Vibe with some great fantasy, check out some winning third seasons, and put your middle fingers up to the licensors who buried the season’s brightest new gem.
How did we choose our recs?
Participating staff members can nominate up to three titles and can also co-sign other nominated shows. Rather than categorizing titles as “feminist-friendly” or “problematic,” they are simply listed in alphabetical order with relevant content warnings; doing otherwise ran the risk of folks seeing these staff recommendations as rubber stamps of unilateral “Feminist Approval,” which is something we try our hardest to avoid here.
The titles below are organized alphabetically. As a reminder, ongoing shows are NOT eligible for these lists. We’d rather wait until the series (or season) has finished up before recommending it to others, that way we can give you a more complete picture. This means we also leave out any unfinished split-cour shows, which we define as shows that air their second half within a year of the first.
Here’s what the team thought—let us know your picks in the comments!
Delicious in Dungeon
Recommended by: Alex, Caitlin, Dee, Lizzie, Toni, Vrai
What’s it about? Ever since the dungeon appeared, intrepid adventurers have sought to find what lies on the bottom floor, facing countless dangers on the way. Usually, death simply means being retrieved and returned to the surface. The knight Laios’ party, however, find that Laios’ sister, Falin, couldn’t return due to being consumed by the vicious red dragon that felled them! The party resolves to return and save her before she’s fully digested, but with nothing but the gear on their backs, they don’t have enough money for provisions. Laios’ solution? Eating monsters!
Content warnings: Blood, body horror, (fantasy) animal death/corpse preparation, mild nudity (bathing scene, nonsexual), enslavement (backstory)
Dungeon is an absolute unicorn in the modern anime landscape: it’s a completed manga, created by a woman who’s extremely thoughtful about worldbuilding and pours an incredible amount of love and care into her depictions of female characters, that’s receiving a comfortably paced adaptation (48 episodes probably! Can you imagine?!) from a studio that’s dedicated to matching the thoughtfulness and consideration the source material deserves. I could, genuinely, cry.
That time changes the measure of so much. It’s easier to take Marcille being the stick-in-the-mud girl to her more adventurous male party members for the first few episodes when there’s a vibrant range of other women coming down the pipe in addition to Marcille’s own character growth; the very hobby show-esque framing of the first few episodes encourage you to breathe while you get to know the characters. This is a story about cycles, personal and ecological, and about self-care–just about everyone in the cast is desperate and carrying some type of trauma, and the meals that close each story are the building block on which they can start to grow, just like the dungeon around them.
It’s about health, mental and physical, in a context that embraces a wide variety of body types and abilities. There’s a lot to say, for example, about how incredibly autistic-coded Laios is and the freedom he finds to thrive on their journey. (The language isn’t used, as is so often the case, but I feel less frustrated by it in a medieval fantasy context where neuropsychiatry has not yet been invented let alone formal diagnoses or terms as such). It is worth knowing for people who’ve come looking for the incredibly homoerotic relationship between Marcille and Fallin that this is firmly “intense but unnamed bond” territory—but also that this is a series where nobody gets together romantically, even potential straight couples.
This first season is only half the story, but it’s plenty to chew on while we wait for the happily-announced continuation. If you want a fantasy series that’s playful with tropes but infinitely more creative than video game-based isekai 50485, or just a series with deliberate and thoughtful character writing, you owe it to yourself to give this a shot. And while you’re at it, I can’t recommend the English dub highly enough.
—Vrai
The Duke of Death and His Maid — Season 3
Recommended by: Chiaki
What’s it about? When he was five, a young man known only as “the Duke of Death” was cursed to kill any living thing he touched. His family exiled him to a mansion in the woods, where his only company is his loyal maid Alice. While she loves to make him flustered, he wants only to be able to break his curse and put a ring on her finger.
Content Warning: Fan service, womanizing, occasional violence
Despite all the skimpy clothing designs on many of the women and despite Zain’s constant pig-headedness, the show is somehow one of the most wholesome and entertaining long running series I’ve ever seen. Its whimsical humor both in its narrative and physicality is consistent and each episode had me going “I love these weirdos” over and over again.
And as the story concludes with its final season, The Duke of Death and His Maid grants an ever deepening and kind story that individually grows every member of its principal cast. With the Duke and Alice so fiercely in love with each other and proven so in the first two seasons already, the show instead continues to focus on the expanding cast, which is a joy to watch because everyone in this show, including its villains, are just fun characters.
And while exploring humanity makes any story touching and relatable, if a little melodramatic, Duke of Death hardly feels corny for it, and part of it might be because it single-mindedly focuses on the concept of love, but in so many different ways. Sisterly, professionally, romantically and fraternally, every character in Duke of Death is hurting from jealousy or fear, but radically embraces forgiveness and affection to show how conflicts can be resolved or reshaped.
In concept, a story about a boy who kills anything he touches should seem depressing and isolating, but Duke of Death vehemently repeats with every episode and every new character that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
Girls Band Cry
Recommended by: Vrai
What’s it about? High school dropout Iseri Nina has moved to Tokyo with no plans and a truckload of anger at the bullying she’s endured. The only thing that saved her was the music of Kawaragi Momoka, who she just happens to meet on her first night in Tokyo. It’s also the same night that Momoka has decided to give up on music.
Content warnings/considerations: Depictions of racism, bullying
The ever-worsening state of streaming monopolies—with their poor accessibility support, attempts to put translators out of work with AI, and lackadaisical approach to licensing—has put a real strain on AniFem’s commitment to exclusively supporting official outlets in regards to seasonal coverage. As the incredible (and incredibly messy) DEVILMAN crybaby birthed our “it’s complicated” category, so the English-language streaming sphere’s total shut-out of such a well-regarded title required consideration.
Thankfully, Catchplay+ arrived to give us a compromise: if a series is available on an official streaming service with (human made) English subs in any region, and a staff member is willing to jump through the hoops to use it, those shows are on the table for recommendation. This is how I spent an entire Saturday fighting with exchange rates and a VPN just to watch Spring’s best new show.
Girls Band Cry is angry. It’s a lot of other things too—melodramatic, joyous, silly, heartfelt—but the anger is what continues to strike me foremost. Nina is drawn to rock music because it’s a safe place for her to vent her anger. All the girls are, whether it’s from a suffocating family legacy or racist comments, and that anger pours out in songs that would make the riot grrrls of yesteryear proud. While lots of very good music shows recently have touched on feeling lost, depressed, anxious, or otherwise dissatisfied with the world, this is the first I’ve seen to literally put up its middle fingers and tell society to fuck off. (I am, admittedly, a band show neophyte who still hasn’t seen NANA, so please tell me about the shows I’m not thinking of in the comments).
It’s not just a general spirit of rebellion, either. A huge crux of the developing plot is that Momoka’s last band took on an idol aesthetic under pressure from their label, leading her to quit, while Nina champions the unvarnished honesty of Momoka’s original work. Hanada Jukki’s hand at the wheel keeps things steady where a more inexperienced writer might have floundered, as he stands behind the spirit of Nina’s endeavors while explicitly refusing to demonize the girls who felt they had to “sell out” or risk being drummed out of the industry. It sidesteps easy answers while trying to aim for something hopeful, and it’s electrifying.
To top it all off, the music is electrifying, and the mostly-CGI visuals are backed up by spirited direction (as expected, maybe, since Sakai Kazuo is reteaming with Hanada after their work together on Love Live!), leaning into the slight uncanniness that can come from CG rigs with a deliberately cartoony sort of motion. It’s not Orange, but it oozes personality from every pore, and might be an easier stepping-in point for those who struggled with the impeccably written but sometimes visually stiff It’s MyGO!!!!!. I don’t have an answer to the streaming struggles of the moment. I just know I need to listen to “Wrong World” again.
—Vrai
Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night
Recommended by: Alex, Dee, Toni, Vrai
What’s it about? 17-year-old Kouzuki Mahiro loved drawing when she was younger, but when her big mural debut got made fun of she quit art and focused her efforts on fitting in. That changes one night in Shibuya, when she meets the beautiful and confident Kano, a former idol who declares herself a passionate fan of Mahiro’s art. Kaho’s become the anonymous singer JELEE and wants “Yoru” to be her artist; but can Mahiro stand next to someone so bright?
Content Warnings: brief fan service, boob comparison/fondling (episode 7), adult flirting with a minor
Jellyfish is, I think, what many of us were hoping for before Wonder Egg Priority went horribly wrong: a work About Teenage Girls from a relatively untested male writer that maybe doesn’t hit every incredibly ambitious goal it aims for, but also doesn’t egregiously fumble any of them and does really well by its trans character. Many of the show’s issues are ones that could’ve been sidestepped by a more experienced writer, especially if they also had a better understanding of girlhood, but the highs it hits are affecting and honest in a way that feels unfair to dismiss.
The series is at its best when exploring the struggles of artistry, working to improve but also to like the art you create, and the simultaneous freedom and constraints of building a persona online. Jellyfish’s take on the internet is refreshingly nuanced, portraying it as an unavoidable, necessary tool that thrums with a baseline cruelty but is also a source of hard truths and much-needed connection. VTuber Kiui’s arc is a particular highlight, as their masculine, heroic avatar lets them escape the distress of their changing body.
At heart, this is a rise-to-stardom tale told well and peppered with intriguing details that it doesn’t always have time to flesh out. It’s intriguing that Kano’s mother and former manager is written in a way often reserved for absent fathers (and Skip Beat): she’s an unambiguously terrible parent, but the show respects her professionalism and commitment to art and at least tries to avoid a pat parent/child reconciliation arc by making the emotional conclusion a matter of independence colored by professional respect. A sweet mini-arc touches on ageism in the idol industry. Mahiro and Kaho have overt romantic tension that doesn’t ultimately end in them dating, but I couldn’t get too upset when the show nailed Kiui’s arc and was clearly spinning far too many plates by the end.
If there’s an outright sour note it’s Koharu, a plastic surgery enthusiast who not only opens the door to an agonizing boob comparison scene (that’s thankfully out of step with the rest of the show) but also chats up 17-year-old Kiui. There’s something sweet about Kiui vibing with her plastic surgery because of their dysphoria, but since Koharu’s age is ambiguous beyond “adult” when she starts hanging out with this teenager, the implication that their friendship might turn to dating after Kiui graduates has some sketchy undertones.
That and one or two bizarrely leery shots aside, this is an excellent watch with polished visuals and a likable cast. While it’s not the best music show this season about a disillusioned teen girl meeting her favorite artist and forming an intensely intimate artistic partnership with her, it’s well worth your time.
—Vrai
Kaiju No. 8
Recommended by: Cy
What’s it about? Kafka and Mina were childhood friends who made a pact to join the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force together someday. Unfortunately, life didn’t go the way Kafka expected and ended up working for the cleaning division to remove the remains of dead Kaiju. Even though he tried to resign himself to his job, his need to save the life of a colleague reignites his passion to try out for the Defense Force one more time.
Content warnings: Gore, Body horror
When Kaiju No. 8 debuted, I wasn’t super into it, which feels like a shocker since its setup is primed for pondering about the nature of humanity and the forms being a person can take. Thank goodness I gave it a second shot, because this series is genuinely one of the best of the season, and honestly… Kaiju cool. Kaiju very, very, very cool.
But it’s also more than “kaiju cool”: there’s a rich world here that’s clearly been plagued for centuries, maybe even millennia, by these slightly human, slightly animal, completely alien beasts. They rampage without concern, turning quiet neighborhoods into piles of rubble. It’s devastating, even with some of the nation’s best armed and ready to take things on, whether by filling a kaiju with high-tech lead or cleaning up the entrails left behind. It truly takes a village in this world, and as Kafka, our main character, shifts between roles within it, it becomes even more clear that whatever endgame this series has in mind will be a group effort.
This is also a world where these life-changing, force-of-nature level entities cause disasters. It’s a world that mirrors our own in intensity, but it’s also a world filled with so much hope, even as the plot twists and turns. As our real-life world turns and it seems hard to find any light in the dark, I readily found Kaiju No. 8 to be a balm and a healthy reminder that the power of community, of coming together and working in unison will make any situation weatherable. It might not always succeed, but much like the core of this show, I firmly believe we’re better together.
This season leaves viewers on the most delicious cliffhanger, and while I spent two and a half days devouring the manga and already know where things go, there was something so deeply engaging about seeing it all play out on the digital screen. I can easily say this is a recommendation for everyone: come for the kaiju, stay for the loveable cast, and definitely let this series grow on you.
—Cy
Laid-Back Camp — Season 3
Recommended by: Alex, Dee
What’s it about? As Spring approaches, Rin, Nadeshiko, and the rest of their camping buddies set out on new adventures in the campgrounds and nature parks of their beautiful nearby countryside.
Content considerations: an adult guardian’s alcoholism played for laughs; brief moments of diet talk, including some (affectionately teasing?) “this character is always eating!” jokes.
I’m pleased to announce that even with a change in studio, Laid-Back Camp has retained the atmosphere and personality that made me fall in love with the first two seasons. It truly is a tip-top example of the cozy hobby genre, inviting you to relax and live vicariously through the adventures of this group of capable and creative teen girls (and they are teen girls again, making the movie and its timeskip an intriguing franchise outlier). The series wonderfully captures the joy of being a young person experiencing a bit of autonomy, from the simple glee of spending your hard-earned part-time paycheck on cool stuff for your hobby, to the sweeping freedom of being able to travel where you want (Nadeshiko unlocks a whole new avenue of nerddom when she discovers retro trains, and good for her).
Because the show’s whole mission statement is Cozy Vibes and the romance of The Great Outdoors, it’s set in a wonderful escapist world where the audience can watch these adolescent girls venture into the wilderness all on their own and never fear that anything bad is going to happen to them. Conflict and drama are reserved for mundane horrors like wobbly footbridges; and relatable rookie errors like missing a bus, haphazardly navigating a steep “shortcut,” and taking a comically short dip in the hot spring because we came all this way and we MUST see the tourist sights! It’s funny, sweet, and (it’s clearing a low bar but it must be said) free of fanservice, even with multiple onscreen hot spring soaks. It’s consistently such soothing, warming fun returning to these characters and to this lovingly-rendered setting and I’m glad to see them again.
—Alex
Train to the End of the World
Recommended by: Dee, Lizzie, Toni
What’s it about? Two years ago, the implementation of the 7G network had a warping effect on Japan: deforming the landscape; tanking most technology; and causing human beings to turn into plants, animals, and other bizarre things. It was also when Shizuru’s dear friend Yoka went missing, but Shizuru refuses to give up the search. When a clue finally surfaces, Shizuru doesn’t hesitate to commandeer a lone functioning train car—fortunately, she has friends along for the ride.
Content considerations: brief fan service, violence, gaslighting
There is a principle in sketch comedy called The Game. It states that whatever is weird and funny about a sketch scene must be slowly taken to its logical extreme—and the sketch will end at that extreme, rather than ever coming back to reality. Though Train to the End’s dialogue owes quite a bit to Manzai style comedy, its writing follows this rule of sketch comedy to a tee. Whichever bit the show chooses to go with, it commits. If an episode is about erotically challenged zombies, you are going to see heads exploding to school girls shouting bawdy comedic songs. If in one episode we see that archery in this world involves beating the shit out of your opponent with a bow, you know for a fact that that would come back in a major way later in the show.
More than just committing to the comedic qualities of any given scene, Train also commits to the implications of its drama. It is not afraid to be honest about whether certain rifts can be truly healed with a mere apology. Research shows that teenage girls are often encouraged to bury their feelings to reconcile with each other as part of their socialization, never actually addressing the real harm they do to each other or their own boundaries not being respected. This leads to many shows about girls ending with utterly unconvincing reconciliations that sour my feelings about them at the last minute (looking at you, Jellyfish!).
Train to the End has none of that. The ending confrontations in this show are largely successful in communicating and addressing the gravity of the harms of the protagonist—though arguably the problems our lost girl was manipulated into causing are not quite addressed satisfyingly. I can’t end this recommendation without shouting out the best character by a country mile, Akira. Never has a character more perfectly been Made For Me—from her hilariously opposites attract friendship with Reimi that carries the best moments of the show to her ability to almost always save the day with her attitude of skepticism and her infinite repository of throughly useless information, I salute her.
—Toni
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