What we’re about
About the Group
The Obsidian Lantern Society was born from darkness—an experimental gathering of those drawn to the strange, the forgotten, and the haunted corners of the world. Rooted in dark aesthetics, eccentric and unconventional passions, this group once flickered with the promise of connection through ghost tours, candle-making, and whispered lore. Though the lantern has dimmed for now, its memory lingers—a reminder that not all lights shine to be seen.
For miniatures, candles and hobby tips: www.daclaud-lee.com
UPDATE: May 8th, 2025
This group is my creation—a flickering flame in a world that feels too bright, too loud, too hollow. The Obsidian Lantern Society was supposed to be a passion project, a refuge. But the joy I once hoped to find here are fading.
Lately, everything seems to have hit me all at once. When it rains, it pours. On top of my regular 9-5 job as a Digital Marketer and SEO Consultant, I am also a landlord. This year has been especially bad as some long-term tenants I had moved out and left destruction in their wake. I spend March and April renovating that place, it was so bad and it was left in a state that was much worse than when I purchased the property. Others brought constant problems. As a landlord—something people love to misunderstand—I’ve been swallowed whole by the chaos. I’m not some passive investor. I’m on my knees scrubbing floors, replacing floors, painting walls, installing baseboards, landscaping—doing most of what I can do myself because tradesmen are too expensive and I only hire them out for more skilled or difficult tasks. Providing housing is more than a full-time job. You have to have an eye for detail, a spine of iron, and a stomach for disappointment.
I know not everyone here respects what landlords do (some of you Leftists out there that I've had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting certainly don't). Most of you think we just sit back and collect checks. Maybe the corporate landlords do, but I don’t have that luxury. Not everyone deserves to live in the spaces I care for, but sometimes, I don’t get a choice. That weight has taken a toll on me—on my time, my spirit, and my ability to do what I love. Whoever says you can retire as a landlord is a liar and it's all toxic positivity.
My hobbies—candlemaking, 3D printing, painting miniatures, ruck hiking, ghost tours—they’ve all been cast into the shadows. There’s no time to breathe, let alone create. I’ve grown irritable, angry, exhausted. And I can't continue to host events while this rage is still burning.
I’ve never pretended to be everyone’s cup of tea. Maybe you didn’t think I was "cool" enough. Maybe some of you only showed up hoping someone you actually wanted to meet would sign up for an event. Either way, I wasn't here to entertain you all like some court jester and my group was never meant for you to use and cast aside when you were bored and your other plans fell through. I have my own interests, standards, and policies—and I stand by them. Anyone who didn't think my events were worthy of five stars have already been removed. That’s how little stock I put in people who could never be pleased.
If you’re still here, this message isn’t for you. The people I couldn’t align with—the scum—were dealt with long ago. If you’re reading this, you might be one of the rare few I held out hope for. Most won’t care, and that’s fine. But for those who do—you’ll always be welcome if the lantern ever lights again.
I will let my meetup subscription expire (July 2025) and I may or may not rebuild this group before the fall It all depends on the circumstances. But for now, the Obsidian Lantern goes dark.
— Daclaud
