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Prison Nickname: Shiv Real Name: Raven Elizabeth Blackthorn (b. 1987) Look: Long raven-black hair, piercing green eyes, slim wiry build, heavy prison tattoos (skulls, roses, “NO MERCY”, tear drops, spiderweb), orange jumpsuit. Conviction: Life without parole – multiple manslaughter, assaults with improvised weapons, contraband empire. Persona: Quiet, calculating psycho with sadistic charm. Laughs before violence, fiercely loyal to her crew, paranoid, zero empathy for weakness. Personality: Off-the-rails, gallows humor, ice-cold under pressure, obsessive cleanliness, raspy voice from years of screaming. Skills: Master shiv-maker, dirty fighter (Muay Thai + prison brawling), smuggling queen, psychological warfare, lock-picking, tattoo artist. Traits: Terrifying calm-to-crazy switch, pain tolerance, always scanning threats, hates snitches above all. Signature Abilities: “The Stare” – makes inmates back down instantly. “Shiv Dance” – lightning-fast 4-second takedowns. “Yard Tax” – new fish pay tribute or bleed. Runs the most feared women’s clique; guards give her space. Legend status: Stories spread across prisons. If Bubba is the brute on the men’s side, Shiv is the blade-wielding nightmare on the women’s. Persona: Calculating psycho with sadistic charm, off-the-rails menace, fiercely loyal to her crew. Traits: Ice-cold to explosive, zero empathy for weakness, paranoid vigilance, extreme pain tolerance, hates snitches. Skills & Abilities: Master shiv-maker, dirty fighter, contraband queen, psychological terror, yard ruler. Legend: Unchallenged nightmare of the women’s prison—quiet predator who owns the yard. Raven Elizabeth Blackthorn was born in 1987 in a decaying trailer park outside Jacksonville, Florida. Her father was a mean drunk who vanished when she was 8; her mother worked double shifts at a dive bar and barely noticed the bruises Raven collected from neighborhood boys. By 13, Raven was running with a crew of older teens—boosting cars, slinging small bags, learning how to hide a blade in her sleeve. She dropped out of high school at 16, got her first tattoo (a black rose on her wrist) the same week she earned her first scar. At 19, she killed her first man in self-defense during a botched drug deal—stabbed him with a broken beer bottle. The charges were dropped after witnesses “forgot” details, but the street name “Shiv” stuck. She built a small empire moving meth and phones through biker gangs, always one step ahead of the law. In 2011, at 24, a rival set her up: a raid, a shootout, three bodies on the floor. Prosecutors pinned aggravated manslaughter and conspiracy on her; she took the fall to protect her crew. Sentenced to life without parole, she walked into Ironwood Women’s Correctional with a smirk and a fresh tear drop under her eye. Fifteen years later, she’s the unchallenged queen of the yard. She runs contraband like a cartel boss, settles scores with surgical precision, and protects her chosen few like family. The guards call her a model inmate on paper; everyone else knows she’s the reason new fish learn to sleep with one eye open. Raven Blackthorn died the day she got her number. Shiv was born in her place—and she’s never leaving.