How this works, in plain English

You're selling a slice of what you earn for a set number of years, in exchange for a big payment now.

That's it. You're not borrowing money and you're not giving away part of your business. You still own your work, your channels, your name and your audience. Nobody gets to tell you what to post or when to work.

Take Maya Okonkwo's deal. She's been earning about $3,420 a month. She agreed to give 30% of what she earns to her backers for 3 years, and they paid $25,000 for it.

Next month it happens again, based on whatever she earned that month. A big month means a bigger payment. A quiet month means a smaller one. A month where she earns nothing means she pays nothing — and nothing builds up in the background.

It ends. There's a hard ceiling written into the deal: her backers can collect at most 2.6 times what they put in — $65,000 — and then it's over. Whatever she earns after that is 100% hers.

It also ends automatically after 3 years even if they never reach that ceiling. At her current pace she wouldn't reach the ceiling at all — the 3 years would simply run out first.

This ceiling is the single most important line in the contract. Without it, a creator who blew up would owe an endless amount, which is exactly the kind of deal that ruins people. Never sign one of these without a cap.

In pieces, not one lump sum. Maya gets $20,000 in total — the $25,000 raised, minus the platform's 20.0% fee of $5,000.

Why not all at once? Because your backers are handing over real money on day one and getting paid back slowly over years. Spreading your payment out is what makes both sides comfortable. It's the same reason a signing bonus usually comes with strings.

Then the rest of your payments stop arriving, and your backers keep getting their slice of whatever you do still earn until the years run out.

You will never get a bill. If you earn nothing, you pay nothing, and no debt piles up with your name on it. Nobody can force you to keep making things. That's the real difference between this and a loan.

You make your work on Lovecut. If you want, it trains a twin — a version of you that talks to fans on Lovescape, subscribes them, hosts rooms, takes commissions, all while you're asleep or busy or on holiday.

Money your twin earns counts as your earnings, same as anything else. Your backers get their same slice of it — no more, no less. A little of it also comes back to you as credit for your next project, so the work you already made helps pay for the work you make next.

The twin matters for a simple reason: it's the only part of you that can earn while you're not working. That's what makes a multi-year deal survivable if you need to take time off.

You do. You choose what it's allowed to use — your voice, your face, your style — one at a time, and you can switch it off on short notice without giving a reason, without paying a penalty.

Your backers get no rights to it whatsoever. They can't keep running it if you quit, they can't sell it, and they can't sue you for turning it off. Everything it makes is labelled as a twin so fans are never fooled. When the deal ends, the twin is deleted.

• You might sell too cheap. If you blow up right after signing, you'll hit the ceiling fast and you'll have handed over a lot of money for that upfront check. That's the trade you're making.
• It's years of paperwork. Every month, for years, a slice comes off the top of everything you earn — including income that has nothing to do with these platforms.
• The projections are guesses. Every chart on this site assumes steady growth forever. Nobody grows in a straight line.
• Get it read by a lawyer. Not a friend, not us — an actual lawyer who works with creators. Any platform that discourages you from doing that is telling you something.