My name is Lorna, a name that was made up by R. D. Blackmoor for that book Lorna Doone, and it actually means 'Forsaken'. Cheerful, eh?

I'm relatively new to fanfiction, so I would definitely welcome any constructive criticism on my stories. I've been making up stuff and writing stories since I was a wee nipper, and it's just about my favourite thing to to do. A friend introduced me to fanfiction a few months ago, and I've been hooked ever since.

I also love really weird cross-overs. I'm doing a Sherlock-Avengers cross-over, which I suppose isn't that weird, but maybe I'll try something even more random next, like maybe a Pirates of the Carribbean-Les Miserables crossover. Hmmm.

One last thing. I'm a bit OCD when it comes to spelling and grammar. Especially other peoples. I've read a couple of excellent fanfiction stories, and been completely distracted from the story because I'm too busy mumbling stuff like, 'That's spelt wrong,' and 'This sentence structure is appalling,' or even, 'Commas, man! Commas!' Well, you get the idea. So if you see a spelling mistake/grammatical error in one of my stories, which my rigorous (!) proofreading has missed, feel free to point it out in the reviews and irritate me even more.

And now, poetry.

'See the happy moron.

He doesn't give a damn.

I wish I were a moron.

Oh dear, I think I am...'

Anonymous

'And would some Power the small gift give us

To see ourselves as others see us!'

Robert Burns

'If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you can dream, and not make dreams your master,

If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster,

And treat those two imposters just the same.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

And see the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build them up again with worn out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings,

And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on, when there is nothing in you

Except the Will that says to them, 'Hold on!'

If you can walk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or talk with Kings, nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son.

Rudyard Kipling