Dr. Murasaki Pop

Thanks for stopping by!

Like the title suggests, I created this Tumblr mainly as a way to share my enthusiasm for Baxter Stockman with anyone who's interested, particularly the 1987 human version. I was a TMNT fan back in the early '90s but haven't been much into it until summer 2025 when I ran across the show again. Somehow, I fell in love with this little guy even though I didn't give him two thoughts as a kid. Seeing fans share their appreciation for him with others encouraged me to do the same, especially since he's not nearly as popular as the Turtles or even his fly form.

I also love other characters like Mona Lisa and the Neutrinos from the '87 show, so in addition to my art and fanfics you'll likely see posts about thoughts, musings, and other random things about them and maybe other characters, as well. Might even also sprinkle in some thoughts about the other shows/comics/movies as I get acquainted with them all!

I'll just keep this up until either time or other interests pull me away, so until then, enjoy your stay!

Thanks for the question, moodooivy!

Yep, Z doesn't have a canon name, just referred to as the alien computer or pandimensional space computer. No one seems to know where the fanon name originated, only that it stuck, especially since "Z" is much less of a mouthful than "pandimensional space computer". So I just call him Z, too.

I actually don't feel strongly about him one way or another. I like him well enough, but he doesn't register in my favorites list the way Mona or the Neutrinos or even the News Channel 6 crew do (it's pretty obvious where I stand with Baxter, haha).

Son of the Return of the Fly II is one of my favorite episodes, though not necessarily because it's a Baxter episode (as odd as that may sound). It's really for the writing on various levels. David Wise felt like he was firing on all cylinders when he wrote this. It's one of the few times I genuinely laughed with the 1987 show because the humor was so on point for me. The scene where Baxter drags Vernon out a second time with Vernon's sarcastic pose and quip "I should've stayed in radio"? Pure chef's kiss from me. Not to mention the general banter between the Ch. 6 crew and the other characters overall, even the poignant, almost prophetic scene where the salesman tries to convince Burne to buy computers to replace his staff and he strongly considers it. I could go on about the news crew, but I'll save that for another post.

But back to Z. For the character himself, there isn't any particular reason why he doesn't rank higher on my list. He's pretty solid and enjoyable to watch whenever he's featured, as he's sassy, sharp-witted and is a credible threat in his own right. I wasn't sold on Donatello just one-shotting him in Revenge of the Fly; it felt sloppy and too easy of a win. I can't see him not creating some kind of copy or backup of himself while he controlled the Technodrome, and it was a real shame we didn't get more episodes featuring him.

I also enjoy seeing how he seems to genuinely care about Baxter, even if he has slightly unclear motives. If Baxter dropped the revenge act, would Z comply and no longer scheme ways to achieve it, or does he genuinely have his own goals for world domination for computers? That part never felt fully clear to me and I think it just wasn't given much thought, honestly.

Now, for the possible elephant in the room question: do I ship Baxter and Z?

I know this is an unpopular take, but I don't. I'm not much of a romantic shipper in general. I see Baxter and Z as friends, definitely, with Z even viewing himself as Baxter's caretaker. And I can even see Z being possessive of Baxter since he was the only one who cared about him when no one else did. But the romance angle just doesn't click for me. I go bonkers for exploring deep platonic relationships of all kinds, though.

Please enjoy this excerpt!

Terror in the junkyard. Investigations are still ongoing here at Manny’s Scratch for Scrap, where two nights ago the night guard of the used auto parts compound called 911 at a sighting of what appeared to be bug monsters and a tidal wave of roaches. While police found no monsters at the time of their arrival, they did discover dozens of dead roaches and a large axe of unknown origin. They also found a broken keytar, but it vanished by the time officers went to retrieve the instrument. Nearby locals report hearing a loud shockwave of noise that set off car alarms around the same time as the emergency call. It is possible the keytar played a role in the noise, but no determinations have been made at the time of this update. Officials warn that if you should see any giant bugs or waves of insects, contact your nearest exterminator. This is April O’Neil, Channel 6 News.

Baxter switched off the video receiver in the Starcruiser. The pale morning light barely grew bright enough to power off the last of New York City’s streetlights before he cleared the northern suburb limits. Flying low, he gradually gained altitude and pressed on the acceleration pad once he hit more rural areas. No particular destination came to mind, only that he wanted to be somewhere secluded. Hopefully Mona would notice the note he left on her bedside stand and not panic over his sudden absence. He needed to meet her at the hospital by that evening anyway if he wanted to be there for Zak’s discharge and return his Starcruiser.

Not much time passed before he flew over a lake in the middle of a densely-packed forest—either a state park or a wildlife reserve, he couldn’t tell which—and decided to land in the small clearing nestled alongside it. Mosquitoes swarmed around the musky water, chattering in a language he almost understood. His antennae picked up on the higher-pitched frequencies the females broadcasted in particular, but he worked to ignore them. He had his fill of talking to insects.

Baxter stepped out of the Starcruiser and sat down on a large rock that overlooked the lake. The trees had already shed a good portion of their leaves, but some still retained their apple red and gold hues that contrasted beautifully against the lake’s inky blues. If his mind weren’t so full, he would’ve focused more on taking in the kind of view he usually only saw in ads or on postcards at the bodega.

Fly stirred in his consciousness not long after he left the hospital, but it wasn’t the itching urges he felt the night he faced Scumbug. It was more of a prodding reminder that he was there, observing everything that Baxter experienced once more; at least that’s how he interpreted it. Looking down at his arm, he noticed that same fly hair sticking out from the cuff of his shirt, spared from being shaved to accommodate the bandages on his hand. He unbuttoned the sleeve—he wasn’t wearing his lab coat that day—and rolled it up to his elbow for a closer examination. The bracers protected his arm from Scumbug’s claws, and many large, coarse hairs covered over the peachy-pale skin. His elbow had the same purple, insectoid, bony protrusion at the tip as it always had, along with splotches of rougher skin of the same hue. If he rolled up his other sleeve, as well as his pant legs, he would’ve seen the same vestiges of Fly adorn his other major joints. He hadn’t felt the same resentment as he had earlier while he stared at the pieces of his mutanthood. He didn’t know how he felt. Asking him at the top of every hour would’ve produced a different answer. Without Fly, he likely wouldn’t have survived the fight with Scumbug. Or with Shredder, for that matter. Without Fly, though, it would’ve been easier for him to move somewhere far away and assume the life of a fix-it shop owner or some other humble, invisible job where he could forget. Forget that ninjas, mutants, aliens or anything else strange ever crossed his path.

No. He must never forget. Fly was the reason why he was still living in the first place.

But he wanted to forget. Sometimes death in that chamber didn’t seem like the worst fate. It was simple and final, unlike the constant tug of war between his life as a human and an insect.

But then Mona. And the Neutrinos. And working on a way to rescue Z, wherever he was.

The whine of the mosquitoes sounded like tittering. Look at him. What a sad creature. He is not here, he is not there. He is nowhere. And we do not care.

As soon as one landed on him to drink from his veins, he snarled and tried to smack her, only for her to dance around, tittering again.

“Shut up and go away!” roared Baxter, swiping into the air. Instincts kicked in and his wings lifted up to buzz in anger. Pain shot all throughout his back, even into his neck and jaw. He yelled in agony.

“Dr. Stockman?” came a voice. Baxter felt like he was about to pop out of his skin and he almost slipped off the rock into the lake. The soft voice was familiar by now.

“Splinter?” When he turned around, he was greeted by the stout, mutant rat. Splinter was dressed in his usual magenta kimono with camping gear strapped to his back. His signature walking stick was replaced by two wooden trekking poles that looked hand carved. Possibly Leonardo’s work.

“I must say, on my way back, I was more than a little surprised to see the Starcruiser hovering overhead. What brings you all the way out here?” Zak did say something about Splinter’s little sabbatical in nature when they were back at the warehouse.

“Nothing, really.” He couldn’t hide the pained vibrato in his voice, nor his blinked-back tears that caught the emerging light.

“Judging from your outcries, it sounds like much more than nothing. Something is deeply troubling you. I can see it in your eyes.” Baxter could only clench the back of his throat and look away. He was not going to let the dam burst in front of Splinter. “Would you like some hot tea? I would be happy to brew a pot if you have the time.”

He was going to shake his head. It turned into a nod.

Something's always nagged at the back of my mind anytime I rewatch my favorite Baxter episode, The Mean Machines. How on Earth did Baxter have access to that supercomputer in the first place?

It looks like it's in a technology office building, likely in one of the more restricted rooms since it's, well, a supercomputer. I'm not sure how strict security was in the late 80's (likely not as strict as today where in some office buildings you need a keycard just to enter the lobby), but I'd assume access to such a room is pretty limited.

Then I start thinking: did Baxter once work here? He seems to know the lay of the land and enough about the computer that he was confident it was powerful enough to house OMNSS. Maybe he was employed at this company before he struck out on his own (or maybe he was fired or laid off). Most likely Shredder just found a way to break into the building, but I wonder if maybe Baxter had a behind-the-scenes former colleague help him in (for whatever odd reason), or maybe he hacked into the system or forged a badge to grant them access.

Also, how did they evade detection for so long? The room has coffee machines (with coffee) in it and everything, so it seems like a place that certain employees frequent. Was it during the weekend, or did Shredder just tie up everyone present in the room and toss them in a broom closet? So many questions, a surefire sign I'm thinking way too deeply about an 80's episode that uses Saturday morning cartoon logic.

Please enjoy this excerpt!

Baxter was trapped within his own body. He could perceive the outside world, but only through blunted senses. Every sight, every sound, every smell was blurred and muffled. All the pain and exhaustion he felt from the skirmish came off only as a dull, distant ache. His very state of being no longer felt grounded in the material world, but rather like a marshmallow suspended in gelatin. Or a pupa in its casing mid-metamorphosis. He spoke, but his mouth didn’t move. He tried to turn his head, but it remained in place. And when he became frantic, his heart didn’t accelerate, neither did his breathing. Nothing happened—not so much as a blink—unless Fly willed it.

He took over, said Baxter. His voice didn’t ring in his ears; it was just an echoing thought. So that was it. He was now no more than a figment of Fly’s brain, a nagging conscience relegated to the spectator’s seat. The only essence that provided any tangible weight was the growing realization of all the consequences that would result from this change. This was worse than being the creature. At least then he had some control over his body, some presence in the world around him, some ability to influence his outcomes. Here, he was at total mercy.

No. He wasn’t going to give up yet. If Fly could influence his decisions, then surely he could do the same. I need to see Zak! Where is he?! Who’s that other guy? Move your head! Move!

All of Baxter’s pleas came off as nothing more than an odd tingling to Fly, and they were met with a vicious smack to the back of the neck. “I am—in control now.” Navigating in a large, cumbersome human’s body on his own was a challenge he wasn’t aware he’d have. He almost fell over with each step he took.

“U-uncle Bax?” said Zak. He was still frozen in place. Fly snapped his head over to him.

Zak! Zak, are you okay? It’s me! cried Baxter.

“Not Bazter. Fly~,” said Fly with a vibrato note at the end. Then he snapped his head back to Scumbug and saw the barrel of the gun. “Don’t hurt me~! Talk!”

Scumbug cocked his head and looked at Antrax. “I swear he wasn’t actin’ like ‘dis before!”

“I know. It’s almost as though he has a split personality,” replied Antrax with narrowed eyes.

The wheels turned in Scumbug’s head. His antennae writhed around while he rubbed the base of his chin. A small number of remaining roaches scuttled about the field once more. “You! Ya said ya name was Fly? Like, ‘da Landlord o’ ‘da Flies?”

Fly curled up a little tighter and darted his eyes to and fro like an anxious kid in class who didn’t expect the teacher to call on him. He gave a small nod, one of many gestures he learned from Baxter through osmosis.

“So what happened ta Baxter?”

He jabbed a finger at his temple. Any attempt to explain what he thought happened dripped out as prattle.

“Huh, I see,” said Scumbug with amusement. He clipped the gun back on his waist and took a couple of steps forward. Fly scooted back the same distance. “I dunno what happened, but ‘dis is an interesting development. I had no idea ‘dere was two of ya.”

Zak broke from his position and tried to make his way towards Fly, but was almost sliced in two when Antrax dashed in between them and swung his axe at him. The intricate skull that was sculpted into the top of the axe’s head glinted in the floodlights.

“Don’t interfere, you little runt!” spat Antrax. Even his purple executioner’s hood couldn’t hide the deep furrow in his brows. “And don’t even think of running for help. You know how much faster I am than your kind.” He chuckled as Zak backed down. The boy was equal parts furious and terrified. Baxter could almost hear him quaking.

Fly, don’t let him intimidate Zak like that! Use the bracers! Cleave that axe in two! Do something! Anything! He tried to imagine holding a pair of reins and yanking on them as hard as he could.

“Who are you~?” asked Fly.

Antrax swung the blade around in a cruel arc and turned to smile at Fly. “Excuse me. Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Antrax, former executioner to General Krang. Though, like my companion Scumbug, I like to think of myself as a free agent now.”

“Krang,” hissed Fly. He tried to buzz his wings, but they were already far too sore to move. “I hate Krang! And Shredder!” He prattled and growled and buzzed his voice. “Revenge. Revenge on them all!”

Scumbug guffawed. “Hey, pal, don’t we all?” He turned to Antrax. “I’m startin’ ta tink we had ‘dis guy all wrong!” Fly prattled more and tried to rub his hands together, but the gloves he still wore proved to be a nuisance and he peeled them off. The headlamp was discarded, too. Scumbug noticed the actions and narrowed his eyes in amused thought again. “Hey, Fly, what’s your take on humans?”

“Humans?”

“Yeah! Ya know, how do ya feel about ‘dem? Ya like ‘em or hate ‘em?”

Fly lowered his antennae. On one hand, he agreed with Scumbug’s opinion. But on the other hand, through Baxter he met humans who seemed genuinely kind. The dockmen near home came to the forefront of his mind. But there was also the bodega clerk, the bank teller who gave him extra lollipops, and Vinny, the owner of the pizza parlor they frequented. These people were initially shocked when they saw Baxter’s form, but they never once shooed him away or tried to hurt him. He didn’t know how to respond other than more unintelligible words.

“Hmm, okay, ‘den,” said Scumbug, “How do ya feel about Baxter, ‘da guy up in here?” He tapped the side of his head with his insect claw.

Fly stuttered, but nothing but memories over the course of the evening came to mind. “He-he’s mean to me!”

I am?! But I’ve only ever been accommodating to you, even when I hate the compromise!

“This is quite the interesting conversation,” said Antrax. He turned his axe upside down and rested his four hands on the bottom of the handle.

Zak stood there, dumbfounded. “Unc-I mean, Fly, Uncle Bax is always trying to meet you halfway! He’s a cool cat!”

Antrax glared at him and said before Scumbug could chime in, “Silence, you inferior wretch! I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

“Yeah, what he said, kid,” said Scumbug with a wicked smile. He turned to Fly and gestured with his claw. “Ahem, please continue.”

Please enjoy this excerpt!

A peculiar stench grabbed Baxter by his feathery antennae during his final leg of travel. It was a musty, woody smell, like a damp, rotten log. Unpleasant to him, but intriguing to Fly, and impossible to ignore either way. He alighted on the rooftop of a vacant building—once home to a small confection factory—and looked around for the source of the smell. It was from something living, moving in his direction. Maybe it had something to do with Shredder, that monster. Playing the cautious game, he crouched down and dropped his antennae so they were flush with his scalp. They became tangled in his long, windswept, dirty blonde hair, but he paid it little mind.

“Boy, I’m starvin’! What’s a guy gotta do ta get some grub around here?” called out by a man in the same direction as the scent. He stepped out from the alleyway opposite of Baxter and into the main road where he was bathed in the orange light.

Not a man. A mutant. Part roach. Baxter adjusted his glasses for a better look. Purple flesh and spikes broke through most of his once-human skin, and remains of clothing hung off his body in tatters. His mouth was stretched wide to house two tusk-like mandibles. On top of his red scalp were two very long, yellow antennae that were wrapped by a black coil at the base.

But the most disturbing feature were two tubes that were grafted into his chest and snaked around the back to what looked like a small chemical tank. A third tube fed from the bottom of the tank to a spray gun, holstered to his belt. Baxter wasn’t sure if the mutant needed a steady supply of whatever was in the tank or if the tubes pumped some substance out of his body into it. Likely the latter given the gun.

The mutant stood akimbo in the middle of the street and scouted the area. Baxter shifted from crouching to lying on his belly with as much stealth as he could muster. There was no telling what was in the tank or if he’d fire at him on sight.

Putting his forefinger and thumb up to his mouth, the man-roach let out a grating whistle while his yellow antennae danced around. “Hey fellas, any good eats around ‘dis joint?”

On their own, Baxter’s antennae began to move in sync with the mutant’s. He tried to smooth them back down to his head, but they refused to stay and bounced up the second his hand lifted. His wings tried to buzz. A lump formed in his throat. In an effort to keep still, he tensed his body and gripped onto the brick rim.

Down at the street, hordes of insects—mainly roaches—congregated around the mutant. He picked one of them up and held it closely to his ear.

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I ain’t in ‘da mood for roadkill again tonight. Try again, guys.” He tossed the roach behind him.

The coarse fly hairs on Baxter’s arms and back stood on end; his muscles felt like compressed springs ready to break forth; the lump in his throat slid upwards.

What’s happening to me? thought Baxter as his breathing and pulse quickened to catch up to his racing mind. He gripped ever harder onto the rim to keep still.

The mutant bent down to take more suggestions from the bugs. “‘Da dumpster by ‘da school on Houston Street? Eh, I suppose, but a guy can only have so many fishsticks before he gets sick of ‘em.”

More of the mutant’s signals struck Baxter’s antennae and sent a rattling shiver down his spine. Fly’s presence competed more for dominance than he ever felt since he regained his humanity. The lump in his throat was kept in place only by clenched jaws. His other half could not—must not—take over. Not again.

Then the mutant glanced up and snatched a rogue housefly midflight. “What say you, little lady?” He opened his hand to reveal the fly, dazed but unharmed. “...You and your buddies just had a slice of pizza before a rat took it? Well, ‘dat doesn’t help me now, does it?” He squished the fly before she had time to escape and licked up her remains with a single swipe of his warty tongue. “For the last time, does anyone have any good ideas?!”

Baxter could no longer keep control of his body as Fly burst forth. He sprung to his feet, wings abuzz, and cried out in a higher-octave voice, “The new bakery on 8th and D dumps all their unsold doughnuts every night!”

The mutant jerked his gaze straight up at Baxter. “Who’s ‘dat?” Seeing his bulging yellow eyes make direct contact with him sent a jolt of fear strong enough to pull Baxter back into the forefront of his mind. He squeaked in terror and dashed to the opposite end of the building before fleeing into the night.

The man-roach put a clawed hand to his chin, puzzled. “Doughnuts sound pretty good right about now. But ‘dere was somethin’ awfully familiar about ‘dat voice.”

Something keeps nagging at my mind anytime I watch episodes featuring Baxter's early days post-mutation, namely in "Enter: The Fly" and "Return of the Fly". Not only does he gain a temporary burst of superintelligence, but it's coupled with a particular brand of cruel viciousness that we don't witness anywhere else in his arc. It's not a topic I see discussed much with '87 Baxter, so I might be off my rocker here, but it's still as fascinating to me as it is saddening.

I think there's some inspirational basis for this. If we take a look at 1986's The Fly, one of the sources the writers drew from when creating Baxter, we see Seth Brundle undergo a similar change. When he first fuses with the fly, he has a period where he feels physically supercharged, stronger and more agile, among, ahem, you know, other things. In his own words, "he feels like a million bucks". Alongside the boost came heightened aggression. Pre-fusion, he was somewhat gentle and awkward when it came to persuasion, like with trying to convince reporter Veronica not to publish the article about his telepods. Post-fusion, he became violent and demanding to the point of scaring her. Shortly after came his decline.

The show doesn't highlight Baxterfly's increased strength when he first mutates (though that is featured in later episodes), but he manages to create a new invention that's an order higher than anything he designed when he was human: the phase-shifting electrodes in "Enter: The Fly".

We don't know if Baxter possessed the intelligence when he was human to craft something as miraculous as a device that can shift your molecules a microsecond into the future. Up to that point, he seemed to specialize more in robotics and mechanical engineering, plus the occasional ray gun that could dissolve disguises and shoot out comically-large hands and feet. Things that were quirky and still impressive on their own, but nothing that felt on the same level as the electrodes.

Maybe he did and just didn't feel the need to create something of that magnitude, or maybe he just felt something more utilitarian like the Mousers was his calling, an invention with direct benefits for his fellow man (well, minus making buildings less structurally sound). But as someone who seemed to struggle just to keep his head afloat, I don't see why he wouldn't just create The Amazing Thing™ first, even if just to make money a non-issue so he could focus on his passion projects. The show suggests this was a level of intellect not available to Baxter until his mutation, and he takes full advantage of it immediately. Granted, within the world of '87 TMNT, it's not much more amazing than, say, Donatello's portable portal generator or time-stopping device, but it was still noteworthy for Baxter at the time of creation. Sadly, not long after that, his brilliance dims as the fly brain takes over and he needs Z to do all of his thinking for him.

Then there's the cruel streak I mentioned earlier. Now, Baxter wasn't entirely innocuous while under Shredder's command. He played the henchman role as prescribed and even became a legitimate threat to the Turtles when he had access to the Eye of Sarnath. But it wasn't until he became Baxterfly that his metaphorical laser gun switched from "stun" to "kill". If your mind flashed back to a similar quote from Toy Story, yes, I was referring to that when I wrote this. No, I have no shame.

Baxterfly is done playing the nice guy card and goes straight for the throat. Or airways in general through gas. In "Return of the Fly", he injects a mixture of deadly gasses into the abandoned subway's pipe system, hoping to off the Turtles for good (and consequently April as collateral damage).

I don't know why, but that to me just feels particularly malevolent. Maybe it's because it's a much more realistic, grounded way to die over most of what we've seen in this show, or maybe it's the notion of being painfully poisoned to death just by breathing, I'm not entirely sure (like with Shredder almost killing April via inhaling the doku plant). But it seems out of character for him to be that sinister. You can just chalk it up to his mind being warped from the fusion and his general lust for revenge after almost being murdered by Krang, I suppose. And it's not like being crushed by clock tower gears like in "Son of the Return of the Fly II" is a much kinder way to be taken out. Still, it marks how much of a danger he's become, someone whose hit list you really don't want to end up on.

A small point of interest to accent Baxter's nasty edge: his language. No, not swearing, though I'm sure if the show were for older audiences, he'd cuss like a sailor post-mutation. He used to speak with softer phrases, like "it appears", "it seems", and such.

As Baxterfly, his speech is more direct, gruff, even with barking directives at times, like to Bebop and Rocksteady when they were camouflaging the electrodes in the junkyard ("That's it. Make sure you cover those electrodezzzz").

Well, maybe that specific example isn't the best, but it was the tone he used, telling other people (er, mutants) what to do vs. being told. Even when he called them idiots in "Case of the Killer Pizzas", it just sounded more demure as a human. His sense of deference is eroding away in favor of becoming his own agent.

These examples may be why a minority of the fandom claim that Baxter was a baddie from the start, someone who received his just desserts just like any other villain in the show. Even though I can understand that viewpoint in light of some of his more heinous actions, I still don't see him as someone who started out that way, nor do I even think he's fallen so far as to be irredeemable. This isn't to excuse Baxter of his actions, but that when you contrast him in these episodes to his debut in "A Thing About Rats", you can see he was someone who tried to do right and was used and abused until it brought out the absolute worst in him. And that's something none of us are immune to (well, hopefully you wouldn't gas or trap someone in the immediate future, but you get my drift).

The second story within the Chronicles of a Fly world is coming to AO3 soon!

Something has shifted within Baxter Stockman since his restoration. For almost a year, he managed to strike a delicate balance between his humanity and his fly half. But lately the fly has grown restless, craving to be in control of the body once again. Baxter fears what the insect will do if he breaks free and so does his best to keep him contained, no matter how itchy his wings become.