streaming platform

The “Heartstopper” universe began as a small web comic that gained traction on Tumblr nearly a decade ago. It’s now a global phenomenon.

Alice Oseman’s fictional world, where LGBTQ+ teenagers freely explore love, friendship and identity, expanded first to graphic novels before being turned into a hugely popular Netflix series.

The rom-com, which debuted in 2021, is part of a growing portfolio of young adult book adaptations that have flooded streaming platforms in recent years. Hulu’s college drama “Tell Me Lies” and HBO Max’s hockey romance “Heated Rivalry” have become pop culture sensations, joining hits like Amazon Prime Video’s “The Summer I Turned Pretty” and the “To All the Boys” trilogy on Netflix.

“We really thought it was going to be quite a niche show that was seen by a specific group of people,” Oseman said of “Heartstopper.” “It kind of blasted up beyond our expectations.”

After three seasons on the streaming giant, the British coming-of-age series will conclude with a film later this year.

Corinna Brown and Kizzy Edgell starred in Alice Oseman’s queer romance “Heartstopper.”

(Teddy Cavendish / Netflix)

These adaptations often tell tales as old as time of young love and emotional turmoil, but it’s the diverse representation that draws audiences in, said Yalda T. Uhls, founder and chief executive of UCLA’s Center for Scholars & Storytellers.

Audiences gravitate toward authenticity, Uhls added. Young people increasingly want to see stories that reflect their lives, according to a survey administered by Uhls’ nonprofit last year.

“It has to resonate and feel authentic to the time,” Uhls said. “This generation really sees stereotypes pretty quickly … they’ll see inappropriate behavior quickly, and they will call it out.”

Viewers are hungry for diverse casting and storylines across Hollywood. Last year, audiences showed up to the theater at higher rates for movies that had people of color in the cast, according to the annual UCLA Hollywood Diversity Report, released in March.

Netflix’s focus on YA adaptations has paid off, driving more than 1.2 billion total views worldwide in 2025. Audiences are drawn to the platform’s fresh and inclusive interpretations of the genre, said Jinny Howe, Netflix’s head of scripted series for the U.S. and Canada.

“It is still harder to get marginalized stories sort of made and seen by people, but ‘Heartstopper’ is part of that journey,” said Oseman, who also serves as series creator and executive producer.

Lovie Simone plays track star Keisha Clark in “Forever,” a reimagining of Judy Blume’s 1975 novel.

(Elizabeth Morris / Netflix)

“Forever,” a reimagining of Judy Blume’s 1975 book that debuted on Netflix last year, follows two young Black protagonists who fall in love in Los Angeles. The audience had “such a fervent passion for that story, I think, because of the specificity of those perspectives,” Howe said. “Los Angeles was really seen through these eyes.” The show’s second season will reportedly start filming in May.

Prime Video has leaned heavily into the genre, platforming hits like “Maxton Hall,” “Red, White & Royal Blue” and “The Summer I Turned Pretty,” which wrapped up a three-season run last year and has a film in the works.

Young adult adaptations are at the core of the platform’s broader efforts to champion diversity in storytelling, said Peter Friedlander, Prime Video’s head of global TV.

“We’re always looking for shows that give a reflection or a window into other people’s stories,” said Friedlander, also former head of U.S. and Canadian scripted series at Netflix. “This business has been building for a long time, and it’s exciting to see what’s coming out of it.”

Representation in these shows, however, is still far from perfect, said Nicholas Rickards, a doctoral candidate at Brock University in Ontario, Canada, whose research focuses on YA adaptations. Many shows that center a woman of color often still feature white male love interests, he said.

“Studios aren’t totally prepared to tell that story yet,” he said.

Filling a YA void

Streaming platforms’ focus on YA adaptations came as cable TV, which previously dominated the genre, tapered off.

YA retellings had long captivated audiences, finding widespread success during the 2010s. Networks like the CW and Freeform reigned then, airing now-classic teen dramas like “Pretty Little Liars” and “The Vampire Diaries.” The “Twilight” and “Hunger Games” universes and John Green book adaptations also dominated the box office.

Then the entertainment landscape changed. Social media and streaming became preferred modes of content consumption for young audiences, paving the way for platforms like Netflix, Prime Video, Hulu, Disney+ and HBO Max. Diverse storylines, coupled with the global reach of streaming platforms, have reignited an explosion of YA adaptations, and it’s a race that isn’t slowing down.

Younger generations are often difficult to attract, and YA reimaginings are just one way platforms are trying to break into the teenage demographic, said Jennifer Hessler, an assistant professor of cinema and media studies at the University of Southern California.

Lola Tung’s Belly is in a love triangle with Gavin Casalegno’s Jeremiah and Christopher Briney’s Conrad in “The Summer I Turned Pretty.”

(Erika Doss / Prime Video)

Netflix’s initial breakout success in the genre came with the release of “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” a movie trilogy adapted from books written by Jenny Han, who’s also behind “The Summer I Turned Pretty.” The movies became massive hits and continue to drive viewership, drawing more than 55 million views globally last year, nearly eight years after the first film’s release, according to Netflix.

Younger generations are the target demographic of YA series at Prime Video, but the shows attract audiences of all ages, Friedlander said. Identifying and helping cultivate fresh storylines driven by relatable characters are integral to that success.

“If you really make the best version of a story, it can ripple out among different fandoms,” Friedlander said. “I do think that’s the ability of what streaming platforms can achieve as well, because you can really introduce the narrative to wider audiences.”

Made for streaming

Netflix doesn’t have a formula for a breakout success, Howe said, but strong voices that feel universal must be at the show’s core.

Jeff Norton, whose work focuses on book-to-screen adaptations, said he looks for characters he can fall in love with when choosing books to pitch for development.

“That’s the most important thing — to find a main character or a set of characters that I think the audience will resonate with,” said Norton, who is an executive producer of Netflix’s “Geek Girl,” which was greenlit for a second season.

The structures of young adult novels “lend themselves really nicely” to short TV series, Howe said, because it allows fans “to have more time as they’re living inside of these worlds and these experiences — it’s just that much more enriching.”

Streaming platforms usually release shorter seasons, often with six to 10 episodes — about half the episode order of a typical cable TV series.

Balancing the expectations of a book’s existing fandom while trying to attract a new audience is a major component of Friedlander’s role, he said, adding that “the television medium will often demand that you do change some of the journey along the way so it fits the rhythm.”

Norton, the showrunner of Netflix’s “Finding Her Edge,” said much of that show’s plot diverges from Jennifer Iacopelli’s novel. However, he focused on maintaining the book’s tone and found “the readership is actually very forgiving if you keep the characters whole and intact, but give them more to do.”

Oseman’s shift from novelist to TV writer — and now screenwriter — came with a steep learning curve. The growing pains were worth it, she said, because her story reached audiences who might never have picked up her books. Visual media has been crucial in bridging that gap.

“I want young queer people to be able to see themselves in the stories that they’re consuming,” she said. “I really hope that the existence of ‘Heartstopper’ will encourage people who are commissioning TV and movies … to take a chance.”

Back in the early 2010s, the music industry was at a low point.

Piracy was rampant. Compact disc sales were on a steady decline. And the then-new audio streaming services, like Spotify, were taking hits from creators for paying low royalty rates.

Today, Spotify has grown into the world’s most popular audio streaming subscription service and the highest-paying retailer globally — paying the music industry over $11 billion last year. The Swedish company said in a recent post that the payouts aren’t strictly going to ultra-popular artists, but that “roughly half of royalties were generated by independent artists and labels.”

“A decade ago, a lot of the questions were really fair. Spotify had to be able to prove out if it could scale as an economic engine. People didn’t know if streaming would scale as a model,” said Sam Duboff, Spotify’s global head of marketing and policy of music business.

Duboff said Spotify’s payouts aren’t “plateauing — we’re still growing that royalty pool on Spotify more than 10% per year.” He credits the streaming platform’s growth to “incentivizing people to be willing to pay for music again” by providing personalized experiences and global accessibility.

The company, founded in 2006, serves more than 751 million users, including 290 million subscribers, in 184 markets.

“The average Spotify premium subscriber listens to 200 artists every month, and nearly half of those artists are discovered for the first time,” Duboff said. “When you build an experience where people can explore and fall in love with music, it inspires them to upgrade to premium and keep paying.”

The platform offers a wide variety of playlists, curated by editors like the up-and-comer-driven Fresh Finds or rap’s latest, RapCaviar. There are also personal playlists generated for users, such as the weekly round-up Discover Weekly and the daily mix of tunes called the “daylist.”

The streamer considers itself the first step toward “an enduring career” for today’s indie artists. Last year, more than a third of artists making $10,000 on the platform in royalties started by self-releasing their music through independent distributors.

“Streaming, fundamentally, is about opportunity and access. It’s artists from all over the world releasing music the way they want to and reaching a global audience from Day One,” Duboff said. He adds that when fans have a choice, they will discover new genres and music cultures that may have otherwise languished in obscurity.

In 2025, nearly 14,000 artists earned $100,000 from Spotify alone. The streamer’s data also show that last year the 100,000th highest-earning artist made $7,300 in Spotify royalties, whereas in 2015, an artist in that same spot earned around $350.

The company, with a large presence in L.A.’s Arts District, emphasizes that the roster of artists on its platform who earn significantly more money — well into the millions — is no longer limited to the few. A decade ago, Spotify’s top artist made around $10 million in royalties. Today, the platform’s top 80 artists generate over $10 million annually. Some of 2025’s top artists globally were Bad Bunny, Taylor Swift and the Weeknd.

Spotify claims those who aren’t household names can earn six figures, with more than 1,500 artists earning $1 million last year.

For some musicians, the outlook is not as clear

Damon Krukowski, a musician and the legislative director for United Musicians & Allied Workers, argues that Spotify’s money isn’t necessarily going to artists — it’s going to their labels.

Those without labels usually upload music through distributors such as DistroKid and CD Baby. These platforms charge a small fee or commission. For example, DistroKid’s lowest-level subscription is $24.99 a year, and the site states users “keep 100% of all your earnings.”

”There are zero payments going directly to recording artists from Spotify,” Krukowski asserts. “Recording artists deserve direct payment from the streaming platforms for use of our work.”

The advocacy group, which has mobilized more than 70,000 musicians and music workers, recently helped draft the Living Wage for Musicians Act to address the streaming industry. The bill, introduced to the U.S. House of Representatives last fall, calls for a new streaming royalty that would directly pay artists a minimum of one penny per stream.

In the Q&A section of Spotify’s Loud and Clear website, the streamer confirms that it “doesn’t pay artists or songwriters directly. We pay rights holders selected by the artist or songwriter, whether that’s a record label, publisher, independent distributor, performance rights organization, or collecting society.”

Instead of following a penny-per-stream model, Spotify pays based on the artist’s share of total streams, called a “streamshare.”

“Streaming doesn’t work like buying songs. Fans pay for unlimited access, not per track they listen to,” wrote the company online. “So a ‘per stream’ rate isn’t actually how anyone gets paid — not on Spotify, or on any major streaming service.”