Singеr Неlрs Тhоsе Idеntifying Аs Аnimаls Вy Lеаving Littеr Вохеs In Тhе Rеstrооms

If there is one thing that people seem to love online, it’s seeing something controversial. The moment that they have the opportunity to argue about something, they are going to jump in with both feet and start a debate.

This includes one artist on TikTok who has sparked a lot of controversy with her gender-defying activities. Dorian Electra has gotten a lot of attention on that social media platform, but now she has taken things to a new level and is going completely viral.

That United States Singer has gotten the attention she desires on TikTok by putting litter boxes in public restrooms. She does this when she is on tour because she wants to include everyone who is at her concerts.

Most of the people who go to these concerts are gay, but she doesn’t want to leave anyone out. She decided to post this on TikTok, announcing that litter boxes would be provided in all bathrooms on their tour for any concertgoers who identify as animals.

It even went on to say: “Now that’s inclusivity in action.” She gave a big thumbs up.

As she walks up to the bathroom door, you can see that she is standing outside of an ‘all gender restroom’. She takes a sharpie and crosses out the word gender and writes in the word species.

That is when she carries the litter box into the bathroom and puts it on the floor next to the toilet. In a video posted later, they say that they will be cleaning the litter boxes after each show.

This video sparked a lot of controversy and people were arguing on both sides of the debate. It will be interesting to see where this one goes next.

I Opened a Mysterious Door in My Cellar—Now I Regret Everything

I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.

You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.

When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.

In the back corner, we found something even stranger: an old wooden chest, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was locked, but the lock seemed weak, like it could easily break. Florence begged me to leave it alone, but I was too curious. I forced it open, and what I saw made my heart race.

Inside were old documents, letters written in a language I didn’t understand, and something wrapped in a faded cloth. When I unwrapped it, I froze. It was a small, strange object that didn’t belong in this world. Florence screamed and ran out of the cellar, terrified.

I should have followed her, but I was too deep into it. I put everything back in the chest and closed the door, but the feeling that something had changed wouldn’t leave me. Since that day, things have been different. Strange noises, cold drafts, and shadows moving where they shouldn’t.

Now, I regret opening that door. Florence refuses to go back into the cellar, and I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know what we uncovered, but I fear we’ve let something into our home that we can’t control. Every day, I wish I had just left the door hidden behind the wallpaper, where it belonged.

Now, the cellar remains locked. I’ve sealed the door with heavy boards, hoping that will keep whatever we disturbed at bay. Florence refuses to go near it, and our once happy home feels suffocating with the tension between us. It’s like the house itself has changed, like it’s watching us.

At night, I hear whispers coming from the floor below. I try to convince myself it’s just the wind or my imagination, but deep down, I know something’s wrong. The object I found in the chest haunts my thoughts—I’ve hidden it away, but it’s like it calls to me. Florence says I need to get rid of it, but I’m too afraid to touch it again.

I tried contacting the previous owners, but they didn’t know anything about the hidden room. They had lived here briefly before selling the house. No one in the neighborhood seems to know its history, and records of the house are vague. It’s like this part of the house was meant to stay forgotten.

I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I just leave it alone, but the strange occurrences are getting worse. Lights flicker, doors creak open on their own, and sometimes, I catch glimpses of something moving in the dark corners. It feels like the house is alive—angry that we disturbed its secret.

Florence is talking about moving, and maybe she’s right. But part of me knows that whatever we let out, whatever we disturbed, might not stay behind. And now, I wonder if sealing that door was just the beginning of something far more terrifying.