Batman Drunk Novels & Stories

This guy was driving blind. Wind swept dirt, plastic bags, and cigarette stubs their way. Grit slapped Danny’s face. He didn’t blink, didn’t shy away. If anything, it sobered him up. The interaction between Batman and the drunk escalated faster than anyone could have imagined, which was saying a lot. For those who frequented the Duck’s Nuts at that time of the night, a street brawl came as little surprise. Aiden, however, was a public servant, and Danny a social worker from right here in town. They were lovers who rarely drank unless they were on holidays, when Christmas excuses paved the way for greasy breakfasts with aspirin chasers. Fights became a foreign concept to them long ago.

LUCA I don’t drink often. Not because I don’t enjoy it — I do. But because when I drink, I think. And when I think, I unravel. And unraveling isn’t exactly a luxury I can afford. Tonight, though, I make an exception. Dante shows up unannounced, as usual, with a bottle of something expensive and a grin that says he’s either here to celebrate or stir trouble. Probably both. “You look like you’ve been punched in the soul,” he says, dropping onto the leather chair across from me.

I instantly do not like his personality and try to keep my eyes peeled on the book, but he doesn’t take my dismissive attitude as a loss and plops himself down at the other bench. “Hi sweet thing. What is a beautiful woman like you doing sitting here all alone?” He asks, clearly drunk and not very good at hiding it. My body reacts on its own as the panic sets in. He reminds me a lot of Bane, and nothing good ever came out of it when Bane was drunk. “Uhm. Hi.” I answer, trying to come up with an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

Putting down the drink in my hand, I looked at him to show that I had his full attention. "I used to have an obsession with Batman. When I made my first passport, I signed my name off as Batman and had to use it until it expired." Laughing, I shook my head in disbelief as he sat there, watching me let out a loud cackle. "Do you want another beer?" He asked. "No thanks, I'm good." I said, finishing the remaining half before setting the empty bottle to one side. He shifted his gaze to me. "Are you done making fun of me yet?"

He cuts off when he hears Danielle loudly say someone the bar isn’t open yet. “Ah, shit. I bet that’s Bart again.” “Your resident drunk?” “Yeah. Poor bastard’s drunk more than he is sober. We started giving him protein shakes and saying they’re full of vodka. He drinks them at least. Hopefully, it’ll help him put on a few pounds before winter.” “Declan!” Danielle calls and both my brother and I run. Danielle is standing behind the pool table, holding Edward’s hand. Her eyes are wide and full of fear, and Edward looks confused.

* Andrea thought with her eyes closed as she admired her husband's bravery. The couple went back to sleep and enjoyed their sleep while Barnham remained puzzled He as shaving a mental battle with himself. *She is married, so maybe I should just let her go.* He thought as he downed all the liquid content of the beear cup in his hand. He had taken a total of three different types of alcohol, and two bottles each. So he was drunk and even more. Barnham knew that he couldn't handle his alcohol and he also knew that when he started, he couldn't stop.

DeeDee snarked, drinking her cosmo. “Testy about testicles,” Bart snickered. I rolled my eyes, because really? Bart ordered a beer and another round for everyone, although I switched to soda. I wasn’t a big drinker, because it could compromise my judgment too much while we were in public, which was another thing my friends ragged me for. “Maybe if you drank, you could give up that gay V-card you’ve been carrying around,” DeeDee said, grinning like she was hilarious.

Damon talks in his sleep as he eventually wakes up with a pounding headache. He sits on the bed as he puts one hand on his head to support it from falling as he feels it is very heavy for him. He gets up and walks into the living room and grabs a bottle of stout from the standing fridge beside the kitchen corridor as he walks towards the sofa and slumps heavily in the three seater before the television pasted on the wall as he emptied the bottle. He takes another and another and another until he surrounds himself with fifteen cans of stout and twelve bottles of vodka. He is totally drunk as he starts to snore so hard.

But just as he leaned in— “Drinks!” the bartender yelled, placing another round in front of us. And then a voice—Donovan, one of his friends. “You think you can outdrink us, sweetheart?” I smirked, already reaching for another shot. “Watch me.” One after another, I slammed the drinks, the burn barely noticeable now. Everything was louder, hotter, blurrier. But Luke’s gaze never wavered. He was watching me like he wanted to throw me over his shoulder and take me somewhere dark and private.

"If you don't bring me another bottle, you're going to have a much bigger problem than my drinking." The bartender sighed. "I'm only concerned." I let out a bitter laugh. "The more I drink, the more money you make. Don't pretend you care. No one does!" He could not argue with that.!A few moments later, another bottle sat in front of me. I twisted the cap open and drank directly from it. Then I heard someone calling my name. At first, I ignored it. The voice sounded distant, almost unreal, like something carried by the music. I took another drink but the voice came again, louder this time. I still ignored it. Then a fist crashed into the side of my face. The world tilted violently and I stumb