It is meaningless to talk about the realm outside of time as if time somehow applied to it. But there was a point, in the infinite nothingness that exists just below the world, where the pulsing flow of the time known as the present approached the place where Twilight Sparkle attempted to slumber, curled up in her bed inside her little palace treehouse.
Ba'shuNaqarth was waiting for her.
His intentions were broadcast for anyone to hear. They were simple, but all-consuming, the product of a massive, degraded mind.
Ba'shuNaqarth would ingest her. Magic would be the food of Ba'shuNaqarth, whose feeding profited him nothing, and only slowly eroded that which fell victim to him. Magic / Friendship would be a subtle taste for him, for all that place of sub-time, slowly, piece by piece, ripped apart and devoured. And when her mind was gone, the place where it had once been would be the birthing grounds for a thousand of his unloved brood. They would consume all she thought. All she held fondness for. All she loved. He would not care, but all Twilight yearned to protect she would destroy.
She had called the name. She belonged to Ba'shuNaqarth.
As the intersection drew close, he pulsated forward, drawing his own little sub-pocket of space behind him like an otherworldly shell. He could see her now. Ba'shuNaqarth drew nearer to his prize.
Pinkie Pie stepped forward to meet him.
“Ba'shuNaqarth,” she said. “Hiya! My name's Pinkie Pie.”
The pony called the name. A new prize. She too belonged to Ba'shuNaqarth.
“I'd throw you a party,” Pinkie said, “but if I know parties – and believe me, I do – the only kind of party you'd enjoy is something I'd spend the rest of eternity burning for. So, sorry about that. If you ever want a normal party, you can just ask me. You should try cake! Cake is delicious.”
Ba'shuNaqarth reached out with a vast number of his innumerable appendages. Time and space were in alignment. Ba'shuNaqarth would consume those who belonged to him.
“I'm talking to you now in a language you'll understand,” Pinkie said, frowning severely, all warmth gone from her face. “I don't care what rules you have about what you do when ponies say your name. Leave now, and you can continue living the wretched and meaningless existence you desire out in your own lonesome corner of reality.”
The pony talked a great deal more than the others. It meant nothing. It would not affect the taste. The taste meant nothing. It would not affect the consumption. All meant nothing.
“Even a miserable excuse for a thing like you has a choice,” Pinkie said. “This is your warning, Ba'shuNaqarth. Take a hike. Leave us alone, or fade into oblivion. There is no reality in which there is any other outcome.”
Consume. Shred. Devour. The Magic would taste just ever so slightly less tepid than the others. The Laughter would slide down his throats and be undone.
A tendril wrapped itself around Pinkie's throat.
Pinkie smiled.
There was no anger to the smile. No hatred. No twisted mirth arising from the imminent suffering of others. It was a genuine smile.
She giggled.
“You think you can scare me?” she asked. Her words started to sound like they came from a song.
“~Then he's got another thing coming, and the very idea of such a thing just makes you wanna... hahahaha..!~”
One of the centipede legs reached down, and with as much effort or ceremony as a pony spearing an olive, it punched its way through Pinkie's skull.
And Pinkie Laughed.
Her hair expanded to surround all of time and space, and she was lost inside the voluminous curls, but her Laugh rolled onward into infinity, climbing ever higher into the light above and the darkness below. It's echo rattled the sockets of Ba'shuNaqarth, where teeth should have been. Thousands upon thousands of tiny pink hoovesies reached out from the point of no-space he called home, and latched onto his slimy skin.
There was a Second Laugh, louder than the first, and the Tongue of Pinkie wrapped itself around the body of Ba'shuNaqarth. His pestilent coating did nothing to dissuade her. The filth burned away at her touch. Ba'shuNaqarth tried to remove himself from the grip of Pinkie, but he found that he could not.
That section of existence, that non-time, marked the only point at which Ba'shuNaqarth ever felt fear.
There was a Third and Final Laugh, and Pinkie pulled. Ba'shuNaqarth was ripped from his place in existence, what served him as matter being wrenched backwards and away from all that was. The hoovesies pulled in thousands upon thousands of different directions, tearing him apart, spreading his pieces thinner and thinner across a smaller and smaller space. Ba'shuNaqarth was crammed into his own shell, a point in the endless void so small as to not exist by the standards of ponies. And as the Final Laugh rebounded, the fragile, unmendable wound in reality that connected his shell to the rest of everything was severed irrevocably, just before his mind was stretched to the point where he could no longer comprehend such a concept. Ba'shuNaqarth, and all that he was, faded into oblivion.
Pinkie Pie stood alone outside of time and space. The Laughs continued, and would continue for all eternity, but her laughter died down as she watched her friend Twilight pass safely through the danger of the night, her mind receding from the boundaries of the world and into the security of the mundane as time progressed unto the morning.
Pinkie hummed cheerfully. Then, with a hop, skip and a jump, she made her way back to the reality she shared with her friends.
They would all be so glad to see Twilight feeling better again.