Photoshop Troll James Novels & Stories

James rolled his eyes. She poked him in the stomach. “You want to keep this drool worthy, don’t you?” She teased him. “Salads not hamburgers.” “I am not the stripper,” James replied, nudging Owen. “I don’t have to tear my shirt off during the show.”

Everyone turned their heads around and looked at him. It was only now that Daisie remembered the things that James had said to them during their dinner with Shannon and the crew of The Fog. She looked at him gloomily and said, “It’s such a waste that you don’t go become a psychic. You’re so talented at it.” James did not know why Nollace and Daisie were looking at him like they were going to kill him. He gulped and said, "What did I do? I just said that I'd worship you like a god. Why are you asking me to become a psychic?”

Blake and I sat there quietly so he could concentrate on what he was doing. "Well, this is strange," James said, still typing into the computer. "Is the photo fake?" Blake asked "In a way, yes. James said, " this is you in the picture and Veronica," and my chest began to hurt. "That can't be true. I didn't touch her," Blake said "You didn't let me finish. This is you and Veronica, but everything else has been photoshopped. Let me do something real quick," James said while working on his computer.

Jameson said with a modest smile. Josh's gums were sore from gritting his teeth. He really wanted to spike this bastard's coffee. "Dad, don't get too angry. It's not good for your health." Jameson continued, "Although David's matter has been brought up again, I took a brief look, and there are more doubts and criticisms about Tatiana online. I think Josh just needs to buy more trolls and let the comments develop in that direction. That should divert the focus from David." Josh's gaze fixed on Jameson was intense, resembling cannons ready to unleash fire.

I can’t falter. A brown envelope rests on the coffee table. My name is written in handwriting I’d recognize anywhere. Inside, I find more photos: Alex in compromising situations—all obviously manipulated, but frighteningly realistic. And others, even worse: Noah and Oliver being followed, photographed in moments that should be private and safe. “Impressive, isn’t it?” James’s voice comes from the door I didn’t hear open. “The technology we have today.” I turn slowly. He’s standing in the doorway, a glass of whiskey in hand, his usual smile looking especially predatory tonight.

James shooed his best friend away which was met with laughter from Alen who was not offended at all. After Alen left, James returned his attention to some designs that were still not fully cooked. Not only once he checked them very carefully, but he did it repeatedly because he didn't want to make a mistake. An hour later, another of his good friends came into his room. "You have to know about this," Diego Greco said in a worried tone. He handed him a tablet with a file containing several videos on it. James frowned. Without asking, he immediately played the videos in order, while Diego waited with a nervous look on his face.

The rest of the day went by smoothly. His teachers, for the most part, were passing out study guides and basically just going into review mode due to the coming week. It had been a pretty successful day and James was in his last period—Photography with the eccentric, redhaired Mr. Adams—looking forward to that lovely end of the day bell, when Mr. Adams suddenly called out to him from the front of the class. “James Olympia?” Every eye hound him in less than a second.

I slapped him again, harder this time, and tossed my phone at him without a shred of politeness. "You still have the nerve to ask?" James caught the phone with fumbling hands, his expression shifting from indignation to unease as he noticed the look on my face. He glanced at the phone screen, and I smirked, my voice dripping with mockery. "You're living quite the carefree life, aren't you, James?" "Babe! Listen to me! Let me explain! I have no idea where these photos came from!" James panicked. I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly. "You don't know? Those photos are trending everywhere now. The company's stock is plummeting. So, tell me, James, what are you going to do about it?"

“ I’d tell you. James here or Tristan as you call him , works for me “ Vitali sat down on his couch “What? No way “ I shake my head frantically refusing to believe what he had just said. “ it can’t be possible . Tristan is a college student,you’re mistaking him for someone else …Tristan say something “ I yelled, my whole body surged with frustration This had to be some kind of joke, surely, Vitali couldn’t be this manipulative. “Say something James, go on” Vitali addressed Tristan with a smug smile playing on his lips. “Beth, I am James and I work for Vitali,” Tristan said looking straight at me “Oh my God “I gasped, falling to the ground in devastation. “Do you now see why I always call you

Regardless of the situation, Mark did not even view James as a designer. James was startled for a moment before he immediately asked, “Mr. Tremont, are there some official matters that you would like to discuss since you’re the one who has invited me here today? Let’s get right to it since we’re both busy men.” Mark leisurely took a bite of the food on the table before he said, “Why don’t you tell me where you have gotten the inspiration for the design that you have produced and claimed has been plagiarised? I’ve always been very interested in art. Relax, we’re just having a casual chit chat.”