Oiltramples is going strong, thanks in part to procrastination--we didn't breach the caverns until we had a strong military and over 10,000 bone bolts. Though poor in useful metals, we have made up the lack thanks to exports of gemstone-encrusted gemstones. (Yo dawg...) It's my first fortress to become a mountainhome! Yay, me.
Of our 197 dwarves, 85 are babies and 15 are children. No activity is performed that isn't clogged with a cloud of mewling sprats. A botched tower demolition a few years ago cost us many children. That was generally regarded as a good thing.
Defense is designed around the 'campus of death' plan. Beyond the walls and spires of the central area are all sorts of potentially deadly constructions like archer towers, bunkers, and recently, a building containing a narrow walkway with weapon traps and spikes 10 z-levels down. A recent, mismanaged ambush led to hand-to-hand fighting on said walkway. Two dwarves made the Fall of Shame. Both were impaled by the neck, and both recovered after about a year in traction.
Now the Great Project begins: to pump magma 110+ z-levels to a holding tank above the fortress for the sole purpose of burning up unwanted refuse. It will require at least two power stations, not to mention glassworks on level -110 so I can make all those pipes and screw components.
The dwarves are happy, but they have two chronic complaints: worn clothes and not enough tables in the dining halls. I'm making clothing constantly--CONSTANTLY. And there are so many tables. What do they do, all eat lunch at once? Bastard dwarves.