Why Fandoms Are Cashing In on AI Deepfakes (Even When Celebrities Say No)
Fandoms, Deepfakes, and the New AI Clout Economy
AI-generated deepfakes of celebrities like Ariana Grande, Grimes, and other influencers are no longer just a tech demo—they’re a kind of fandom currency. Fans are remixing faces and voices into songs, skits, and short-form videos, chasing views, followers, and sometimes real money, even as the people being cloned publicly ask them to stop.
This clash between internet attention culture and celebrity consent is at the core of The Verge’s recent coverage of how fandoms are cashing in on AI deepfakes. What used to be Photoshop-level play has escalated into full-blown synthetic performances, raising new questions about creativity, ethics, and who actually owns a famous face in the age of generative AI.
From Fan Edits to Full-On AI Replicas
Fandoms have always pushed the limits of what’s “allowed” with celebrity images—think fan cams, Tumblr GIF sets, fancams on X/Twitter, and heavily edited Instagram tributes. Deepfakes are the next evolutionary step, powered by tools that are trivially easy to use and increasingly hard to detect.
While some of the most contentious uses involve adult or violent material—which many platforms now explicitly restrict—there’s a rapidly growing gray zone of seemingly harmless or even affectionate content: AI covers of pop songs in another artist’s voice, fake interviews, or hyper-polished skits that never actually happened.
The Verge’s reporting shows how these AI replicas are no longer just playful experiments—they’re a resource in the “attention economy.” Deepfake edits that ride the algorithm can land on millions of For You Pages, translating into followers, brand deals, or platform payouts for the fans who post them.
“AI gives fans a sense of control over their favorite celebrity’s likenesses, whether the stars like it or not.”
Why Ariana Grande, Grimes, and Others Are Uneasy
Artists like Ariana Grande and Grimes have both engaged publicly with AI, but from very different angles. Grimes experimented early with letting fans use an AI version of her voice under specific conditions, positioning it as an open-source pop persona. Grande, on the other hand, has been more clearly uncomfortable with AI versions of her, especially when they cross into misrepresentation.
The Verge describes a climate where even creators who are tech-friendly are increasingly wary. Once AI replicas spread, they develop their own life: people duet, stitch, and remix them, and context gets stripped away. A playful experiment can quickly start to feel like lost control.
When fans ignore direct requests to stop posting AI deepfakes, the relationship flips. Instead of the classic parasocial fantasy of “I feel close to this star,” there’s a power move: “I can make you say or sing anything, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Inside the AI Clout Economy of Fandom
The Verge’s piece frames AI deepfakes as a kind of speculative investment in attention. Fans don’t just post for fun; they post with an eye on going viral. A convincing AI cover of a new hit single in the voice of a different superstar can feel like algorithmic gold.
In this system, celebrities become raw material. Their voice, face, and mannerisms are assets that can be recombined at scale. The fan who uploads the content harvests the likes and views; the celebrity absorbs the risk to their image and reputation.
- Supply: powerful, often free AI tools and tons of training data (clips, interviews, performances).
- Demand: an audience that loves novelty, mashups, and “wait, is this real?” moments.
- Reward: social clout, creator fund payouts, sponsorships, and platform boosts.
Culturally, this goes beyond fandom. It reflects how internet culture treats identity itself as remixable. For many users raised on memes and stan Twitter, transplanting a celebrity into any scenario is an extension of long-standing fan creativity—just with better tech and higher stakes.
“If I can edit a meme, why can’t I edit a person?” becomes the unspoken logic of the AI remix generation.
Consent, Ethics, and the Limits of “It’s Just Fan Art”
One of the thorniest questions The Verge highlights is where to draw the line between transformative fan art and exploitative deepfake. Legally, this is still shaky ground in many regions. Ethically, though, a few principles are starting to emerge in public conversations.
- Consent matters: When a celebrity explicitly says “don’t use my likeness this way,” ignoring that request erodes the social contract between fan and creator.
- Context matters: AI content that could mislead, defame, or embarrass is more harmful than clearly labeled, obviously playful experiments.
- Monetization matters: Profiting from someone else’s likeness without permission feels different from sharing a non-commercial fan meme.
There’s also a mental-health dimension that often gets overlooked. For celebrities, constantly seeing alternate, AI-edited versions of themselves—saying things they never said, in scenarios they never agreed to—can be unsettling and exhausting. Fans may think they’re joining in a big in-joke; the person at the center of the joke may feel increasingly alienated from their own image.
Platforms, Policy, and the Legal Gray Zone
The Verge notes that platforms like TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram have been slow and sometimes inconsistent in responding to AI deepfakes of influencers. Some have introduced policies around “synthetic or manipulated media,” but enforcement is patchy, and borderline content often slips through.
On the legal side, right-of-publicity laws give celebrities some control over commercial uses of their image and voice, but those laws vary widely by country and state. Meanwhile, new AI-focused legislation is still catching up, and takedown processes can be labyrinthine and reactive rather than preventative.
For now, many celebrities rely on a mix of public statements, legal threats in extreme cases, and behind-the-scenes negotiations with platforms. Fans, by contrast, often operate under a sense of plausible deniability: if it’s technically allowed by the platform and “everyone else is doing it,” individual responsibility can feel diluted.
This tension mirrors other tech-era conflicts—like music piracy in the 2000s or streaming residuals in the 2020s—but with a twist: this time, what’s being copied isn’t just the work. It’s the person.
What AI Deepfakes Mean for Celebrity and Fandom Culture
The rise of AI replicas accelerates a shift that’s been happening for years: celebrities as collaborative characters rather than distant icons. But when fans can override an artist’s clearly stated boundaries, “collaboration” starts to look more like appropriation.
The Verge’s reporting suggests that AI fandom is forcing tough conversations:
- Should artists license official AI versions of themselves to keep control?
- Will fans eventually prefer endlessly available, always-on AI idols to real people with limits?
- Can fandom stay playful and transformative without erasing the person behind the persona?
Industry-wise, expect a wave of official AI partnerships, watermarking standards, and new clauses in talent contracts dealing explicitly with synthetic media. The same tools that feel threatening today may become tightly controlled revenue streams tomorrow—though that won’t erase the ethical debates about consent and dignity.
Watch: Deepfake and AI Culture on Screen
While this article focuses on real-world fandoms, film and television have been exploring similar themes—identity, simulation, and authenticity—for years. If you’re interested in how pop culture itself depicts the rise of synthetic personas, you can explore trailers and clips on official channels.
This kind of media literacy—understanding how easily images and voices can be faked—is becoming part of basic digital survival skills for fans and creators alike.
Where AI Fandom Goes Next
“Fandoms Are Cashing In on AI Deepfakes” – The Verge
The Verge’s exploration of AI deepfakes in fandom is less a tech explainer and more a cultural snapshot of a line being crossed in real time. It captures the uneasy mix of admiration, entitlement, and opportunism driving fans to keep posting AI replicas even when their favorite artists clearly say no.
As generative AI tools get sharper and democratized, the big question isn’t whether fans can make eerily convincing deepfakes—it’s whether they should, and under what conditions. The answer will likely be shaped not only by new laws and platform rules, but by evolving fan norms around respect, consent, and what it really means to support the people whose work you love.
Review by Independent Culture & Tech Commentary
