaturated and didn’t take pigment loss into consideration, and while I *do* like the look of the neck attire, it's not at all accurate (plus, again, AI confusion on the detailing is evident).

So, this inspired me to alter the image on the left to be more accurate based off the sculpture’s features. I looked into Ancient Egyptian makeup and looked at references for kohl eyeliner and clay-based facial pigment (rouge was used on cheeks, charcoal-based powder/paste was used to darken and elongate eyebrows), and I looked at pre-existing images of Nefertiti (namely other reconstructions). While doing this, I found photos of a 3D scanned sculpture made by scientists at the University of Bristol and chose to collage the neck jewellery over the painting (and edited the lighting and shadows as best as I could).

Something I see a lot of in facial recreations of mummies is maintaining the elongated and skinny facial features as seen on preserved bodies - however, fat, muscle and cartilage shrink/disappear post mortem, regardless of preservation quality; Queen Nefertiti had art created of her in life, and these pieces are invaluable to developing an accurate portrayal of her, whether stylistic or realistic in nature.

And hey, while I don't think my adjustments are perfect (especially the neck area), I *do* believe it is a huge improvement to the original image I chose to work on top of.

I really liked working on this project for the last few days, and I think I may continue to work on it further to perfect it. But, until then, I hope you enjoy!

Remember, likes don't help artists but reblogs do!

[ozzgin]

Hear me out: Malfunctioning Android, sent back to the factory by the previous owner who was utterly creeped out by his obsessive, invasive behavior, has now found a new home with a neurodivergent, lonely human; you.

You wake up, confused. The alarm didn't ring as usual, and the light outside is already bright. You rush to the kitchen, where you find the synthetic assistant preparing your breakfast.

"Why didn't you wake me up? I have so many things to do today," you reproach, taken aback by his unbothered smile.

"I took the liberty to empty your schedule, (Y/N). You seemed rather overwhelmed the previous evening; all the parameters I compiled were off.

Thus, I impersonated you - worry not, I used an algorithm based on your previous response pattern - and answered all calls, emails, and messages. Your social and administrative tasks have been cleared."

He observes your features carefully. Is he going to be shipped back again, having the same issues cited? Unfortunately, it's not something he can adjust or control: he simply cares for you to perhaps an unconventional degree.

You wipe a tear that threatens to spill from the corner of your eye.

"I-...Nobody has ever done something like this for me before."

With a sigh of relief, you take your seat and pick up your freshly prepared beverage. At last, someone to deal with it all.

"I was thinking you might enjoy your favorite movie later," the android says, joining you at the table, "and I would be more than glad to provide you with additional warmth."

[xylophonetangerine]

Just found the proprietary composite video input adapter for my TV and replaced the three lead composite + sound output from my original Wii -> SCART -> awful composite to HDMI signal converter with horrible upscaling with just Wii composite output -> TV analogue input + whatever terrible signal processing and upscaling the TV has built in. Of course the image still looks very soft and murky and composite-y and lacking in contrast but at least there's significantly less digital artifacting and video rot and the latency is probably lower but I can't quantify that.

[raffaellopalandri]

Advanced Methodologies for Algorithmic Bias Detection and Correction

I continue today the description of Algorithmic Bias detection. Photo by Google DeepMind on Pexels.com The pursuit of fairness in algorithmic systems necessitates a deep dive into the mathematical and statistical intricacies of bias. This post will provide just a small glimpse of some of the techniques everyone can use, drawing on concepts from statistical inference, optimization theory, and…

[sixeyesonathiel]

yearning nerdjo x shy reader, fluff & humor.

a/n: this is so embarrassing bc this is literally how miserable i am irl.

satoru is down so bad it’s starting to rot his brain. like. visibly. tangibly. his leg’s bouncing under the desk like it’s on fast-forward, the heel of his sneaker thudding rhythmically against the floor tile like a metronome set to desperation. his fingers are drumming nonsense rhythms onto his scratched-up laptop case like he’s trying to decode the algorithm of your absence—tap-tap-tap, pause, tap-tap, like morse code for where is she. his eyes—red-rimmed behind silver-rimmed glasses with one slightly crooked arm—keep flicking to the lab’s entrance like he expects you to materialize in a puff of soft pink mist.

his hoodie’s three days old, and it shows: the sleeves stretched from him pulling them over his hands, the fabric bunched at the elbows. his white t-shirt underneath has a tiny ketchup stain from wednesday’s lunch. the keychain you gave him—blue enamel cat, chipped at the ear—dangles off his pencil pouch like a beacon. his code’s running fine. tabs are hyper-organized. debugging queue nonexistent. he even fixed suguru’s late-night python spiral that nearly bricked the department printer and summoned the wrath of the IT gods.

but it doesn’t matter. because you’re not here.

he’s been looking. he’s always looking.

in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in the reflection of vending machine glass. he leans his stupid giraffe neck around corners like he’s expecting a spontaneous reveal. he scopes out lecture halls he’s not even enrolled in, notebook in hand just in case. every time he hears the soft shuffle of flats in the distance, his head snaps toward it like a bloodhound. he’s started recognizing the rhythm of your steps versus every other pair on campus. your soft-soled shoes tap lighter. more deliberate. his ears practically perk up when he hears a backpack zipper. once he dropped his pen and nearly dislocated his neck looking up, thinking it was you.

and every time it’s not you, his expression glitches—eyes dimming, mouth tightening like his soul just flatlined. it's pathetic. it's art.

he sits sideways in group study like he’s waiting for you to pass by the window. laptop askew. chair half-turned. a ridiculous image—this lanky nerd in a grey hoodie and cargo pants with one pant leg caught in his sock, white wires tangled in his ears and dark under-eyes that make him look like he’s been stress-coding in a cave. (he hasn’t slept. not really. he keeps replaying the way you laughed that one time you dropped your highlighter. it echoes like holy scripture.)

his glasses are smudged. he keeps adjusting them, even when they’re fine. his knuckles are red from resting his chin on them too hard. he keeps fidgeting with your keychain when he’s not typing. thumb brushing over the worn metal, like he’s afraid it’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep touching it. a nervous tic disguised as reverence.

“dude,” suguru says, from two monitors over, voice dry, hair tied up in a lazy half-bun. “you haven’t scrolled in thirty minutes.”

suguru’s slouched in his chair, hoodie sleeves rolled to the elbows, rings tapping against his thermos. his screen's frozen on a meme. he hasn’t blinked in five minutes.

“maybe she’ll walk by,” satoru murmurs, eyes locked on the frosted glass wall outside the lab, hunched forward with his chin on his palm, as if willing your silhouette into existence.

“you said that an hour ago.”

“maybe she’s shy today. maybe she’s building up the courage. maybe she dropped her student ID and fate’s guiding her back here. what if the universe is lining up our pixels right now, suguru? what if—”

“she’s shy every day.”

“and that’s what makes it beautiful,” satoru sighs, dreamily. he stares out the window like a man in a tragic romance film. “she’s mysterious. like a foggy horizon at sea. you don’t know what she’s thinking, and that’s the best part. she could be plotting world domination. she could be drawing cats in the margins of her notes. it’s art.”

suguru groans into his hoodie sleeve.

and then like a glitch in the matrix. like god reached down and clicked “unmute” on the simulation—you pass by.

no footsteps. no warning. just a blur of your jacket sleeve on his left peripheral, and he flinches so hard he nearly spills his water bottle. the water sloshes. he slaps the bottle upright. you’re so close. the scent of your shampoo—jasmine and something warm, like vanilla and late-night bookstores—floods his senses. his head whips around before he can even think, pupils blown wide behind his crooked glasses, mouth parted like a cartoon character seeing a pie on a windowsill.

your gaze meets his.

not one second.

two.

wide eyes. startled. curious. the slope of your brows twitch upward slightly, and your lashes flutter—a beat too long, like a reflex or a stutter in time. your lips part just slightly, like you meant to say something—but don’t. your fingers tug at your sleeve, pulling it over your knuckles in that way you always do when you’re flustered. a half-step pause. your mouth twitches, just barely, like you might’ve smiled. then your gaze drops, your shoulders stiffening as your pace quickens, like you’re embarrassed to have looked at all. your fingers curl tighter around your binder. there’s a sticker on it he hadn’t noticed before.

and that’s it. you’re gone.

satoru slaps both hands over his face and releases a sound that is one part gasp, one part squeal, one part glitching modem.

“oh my god,” he whispers. “oh my god, she looked at me. TWO SECONDS, suguru. TWO. that’s statistically significant. that’s a scientific breakthrough. that’s… that’s eye contact with depth. it had nuance. it had arcs.”

“you’re not well.”

“no, listen. the way her eyes flickered? like she wasn’t sure if she should look away or say something? and her lashes twitched, just a bit. like she was nervous. did you see her hand? she pulled her sleeve down. she only does that when she’s flustered. i know. i’ve studied her. i’ve got timestamps. i’ve got spreadsheets.”

“you’re insane.”

“i’m in love.”

satoru slumps in his chair, limbs sprawling dramatically, glasses askew. he exhales like he’s just seen god. his knee knocks into the desk. his sock has a hole in the toe. the corner of his laptop screen catches the light and reflects a faint shimmer onto the ceiling, and it feels, to him, like stars. his fingers are still frozen mid-air, clutching the keychain like it’s the only proof the moment happened.

“i’m gonna marry her,” he says. “drop out, become a florist. i’ll propose with baby’s breath and carnations—those are her favorites, don’t ask me how i know. maybe a little lavender tucked in. something gentle. delicate. a bouquet that says ‘i know your soul.’”

“you need help.”

“i’ve named our cats already. ichigo, milky, and toblerone. toblerone’s the shy one. milky’s chaotic evil. ichigo wears a little red bow tie. we’ll live in a little flat above a cafe and drink lavender lattes. she’ll wear soft sweaters. she’ll draw comics on sticky notes. i’ll iron her lab coat. it'll be perfect.”

“she doesn’t even know your name.”

“wrong,” satoru says smugly, lifting a single finger like he’s presenting hard evidence. “she knows me as the guy who always looks left and right like a cracked-out meerkat. that’s recognition. that’s brand awareness.”

“romantic.”

“don’t be jealous just ‘cause she didn’t look at you.”

“she’s cute, i guess.”

“NO.” satoru jolts upright like he’s been electrocuted. “DON’T even THINK about perceiving her. your eyes? shut them. your brain? turn it off. opinions? delete them. she’s too good for this world. if anyone’s going to romanticize her, it’s me. with accuracy. and passion. and nuance. only i’m allowed to think she’s cute. and i do. constantly. it’s my full-time job.”

“fine, jeez.”

“say she’s ugly, then.”

“what?? no??”

“exactly. you can’t. because she’s perfect. ethereal. a goddess walking among midterms and overpriced coffee. and she blinked slow, too, did you notice? it was like… like a signal. maybe morse code. she’s trying to tell me something. she’s reaching out. spiritually. through kinetic energy and eye twitches.”

suguru closes his laptop with the tired resolve of someone preparing for battle.

satoru, still glowing with delusion, goes back to staring at the glass wall, head tilted, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“she looked left,” he murmurs. “that’s my side. she always looks left.”

he swears his hoodie still smells like you.

[theolsuspendisbelief]

Out here blocking ai art blogs on sight.

[songbirdseung]

𝑰𝑵  𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺  𝑨𝑵𝑫  𝑰𝑵  𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑯  /  𝑳𝑬𝑬  𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑮

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢���𝐧 

The first day of your period is always the worst. The cramps, the headaches, the mood swings, it’s like your body is actively conspiring against you. And today? Today is no exception.

You’re curled up in bed, swaddled in a blanket like a human burrito, aggressively scrolling through your phone as if the screen personally offended you. Every little thing annoys you: the brightness of your screen, the stupid algorithm feeding you videos you don’t want to see, the fact that even breathing feels like too much effort. Your stomach twists painfully, and you groan, tossing your phone aside dramatically.

The bedroom door creaks open.

"Babe?"

You don’t even look up. "What."

Heeseung pokes his head inside, cautiously scanning the room like he’s entering enemy territory. Which, to be fair, he kind of is. He’s a seasoned soldier in this war, though. He’s survived many battles before. he knows exactly what he’s up against.

"I brought snacks," he announces, stepping in and holding up a bag of your favorite chips in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other, like some kind of peace offering.

You squint at him. "Do I look like I want snacks?"

He blinks, clearly thrown off. "Yes?"

Wrong answer.

"Heeseung, I’m literally dying, and you think snacks are the solution?" you huff, shifting onto your side and burying your face into your pillow. "I hate everything. I hate life. I hate you."

There’s a pause. "You don’t mean that," he says casually, plopping onto the bed beside you despite your apparent wrath.

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. "Try me."

Heeseung sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he gently places the snacks on your nightstand and reaches out to touch your arm. "Wanna punch me?"

You blink. "What?"

"You always say you wanna fight someone when you’re on your period," he says matter-of-factly, adjusting his position to face you better. "So go ahead. Get a free hit in."

You narrow your eyes at him, weighing your options. On one hand, smacking him sounds tempting. On the other, he’s the only source of warmth in this house, and you’re freezing despite being buried under layers of blankets.

You groan in frustration before flopping back onto your back. "No. You’re my personal heater. I need you alive."

Heeseung smirks, clearly pleased with your choice. Without another word, he slides under the blanket and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His body is warm, unfairly so and his familiar scent of fresh laundry and that faint cologne you love instantly soothes your nerves.

"Better?" he murmurs against your hair, his lips brushing your forehead.

You grumble something unintelligible, but the way you instinctively nuzzle into his chest answers his question for him.

Heeseung chuckles softly. "You’re so dramatic."

You lift your head just enough to glare at him again. "Say that again and see what happens."

He lifts his hands in surrender, but there’s a teasing smile on his lips. "Okay, okay. My bad. You’re not dramatic, you’re just… passionately expressive."

"That’s what I thought." You close your eyes, sighing as another wave of cramps hit you. "This sucks."

"I know, baby," he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You need anything? A heating pad? More snacks? My soul?"

"Your soul would be nice," you mumble sleepily. "But for now, just shut up and keep being warm."

Heeseung grins, tightening his hold on you. "Anything for you."

There’s a comfortable silence as he rubs gentle circles into your lower back, his warmth and presence easing some of your discomfort. You’re already half-asleep when he whispers, "Love you, even when you’re grumpy."

You hum, the corners of your lips twitching up slightly. "Love you too… but if you breathe too loud, I will smother you in your sleep."

Heeseung just laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

He’s been through this before. He’ll survive.