
the burn book.
written & silently screamed into a pillow by: sam lowe
trigger warning & disclosure:
if you came for sunshine & rainbows,
hit the back button now.
inside: trauma talk, abuse receipts, rage, grief, dark-humor coping, and the occasional middle-finger emoji.
✨🖕🏻✨
this is me navigating co-conspired collapse solo.
what this is (and what it isn’t)
personal narrative → first-person feelings, not sworn testimony.
strategic catharsis → my brain-dump, not a how-to manual, legal brief, or universal truth.
protected speech → opinion + lived experience, shielded by the First Amendment & anti-SLAPP statutes.
already vetted → any actual fact i name is backed by records and/or already filed with courts / law enforcement.
what you won’t find here
professional mental-health advice
step-by-step guides to surviving your own case
identifying info that isn’t already public record
sometimes it’s rage.
sometimes it’s dark humor.
sometimes it’s me crying into my coffee at 3 a.m.
read if you choose.
— sam lowe
cassie v. the mogul. the monster. the mf media machine.
exhibit c: cassie v. theplaintiff: certified bad bitch
docket no: 1-800-BEEN-THAT-BITCH
style of cause:
cassie.
not just a name.
a cautionary tale for men who thought
"that NDA would hold."
she didn’t come forward.
she came for blood.
with dates. receipts.
in heels.
while pregnant.
procedural posture:
after years of grooming, gaslighting,
and being turned into an aesthetic,
plaintiff filed a scorched-earth lawsuit
and made federal court quiver.
facts:
defendant: billionaire mogul.
cassie: literal goddess turned hostage.
abuse timeline: 10 years, give or take every ounce of her soul.
method: shaved her head. made her bring him women.
controlled her money, movement, music, body.
called it “love.”result: full psychological hostage situation,
but with paparazzi.
issue:
can one woman burn down a brand, a man, and an entire power structure
before breakfast?
rule:
if you are pregnant, formerly famous,
and running low on fucks—
you may be entitled to financial and emotional compensation.
application:
cassie said: i’m done.
and then she filed.
no PR stunt.
no docuseries.
just 35 pages of “fuck around and find out.”
she made her trauma footnotable.
she made survival a strategy.
and she made the industry say,
“oh… shit.”
judgment:
she wins.
not just the case—
she wins everything.
power.
voice.
sleep.
and hopefully?
her fucking peace.
notes to self (aka lessons from a legend):
never doubt a quiet girl with a baby bump and a trauma folder.
NDAs are just foreplay to a bigger explosion.
white women wish they could liberate like this.
cassie burned the blueprint and built her own exit route.
filed under:
✦ “this is what survival with receipts looks like.”
✦ “defamation? no baby, this is documentation.”
✦ “someone call the fire department—she’s still smoking.”
—
xo,
the bitch taking notes
🖤📂💣 silence
lively v. logic, decency & survivors everywhere
blake. fucking. lively.
not to be rude,
but actually—
yes. to be rude.
…
defendant: tone-deaf barbie w/ producer credits
docket no: 4GET-HER
style of cause:
blake. fucking. lively.
princess of pastels. duchess of deflection.
first of her name.
last to get the memo.
nature of the action:
trauma-themed brand activation
masquerading as advocacy.
girl said “survivor-centered storytelling”
and handed us a cocktail menu. 🥂
facts:
executive producer of a DV memoir adaptation
played make-believe with real women's trauma
renamed an abuser after a liquor label
layered pastels over pain
weaponized aesthetic neutrality
dared to ask: but what if survivorship was...an instagram filter?
issue:
is it still exploitation
if the exploiter is blonde, rich, and holding a blowout brush?
rule:
you can’t soft-launch feminism
by hard-launching a liquor line
application:
blake positioned herself
not as the vessel for truth
but as the face of survivorship™.
not because she lived it—
but because it’s on-brand.
she had final cut.
she had the money.
she had the mic.
and still made it about hair, alcohol,
and curated grief.
she wasn’t the victim.
she wasn’t the silenced.
she wasn’t even the bystander.
she was the bankroller.
and now she wants applause?
girl.
this isn’t feminism.
this is a business strategy
in a floral maxi dress.
judgment:
the court finds the vibes
unserious.
the motives,
fucked.
the feminism?
whiter than her PR team.
remedy sought:
one (1) gag order on fake woke white women
retroactive producer accountability
a lifetime supply of humility (non-transferable)
damages for every survivor she tried to sell empowerment to—$19.99 per bottle
revocation of all “girlboss” licenses, effective immediately
notes from chambers:
you can’t center trauma
behind the safety of ryan reynolds’ face card.
and you don’t get to cry feminist
when the only risk you took
was a branding pivot.
blake isn’t the moment.
she’s the memo we send to warn each other.
filed under:
✦ “feminism is not a photo op.”
✦ “palatable ≠ powerful.”
✦ “you are the reason we don’t talk to press.”
—
xoxo,
the bitch in the courtroom
with nothing left to lose
but her gag reflex.
(gossip girl) 💄🖤📉

for legal reasons, this is a vibe.
consider this your character development arc. you’re welcome.