#drakkgo

Do Bob Schooley & Mark McCorkle Have Creative Control Over Kim Possible?

A Documented, Source-Backed Answer

Short answer: No. Long answer: Also no, and this is not a matter of opinion, vibes, or “creator intent.” It is a matter of law, contracts, credits, and Disney’s established studio practice.

This post lays out verifiable proof showing why Bob Schooley and Mark McCorkle do not possess creative control or canon authority over Kim Possible. Table of Contents: Section #1 Context & Scope of This Post (Why This Exists) Section #2 Additional Personal Motivation: Community Impact of the 2022 Podcast Commentary Section #3 Before Anything Else: What “Creative Control” Actually Means Section #4 Final Conclusion (Proof-Based)

Section #1 Context & Scope of This Post (Why This Exists)

This post is written in direct reference to my research-paper–style dissertation and canon analysis, titled:

“In Defense of DrakkXGo (Why the 2022 KP Anniversary Podcast Is Non-Canon)”

This analysis was written in response to an unofficial 2022 Kim Possible 20th Anniversary podcast comedy skit, featuring the series co-creators (Bob Schooley and Mark McCorkle) and several original voice actors, in which a non-canon joke was made implying that Drakken and Shego “broke up” after Season 4.

That podcast skit — while humorous and explicitly self-disavowed as canon — has nonetheless been repeatedly cited online as if it carries canonical or authoritative weight. My dissertation directly addresses why that interpretation is incorrect.

The full analysis is split into two long-form Tumblr posts due to length constraints:

Part 1/2 In Defense of DrakkXGo (Why the 2022 KP Anniversary Podcast Is Non-Canon) https://www.tumblr.com/gregoryelliottgrosberg/804537499629305856/in-defense-of-drakkxgo-why-the-2022-kp?source=share

Part 2/2 In Defense of DrakkXGo (Why the 2022 KP Anniversary Podcast Is Non-Canon) https://www.tumblr.com/gregoryelliottgrosberg/804777997901103104/in-defense-of-drakkxgo-why-the-2022-kp?source=share

Those posts contain:

Transcript-backed behavioral analysis across 85 episodes (~796 pages of transcripts)

Application of the scientific method (Hempel; Meehl)

Longitudinal pattern recognition

Attachment theory, interdependence theory, and investment model modeling

Explicit rebuttal of the 2022 podcast’s canonical validity

This present post exists to clarify one foundational legal and media-analysis premise that underpins that dissertation:

Bob Schooley and Mark McCorkle do not possess creative control or canon authority over Kim Possible, and therefore their retrospective commentary — including the 2022 podcast skit — cannot override on-screen canon.

Everything that follows establishes why that premise is correct, using copyright law, industry practice, studio precedent, and documented sourcing — not opinion, shipping preference, or creator dislike.

Section #2 Additional Personal Motivation: Community Impact of the 2022 Podcast Commentary

Another direct motivation for writing this dissertation came from a comment left by @demico-art, which crystallized the real emotional and interpretive damage caused by the widespread misreading of the 2022 KP Anniversary podcast comedy skit as canon.

The comment reads (quoted with permission-preserving attribution):

@demico-art January 17, 2026 1:06AM Just here to say that this is an amazing analysis, and I love every part of it, and before I move on to Part 2, I have to say that unlike you, I watched KP as it was airing in 2002, and I shipped Drakgo (and Kim+Ron) then. I was shocked when KimRon became canon, and I thought the series would end there, but they didn't! Their relationship didn't become boring or cringe, but I never dreamed that Drakgo would be canon too. That being said, I was happy to listen to that podcast at first, because it felt like a new ep, but then they said how drakgo didn't work out. So basically they confirmed and destroyed the ship in one sentence. I felt really angry and depressed too, because wtf even??? I tried to forget and make peace with it because whatchagonnado... And I didn't really see other remaining drakgo fans bitching about it, and no one replied to my angry posts, so yeah...

This comment mattered to me for several reasons:

It demonstrates real harm caused by misattributing canon authority The emotional reaction described here did not arise from the show itself, but from an external, unofficial comedy skit that explicitly disavowed canon status — yet was nonetheless interpreted as definitive.

It shows how silence amplifies misinformation As @demico-art notes, many long-time DrakkXGo fans did not publicly contest the podcast’s claims, creating the false impression that the ship had been “officially killed” when no such canon action occurred.

It reinforces why this analysis needed to exist at all This dissertation is not about “bitching,” shipping defensiveness, or nostalgia. It is about correcting a factual and interpretive error that:

incorrectly assigns canon authority to non-canon material,

overrides on-screen evidence with retrospective commentary,

and leaves fans believing that something meaningful was “taken away” when it never was.

It validates the need for a rigorous, evidence-based response Emotional reactions like anger, grief, or resignation are understandable — but they should not be the endpoint when the underlying premise is false. The correct response is not dismissal, but clarification grounded in:

copyright law,

media canon hierarchy,

transcript-backed behavioral evidence,

and the scientific method.

In short, comments like this made it clear that the 2022 podcast did not merely spark debate — it caused people to mourn a loss that never occurred in canon.

That is why this post does not simply say “the podcast isn’t canon” and move on. It explains why, how, and by what standards canon authority actually works — so that no one has to feel blindsided, dismissed, or quietly isolated over a misinterpretation again.

Direct permalink to the referenced comment: https://www.tumblr.com/gregoryelliottgrosberg/804537499629305856/in-defense-of-drakkxgo-why-the-2022-kp/replies/805989270640869376

This link is included to document the specific community response that helped motivate this analysis and to preserve primary-source context for future readers. @demico-art comment is cited here not as evidentiary proof of canon, but as evidence of interpretive harm caused by misattributing canon authority to unofficial material.

Section #3 Before Anything Else: What “Creative Control” Actually Means

Because this term is often used loosely in fandom, it’s important to define it precisely.

Creative control (in film, television, comics, books, videogames, artwork, Epcot attractions,etc) refers to legal authority, not influence or authorship.

Specifically, creative control means the contractual right to:

Approve or veto storylines

Approve or veto character arcs or relationships

Approve or veto canon declarations

Override studio decisions

Control continuity in future projects

Prevent retcons or reinterpretations

Decide what is or is not “official”

Creative control is not:

Being the original creator

Having written the show

Having run the show at one time

Giving interviews or commentary

Explaining original intent

Being consulted later

A creator can have creative input or historical authority without having creative control.

Creative control only exists if it is explicitly granted by contract.

Absent that contract language, the IP owner retains full authority.

Section #3A Kim Possible Is a Work-for-Hire Disney Television Property

Legal basis: U.S. Copyright Law

Under 17 U.S. Code § 101, a work made for hire is defined as:

“A work specially ordered or commissioned… where the employer or commissioning party is considered the author for purposes of copyright.”

In U.S. television animation:

The studio is the employer

The creators are contracted writers/producers

The studio is the legal author and rights holder

Disney Television Animation operates entirely under this model.

Implication: Unless a creator negotiates explicit ownership or veto rights (which Disney does not grant for DTVA shows), all creative control remains with Disney.

Source:

U.S. Copyright Office — Copyright Law of the United States, § 101 https://www.copyright.gov/title17/92chap1.html#101

Section #3B Disney Explicitly Owns Kim Possible

Copyright & trademark records

Kim Possible is registered to The Walt Disney Company

All licensing, merchandise, streaming, and distribution credit Disney alone

Every episode carries standard language equivalent to: © Disney. All rights reserved.

There is no copyright attribution to Schooley or McCorkle.

That distinction is legally decisive.

Sources:

Disney+ episode copyright slates (Kim Possible, Seasons 1–4)

USPTO Trademark Database — Kim Possible https://tmsearch.uspto.gov/

Section #3C On-Screen Credits Confirm Employment, Not Ownership

Schooley & McCorkle are credited as:

“Created by”

Executive Producers

They are not credited as:

Rights holders

IP owners

Final creative authority

In U.S. television, “Created by” is a credit, not a property claim.

The Writers Guild of America explicitly distinguishes authorship credit from ownership or control.

Source:

Writers Guild of America — Credits Manual https://www.wga.org/contracts/credits/manuals

Section #3D Disney Television Animation Does Not Grant Creator Control

This is not unique to Kim Possible. It is studio-wide policy.

Direct precedent (same studio, same structure):

Alex Hirsch (Gravity Falls)

Dana Terrace (The Owl House)

Matt Braly (Amphibia)

Alex Hirsch stated publicly:

“I don’t own Gravity Falls. Disney does.”

Creators may advise, pitch, or be invited back — but Disney retains final authority.

Sources:

Alex Hirsch, Twitter (2018)

Disney Television Animation press interviews (Variety, THR)

Section #3E Schooley & McCorkle Themselves Do Not Claim Canon Authority

In interviews, panels, and anniversary podcasts, Schooley & McCorkle:

Frame statements as “what we intended at the time”

Speak retrospectively

Do not assert veto power or binding authority

They never claim:

Ownership of the IP

The ability to override Disney

The power to define canon unilaterally

Because they legally cannot.

Source:

Kim Possible 20th Anniversary commentary & interviews (2022)

Section #3F Podcasts & Interviews Are Not Canon by Disney’s Own Standards

Disney follows a consistent canon hierarchy across franchises:

On-screen narrative media

Official Disney-produced narrative extensions

Disney-approved publications

Creator commentary (non-binding)

This is why:

DVD commentaries

Convention Q&As

Anniversary podcasts

Are classified as behind-the-scenes insight, not canon law.

Sources:

Disney franchise canon guidelines (Star Wars, Marvel, DTVA precedent)

Section #3G No Contract Evidence Exists Granting Them Control — And That Matters

If Schooley & McCorkle had:

Ownership rights

Creative veto power

Canon authority

There would be:

Public contract disclosures

Trade publication reporting (Variety, THR)

Disney press releases advertising creator-controlled status

None exist.

Disney always highlights creator-controlled projects when they exist. Silence here is meaningful.

Section #4 Final Conclusion (Proof-Based)

Documented facts:

Kim Possible is a Disney-owned, work-for-hire television property

Bob Schooley & Mark McCorkle are creators and former showrunners

They do not own the IP

They do not control canon

They do not possess veto or creative control rights

Their commentary is historical and contextual (personal takes/subjective opinions), not binding

This conclusion is supported by:

U.S. copyright law

Disney Television Animation ownership practices

On-screen copyright credits

Writers Guild definitions

Studio-wide precedent

Absence of any contrary legal documentation

Bottom Line

Respecting the creators ≠ assigning them authority they do not have.

Relationships: Dr. Drakken/Shego (Kim Possible)

DID DISNEY JUST MAKE DRAKKEN/SHEGO CANON ON A RANDOM SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT 3pm AFTER TWO DECADES WITHHOLDING IT?!?!

IM NOT EXAGGERATING AT ALL WHEN I SAY THAT THIS IS A MAJOR EVENT IN MY LIFE

I’ve been reading fanfic of these two at LEAST 3-4 times a week every week for over 10 years, and out of NOWHERE we’re randomly granted what we’ve always begged them for?!

DO THEY HAVE SOME NEW CONTENT IN THE WORKS OR..?!? WHAT WOULD MAKE THEM WANT TO MAKE THE PUBLIC AWARE OF THE DRAKGO SHIP

Set after the Kim Possible (2002) series finale, “Graduation,” and chronologically preceding both The Lipsky Files: Convergence and The Lipsky Files: Future.

The lab lights dimmed automatically at midnight.

Drakken noticed because they always did—and because he hadn’t turned them off himself.

He paused, hands hovering over the console, then glanced at the clock.

That late already.

Nothing was on fire. Nothing was screaming for attention. The plant growth along the upper gantries glowed softly, leaves unfurling and curling in slow, patient rhythms. Systems idled. The world, apparently, had decided to behave.

At his shoulder, the vine shifted—subtle, responsive—then went still, petals around his collar dimming with the lab’s night-cycle like they belonged there.

The quiet.

He hated it.

Shego: “You gonna finish recalibrating that,” she said from behind him, “or just stare at it until it feels intimidated?”

He scoffed.

Drakken: “Please.”

Drakken didn’t look away from the readouts.

Drakken: “I was letting it settle.”

Shego: “Uh-huh.”

Shego wasn’t hovering over his shoulder like an assistant. She never did that.

She was sprawled on the battered couch that had somehow survived three separate lair implosions—boots still on, feet up on the armrest like the concept of “furniture rules” had never met her. A portable heat-lamp had been angled toward the cushions like a miniature sun. Her MP3 player sat on the cushion beside her, wired earbuds in, the cord disappearing into her collar. One hand held a nail file.

She filed with slow, vicious patience—eyes half-lidded—like she was doing violence to keratin on principle.

That alone should’ve felt wrong.

It didn’t.

Drakken tried to focus on the screen.

Drakken: “Anyway, the residual energy signature from the Lorwardian tech is still—wait.”

His brow furrowed.

Drakken: “Did you move the buffer routing again?”

Shego: “Yep.”

Shego didn’t even glance up. Her file made a soft rasp-rasp sound.

Shego: “Your routing looks like you’re expecting betrayal.”

He bristled.

Drakken: “That is a reasonable expectation.”

Shego pulled one earbud out with two fingers, just enough to speak clearly.

Shego: “It’s a sad expectation. But sure.”

Drakken glared at the stabilized graph.

Drakken: “It was fine.”

Shego: “It was you.” she corrected, flat.

He opened his mouth to argue—

—and then the system hiccuped. A tiny surge. A tiny wobble.

Shego sighed like the universe had personally disappointed her. She set the nail file down, stood, and wandered over with the lazy confidence of someone who’d watched him do this mistake a hundred times.

She tapped the display—two quick inputs, no flourish.

The readout smoothed instantly.

Shego: “There.” she said, already turning away.

Shego: “See? No betrayal. Just bad habits.”

Drakken stared.

Drakken: “…I didn’t even tell you what I was adjusting.”

Shego paused like she was considering giving him a gold star.

Shego: “You don’t have to.” she said.

Shego: “You always go for the buffer when you’re tired. It’s your tell.”

He tried to look offended.

It didn’t land. He adjusted the output without comment.

They worked like that for a while—Drakken on the console, Shego drifting between the couch and the railing, music in one ear, insults in the other. She handed him a tool at one point without looking.

He took it automatically.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

Eventually, Drakken cleared his throat.

Drakken: “You know, if Global Justice calls—”

Shego: “They will.” she said, unimpressed.

Drakken: “Yes, well—when they do, I don’t see why I should be obligated to—”

Shego leaned back against the railing, arms folding—not defensive. Just habitual.

Shego: “They’ll want your expertise.” she said.

Shego: “Not your loyalty.”

Drakken hesitated.

Drakken: “And… you?”

Shego tilted her head, considering, like the question was mildly cute.

Shego: “I’m already here.”

He nodded, relieved—then frowned at himself for being relieved.

Drakken: “That’s not what I meant.” he added quickly.

Shego: “Sure.” she said, not unkindly.

Shego: “Whatever helps you sleep.”

Silence settled again.

Not awkward. Not charged. Just… there.

Drakken stared at the console.

Drakken: “You ever think about leaving?”

Shego glanced sideways.

Shego: “You?”

Drakken: “…Sometimes.” he admitted.

Drakken: “Hypothetically.”

Shego: “Hypothetically where?”

He shrugged.

Drakken: “Somewhere quieter. Less… dramatic.”

Shego snorted.

Shego: “You’d be bored in a week.”

Drakken: “…Yes.” he said, offended.

Drakken: “But I’d be bored efficiently.”

She smiled at that—small, quick—gone before it lingered.

A notification pinged softly.

Drakken stiffened.

Drakken: “That’s not—”

Shego was already looking, one earbud dangling now.

Shego: “Diagnostics.” she said.

Shego: “Green across the board.”

He exhaled, tension draining out of him despite himself.

Drakken: “Huh.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers as she passed—light, careless contact like it didn’t count as anything.

Shego: “Told you. Stable.”

He didn’t move away.

After a moment, he said, quieter:

Drakken: “You’re still here.”

Shego didn’t answer right away.

When she did, her voice was even.

Shego: “Yeah.”

He waited for sarcasm. A joke. A correction.

None came.

Drakken: “…Good.” he said finally.

Shego glanced at him—eyes sharp—then softened when she realized he meant it.

Shego: “Yeah.” she repeated.

Shego: “Good.”

The lab hummed around them, alive but calm. Above them, the vines glowed faintly, patient as gravity.

For the first time in a long time, neither of them felt like they were waiting for the next thing to break.

They were still here.

And somehow, that was enough—for now.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14542000/1/The-Lipsky-Files-Present

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78225681/chapters/205043481