I guard the gates to my master's domain, All three of my heads have to share my one name, Dead in, living out is the duty I keep, Unless you have honey cake to put me to sleep

No hands I have, yet still I press, In moments thick with expectation’s stress.

As you move toward it, it moves away from you. If you retreat from it, then it will advance in your direction. It goes down if you go up. Up it goes, as you descend. It's unreachable but it's always there.

Used to sign your name with, usually blue or black, Or sprayed out by a squid in a defensive attack, It used to be found dripping off the ends of quills, Or hiding under stoppers in the shallowest of wells

I top your latte, crown the sea, and cushion you while you sleep peacefully.