I hide no ink, yet my creases tell stories. I need no color, just triangles and glory. Flat as a whisper, I rise into form, One paper, one hand, and a fold is born. What am I?

guardian of down stuffed bundles. a sleepers drool catcher a silk or satin sack for a soft sewn soft sack

Strong and sturdy the Smith pounds me, Each strike makes me want to be forge anew. Thus I ask you want am I to thee.

Pucker up buttercup Do this with your lips And get a little kiss Keep your cash in the bag Don't let the villain Steal your swag

I come in many shapes and sizes and can be made of paper, plastic, clay, metal, and more you drink cold, iced, and room temperature drinks from me